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.
Showing posts with label anthology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anthology. Show all posts
Friday, October 28, 2016
Friday, October 21, 2016
Callipygian is here
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.
Friday, October 14, 2016
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.
Thursday, October 13, 2016
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."
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."
Wednesday, September 14, 2016
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.
Saturday, September 10, 2016
FAM front cover
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.
Monday, August 22, 2016
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
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
Monday, August 1, 2016
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...
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 27, 2016
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.
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.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Contradictory feelings
It's a strange thing. When I finish a novel or short story, I feel excited about what I have just done. I'm sure it reads well. But at the same time, I am gripped by a incredible insecurity about my writing.
It's a contradiction.
But then I get comments from those whose opinions I trust -- both good and bad opinions. And while offering suggestions for improvements, they are always encouraging of my progress as a writer.
So, I feel better and keep writing.
Anyway, I decided to let you in on a little of my insecurities. Have a good day and keep writing.
It's a contradiction.
But then I get comments from those whose opinions I trust -- both good and bad opinions. And while offering suggestions for improvements, they are always encouraging of my progress as a writer.
So, I feel better and keep writing.
Anyway, I decided to let you in on a little of my insecurities. Have a good day and keep writing.
Monday, July 16, 2012
The Missing Medallion
The Speed City chapter of Sisters in Crime plans to publish a basketball anthology next year, with the publication date possibly being during March Madness. When we pitched the idea to the publisher more than a year ago, he jumped on it immediately.
The deadline for the story submission was yesterday, July 15. The deadline was set months and months ago so there shouldn't have been a problem with making it with plenty of time left over.
One would think . . .
I got my story in under the deadline by a little over two hours.
My story is called, "The Missing Medallion", and is the fictional story of an legendary old high school basketball coach who for 40 years held on to a winner's medallion for a player who disappeared minutes after scoring the basket that clinches the state basketball championship. It was a lot of work but I think the end result is good.
Thanks to the five people who braved the first draft and who offered wonderful suggestions for improvements. The suggestions, many of them taken, greatly improved the project.
Now I wait to hear what the editor and publisher have to say. I am ready for any notes they have to offer.
The title of the anthology is Hoosier Hijinx. It will be the chapter's third anthology, following Racing Can Be Murder (2007) and Bedlam at the Brickyard (2010). My story in Bedlam was my first published fiction.
The editors for Racing are serving as editors again.
I contributed factoids for Bedlam two years ago, and this time will help write and edit profiles of prominent basketball personalities with connections to Indiana.
Well, that's it for now. Thanks for reading and keep writing.
The deadline for the story submission was yesterday, July 15. The deadline was set months and months ago so there shouldn't have been a problem with making it with plenty of time left over.
One would think . . .
I got my story in under the deadline by a little over two hours.
My story is called, "The Missing Medallion", and is the fictional story of an legendary old high school basketball coach who for 40 years held on to a winner's medallion for a player who disappeared minutes after scoring the basket that clinches the state basketball championship. It was a lot of work but I think the end result is good.
Thanks to the five people who braved the first draft and who offered wonderful suggestions for improvements. The suggestions, many of them taken, greatly improved the project.
Now I wait to hear what the editor and publisher have to say. I am ready for any notes they have to offer.
The title of the anthology is Hoosier Hijinx. It will be the chapter's third anthology, following Racing Can Be Murder (2007) and Bedlam at the Brickyard (2010). My story in Bedlam was my first published fiction.
The editors for Racing are serving as editors again.
I contributed factoids for Bedlam two years ago, and this time will help write and edit profiles of prominent basketball personalities with connections to Indiana.
Well, that's it for now. Thanks for reading and keep writing.
Monday, July 9, 2012
So much work to do
I have so much work to do today, and for the rest of this week, in fact. I am editing a couple of stories for an anthology, writing a short story, completing work on a newsletter -- deadline was last Friday -- and lining up interviews for a writing project I am doing. Plus, I have to look for work to do in the fall.
On top of all that, there are still query letters to write. It never seems to stop.
But I should have a little rest in a couple of weeks when we go on vacation for a week. Yes, I will still do some writing. That never stops. And while I am gone I plan one, and possibly two, meetings with potential clients. Even if nothing comes from that, the tax write-off will help pay for part of my vacation. And if something comes of it, all the better.
So, I must get back to work. Time's a-wastin'.
Thanks for reading and keep writing.
