National Novel Writing Month -- Update 6

So, this is my last update for National Novel Writing Month in 2016. It was a good ride as I wrote and discovered Searching for Rachel Edelstein.

The good news is that I found her and, more importantly, so did Rachel.

It is the story of a black Jewish woman from New York City who has been estranged from her black relatives in Virginia for her entire life. And as she seeks to understand her dual racial and religious heritage, she visits her black family outside of Charlottesville for the first time over a Thanksgiving weekend.

Also, the other good news is I reached the 50,000-word challenge of NaNoWriMo, as I have four other times since 2009. And two of those novels, once totally re-written, have made the rounds in my agent search. And while I haven't landed an agent or a publisher for either, they are quite good enough for publication, whether independently or traditionally published.

The bad news this year is that I am still very unsatisfied with Searching for Rachel Edelstein. Even as a first draft, it is choppy, inconsistent and full of holes. I originally had Rachel's Jewish grandfather traveling with her down to Virginia, only to change my mind midway through the novel. I also changed the parents of one minor but key character midway through the novel.

And there were other problems. Then again, that is what a first draft is for -- to get the story down and to later re-write, re-write and re-write again until the story is nearly perfect. I shouldn't be too hard on myself with this effort. But that re-writing, however, will have to wait until some time next year. I have work on my plate to perfect first.

Anyway, thanks for joining me this month. It's been a blast. Let's do it again next November.

Thanks for reading.

Which Hogwarts House would I be in?

Yes, yes, yes -- I know I should have spent the time writing. It is, after all, the closing days of National Novel Writing Month and I haven't reached 50,000 words yet. But I'm close so I decided not to sweat it. Didn't write yesterday because it was Thanksgiving, nor today because we went shopping.

But I am close and still have time. Plus, deadline pressure is good.

So, what did I do this evening? Went to see Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. It was good and fun. I enjoyed it.

When I returned home and did some research relating to the world of Harry Potter, I finally decided to test which house I would be sorted into at Hogwarts. (Personally, I have always preferred Gryffindor.)

I took three separate online tests and two of the three revealed I'd be in . . .

GRYFFINDOR.

Although just barely. According to the scoring in both instances, I'd just barely be a Gryffindor and just outside of Ravenclaw. In fact, in the one test in which I wasn't a Gryffindor, I was a Ravenclaw.

So, in the end, I would probably end up in Gryffindor because the Sorting Hat would also take my choice into account. Chivalry, bravery and daring. That sound like me? I'm probably more like Neville Longbottom than Harry.

Now, for all you people who haven't read Harry Potter nor have seen any of the films, you don't know what I'm talking about and probably don't care. (Muggles!) And so for you, I will get back to my last blog of the month when I again talk about NaNoWriMo.

But for everyone else, I know you understand.

And for everybody, thanks for reading.

National Novel Writing Month -- Update 5

Not done yet, with just a week to go in National Novel Writing Month, but I'm closing it. The challenge is to reach 50,000 words in the 30 days of November. I'm more than 85 percent of the way there. Therefore, Searching for Rachel Edelstein is coming to an end. And believe me, I will close it out somewhere just north of 50,000 words.

I'm tired of, on the fly, coming up with what's next to write.

As I look back at this month, I wish I had thought and planned more in advance. It would have made the writing easier. I have long since written past the notes I outlined for the story and so every day I face the challenge of what's next.

By temperament as a writer, I am a pantster -- someone who writes by the seat of the pants -- as  opposed to being a plotter, who does a lot of planning or outlining before writing. I like it because as a pantster, I discover the novel in much the same way a reader would. I like to be surprised by details as I go along.

But with that approach it would take me at least three or four months to write a first draft, and probably longer than that. My first novel -- Fighting Chaos, which gave its name to this blog, took me more than a decade to write. And it's still dreadful.

The second one took four and a half months. Better but not nearly as good as it can, and should, be.

So, I like NaNoWriMo because I can get the first draft done and on paper quickly. But I can't do that much writing so quickly without some planning ahead. I write out pages of notes and use them as a guide day by day.

I wrote notes this year, have hardly looked at them, and now have written well past them. I have to do better next year.

But that is for 2017. I just need to get Rachel done this year. So I must get back on it.

Thanks for reading.







  

National Novel Writing Month -- Update: A partial of Searching for Rachel Edelstein

Since so many people have been so kind in the last two weeks as I have struggled to bring a little of this novel to life -- and there have been times when I've seriously doubted it -- I have a small treat for you. Very small.

Here is a little of the beginning of Searching for Rachel Edelstein.

This is only a little more than a page and doesn't really tell you what the story is about. But I thought I'd do this anyway.

Remember: This is part of a first draft. It has no polish. Much is likely to be re-written one day.

Enjoy. Thanks for the support and thanks for reading.

Searching for Rachel Edelstein

By

MB Dabney

00,000 words

 

BEFORE

 

The blade of the shovel sliced across his face, gouging a deep cut, from his hairline down across the cheek to his chin. Dazed, Muller dropped the gun and staggered backwards. Rachel raised the shovel again and brought it down.

Hard.

The rounded part of the shovel caught him squarely in the face, flattening his sharp, pointy facial features. The blow dropped him to the ground and Rachel continued savagely beating him. Fear and anger overwhelmed all her sensibilities. She kept hitting the man lying helplessly on the ground.

Rachel didn’t know Ellington was behind her until he reached around and grabbed the shovel in mid-swing, stopping her from again striking her helpful victim.

“That’s enough, Rachel. It’s over.”

When the autopsy was done on Johann Muller the next day, his face was nearly undistinguishable.

 

 

 

CHAPTER I

“Rachel, you haven’t answered.”

 

The subway car rhythmically rocked Rachel side to side as she blankly stared ahead, almost like a zombie, oblivious to her immediate surroundings. The clang of the metal wheels on the track below didn’t phase her, nor did the sight of the fashionably dressed young Korean woman across from her. She was uncomprehending of the aroma of the man in the tattered clothes seated to her right, although those unfortunate enough not to have a seat turned away from him and his assault on their nasal passages.

It was perhaps muscle memory that guided Rachel from the subway stop to her shop, Guilford and Sons Antiques, in the Union Square section of lower Manhattan. Once inside, the shop greeted clients with the smell of mahogany and old money. The items on display reflected it, because it wasn’t a shop for a spend-thrift.

Guilford and Sons specialized in furniture for any room – cabinets, seating, tables, wardrobes and armoires, decorative objects and occasionally rugs. There also was a small area dedicated to classic photography and prints.

To accommodate its customers, the shop could arrange shipping to anywhere in the U.S. – for a hefty price. Global shipping was also available, for an even heftier price. But New York’s wealthy rarely blinked twice at the expense.

Rachel had not changed the name of the shop when she purchased it years before from the sons of the late owner, reasoning that keeping the former male owner’s name on the front windows would probably help her business in the city’s male-dominated antiques industry. It certainly would be better than having the name Rachel Edelstein front and center.

Or so she told herself.

In an emotional sense, that pissed Rachel off, as it might with any black or Jewish woman. And since she was both, she was doubly pissed off. But from a business sense, she was willing to let it slide. After all, she had herself to feed and her employees to support, though that hadn’t been a problem recently.

