One More Week...

Hello, Fire Enthusiasts. Thanks for dropping by. Life continues to be crazy here. How about you? You know, we writers ought to be hospitalized for juggling as much as we do. Do you agree? We’re all doing the same things. We sleep little and spent time with our loved ones very infrequently. Instead, we’re married to our word processors or paper and pens, putting our stories down and editing them until they are just right.

I took that new position at work, and although I no longer have to get up at 3 am, I’m still working 11-12 hours, with some occasional Saturdays in there just to make it worse. Then I’ve got this new book coming out in a week, hoping that I’m doing enough to get it noticed in a giant sea of books that are equally as good if not better. It’s tough, isn’t it? Then of course I have to take the virtual broom and swat the part of my brain that doubts I’m any good at this, or that I am very good, but no one is going to notice. Do you spend any time doing that? Fighting off the demons in your head that try and get you to quit? I do. I know I’m doing it, too. Perhaps it’s our way of preparing ourselves for the negative possibilities. Either way, it isn’t useful.

So here I sit, spending an hour before work and maybe another hour afterwards, trying to get the word out, network or just visit my buddies out there in the world who are doing much the same things and in need of encouragement. I haven’t been on my treadmill in weeks, I’m barely getting any reading in and I’ve barely touched the house.

Yeah, we’re all crazy…but dedicated as hell! J I hope everyone out there is doing well. I thank you for stopping by, as always. I adore you for that. I’ve been visiting your places as I can. I mostly follow by e-mail however, so if you’re not using that feature, leave me a comment somewhere and I’ll come by for a visit.

Before I go, I’m going to leave you with another excerpt. I know many don’t like to read them. It’s only about 400+ words, and it’s a bit of high drama. I apologize for the language…

  

“Wake up!” a voice suddenly commanded. The owner of the voice must have kicked the bench, too, because I felt myself leap into the air. It was Patricia, leaning over me, wearing one of her patented scowls.

“What do you want?” I shouted at her, sitting up. God knew how little I had slept this time.

“It’s nothing to do with what I want! It’s what your aunt wants!”

“My aunt died, Patricia! I don’t give a shit what Casper the not-so-friendly ghost wants.” Even I was shocked at how convincing I sounded, but I figured it was best not to think about it. These few moments this week working off of pure adrenaline had been like good liquor buzzes. Indeed, they worked for me in many ways.

I stood. She took one step back, but that was all. “Just state your business.… In fact, I don’t even care why you’re here. Get the fuck off of my property before I have the police drag your ass off!”

“Nice try!” she shouted back. “I’ve every right to be here as you do.”

She was right. There wasn’t anything I could do about her being there.

Patricia straightened up as I stood before her, poised. She squinted at me while she measured my resolve. Finally, a weak smile appeared over her face.

“What?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Flora wants you to prepare yourself. It’s time.” She turned on her boot heels and walked off the porch. “It’s good you’ve sent the others away.”

“Time for what, Patricia? Oh, and the others will be back. They’re with Thomas. No one is going anywhere.”

Patricia spun back to me. “Thomas? My, you are a trusting fool, aren’t you? Mister big shot. You don’t have the first fucking clue!”

“Go to Hell!”

“Yeah, maybe,” she said, nodding. “But I won’t be the only one! Your pastor will be there, too. Why don’t you tell him I said that and see whether he disagrees? Go ahead. I fucking dare you!”

Struck dumb, I simply watched her resume her march back to the guesthouse. Words floated inside my head, but I couldn’t make sense of them. A voice seemed to be asking me why I’d really felt it so important that Jason accompany his mother. I had no clue.

“Be ready!” Patricia yelled back before taking the last few steps and disappearing inside her house.

The longer I sat there the more I seemed to know something. Or suspect it. I glanced left and looked through the trees toward The Queen of Heaven Cemetery, as if being called by it.

“What is it?” I asked no one as I continued to stare at the cemetery. Eventually, I gave up on finding the answer and headed back inside.

The book is available now, if I have piqued your interest. If you want to wait until next Monday and help me make the biggest splash possible, that would be very lovely of you. On the other hand, if someone wants to buy my book, who am I to advise them when to do it? J Cheers, you guys! And hang in there.

We’ll talk soon.