Loss of a Working Stiff

by Joyce

For those who haven't heard the news, longtime Working Stiff Wilfred Bereswill passed away suddenly on Palm Sunday. ("Passed away" seems inadequate when a death is so unexpected.) I first heard about it on Easter Sunday, when Jenna Bennett/Jennie Bentley posted a link to her blog on Twitter. To say I was shocked doesn't begin to cover it. It was all I could think about for most of the day.

The only time I met Will in person was at Bouchercon in Baltimore. When Annette and I ran into him, it was like a family reunion.

Joyce, Will, Annette

It's strange how someone you know mostly through blog posts can make such a lasting impression. It's a testament to his ability to tell a story that so many people feel like they lost a good friend.


Will posted often on China and Hawaii--two of his favorite places. He wrote about his work, his books, his every day life, and a very poignant post about losing his father at a young age to colon cancer.

Will's every day life got hectic and eventually he had to drop writing for Working Stiffs. His last post with us was on March 7, 2011. Read it. It was titled So Long, Farewell & Amen.

Amen, indeed.

So long, Will. We miss you.

In a galaxy far, far away...

by Jennie Bentley

If you have to die, February is the best month for it.

Some of you, who have been around for a while, might recall that sentence. It was the opening of the stories in the famous February Smackdown of 2010. I said I couldn’t write anything short, and Wilfred Bereswill’s answer was to challenge me to write a 200 word piece of flash fiction. A complete story in 200 words. He told me he was doing me a favor by making it 200; it really ought to be just half that. 

My story was 200 words. Exactly. You can go HERE and count them if you want. Mine's entry #2. And yes, I had a bit of a time cutting until I got down that low. And the story wasn't complete. Nowhere even close.

At any rate, what happened is Will’s fault. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

See, six months after I wrote that story, I decided to take an online class on writing suspense with the fabulous Heather Graham. Our first assignment was to write a scene starting with the words The blood dripped on the floor.  

Now, that particular sentence isn’t one I’d normally choose. I’m actually more likely to pick Will’s opening line. And that may be the reason why, when I started to work on the assignment, Quinn Conlan popped back into my head. He was the only character I’d ever come up with who fit into a story that started with the words The blood dripped on the floor.

During the course of the class, we also came up with a detailed character sketch and an outline for a book. A book I really liked, in a genre no one seemed interested in, variously called science fiction romance or futuristic romance or perhaps romantic space opera.

I didn’t do much with the manuscript for the next year. My agent didn’t care for the outline and my editor at Penguin wasn’t interested. But between other books, I managed to write 50 pages of the story. And then, over the summer, a little outfit called Entangled Publishing came to my attention, mainly because my friend and yours, Misa Ramirez, is the marketing director there.

They were looking for science fiction romance. They were publishing science fiction romance. I asked how science fiction romance was selling and was told it was selling well. “Why do you ask?” Misa said.

So I told her about my story. The one Heather Graham liked, but everyone else thought would be a hard sell.

“Send it to me,” Misa said.

So I did. And she read it. And asked if she could show it to one of the editors. Who liked it, and asked if I could put together a formal proposal for the series.

(Yes, it had turned into a series. I told you I can’t write anything short.)

The rest, as they say, is history. Entangled Publishing offered to publish Quinn’s story. And the three stories following it. Here's the official announcement from Publisher's Marketplace:

Sci-fi/Fantasy: NYT bestselling author Jennie Bentley writing as Jenna Bennett's FORTUNE'S HERO, in which a galactic smuggler will stop at nothing to get his crew out of prison, his ship out of impound, and everyone out of orbit, to Liz Pelletier at Entangled, in a four-book deal, for publication in Summer 2012 (World).

You can check out a short excerpt – which no longer starts with the words The blood dripped on the floor – on my brand new website. There’s also a short – very short – synopsis or teaser. The concept has changed just a little from February of 2010, but for all intents and purposes, Quinn's still the same.

So there you have it. The story of my futuristic science fiction space opera romance thingy, that started life in the Smackdown of 2010.

And the moral of the story? I guess it is that you should never give up, since good things come to those who wait!