 

 

 

 

National Novel Writing Month -- Update 4

Well, I've reached 30,000 words, which I wanted to do last night but ran out of steam and out of time. But I'm there, more than 60 percent done.

I've figured out the end but haven't figured out yet how to get there so I just keep plugging away. I am totally beyond what little of the story I outlined last month. But the good thing is I'm discovering little pieces of interesting information about my characters as I go along.

For exchange, Rachel, the main character in Searching for Rachel Edelstein (isn't that amazing?), loves mac and cheese. She uses her mother's long-held recipe, since her maternal grandmother was a horrible cook.

The plot of the story involves Rachel, who is from New York, going to Virginia to meet her estranged family on her father's side. And while she is there over Thanksgiving, she'll learn that the mac and cheese recipe her mother used was actually from her father's mother, who Rachel just met for the first time.

The recipe is a small thing -- and hasn't been revealed yet in the novel. It comes later -- but I only discovered it while writing. I never would have thought of that while I was writing an outline.

Anyway, that's it for now. Not sure who reads these updates but here it is.

Thanks for reading.

  

National Novel Writing Month -- Update 3

Oh my goodness, I just made myself cry. Damn, I hope this stuff is good. I'm too close to it to know for sure.

I just wrote the scene where my main character, Rachel, a black Jewish woman from New York, meets her paternal grandmother in Virginia for the first time. It was more emotional than I thought.

But then again, I am playing the theme from Love Actually in the background, so that -- and not my writing ability -- could be the reason I shed a tear or two.
  
It's been a slow week and while I'm still on pace to reach 50,000 words by the end of the month, I am far behind my personal goal. I know the important thing about NaNoWriMo is writing but word count is always important to me. I know this first draft will be crappy. I accept that. But it will have -- or should have -- all the elements I will need whenever I get around to re-writing it. And I hope this new scene survives in the re-writes. It feels good.

You can't improve your writing until you write it. And so, I will plunge forward, hoping to up my pace so that I can finish close to my personal due date.

Thanks for reading.

 

National Novel Writing Month -- Update 2

Took a day off from working on the novel yesterday because it was Election Day. But in the end, I wasted a day.

Oh well . . .

Maybe now I should just write fiction non-stop, 24/7, for the next four years.

Thanks for reading.



 

National Novel Writing Month -- update

It's Day 4 of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) and the average target for today would be to reach 6,668 words. But I have been ahead of schedule since Day 1, which is the only way I can do NaNoWriMo, and I just passed 10,000 words this afternoon.

Ahead of schedule, of course, but lagging slightly behind my personal goal. No matter. It is an achievement so far and the day isn't over. There's more writing to do.

I am discovering some interesting things about my characters, which is good. Just not sure all of it should be in the novel. But that's a judgment for the second and subsequent drafts. This is just the first draft and I need to get it down.

Tally-ho.

Thanks for reading.

Love Actually

I'm listening to the soundtrack of Love Actually (2003) as I write a particularly melancholy section of my novel, Searching for Rachel Edelstein.

I wonder what music I will have to find for the more uplifting portions of the book. Can't be this, although I do like it a lot. Plus, as I think about it, the ending is very uplifting. So maybe I can stick with this.

We will see.

I'm ahead of schedule and at this pace will reach 50,000 words well before Nov. 30. That's the main goal. But I haven't matched my secret writing goals, the ones I try not to mention aloud. If I grunt it out today, perhaps I will get close. Like I said, we will see.

Writing is work and I am lazy. But I have to get back to it. The novel won't write itself.

Thanks for reading.

Searching for Rachel Edelstein

In a less than two hours, I will start my next novel during National Novel Writing Month, Searching for Rachel Edelstein. It will be a follow-up to my 2010 NaNo novel, The Last Tontine Survivor. But this is not a thriller.

Rachel is a black Jewish woman in Manhattan. While she was conflicted about her dual ethnic heritage in the first novel, it was not central to the plot, which involving looking for her grandfather and millions of dollars he took from the Nazis in the 1940s while trying to stay ahead of killers who were after her.

In this novel, Rachel, having survived the chaos from before, takes stock in her life and decides to seek out her estranged family in Virginia. Raised virtually as a white woman in New York, Rachel will come truly face-to-face with her blackness for the first time.

I have written out about three pages of an outline for the novel but haven't finished it. So I will be flying blind a little. But that may be good. It will certainly make reaching the 50,000-word goal by Nov. 30 at midnight a serious challenge. I hope I am up to it.

Wish me luck. I'll need it.

And thanks for reading.

Magna Cum Murder

Going to a crime fiction writers conference this weekend downtown at the Columbia Club (an old GOP stomping ground. No matter). Magna Cum Murder is an annual conference that until four years ago was held in Muncie, Indiana, at Ball State University. It's a relatively small conference -- a couple hundred people at most -- but always well-attended by crime fiction writers from around the world.

It goes from Friday to Sunday.

Sisters in Crime is represented there by our Speed City chapter. We are sponsoring a luncheon on either Saturday or Sunday.

As with most conferences, it's a great way to network with other writers at the receptions and dinners to talk and exchange ideas. And, of course, there are the panel discussions and booksignings.

The chapter has a table to promote our books which I will have to staff some time on Saturday morning. And, for the third year, we are sponsoring a flash fiction contest. We provide a prompt for a 250-word short story. Members of the chapter judge the entries on Saturday night and I will announce the winner at the closing luncheon on Sunday.

I never stay downtown at the conference. Hotel rooms are too expensive, particularly since the conference itself is a little pricey. So I come home every night. But it's still a great time and well worth the time, effort and expense.

Looking forward to a great weekend.

Thanks for reading.

National Novel Writing Month

It's nearly that time again. November. National Novel Writing Month.

Let the games begin.

I first signed up for NaNoWriMo in 2009 and since then, I have finished four novels -- in 2009 and 2010, and 2013 and 2014. I wasn't able to do a novel last year because I had a serious car accident in late October which resulted in a bandaged left hand. It was difficult for me to type while it was on and it came off too late in November for me to feel confident of a successful NaNoWriMo attempt.

I haven't definitely decided to enter this year -- there's a lot going on here and I should remain focused on selling one of the novels I have already finished -- but I have two in mind. The most likely of the two is about Rachel Edelstein.

Rachel is the main character in my successful 2010 NaNo attempt -- The Last Tontine Survivor. And it was a quarterfinalist in the 2013 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award contest. That novel focused on Rachel, a black Jewish woman in NYC, who is searching for her missed and beloved grandfather, a German Jew who survived WWII. But he and others stole money from the Nazis and now, 70 years later, the descendants of a former Nazi official are looking to get the money back -- and are willing to kill to get it. With her pursuers on her tail, Rachel must find her grandfather and save him before they are both killed.

Rachel's ethnic duality (and her conflicted feelings about it) is part of the subplot but will be part of the main plot of his newest effort. I tentatively call it Searching for Rachel Edelstein.

More about that later. But for now, I just wanted to put it out there that I will probably attempt a novel this November.

Wish me luck.

Thanks for reading.

Callipygian is here

The Fine Art of Murder has arrived, and just in time.

The book launch is in two days, on Sunday, Oct. 23, from noon to 6 p.m., at the Barnes and Noble store at 86th Street and Keystone Crossing Boulevard on the northside of Indianapolis.