On top of all that, there are still query letters to write. It never seems to stop.
But I should have a little rest in a couple of weeks when we go on vacation for a week. Yes, I will still do some writing. That never stops. And while I am gone I plan one, and possibly two, meetings with potential clients. Even if nothing comes from that, the tax write-off will help pay for part of my vacation. And if something comes of it, all the better.
So, I must get back to work. Time's a-wastin'.
Thanks for reading and keep writing.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
A new novel
Started the outline for a new novel today. I don't like to do sequels. (Someone at Writer's Digest once told me why write numerous books in a series if you haven't sold the first one yet. It would be a huge waste of time and creative energy.) But this is a continuation of story with private eye David Blaise.
The first novel was set in May 1985. This novel is set several years later. But I like the plot and the characters and, frankly, it could be a stand-alone, not just a book in a series.
I plan to write, in longhand, eight or 10 pages of outline and see what I have from that. And I decided to do this now, instead of in the fall, because I plan to attempt the first draft in June, as part of the NaNoWriMo in June.
It will be more difficult than in November, when there is a holiday. There is no holiday in June but with graduation, and open houses, and college preparation and registration, I have a lot going on it June. (I can barely wait until August when we send our daughter off to school. I don't remember it being this hectic when I started college.) Plus I have a story for an anthology to finish in June. Lots of stuff for my brain to handle.
Anyway, my untitled book should get underway on the first of June. And if for any of a number of reasons it doesn't get finished in June, I can always attempt it in November. It's a wonderful detective mystery story that's begging to get out. So, I'm going to let it.
Thanks for reading and keep writing.
The first novel was set in May 1985. This novel is set several years later. But I like the plot and the characters and, frankly, it could be a stand-alone, not just a book in a series.
I plan to write, in longhand, eight or 10 pages of outline and see what I have from that. And I decided to do this now, instead of in the fall, because I plan to attempt the first draft in June, as part of the NaNoWriMo in June.
It will be more difficult than in November, when there is a holiday. There is no holiday in June but with graduation, and open houses, and college preparation and registration, I have a lot going on it June. (I can barely wait until August when we send our daughter off to school. I don't remember it being this hectic when I started college.) Plus I have a story for an anthology to finish in June. Lots of stuff for my brain to handle.
Anyway, my untitled book should get underway on the first of June. And if for any of a number of reasons it doesn't get finished in June, I can always attempt it in November. It's a wonderful detective mystery story that's begging to get out. So, I'm going to let it.
Thanks for reading and keep writing.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Query News, Part III
Since last fall, I have concentrated on writing a novel for National Novel Writing Month (then changing my mind), doing a final re-write and edit of The Last Tontine Survivor for the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award, starting a short story for an anthology, re-writing another short story for a Writer's Digest contest and, finally, doing a final read-through and edit of An Untidy Affair for a contest with a publisher. Sounds like I have been busy, and I have been.
But as I sit and think about it, all that work had another purpose -- distracting me from doing something I need to focus on but generally don't enjoy doing -- sending out query letters for my novel.
I now have two really good works I feel comfortable with querying in their current forms. And I have queried Affair before. Since it is under consideration with a publisher, I will hold off on querying it for now.
Which brings me to Tontine. It's Tontine's time.
A month ago, back on Feb. 22, my blog posting titled "Nervous Nellie" included the pitch I used for Tontine for ABNA. Though I was eliminated from the contest based on that pitch, I still will use it as the basis for my query letter for the novel. I think it conveys the story well. But in case I'm wrong, I will only send out a limited number of queries with that letter. If I don't get any bites after sending five to seven letters, I will strap it and start with an entirely different letter for Tontine.
I truly don't know what it's going to take to pique an agent's interest but I know it won't happen as long as I stall trying. I can keep busy with contests but unless I win, it won't get me closer to publication. So it's Query Letter Time.
This evening I will put in some serious effort in compiling an agent list. By the weekend, the letters should start heading out. Rejections, and the accompanying depression, will probably start next week.
Just wanted to prepare you.
Thanks for reading and keep writing (and querying).
But as I sit and think about it, all that work had another purpose -- distracting me from doing something I need to focus on but generally don't enjoy doing -- sending out query letters for my novel.
I now have two really good works I feel comfortable with querying in their current forms. And I have queried Affair before. Since it is under consideration with a publisher, I will hold off on querying it for now.
Which brings me to Tontine. It's Tontine's time.