So Long, Farewell & Amen

By Wilfred Bereswill

Some of you older readers out there that consider themselves television buffs may recognize the title of my blog.  I took it from the finale of M.A.S.H. which aired in a little over 18 years ago on February 28, 1983.  I thought it was appropriate, because this will be my last regular blog here at the Working Stiffs.  Lately I’ve found that life is getting in the way and something has to give.  While I will try to stop by on a regular basis, I won’t be contributing on a schedule, but hopefully I’ll be able to come back from time to time and add a little testosterone to this place.  Sometimes the estrogen level is off the charts.  I really appreciate sharing this little piece of cyberspace with my friends. 

Even though I’ve only met a couple of my fellow Stiffs in person (and even then very briefly), I feel I’ve gotten to know them fairly well through their writing.  While I will not reveal who is who, I have my little nicknames for some of the Stiffs.  Let’s see if you can guess.

Mom 

The Dedicated One

Ms Honesty

The Pro

The Dreamer

The Trend Breaker

Miss Easy Going

By the way those are going to the grave with me.

So, why did I bring up M.A.S.H.?  Well, beyond it being one of my favorite series of all time, it taught me a lot about writing without me even realizing it.  Without a doubt, the writers had a knack for creating intriguing characters.  Think about how many character came and went and the show never missed a beat.

First Henry Blake.  Lovable, bumbling, carefree.  When he pissed off the network executives, and told them he was leaving, they shipped him out in the most dramatic fashion.  When McLean Stevenson left the show at the end of the third season, his character was scripted to be discharged and sent home. In the final scene of his last episode, it was reported that Blake’s plane had been shot down over the Sea of Japan and that he had been killed.  The script pages with the scene were handed over by the producers only a few minutes before filming that final scene, so none of the cast knew about that development until a few minutes before Radar was told to go in and report that Blake had died. Up until then, as far as anyone knew, they were going to get a message that Blake had arrived safely home. This was deliberately planned so that the emotions shown by the actors during that scene would be as real as possible, and it worked well.  I don't think I'll ever forget that scene.  Radar O'Reilly looked like he was going to puke as he spoke the words, "Lt. Col. Henry Blake's plane was shot down over the Sea of Japan.  There were no survivors."  

Trapper John also left after the 3^rd season and I remember thinking that the show was dead.  Well, that’s where the great writing took over.  In comes Sherman Potter.  Regular Army.  Henry Blake’s antithesis.  And it worked.  We watched with trepidation and we wanted to hate Potter, but the writing took over and he won us over.  We kind of forgot about Blake and embraced Col. Potter.  Then B.J. Hunnicutt came in for Trapper as Hawkeye’s best friend and sidekick and we forgot about Trapper.  Brilliant character development and writing.

Over 11 seasons, more came and went.  Frank Burns, a.k.a. Ferret Face, leaves and in comes Charles Emerson Winchester.  Again, they couldn’t have been more different.  Frank a completely inept and despicable self-promoter and Charles a completely arrogant SOB.  Yet both found a way to make it work.  Radar left after 8 seasons (and the original movie) and his spot was filled by Klinger.  That was probably the shakiest of the transitions.  I still missed Radar and Klinger just left me wanting more.

A few characters stayed the entire 11 seasons; Hot Lips Houlihan, Benjamin Franklin “Hawkeye” Pierce and Father Mulcahy.  I loved them all.

How many shows had so many interchangeable parts?  Charlie’s Angels tried and pulled it off to some extent, but not as seamless as M.A.S.H.  Others tired to keep the characters, but change the actors.  How many Darrens did we go through on Bewitched?  I never liked that option, because different actors portray differ characteristics and the characters change. 

The lesson here is to create great characters that we can fall in love with.  If you can pull that off, you’re on your way to great writing.  I think a really great plot can substitute for a great characters in one story,

but if you're going to write a series, you'd better develop those characters.

Now to steal a scene from the finale of my favorite show.

And as my parting gift, the final 10 minutes of the finale.  It will give you an idea of how great these characters were.

So Long, Farewell & Amen and keep writing.