FAM is the fifth short story anthology published by members of the Speed City chapter of Sisters in Crime. There are 18 mystery stories, all involving fine art.

My story, Callipygian, is on Page 130. It's about a vacationing FBI profiler who is drawn into the investigation of an art theft and murder. The main character, Kendall Hunter, is one of my favorite characters.

Anyway, I hope you can come to the launch and if not, order a copy online at Amazon, Barnes and Noble or Walmart.

Thanks for reading.

FAM bookmarks

The Fine Art of Murder bookmarks arrived today. I love them. Also on the front side is the cover of Decades of Dirt, which we published last year. The covers for the other three anthologies are on the back. All of them include stories written by members of the Speed City chapter of Sisters in Crime. I have stories in four of the five books and co-edited DoD.

The launch for FAM is Sunday, Oct. 23, at the Barnes and Noble bookstore at 86th and Keystone in Indianapolis. We will be there from noon to 6 p.m., signing books. We will have a program and reading at around 2 p.m.

Hope to see you then.

Thanks for reading.

Excerpt from CALLIPYGIAN, a short story in The Fine Art of Murder

As promised, here is an excerpt from my newest short story, Callipygian, which will be published next week in the anthology, The Fine Art of Murder. There are 18 stories in the anthology, all written by members of the Speed City chapter of Sisters in Crime. Our launch event is scheduled for Oct. 23, at the Barnes and Noble bookstore at 86th Street and Keystone at the Crossing in Indianapolis.

Kendall Hunter is a Philadelphia-based FBI profiler on vacation visiting her family in Indianapolis when she is drawn into the investigation in the theft of three extremely valuable paintings -- including one called Callipygian -- from a black art gallery. And things get interesting when the primary suspect is found murdered.

It's fun to write this character and I have several more unpublished stories featuring the character. Perhaps next year I will figure out what to do with them all.

But until then, enjoy. And thanks for reading.

____

"Wrap your lovely lips around this."

Taken aback by the sudden and unwanted flirtation, Kendall Hunter turned. And despite her government training, her heart nearly stopped. She was face to face with the most gorgeous man she had ever seen in person. As she opened her mouth to voice her indignation, a fork full of cake passed between her lips. The frosting was a delight to her taste buds and the man a delight to her eyes. Both were a creamy chocolate. She imagined his face -- with its light-brown bedroom eyes, full lips and well-defined cheek bones -- was chiseled personally by the gods.

Kendall took all this in in the span of two seconds, and hoped he didn’t notice her brief bewilderment. "It’s delicious. Thanks," she managed after swallowing.

His smile was charming and his white teeth were a perfect counterpoint to his dark skin. "My name is—" he started.

"Hampton Simmonds," she finished for him, having recovered her composure. "It’s you we’re all here to celebrate."

"Ah, yes, well, I suppose you are right about that," he said, sounding modest and nearly embarrassed as he looked around the art gallery at the crowd of beautiful people in their best formal attire. Men generally look good in a tux. But Hampton Simmonds’s six-foot frame looked positively spectacular.

He handed the plate with the remains of the cake to a passing waitress. "You can just call me Hamp," he said to Kendall.

She wore a form-fitting blue evening dress with a modest neckline and spaghetti straps. Her white pearl necklace and pearl earrings were her only accessories. "I’m Kendall Hunter."

Hampton smiled again and his right hand engulfed hers in a strong, confident, but not crushing grip. "It’s nice to meet you." He didn’t release her hand, but guided her toward the wall to her right. "Let me personally escort you through the gallery."

When Hampton released her hand, he seemed to carry her along through the force of his personality. They moved into a room of contemporary paintings. One wall was dominated by a 10-foot-wide painting in off-white with five diagonal splashes of deep red. Kendall stopped, stared, and frowned, but felt Hampton observing her.

"You don’t like?" he said.

"I can’t wrap my mind around what it’s supposed to mean," Kendall said. She studied the information card on the wall next to the painting to avoid looking at the luscious man next to her.

They started walking again and took the stairs to the second floor. "I don’t get it, either," he said with a chuckle. He lowered his voice to a conspiratory whisper. "I’ve never liked that artist. She’s tremendously overrated."

Kendall began to relax as they continued, with Hampton pointing out bits of information as they passed more art. Occasionally, someone would catch his eye and nod but no one interrupted them. Kendall’s sister’s eyes bugged out when she spotted them together but Kiara quickly turned back to a sculpture of a pair of steepled hands.

"Are you a collector?" Hampton asked. "I think I’ve met all the major black collectors here in Indianapolis. But I don’t think I’ve seen you before."

"I’m originally from here, but I live in Philadelphia now," she said. They entered the main room on the second floor. On the opposite wall were three abstract paintings.

 "And what do you do in the City of Brotherly Love . . . and Sisterly Affection?" he said, flirting directly once again.

She didn’t skip a beat. "I’m a special agent with the FBI. I specialize in criminal profiles."

That stopped him in his tracks. "Really?"

Kendall smiled and started them moving again. In social situations such as this, she loved revealing her occupation, as if being a tall, attractive black woman and an FBI agent were mutually exclusive.

"I’m home for a short vacation. Visiting family. As a matter of fact, you know my sister, Kiara. She works for Mitch, the gallery owner. Does the PR. She had an invitation, of course." Kendall held up the embroidered invitation in her left hand. "I’m her plus one."

"Oh, yes, Kiara. I do know her," Hampton said, turning to look back over his shoulder to where Kiara had once stood, then back at Kendall. "And I’m certainly glad you’re her plus one. Otherwise, I might have been bored out of my mind this evening."

The waitress appeared again, this time carrying a tray of hors d’oeuvres. Her presence was announced a second earlier by the fragrance she wore. The waitress offered them sausage-stuffed mushrooms, which Kendall declined. Hampton popped one into his mouth as the woman moved on.

"Those are your paintings, aren’t they?" Kendall asked.

Hampton reached around her waist in a particularly intimate way and pulled her toward the wall where the paintings hung. "What do you think? This is my series celebrating the female form."

Kendall stared. "I’m not sure what to think."

"The one on the left is called A Woman’s Eyes," Hampton said.

It was an abstract with bright primary colors and broad, yet soft brush strokes for the facial lines. In the profile facing to the right, both eyes appeared on the same side of her face.

"The one on the right is simply called Bosoms of Love," he commented.

Like the others, it was in a simple dark frame. But it didn’t look like the breasts of any woman Kendall had ever seen.

"You can see the outline of the torso from the neck down to the narrow waist." Hampton continued. "But see how the painting draws your eyes to the center of the female form. It’s not sexual but it encompasses the wholeness of womanhood. Do you see that?"

Kendall wanted to say no, but just nodded instead. Finally, Hampton brought her attention to the painting in the middle.

"This is Callipygian. My masterpiece," he said, almost as if in a dream.

"Callipygian? What does that mean?" she asked.

Hampton smiled and scratched his shaved bald head. "You’ll just have to figure that one out."

While it was still abstract, Kendall was able to discern the curve of a woman’s back, from just below the neck down to the round, full hips, sweeping inward again to reveal muscular legs. The brush strokes were soft and feminine, the colors bright and vivid.