A month ago, back on Feb. 22, my blog posting titled "Nervous Nellie" included the pitch I used for Tontine for ABNA. Though I was eliminated from the contest based on that pitch, I still will use it as the basis for my query letter for the novel. I think it conveys the story well. But in case I'm wrong, I will only send out a limited number of queries with that letter. If I don't get any bites after sending five to seven letters, I will strap it and start with an entirely different letter for Tontine.
I truly don't know what it's going to take to pique an agent's interest but I know it won't happen as long as I stall trying. I can keep busy with contests but unless I win, it won't get me closer to publication. So it's Query Letter Time.
This evening I will put in some serious effort in compiling an agent list. By the weekend, the letters should start heading out. Rejections, and the accompanying depression, will probably start next week.
Just wanted to prepare you.
Thanks for reading and keep writing (and querying).
Monday, February 27, 2012
Researching Hoosier Hysteria
The Speed City chapter of Sisters in Crime held its February meeting last Saturday at the Indiana Basketball Hall of Fame, which spotlights the highs and lows of high school basketball in the state. It was wonderful trip to New Castle, where the hall and museum are located, not the least of which being because it was such a beautiful sunny day for the 45-minute drive.
The decision for visit and tour the hall was mostly to help people generate ideas for Speed City's next anthology is about Indiana basketball. It was certainly beneficial to me. During the hourlong tour, I took two pages of notes on everything from famed coaches -- the late John Wooden, a Hoosier native, played at Purdue and coached high school ball in South Bend before heading out west -- to famous players, like Larry Bird.
But my story for the anthology centers around girls playing high school basketball. While there were no rules against girls trying out for high school basketball teams, which only had boys, there were no girl teams in inter-school play. Only beginning in the 1950s and picking up stream in the follwing decade did schools begin to develop teams for both boys and girls. There wasn't a girls high school basketball championship until the mid-1970s.
The story I have planned is coming along well, particularly because of the research I was able to do in New Castle. Plus I am developing further questions for the guide, who gave me is business card and encouraged me to call back if I had needed additional information.
While I try to do as little research as possible -- I always remember: "Write what you know." -- some research is always needed no matter what you write about. And I enjoy having as much information on hand as possible even if I don't even use it.
On another note, attended a big Oscar Night Party downtown last night. It is a fundraiser for the local United Way and is always a lot of fun. I attend most years. (The food is usually outstanding.)
And I was so pleased to see Woody Allen win for best original screenplay for "Midnight in Paris," which I saw for the first time last Friday night. (I knew he didn't stand a chance for the best director nod.) I loved the film and the writing was incredible, as you would expect from Allen. He remains my favorite film writer. He is witty and urbane but less neurotic than he was as a young man. When I want to see neurotic, I pop "Sleeper" in the player. It's my favorite of his "early funny films."
Anyway, that's all this aspiring novelist has to say at the moment, except thanks for reading and don't give up.
The decision for visit and tour the hall was mostly to help people generate ideas for Speed City's next anthology is about Indiana basketball. It was certainly beneficial to me. During the hourlong tour, I took two pages of notes on everything from famed coaches -- the late John Wooden, a Hoosier native, played at Purdue and coached high school ball in South Bend before heading out west -- to famous players, like Larry Bird.
But my story for the anthology centers around girls playing high school basketball. While there were no rules against girls trying out for high school basketball teams, which only had boys, there were no girl teams in inter-school play. Only beginning in the 1950s and picking up stream in the follwing decade did schools begin to develop teams for both boys and girls. There wasn't a girls high school basketball championship until the mid-1970s.
The story I have planned is coming along well, particularly because of the research I was able to do in New Castle. Plus I am developing further questions for the guide, who gave me is business card and encouraged me to call back if I had needed additional information.
While I try to do as little research as possible -- I always remember: "Write what you know." -- some research is always needed no matter what you write about. And I enjoy having as much information on hand as possible even if I don't even use it.
On another note, attended a big Oscar Night Party downtown last night. It is a fundraiser for the local United Way and is always a lot of fun. I attend most years. (The food is usually outstanding.)
And I was so pleased to see Woody Allen win for best original screenplay for "Midnight in Paris," which I saw for the first time last Friday night. (I knew he didn't stand a chance for the best director nod.) I loved the film and the writing was incredible, as you would expect from Allen. He remains my favorite film writer. He is witty and urbane but less neurotic than he was as a young man. When I want to see neurotic, I pop "Sleeper" in the player. It's my favorite of his "early funny films."