It was obvious Hampton was a man who loved the female body. He put his hands on the curve of her hips as he leaned in to whisper into Kendall’s ear, "You should come model for me sometime."  

Writers retreat

Just finished packing to leave for the Speed City chapter of Sisters in Crime's second writers retreat, which again will be at Bradford Woods, 30 miles south of Indianapolis. The chapter sponsored a weekend retreat in 2014, which was tremendously successful.

Looking forward to work sessions, talking and working with other writers, and just spending time alone to write or just walk through the woods and think.

I plan to finish an essay I have been working on for a while and a somewhat long short story. Also to bounce a couple of ideas I have for a novel in November.

Should be great. Looking forward to a great weekend.

Thanks for reading. See you in October.

Visiting a bookstore

Spent part of the last two days visiting bookstores, including a couple of independent stores. And I bought a couple of books.

Being at a bookstore is a great way to spend part of the day.

I highly recommend it.

Thanks for reading. Now head off to a bookstore.

SinC Retreat

Next weekend, the Speed City chapter of Sisters in Crime will hold its second writers retreat at Bradford Woods, a rustic conference center (I guess you'd call it that) about 30 miles south of Indianapolis.

I plan to get a lot of writing done during the retreat, which starts Friday afternoon and ends early Sunday afternoon. I have both an essay and a short story about Kendall Hunter I want to finish.

It does mean that weekend I will miss the first air show held at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway in more than a century. (I think they held a balloon race in 1909 or '10.) This year's race is part of the series sponsored by Red Bull for single-engine planes.

But anyway, I got a lot done at the first retreat in 2014. I finished writing Miss Hattie Mae's Secret during the weekend. And that short story is the last story in Decades of Dirt.

Well, I didn't have a lot to say today but I wanted to mention the retreat, which I hadn't done yet.

Thanks for reading.
 

110,689 steps

I'm not going to talk today about writing or the new anthology or interesting characters or books I like or music I play while writing. And I'm not going to talk about the upcoming presidential election.

Boring.

No. Today I'm going to talk a little about walking.

For the first time today (Friday), I walked 10,000 steps on 10 consecutive days. Now that may not seem like a lot, and perhaps it's not. But for me it was a goal a long time in coming.

I started keeping track of the number of steps I take everyday back in early April, about three months after I got a new iPhone that counts them. Without trying, I only averaged about 2,600 steps a day before April 6. For me, that's about a mile. But when I noticed that my phone counts my steps, I decided a mile every day wasn't nearly enough.

It was spring and often chilly outside but I started walking longer and longer distances every day. It took about two weeks for me to reach 10,000 one day but time and weather conspired to keep me from doing it more than a couple of times a week. That is until May 19. From then until May 27 -- nine straight days -- I walked at least 10,000 steps a day, for a total of 98,396 steps.

But then, summer intervened.

Although I have a gym membership, I love walking outside, generally alone and listening to music or just daydreaming. But I hate walking in the heat. Eighty degrees or higher is too much for me, unless absolutely necessary. And since I easily succumb to sloth earlier in the day when it's cooler, it was hard to put a string together of more than four consecutive 10,000-step days. And then there's also the issue of rain. I will walk in the rain but not a lot.

It is September now and it's cooler, although I generally still don't walk until later in the day. And so now I have managed it. In the last 10 days, my iPhone has counted 110,689 steps, meaning I walk around four miles a day.

In fact, I have walked at least 10,000 steps a day on 16 of the last 17 days and on 17 of the last 19.
Hooray for me. And I have lost weight. I'm down about seven pounds from what I weighed last March, although I haven't much changed my eating habits. (That's next, actually.)

But sadly, the streak is about to end.

I have a book signing out of town tomorrow (Saturday) and will be gone most of the day. And  on Sunday, we plan to visit our daughter in college after we leave church. By the time I get home, I'll be too tired on both those days to walk much.

But Monday starts a new week and with it will come a new challenge. For the year, I now have averaged 6,200 steps a day and I want to keep it at that level through the fall and winter. That means when it gets cold in a couple of months -- anything below about 35 -- I'll have to walk at the gym. But, like I said, I have a membership and I can use the other weight equipment to improve the rest of my body.

So I'm happy -- thrilled, really. You may not care and in the general scheme of things it probably doesn't rate much. But I've told you anyway.

So sue me.

But thanks for reading.

Callipygian: What's in a name?

Often when I say my next published short story is titled Callipygian, people ask, "Cal-la-what? What does it mean?" Only rarely does someone know. In fact, only three people that I can think of knew the definition without me mentioning it first and ALL of them graduated from Shortridge High School in Indianapolis, which is where I also graduated. Got a good education there, I'd say.

I had a class called Latin-and-Greek Derivatives. One of the best classes I have ever had,  in either high school or college.

So, what does callipygian mean? It is an adjective but that's all I will say for the moment. So give me a sec. A little background first.

I first remember hearing the word used in a sentence a couple of years ago during an interview Terry Gross was conducting on her NPR show, Fresh Air. The interviewee -- an author, I think -- used it and Terry didn't seem to know the word. So the interviewee told her. And it was then that I decided I needed to use it in some short story some time soon.

Recently, I decided to check it out online. And one of the best uses I found was in a description of Queen Bey.

Yes, Beyoncé.

Years ago, Destiny's Child did a song called Bootylicious. And today if you look at Queen Bey's body, particularly from the back, you'd say she's bootylicious. But if that word didn't exist, she'd probably be described as having a callipygian backside.

In other words, she has a big butt.

Now my short story Callipygian, which is in the upcoming anthology, The Fine Art of Murder, isn't about Beyoncé or big butts. Or at least not generally. It's about a painting of that name, which, along with two other paintings, is stolen. And the protagonist in the story, FBI profiler Kendall Hunter, is drawn into the investigation of the stolen art. Things get really interesting when the suspect in the case is murdered.

You can preorder the anthology online at Amazon, Walmart and Barnes and Noble. Here are two links:

https://www.amazon.com/Fine-Art-Murder-Collection-Stories/dp/1681570238/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1471896943&sr=8-4&keywords=the+fine+art+of+murder


https://www.walmart.com/ip/The-Fine-Art-of-Murder-A-Collection-of-Short-Stories/52607722

The anthology is scheduled for publication early next month.

So there you have it. What's in a name? Well, it can be quite a lot. It can be informative, even educational. But what does this title mean. All I can say is: If you are still confused, look it up.

In the meantime, thanks for reading.

Me: Past and present

I decided to treat you today.

I worked on my college paper, the Purdue Exponent, in the early 1980s and here are a couple of pictures showing me back then. In the top picture, I am on the railing on the left (and the only black guy in the picture). In the middle picture I am at a desk apparently working on a story. I also edited the AP wire for national and international stories. Both of those pictures were apparently taken before I could afford a comb or a haircut.

The bottom picture is how I look today -- a lot less hair and with gray. But it's combed.

I'm planning a couple of interesting posts for next week. Stay tuned.

Thanks for reading.

FAM front cover

Here it is. The final, corrected front cover for The Fine Art of Murder, which will be published at the beginning of next month. Preorders are available on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and online at Walmart.

FAM is a collection of mystery stories by members of the Speed City Indiana chapter of Sisters in Crime. The collection includes my Kendall Hunter short story, Callipygian.

The official book launch is from 2 p.m. to 4 p.m. on Sunday, Oct. 9, at the Barnes and Noble bookstore at 86th Street and Keystone Avenue, on the north east side of Indianapolis. The chapter is celebrating a Day of Mystery at the store that day, starting at noon. While the launch is at 2 p.m., SinC members will be there all day signing books, and having games and prizes for mystery lovers.

Hope you can come out to celebrate this newest anthology. The proceeds will support the programs of our chapter.

Thanks for reading.   

Monthly Update--September 2016

I have a new post planned for Tuesday, Sept. 6, which would have been the first one of the month. But I decided to write a short post first.

I started working on the blog again in late July. I hadn't posted in about 18 months. And in August, I wrote more posts in a month than I had in several years.

I had 13 new posts last month and the most viewed were The ending, which was posted early in the month on Aug. 8, followed by The Fine Art of Murder (Aug. 22), Kendall Hunter: In person (Aug. 30,) Don't make me come over there (Aug. 19) and A writer's block blocker: Someone walks into the room . . . (Aug. 15). While I had views on every post I made last month and some from previous years, the Top. 5 accounted for roughly 38 percent of all views for the month.

However, none of my August posts ranked among my Top 5 all-time posts, and none of them came close.

But my total views last month ranked as my No. 5 best month as I started blogging in 2008.

I don't know what to make of all this -- except that I got more views if I tweeted about it first -- but I decided to let you know.

See you later in the month.

Thanks for reading.

Kendall Hunter: In person

One of the most-read blog posts I've had this month is on Kendall Hunter, the main character in my upcoming short story, Callipygian. In my post on Aug. 2, I spoke of my love for the character. She is tall, beautiful, single, smart and very, very clever. As an FBI criminal profiler, she is one of the best and is at the top of her game. And I love writing her because she is interesting and fun, is well-dressed and has killer instincts.

Callipygian is one of 18 short stories in The Fine Art of Murder, an anthology to be published in early October by the Speed City chapter of Sisters in Crime. Our official launch and book signing will be Sunday, Oct. 9, at the Barnes and Noble bookstore at 86th Street and Keystone Avenue in Indianapolis. But you can pre-order the book now on Amazon ($12.99) or on Walmart ($9.41).

When I think of Kendall Hunter, I think of her as she might appear above -- in the FBI field office in Philadelphia, working to solve some horrible murder. She works hard in a what many consider a man's world and, in the process, has become very good at something historically considered as male.

Anyway, here is Kendall. Get the anthology and enjoy all the stories and characters therein. You won't be disappointed.

Thanks for reading.

WHAAAT? That can't be right!

I was in Alexandria, Va., last week in the same hotel -- Hotel Monaco on King Street -- where I stayed in August 2015. During my stay last year, I posted something on Facebook about my experience right after I arrived. And I decided on the one-year anniversary of that FB post, I'd revisit it and share it with you on my blog. It's not so much about writing as it is an experience.

It was a worrisome and stressful situation in 2015 but read what I wrote to the end. While it could use a little editing and tightening in places, it expressed how I was feeling at the time. I could re-write it but decided not to.

So here it is, from Aug. 25, 2015. I hope you enjoy it and thanks for reading.

******
So we had just registered in a hotel, some 600 miles from home, and were getting off the elevator on the way to the room when my cell phone rang. It was my dad. Now I told him I would be away – we discussed it yesterday – and I called him before I boarded the plane this morning. But when he called, he sounded confused, said he wasn’t feeling well and wanted me to come over. He sounded scared, which scared me. I told him to call 911 – there’s a hospital a half mile from his house – and I started trying to reach relatives back home.

To make a long story short, he’s okay. Medical personnel at the hospital checked him out and he’s okay, except somewhat dehydrated. I spent more than two hours trying to remain calm and keeping my worry at bay. And I’m grateful to my Uncle Arthur, Aunt Sharron, cousins Turae and Eric, and brother David for checking on my dad and keeping me informed as I considered the difficulty and possible costs of ending my trip and going home.

It was beautiful outside today and not too hot. There was no reason to sit around doing nothing but worrying while we waited to hear from relatives back home. So Angela and I went to have lunch, settling on a French-style café in the next block, where we sat at an outdoor table and enjoyed a couple of salads and watched the foot and vehicular traffic.

It was warm and pretty outside, and news was good from back home. But despite an exterior calm that I had been keeping for some time, I struggled getting my emotions in check. I felt stressed and couldn’t return to feeling normal.

 Then, I looked up at a passing truck for a food company called Warner (I think). And on the side of the truck was a picture of a grandmotherly looking woman and under the picture it mentioned something about recipes from Aunt Pussy.

WHAAAT? That can’t be right! Aunt Pussy?

I blinked and looked again. It really said Aunt Peggy.

So I also want to thank the Warner company and Aunt Peggy. They brought a smile to my face and lightened my mood.

Aunt Peggy, indeed.

The Fine Art of Murder

I had planned to blog today about lines in novels, song lyrics, plays and movies that awed or inspired me. But I learned something big today.

The Speed City chapter of Sisters in Crime's newest anthology, The Fine Art of Murder, is now available for pre-order on Amazon and Walmart. (If I didn't screw it up, the links are below.) And my short story, Callipygian, is in the collection. It's about an FBI profiler who, while on vacation in Indianapolis visiting family, is drawn  into the investigation of three pieces of stolen art, including a painting called -- you guessed it -- Callipygian. Things get interesting when the prime suspect in the theft is murdered.

Edited by Brenda Stewart and Diana Catt, the collection is wonderful. I, of course, have seen a draft copy and have read the stories, and they are great. (Mine, in particular, of course.) It's a good collection and you'll enjoy it. Plus, proceeds benefit the education programs of the chapter.

The anthology's publication date is in early October but you can order it now. The pre-order price on Amazon is $12.99, while Walmart's discount price is $9.41. That's a discount of about 28 percent. (I have no earthly idea how Walmart came up with that price.)

Anyway, get The Fine Art of Murder today.

And thanks for reading.

https://www.amazon.com/Fine-Art-Murder-Collection-Stories/dp/1681570238/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1471896943&sr=8-4&keywords=the+fine+art+of+murder


https://www.walmart.com/ip/The-Fine-Art-of-Murder-A-Collection-of-Short-Stories/52607722

Don't make me come over there

WARNING: I gonna get real up in here and so all my Christian readers may want to cover their ears or look away. I just saying . . .

I was in Alexandria, Va., all week, and just got back today. Had a good time. Ate well, even had a couple of glasses of champagne from the bottle the management at the Hotel Monaco sent up for our wedding anniversary. (Last time I had a drink was about three years ago.) Walked around a lot, shopped, did tourist-y things, took a boat ride on the Potomac River, went to Ben's Chilli Bowl (one of my favorite places in Washington).

Generally slept late because, after a day of just fun, I usually wrote well into the night. So it was a good time all around.

After one last walk around Alexandria today, we left for the airport, Reagan National. When we got to the departure gate, there were people standing around everywhere. The flight was both delayed and over-booked. When asked, we opted to take a later flight, which allowed a young mother from Carmel, Ind., to make the flight home. But in the end, the airline also got us on the flight we were originally scheduled to take. We departed about 45 minutes late.