Anyway, that's all this aspiring novelist has to say at the moment, except thanks for reading and don't give up.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
PSA and other thoughts
If you have read my blog for some time, you know I am a prostate cancer survivor. Or at least so far. But I still see the doctor every six months to have my PSA levels checked. I generally don't think much about the cancer except just before having to see the doctor again.
And that time is upon me again.
I had bllod drawn last week and my appointment to see the doctor for the results is on March 6. Can't wait. (Well, actually, I can.)
If all continues as it should (and as it has been), I probably won't touch on this subject again for about six months. If not, well, I'm not sure when I will bring it up again.
On other matters . . .
The Speed City chapter of Sisters in Crime is working on another anthology, this time with basketball as the theme. The deadline for submission is in July.
Over the weekend, I hashed out the outlines for an interesting story. I won't bore you with the details at the moment but it will involve a female high school basketball player. Our SinC chapter is meeting at the Indiana High School Basketball Hall of Fame in New Castle this Saturday so I will be able to do some research while I am there.
(Oh, for the first time in three years I'm NOT the secretary of our chapter. Was tired of that, thank you very much. But I was roped into being the membership, so I am still on the board. That's not so bad. I just check the membership rolls once a month or so. It's do-able.)
I had something else on my mind but I can't remember what. So I am going to go for now.
Thanks for reading and catch you on the flip side.
And that time is upon me again.
I had bllod drawn last week and my appointment to see the doctor for the results is on March 6. Can't wait. (Well, actually, I can.)
If all continues as it should (and as it has been), I probably won't touch on this subject again for about six months. If not, well, I'm not sure when I will bring it up again.
On other matters . . .
The Speed City chapter of Sisters in Crime is working on another anthology, this time with basketball as the theme. The deadline for submission is in July.
Over the weekend, I hashed out the outlines for an interesting story. I won't bore you with the details at the moment but it will involve a female high school basketball player. Our SinC chapter is meeting at the Indiana High School Basketball Hall of Fame in New Castle this Saturday so I will be able to do some research while I am there.
(Oh, for the first time in three years I'm NOT the secretary of our chapter. Was tired of that, thank you very much. But I was roped into being the membership, so I am still on the board. That's not so bad. I just check the membership rolls once a month or so. It's do-able.)
I had something else on my mind but I can't remember what. So I am going to go for now.
Thanks for reading and catch you on the flip side.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Query News, Part II
It's been quite a week in the Query Wars. Two weeks, really.
Since the Friday before Labor Day, I have sent out 29 query letters for AN UNTIDY AFFAIR, some with partial pages attached and some without. Twenty-six were e-mail submissions, two were submissions through the agency's in-house process via their website and one went by snail mail.
No requests for additional pages, a partial or the entire manuscript. There have been 12 rejections, including one in the return envelope through the U.S. Postal Service.
This week was the big week, of course. I got four rejections on Monday, more than on any single day since I started sending at queries for my first book, FIGHTING CHAOS, three years ago. Tuesday saw two additional rejections, none Wednesday, one on Thursday and none (so far) today.
Totally, my response rate is just over 40 percent. But it may increase in the next week or so and in about two weeks I will send out reminders to selected agents. In the past, that has also generated a couple of responses.
I was reminded this week, more than once, actually, that all it will take is for ONE agent to love my book. I can't do much except send out queries until I find that ONE.
Enjoy the weekend. I will be attending a book fair tomorrow at the Hancock County Public Library and, hopefully, signing some copies of my story in BEDLAM AT THE BRICKYARD.
Thanks for reading. Now go out and write something good.
Since the Friday before Labor Day, I have sent out 29 query letters for AN UNTIDY AFFAIR, some with partial pages attached and some without. Twenty-six were e-mail submissions, two were submissions through the agency's in-house process via their website and one went by snail mail.
No requests for additional pages, a partial or the entire manuscript. There have been 12 rejections, including one in the return envelope through the U.S. Postal Service.
This week was the big week, of course. I got four rejections on Monday, more than on any single day since I started sending at queries for my first book, FIGHTING CHAOS, three years ago. Tuesday saw two additional rejections, none Wednesday, one on Thursday and none (so far) today.
Totally, my response rate is just over 40 percent. But it may increase in the next week or so and in about two weeks I will send out reminders to selected agents. In the past, that has also generated a couple of responses.