It took a while to get to the runway because we were following a number of other flights out and authorities were using that same runway for incoming flights from the south that was used for departing flights taking off to the north.

When we were second in line to leave, a Southwest flight landed. And as the US Air flight ahead of us moved onto the runway, a guy on our plane across the aisle from me said, in a voice loud enough for everyone on the plane to hear above the sound of the jet engines, "This fucking airline sucks."

What did he just say? I couldn't believe it.

In this day and age, when people are normally nervous about anything out of the ordinary happening at an airport or on a plane, thinking it could be the prelude to a terrorist attack, this jerk decided to get big and bad and loud. All over a situation which, for the most part, wasn't the airline's fault.

I looked across the aisle and said, "Don't make me come over there and bitch slap your sorry ass and then throw your fat ass out onto the tarmac so we can all get going."

Well, I actually only said that it my head. Aloud, I said nothing. I did what everyone else near him did; stared at him with death beams coming out of our eyes.

I'm a fiction writer, as you know, but some of the best stuff I get is real, such as with this jerk. This situation isn't much but it would be a great part in a short story. The fat guy who gets thrown from the back of a plane. Didn't happen but everyone of the plane probably wished it did. And as a writer, I can make that wish come true.

Man, it's great to be a writer. Because the only limitation is one's imagination.

Now what I should have said . . .

Well, maybe next time. But for now, thanks for reading.



  

Rejections III -- Update

I wrote and posted a blog five days ago on rejections. Specifically, I mentioned an award I had submitted to and was waiting to hear the decision, fearing the inevitable rejection.

The e-mail rejection arrived today.

Amazingly -- and quite gratefully -- I don't feel bad about it. I must be getting old. (Stop laughing out there. I see you.)

Though I edited some of it down, back in late June I submitted the first 5,000 words of An Untidy Affair, a detective novel with private eye David Blaise, for the 2016 Eleanor Taylor Bland Crime Fiction Writers of Color Award, which is sponsored by the national office of Sisters in Crime. This is the third year for the award, which grants $1,500 to its recipient.

The winner this year is Stephane Dunn, whom I don't know. But congrats to her. I'm sure she is more than deserving.

The award is named after Eleanor Taylor Bland, a pioneer in crime fiction who passed away six years ago. As it says on the SinC website, the goal of the award is "to support the recipient in activities related to crime fiction writing and career development." I can use some support in both those areas. And it is all the more important given that the latest survey of SinC shows fewer than 5 percent of its members are black.

I knew it was a longshot but I had nothing to lose. And I'm sure the organization, of which I have been a member for nearly a decade, would have preferred a woman, since the stated goal of SinC is the advancement of female mystery and crime writers. But one of my favorite things about Sisters in Crime is that the organization supports and promotes female writers but doesn't discriminate against us Mister Sisters. I am proud to be a member of Sisters in Crime and currently serve as vice president of the Speed City chapter of SinC. Speed City covers all of Indiana and our next short story anthology, The Fine Art of Murder, comes out in early October.

But rejection is common in writing, as it is in more creative areas. So I'm okay. I will just keep on keepin' on. There are more novels and short stories to write and more agents and publications to submit to.

So watch out world. I'm still coming for you.

Thanks for reading.

A writer's block blocker: Someone walks into the room . . .

As writers, we have all had to deal with writer's block; that condition when we are staring at the blank page and nothing is coming out. It's a difficult and scary situation.

Writers have written about it so much -- in books, blogs, videos, newsletters, in person, etc. -- that it's a small wonder that the problem still exists. Yet it does.

And so I decided to put in my two-cents worth.

That's not to say I have the remedy. If I did, there wouldn't so many novels, short stories and essays that I have started and never finished. Plus, if I had the remedy for writer's block, I'd be a millionaire. What writer wouldn't be willing to pay me a king's ransom for the cure to a serious problem that affects us all?

For some time, I have thought writer's block is basically just boredom. You are bore with what you are writing. And if that is the case, then so will the reader.

I think the quickest cure to that is to write through the problem as quickly as possible. Instead of a lot of imaginative description and detail setting the scene -- the look of the flowers, the smell of the air, the feel of the breeze, the sound of the birds, the feel of the dying person's pulse -- just write "Helen died on a Monday afternoon" and move on. The faster you get through it, the faster you put wirter's block behind you.

But a couple of years ago, someone told me about a wonderful cure to writer's block. Obviously, it really only works in fiction, and not in all fiction. It's best probably in mysteries or suspense fiction, although it can still work in a romance or other genre.

When you don't know what to write next, have someone walk into the room with a loaded gun in their hand. Regardless of what's going on in the scene prior to that, having someone walk in with a gun will change and energize everything. There are so many possibilities. Is it a man or a woman? Are they there for good or ill? Are they even in the right room? It doesn't matter because a load gun dramatically changes everything, both in fiction and real life.

So, the next time you are blocked, try adding a loaded gun, or at least some other weapon. You will be amazed with the results.

And hopefully, it will help your story. If nothing else, it could put a smile on your face as you consider all the possibilities.

Thanks for reading.    

Rejections III

It's been a while since I have touched on this subject. Probably the last time was in 2010. But that's not to say it hasn't happened or deeply touched me since then because it has. Query letters to agents and publishers, a manuscript submission, awards and contests -- lots of rejections.

I am thinking about it now because I am expecting another rejection soon, perhaps as early as Monday. I submitted the beginning of my detective novel An Untidy Affair for an award. I should probably hear by Monday. It's not for a publication, but there is a cash award. Hooray. The submission was some time ago and I have managed not to think about it much until now.

 Now I know this is getting the cart before the horse. (Where have I heard that before?) But while the submission was strong -- it's a good book and even in rejection at the end of last year, a publisher said it was a good piece of work -- but I'm sure the competition is strong. And I guess it is easier to be pessimistic at this point so I won't be as disappointed when the news comes. (Kind of like Donald Trump has started to say the November is rigged just in case Clinton beats him.)

The novel reached the quarterfinals in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award contest back in 2010, so I know it has potential. That was the reason I submitted it to this award.  (No, I'm not going to say which award right now. You will have to wait.)

Since in the publishing industry luck is nearly as important as talent, wish me luck. I already have the talent part handled.

Thanks for reading and don't give up.

Do you know Lincoln's Gettysburg Address?

It's a joke, of course. "Do you know Lincoln's Gettysburg Address?"

I first heard it on television many years ago, as a child, actually. I think it was on the Rocky and Bullwinkle Show. The punchline is: "I didn't know he moved."

To get the joke, you need a modicum of knowledge of U.S. history and even as a child I got it. And later, as an adult, I used the joke as the baseline (and a low baseline, at that) for determining whether a person had any understanding or knowledge of history. You'd be amazed at the number of people who don't.

As a writer, you need to hit the sweet spot between people's knowledge and understanding of your topic or subject, and your presentation of something new and imaginative. Lean too far on the former and the reader will get bored and stop reading. Can't have that.

But to lean too heavily on the latter could result in the reader lacking context. And again, the reader could stop reading. Can't have that.

My beta readers -- a select group of friends and colleagues and others -- like my writing, which is great. Members of my critique group are great at pointing out problems in both my writing and storytelling.

But as a fiction writer, I am still insecure. Am I giving my reader something new and imaginative but without a context they can understand? Am I just writing what others have written before? I truly don't know.

I was much more confident as a reporter. I generally knew what I wrote hit the mark. But fiction seems so much more subjective, although I know it's not.

 Anyway, I'm working on it. But in the meantime, do you know Lincoln's Gettysburg Address?

Thanks for reading. 

A long sentence

A long sentence isn't necessarily a better sentence. Often times, it's just a long sentence.

Word.

Thanks for reading. Now get back to writing.

The ending

Last week, I wrote about the beginning of a novel or short story. Or more specifically, I wrote about the sentence that comes AFTER the first sentence, the second sentence, which must also be a grabber and keep grabbing.

Today, I want to skip past the beginning, over the middle, and go straight to the ending. Because it is the ending that the reader will most likely remember first.

A couple of weeks ago, I was talking to a fan of my short story Miss Hattie Mae's Secret. She loved the beginning and, I admit, I do, too. Of all my published and unpublished fiction, it is perhaps my favorite opening. (As I posted last Aug. 1, in this blog, the first two paragraphs have a total of only five words. ["Miss Hattie Mae Farted. Often."] It is minimalist to say the least.) But the reader, who enjoyed the story, was upset with the ending. She wondered what happened next. And, in not knowing, was somewhat vexed.

(For those of you who haven't read the entire story, it ends with the county sheriff coming to visit Miss Hattie Mae to discuss the newly unearthed secret that she has kept for eight decades.)

One of the goals in writing, particularly in genre fiction such as mysteries which I write, is to tie up loose ends. Miss Hattie Mae's Secret started and ended with her, all 95 years of age, on the porch and farting. I originally planned to write more but when I got to that point I stopped because I thought I said all that needed to be said. Anything further I left to the reader.

In all stories, real and fictional, something happens before the point where the writer begins the story and something happens after the story ends. Fictional life, as in real life, is part of a continuum and the writer, almost arbitrarily, begins and ends the telling wherever they choose.

But as a writer, you do want to leave the reader satisfied at the end. Otherwise, they may feel like they wasted their time. You don't want to do that. Case in point, my favorite book from last year. The Martian. I loved the story and enjoyed the book. And, having read it several times, do not think I wasted my time. But I wasn't thrilled with the ending, which was just after Mark Watney is rescued and is beginning his seven-month journey home. The movie, I think, did it better. It ends with Mark back on earth and training new NASA recruits on survival.

I think I approach an ending in fiction the way I always did as a daily journalist. When I got to the end, I stopped writing. When you have said it all, just stop.

And so it is with this.

Thanks for reading.

The end.





   

 

After the opening line, what comes next?

So, what's the next line?

From writers to editors, from agents to teachers and writing coaches, from publishers to Internet bloggers, everyone in the writing and publishing industry stresses the importance of a good opening line. It's almost as if you don't nail the opening line, you might as well give up and go home. While I doubt readers care as much about this as writers do, I don't doubt its importance, which is why I -- like so many writers -- sweat that first line.

Oddly, we don't tend to get as insane with what comes next -- the second line. And why not?

That question came to mind thanks to a friend and former colleague.

The venerable sage Joe Boyce was a Chicago cop back in the late 1960s -- sit back and contemplate that for a second. A black cop in Chicago in the late 60s -- before getting the journalism bug. He spent time at the Chicago Tribune before heading off to Time magazine, and then finally to the Wall Street Journal before retiring. He's a musician now and enjoying retirement.

Last month, on his Facebook page, he started posting a one-sentence prompt -- the opening sentence -- and asked his friends to write the next line. But one line only.

Some people wrote an interesting sentence, full of thought, full of promise. But frankly, some people wrote unimaginative, boring stuff. They seemed to give it no thought at all. And other people failed to read his instructions fully and wrote more than one sentence.

But I took it seriously. And I followed Joe's  instructions.

Regardless of the prompt, I tried to write something as compelling as the first sentence. Because it's the next sentence and the next sentence and the next that makes for good, consistent writing and storytelling. I knew that, of course, but Joe just reminded me of it. Your writing can lose a reader at any point. Therefore, the next sentence is always important.

So, Joseph, thank you, as always, for keeping it real.

And to everyone else, thanks for reading. And keep writing.

Kendall Hunter

I'm in love. Deeply. Passionately. Completely.

I often get a thrill just thinking about The Woman.

Her name is Kendall. Kendall Hunter. And she is currently the love of my life. Well, kinda.

Now, this would be more than a bit adulterous, except in this context. (It still might be, even in this context, but I don't think so.) That's because Kendall is fictional. Created from whole cloth from my brain. (Am I sounding messianic?) That's not to say I didn't have some inspiration for the character from a friend, a muse who has proven to be very helpful as I develop Kendall. But all that Kendall is comes from me. I just don't know yet what's going to happen to her.

Kendall Hunter is the main character in my upcoming short story, Callipygian, which will be published this October by the Speed City chapter of Sisters in Crime in their anthology, "The Fine Art of Murder." Closer to the publication date, I'll drop an excerpt. But for now, I'll just say it's the story of an FBI criminal profiler (Kendall) who, while she is on vacation in Indianapolis visiting family, is drawn into the investigation into the theft of three valuable paintings, including one called Callipygian. The plot thickens, as they say, when the main suspect is found murdered.

(Callipygian. I also love that word. I was listening to an interview by Terry Gross on NPR's Fresh Air about two years ago and her guest used the word. Terry, who is smart, well-educated and well-prepared in interviews, didn't appear to know the word, which I didn't either. When I looked it up, I decided then and there to somehow use it. So I built this short story around it.)

While this will be my first published story with this character, it isn't the first time I have written this character. The first story is called Black on Black in Black. White folks may not get that but it should ring a bell with black folks. In that story, Kendall is called in to profile a serial killer.

Kendall is a tall, beautiful, single black woman, who is smart and clever. Very clever, in fact. Work is her focus, and she does it extremely well, but she needs to get a personal life. And she harbors a deep secret from her past that could turn her life around. It's what I'm trying to explore in each new story -- there are four in total, including my current short story WIP (work in progress). Discovering who she is is why I'm so in love with her. She's interesting and fun, occasionally funny, brainy, well-dressed and has a killer body. (I like big butts and I cannot lie. What else can I say?)

But like I said earlier, I don't know yet what's going to happen to her. I can't keep her forever, even as I start publishing her stories. It'll be sad when it's over.

But I know it will come to an end, even if she doesn't. I am a fickle lover and I know in time I will fall madly in love with another fictional characters. Those I have loved in the past have just let it go and moved on. I only hope Kendall Hunter will do the same and not become  a jealous lover, willing to do anything to hold on to me. Because that WOULD be scary.

I'm having fun with her now. And after the story is published, I hope you will enjoy her, too.

Thanks for reading and keep on writing.

An excerpt of Miss Hattie Mae's Secret, published in Decades of Dirt (2015).