I was reminded this week, more than once, actually, that all it will take is for ONE agent to love my book. I can't do much except send out queries until I find that ONE.
Enjoy the weekend. I will be attending a book fair tomorrow at the Hancock County Public Library and, hopefully, signing some copies of my story in BEDLAM AT THE BRICKYARD.
Thanks for reading. Now go out and write something good.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Always bring a pen
As a reporter, when I am going into an interview, I always follow a Boy Scout motto: Be Prepared! And when I talk to students about the craft of reporting and writing, I make a point of that.
As a journalist going out on an interview, I generally carry at least two, sharpened No. 4 pencils -- I prefer taking notes in pencil and I like my pencils to stay sharp, thus the choice of the harder lead No. 4 over the softer lead No. 2. It's hard to find them in retail outlets so I have to order them online -- one or two pens, and a reporter's notebook.
I have never liked relying on recording interviews but I have used recording devices from time to time, though no longer. But I always made sure the recorder was working before heading out and before I started to use it. I also carried extra batteries and I always still took notes in longhand.
Until recently, I always carried a reporter's notebook and a pen in the glove compartment of my car. Since I don't do daily journalism anymore, I stopped that but I still have paper and pen in the car in case I need to take notes.
So you'd think I'd be better prepared as an author. Not always.
Before I headed out last week to a book store for a booksigning for BEDLAM AT THE BRICKYARD, I make sure I had extra copies of the book in the trunk of my car, I had a handful of bookmarks, a 24-inch X 36-inch poster of the book cover and a bottle of water.
I thought of it five minutes before I left but in the end, I forgot to take a pen.
Now I ask you -- what sense does to make to go to a booksigning and not take a pen to sign some freakin' books? Yes, the store had some. One of the other authors let me borrow one of theirs. But going without a pen is just plain dumb.
It's a small detail but it is all about being prepared. I have learned a valuable lesson so heres some advice for you.
Always bring a pen!
Well, that's it this week for this aspiring author. Have a good weekend.
Thanks for reading, don't give up and always remember to take a pen.
As a journalist going out on an interview, I generally carry at least two, sharpened No. 4 pencils -- I prefer taking notes in pencil and I like my pencils to stay sharp, thus the choice of the harder lead No. 4 over the softer lead No. 2. It's hard to find them in retail outlets so I have to order them online -- one or two pens, and a reporter's notebook.
I have never liked relying on recording interviews but I have used recording devices from time to time, though no longer. But I always made sure the recorder was working before heading out and before I started to use it. I also carried extra batteries and I always still took notes in longhand.
Until recently, I always carried a reporter's notebook and a pen in the glove compartment of my car. Since I don't do daily journalism anymore, I stopped that but I still have paper and pen in the car in case I need to take notes.
So you'd think I'd be better prepared as an author. Not always.
Before I headed out last week to a book store for a booksigning for BEDLAM AT THE BRICKYARD, I make sure I had extra copies of the book in the trunk of my car, I had a handful of bookmarks, a 24-inch X 36-inch poster of the book cover and a bottle of water.
I thought of it five minutes before I left but in the end, I forgot to take a pen.
Now I ask you -- what sense does to make to go to a booksigning and not take a pen to sign some freakin' books? Yes, the store had some. One of the other authors let me borrow one of theirs. But going without a pen is just plain dumb.
It's a small detail but it is all about being prepared. I have learned a valuable lesson so heres some advice for you.
Always bring a pen!
Well, that's it this week for this aspiring author. Have a good weekend.
Thanks for reading, don't give up and always remember to take a pen.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
A Mister Sister
I am a Mister Sister, and I'm proud of it!
In the last Sisters in Crime newsletter I got several weeks ago, there was a wonderful article called, Brothers in Crime, which focused on SinC members like me -- men in Sisters in Crime.
The goal of SinC has been the same since the beginning in 1987; working to achieve equality for women writers in the publishing industry, particularly in the crime genre. But, as the article written by SinC chapter liaison Sandra Parshall states, that doesn't mean the organization wants to take away anything from male writers. In fact, men have been part of SinC since the beginning. SinC is supportive of all writers, regardless of gender.
I joined Sisters in Crime specifically because of two male members in the Speed City chapter, Tony Perona and Jim Huang. As Jim says, SinC programs are supportive and inclusive of everyone. SinC is positive and upbeat. And I see that in every chapter meeting. I don't feel out of place though often there are only one or two men in attendance.