Hello, everyone. Many of you have 'liked' my author page on Facebook (Look for author MB Dabney, on Facebook, and like me if you haven't already.) and months ago read on excerpt from my story, Miss Hattie Mae's Secret in the anthology, Decades of Dirt. My story is the last one of 15 stories of murder, mystery and mayhem in the book, which is still available on Amazon for $9.99. And you can also get an e-book version for $2.99.
So please, if you can and haven't yet, get a copy of Decades of Dirt. And enjoy all the wonderful stories you will find there.
And for a taste, here is an excerpt from the beginning of Miss Hattie Mae's Secret by MB Dabney.
_____  

Miss Hattie Mae farted...

Often.

When anyone mentioned the flatulence, she’d blame it on the dog. She blamed most things on the dog. Only problem was, Miss Hattie Mae didn’t have a dog, hadn’t for years.

What Miss Hattie Mae did have was a secret – one that spanned decades. The secret was like a respectful traveling companion: generally silent but always present. She was one month shy of 96 and the secret had come to define her life for more than eight decades.

Her small, five-room dwelling had a distinctive, although not all together unpleasant, aroma from all the years Miss Hattie Mae had lived, cooked and farted in the house. She was born there, lived there most of her life (even after she married), and raised her children under its leaky roof.

Hattie Mae’s father Ezra Reeves built the house right after he moved to the area with his new bride Ruth the year before Hattie Mae was born. At the time, the house sat at one end of their land, which stretched 40 acres. Over time, and with hard work and careful buying, Ezra’s property grew to more than 200 acres on which his extended family farmed cotton and soybeans. A small portion of land, the part closest to the house, also held apple and peach trees. Her mother’s apple pies were legendary in the small black community outside of Clarksville, Tennessee. When she wasn’t forced to work in the fields when she was growing up, Hattie Mae liked to play along a line of oak trees visible at the other end of their property.

The house, now sitting on a small parcel of land, was all the property she had left, though it wasn’t her only financial asset. In truth, Miss Hattie Mae was a millionaire, a recent development she cared little about.

Last year, the federal government used eminent domain to take most of her land – and paid her handsomely for it, which explained her wealth. Plans were for the expansion of a four-lane highway for traffic heading to and from Clarksville. Large land movers arrived last week to start tearing down those oak trees and reworking the property in preparation for the highway construction.

 But the land held secrets; long buried secrets that were about to be exposed for the first time in decades.

Miss Hattie Mae’s eyesight was poor, but she could still distinguish the flashing lights atop the police cars among the land movers at the edge of the line of oak trees.

“Boy,” she said, her tongue licking her lips, “Betta go tel-ah-phone yo pappy.”

____

Thanks for reading.

Challenges at the end of 2015, and beginning of 2016

I was away from this blog for most of last year, so I didn't post a series of challenges I faced at the end of the year that extended into the beginning of 2016.

There was some good, of course. The anthology I co-edited, Decades of Dirt, was published in the late summer. Throughout the fall, we had several wonderful book signings and book presentations. One of my favorites was in Greenwood, Indiana, on Oct. 17. I think there were six of us on a panel in which we discussed writing, the anthology and our stories. We had a nice crowd that afternoon and I was well-pleased as I drove the roughly 20 miles home.

That is, I was pleased until I was about two miles from the house. It was at that point when the driver in another car failed to yield  the right-of-way and inexplicably turned left into my path. It was totally unexpected and we collided nearly head-on with me going about 40 miles per hour.

 

Both air bags in front went off, smoke filled the car, I couldn't open my car door (and thus was trapped inside) and I was nearly in shock. But when they arrived 8 minutes later, rescue workers determined I didn't break my neck or my back, and they were able to lift me into the passenger seat to get me out, and rush me to the hospital. My neck was killing me but, as I said, wasn't broken. However, I broke a bone in my left hand -- which made it difficult for me to type for weeks -- and I spent the night in the hospital as they monitored me for possible damage to my heart, which could have resulted in a heart attack.

Needless to say, the car was totaled. The impact bent the frame of the car from the front to the back on the driver side. Which meant, of course, my body absorbed energy strong enough to bend metal.

But I recovered after several weeks.

In December, just a week before Christmas, our furnace failed at the beginning of a cold winter. Two nights later, as we were considering our furnace options, we had a small electrical fire in the outlet next to my desk. We had to spend two nights out of the house and EVERYTHING in my guestroom/office was removed and cleaned.

In early January, we finally replaced the car that was totaled but by then I was having to mentally and emotionally prepare for surgery.

In the late summer last year, doctors determined that, once again, I had prostate cancer. Since I had radiation for cancer over the winter in 2009-10 -- it was my Winter Project that year -- I couldn't have radiation again. Surgery was the best of two poor options.

The surgery was the day after Valentine's Day and went wonderfully well. The surgeon, a tall man by the name of Dr. Large, was very pleased. Spent three days in the hospital, mostly because it took me that long to pass gas, but had a urinary catheter for FOUR WEEKS. (You can't tell it from the picture below but the catheter is why I was wearing a skirt.) Having a tube coming out of my penis for that long is beyond tiring.

Anyway, I still have challenges from the prostate surgery but I'm feeling much better. And the good thing is my PSA is zero and I can still write. But I was so consumed with the fall car accident, the furnace, the house fire and the surgery, I couldn't focus on a book outline about the Indianapolis 500 that I promised a local publisher. An opportunity lost but, as I am still among the quick, I will just have to grab another opportunity.

But life does get in the way sometimes.

So that's a little of what's happened lately. Thanks for reading and keep writing.

I'm back -- again

For the life of me, I have no idea why I can't keep up with my blog postings. I try but then, I fall behind and let it go.

But I'm back -- yet again. And will try yet again to keep up with this.

Since I was last with you, my Sisters in Crime chapter published an anthology which I co-edited with Barb Miller, a Muncie, Indiana, school teacher. The anthology is called Decades of Dirt, includes 15 stories of death and mayhem, and was published last October. All the stories have an historical aspect to them, though not all involve murders. (Most do.) Reviews have been good and sales have been okay up until this point.

Though it was the chapter's fourth anthology, it was the first -- and currently, the only -- independently published work. The chapter wanted to give its members a taste of self-publishing, with all its pros and cons.

You can get a print copy of Decades of Dirt on Amazon for $9.99, while an e-copy is only $2.99. I have both, of course. I'm very proud of the effort. And it's the first book on which my name appears on the cover.

I have a story in the book. My story closes on the book, in fact. the story is called Miss Hattie Mae's Secret. I am particularly proud of the story and in the near future will post an excerpt.

The chapter decided to return to our previous publisher (Blue River Press) for our next anthology, which is called, The Fine Art of Murder. It's currently being edited. I can't remember how many stories there are but it's around 15, give or take. All the stories involve some aspect of fine art -- and, if the title is correct -- murder.

I also have a story in the anthology and it's called Callipygian. (I'll wait while you go look that up.) It's about an FBI criminal profiler named Kendall Hunter who, while on vacation in Indianapolis, is drawn into the investigation of an art theft, and the murder of the chief suspect. I enjoy the story and I particularly like the main character. She's an interesting character to write because I love discovering who she is.

While this is the fourth story I have written with her, it is the first to be published. When we get closer to the October publication date, or thereafter, I will post an excerpt. Perhaps even a video blog posting.

More health news but that will have to wait until next time.

That's it. Thanks for reading and keep writing.