The Speed City chapter of SinC has three dozen members and six are men. That's not a bad percentage. In fact, I think it is slightly higher than the national, where male membership is around 12 percent to 14 percent. I am the only male officer of our chapter, where I have served for two years as secretary, but I truly believe I have benefited from membership far more than I have contributed.
I joined SinC in 2008 after writing my first novel, FIGHTING CHAOS. (Note, the title of my blog stems from the title of the book.) No one in the group has read Chaos. But members have read and commented on subsequent work and I can say without fear of contradiction that my writing has improved tremendously as a result.
All the stories in BEDLAM AT THE BRICKYARD are written by local members of Sisters in Crime, and three of the 15 stories are by men. That also isn't a bad percentage. David Reddick wrote two, including one under the pseudonym Joan Bruce, and I wrote one. So this Saturday Dave and I will proudly display our Mister Sister status.
Dave and I, all the other BEDLAM authors and all the local members of SinC want to invite you to come to the BEDLAM launch and book signing on Saturday, June 12, from 2 p.m. to 5 p.m. at the Barnes and Noble bookstore in Carmel. (There will be refreshments.) Pick up a book and read some of the wonderful stories by wonderful local writers. I look forward to seeing you there.
Thanks for reading and keep writing.
In the last Sisters in Crime newsletter I got several weeks ago, there was a wonderful article called, Brothers in Crime, which focused on SinC members like me -- men in Sisters in Crime.
The goal of SinC has been the same since the beginning in 1987; working to achieve equality for women writers in the publishing industry, particularly in the crime genre. But, as the article written by SinC chapter liaison Sandra Parshall states, that doesn't mean the organization wants to take away anything from male writers. In fact, men have been part of SinC since the beginning. SinC is supportive of all writers, regardless of gender.
I joined Sisters in Crime specifically because of two male members in the Speed City chapter, Tony Perona and Jim Huang. As Jim says, SinC programs are supportive and inclusive of everyone. SinC is positive and upbeat. And I see that in every chapter meeting. I don't feel out of place though often there are only one or two men in attendance.
The Speed City chapter of SinC has three dozen members and six are men. That's not a bad percentage. In fact, I think it is slightly higher than the national, where male membership is around 12 percent to 14 percent. I am the only male officer of our chapter, where I have served for two years as secretary, but I truly believe I have benefited from membership far more than I have contributed.
I joined SinC in 2008 after writing my first novel, FIGHTING CHAOS. (Note, the title of my blog stems from the title of the book.) No one in the group has read Chaos. But members have read and commented on subsequent work and I can say without fear of contradiction that my writing has improved tremendously as a result.
All the stories in BEDLAM AT THE BRICKYARD are written by local members of Sisters in Crime, and three of the 15 stories are by men. That also isn't a bad percentage. David Reddick wrote two, including one under the pseudonym Joan Bruce, and I wrote one. So this Saturday Dave and I will proudly display our Mister Sister status.
Dave and I, all the other BEDLAM authors and all the local members of SinC want to invite you to come to the BEDLAM launch and book signing on Saturday, June 12, from 2 p.m. to 5 p.m. at the Barnes and Noble bookstore in Carmel. (There will be refreshments.) Pick up a book and read some of the wonderful stories by wonderful local writers. I look forward to seeing you there.
Thanks for reading and keep writing.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Excerpt of "The Missing CD"
When I started blogging in December 2007, I intended to chronicle the struggles, trials and successes of an aspiring novelist. For the most part, I think I have done that -- though a few more successes would be welcome. However, I'm still in the process.
This is my 200th posting since I started blogging and so I decided to present to my readers an excerpt from my short story, "The Missing CD." This is from the last e-mail I got before the story went to the copy editor. I don't remember there being any major changes.
This story is in the upcoming racing anthology, BEDLAM AT THE BRICKYARD. All the stories in the anthology relate in some manner to the Brickyard 400 stock car race in Indianapolis each summer, or to NASCAR. The book should be in local bookstores in two weeks, and is available now on Amazon, as well as on the Borders, and Barnes and Noble websites.
The launch party for the anthology is Saturday, June 12, from 2 p.m. to 5 p.m., at the Barnes and Noble bookstore in Carmel on US 31 North. I hope to see some of you there. And I hope you enjoy the story.
Michael
___
The Missing CD
by
M. B. Dabney
Award-winning journalist M. B. Dabney is an avid race fan whose writing has appeared in the Indianapolis Star, NUVO, The Indianapolis Business Journal, EBONY magazine, and BlackEnterprise.com. He is an officer in the Speed City Indiana chapter of Sisters in Crime and recently completed, A Murderous Dispatch, a mystery novel set in a black newspaper. He lives in Indiana with his wife, two daughters, and their dog, Pluto.
Barbara Jean was the best waitress at Rosie’s Roadside Diner on Highway 77 north of Talladega, Alabama, near the interstate. She knew all the regulars and was cheerful and welcoming to a fault. And she was particularly happy about having her one-time high school sweetheart, Bobby Lee Stevenson, having breakfast at the diner.
Barbara Jean offered Bobby Lee a big smile as she approached a booth near the back. She carried a plate full of flapjacks in her right hand, and on her forearm, balanced a plate of fried eggs sunny-side up, four strips of bacon, and an order of grits. She set the glass of orange juice in her left hand on the table before placing the plates of food in front of Bobby Lee.
“Here you go, darlin.’” Barbara Jean called everyone ‘darlin’ these days. “You need anything else?”
“No, Barbara Jean. Thanks.”
One of the old men up front in the restaurant yelled to Bobby Lee.
“Why you down here, boy?”
Bobby Lee, who looked a lot like Cary Grant early in his film career, hadn’t lived in Alabama since his father moved their struggling NASCAR team, Johnny Eldon Stevenson Racing, to North Carolina, 10 years earlier.
“Just visiting some family. One of my cousins is sick,” he said, charging headlong into the food. “You know him. My cousin, Eldon, named after grandpa. And we got a weekend off this week before heading up to Indianapolis for the Brickyard.”
Another old guy said, “You guys looked pretty good last weekend. If it weren’t for that damned fool Tony Stewart crashin’ Kevin out you might have won that Chicago race.”
“We’ll get ‘em next weekend,” Bobby Lee said. “Our guy’s a pretty good driver. We’ll get there.”
The good folks of Talladega considered the Stevenson's a hometown team and no one wanted to mention the team’s fall from grace. For lack of sponsorship, the team was forced to hire a third-rate driver named Kevin Holmes who came with his own sponsorship money from a Southern grocery store chain. That deal, which Bobby Lee arranged, financially saved the team.
Rosie’s was surprisingly busy for mid-day on a Tuesday. A regular crowd of senior citizens was up front having donuts and coffee and talking NASCAR with two truckers, who were having full meals. But there was a lone man, a stranger, sitting at the counter toward the back eating the steak and eggs special, enjoying black coffee and reading the local sports page. He was tall and thin, and wore blue jeans. His cowboy hat was on the counter next to him.
“You finished, darlin’?” Barbara Jean asked Bobby Lee when she saw that he was done. Then she added with a slight flirt, “You need anythin’ else?”
“No, I’m fine, Barbara Jean,” he said, ignoring the come-on. “Just leave the check on the table for me while I go hit the john real quick.”
She nodded, wrote the check, and left it on the table as he headed to the restroom.
Bobby Lee spent a few moments in the restroom. No one was looking his way as he came out. And no one noticed he was carrying a white business-sized envelope in his right hand. As he passed the stranger at the counter, he dropped the envelope on the red vinyl stool next to him. The man didn’t look down and Bobby Lee kept walking. Once at his table, Bobby Lee grabbed his check and headed to the front to pay.
The cash register was on the end of a counter near the entrance and Bobby Lee had the crowd's attention as he walked up. He gave Barbara Jean a knowing smile as he paid the bill and tipped her more than 25 percent.
As everyone else in the joint was fawning over Bobby Lee, the stranger reached for the envelope, opened the flap and looked inside. He saw the left half of 10, nonsequential 500 dollar bills, and a picture of a newspaper sports columnist from Indianapolis named Henry Rennert.
The man with the cowboy hat tucked the envelope in his inside jacket pocket and motioned to Barbara Jean to refill his coffee. It was bitter tasting because it had been sitting on the warmer too long, but he drank it anyway. He was facing a 10-hour drive and needed to stay awake and alert. And once he arrived at his destination, there was work to do before he completed his job.
Three days later, on Friday morning, Henry Rennert was found dead in his Speedway home. Police said Rennert apparently was shot after walking in on someone burglarizing his home.
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