Will

Putting the BUSINESS in Writing

by Wilfred Bereswill

On Wednesday of last week, Annette Dashofey wrote a really good piece on critique groups. I made a remark in the post pointing out that I am a “BRUTAL” critquer. Okay, Critiquer is not a word, but that isn’t relevant. One of our readers took a bit of offense to my term and called me on it. I deserved it.


This proves a point. As a writer, we need to realize that every word we write has to be chosen with care, whether it’s an adjective in an epic novel or a coy little term in a blog post. We have to be responsible for what we write. In my case, I took the term “brutally honest” and changed it to “brutal” and the meaning was lost. In other words, I was critiqued.

With all that said, I’d like to delve into the business of writing. Let me be clear. It is my opinion that once a writer decides that he/she wants to seek publication, that writer has crossed a very serious line. That line divides hobby from business. Like Neil Armstrong’s “One small step” let’s take a look at that monumental leap into the business world.

I’ve been a businessman all my life. I just entered into the business of writing recently. For my day job I manage the global environmental program for a large corporation. Every decision I make has to be made with the business in mind. I don’t spend a dime or commit any resources unless there is a very tangible return. Yes, simply put, it’s all about money. While money may be the farthest thing from your mind while you’re pouring out your emotions on paper, if you eventually wish that paper be published, it becomes, all about money.

Let’s face it, agents and publishers aren’t there to merely fulfill our dreams, they are in it for money. When an agent signs you, that agent invests significant time and a small amount of money (paper, ink, postage and maybe a lunch or two) in you. They expect a return. It IS their livelihood after all. If you’re not serious about making money with your writing, why on earth would they want to partner with you?

The publisher, on the other hand, invests a serious amount of both time and money in you. If they don’t see a return on their investment, not only will you be dropped by them, you may have a difficult time in the future.

I recently signed a contract with Echelon Press Publishing for a short story called SINFULLY DELICIOUS. I met the owner, Karen Syed at Bouchercon last year in Indianapolis. Karen is the consummate businesswoman. We sat in a quiet corner and chatted for about an hour. What I took away from that conversation is that she was serious about the business. She wanted her business to succeed and in order to do that, her authors had to succeed. She warned me up front that she could be tenacious about pushing her authors to promote their work. I like that.

By the way, SINFULLY DELICIOUS is in production and will be available in electronic format in the near future.

Let me digress for a moment. Many years ago when I was in negotiations over the sale of my first home, I was told by my Real Estate Agent that they were working for me… they were on MY side. BULLSHIT! That Real Estate Agent was working for himself. If the sale had fallen apart, he made no money. (Sorry Jennie) Now there’s nothing wrong with that agent wanting that sale to go through. It’s business. I get it. I just hate being lied to.

So, why the hell am I rambling about this? Well it all goes back to Annette’s blog about critique groups and my “BRUTAL(ly honest)” statement. I made a leap of faith that if you were serious enough about your writing to join a critique group, then you had already crossed that proverbial line into the business of writing or had at least wandered over the line inadvertently. If you were launching yourself into a music career, who would you seek advice from?

OR

Simon may lack tact, whether by personality or by design, but he is normally spot-on in his critiques on American Idol. On the other hand, Paula never wants to hurt anybody’s feelings, but she rarely offered useful advice.

If you’re in a critique group, let your members know that it’s okay to say what’s on their mind. Let them know you really want to make your writing better, more compelling. Take it upon yourself to open the door to better writing.

Here We Go Again

by Wilfred Bereswill

Sorry to be a disappointment on a Monday morning, but life and my day job have taken over my life.  I may have mentioned it before, but my baby girl, Kaitlin Michelle is days away from graduation from high school.  Today was spent power washing the siding on the house getting ready for the graduation party.  Wrestling with the power washer was like going 15 rounds with an octopus.  Then there were the multiple ups and downs on the 32 foot ladder.  I could barely lift my laptop to write this.

Then there is the wedding that is fast approaching.  My oldest daughter is getting married on July 10th.  I think every weekend between then and now is booked.

Last night I got about 3 hours sleep.  Not sure if it was the decongestant or the problems I'm having revising my website, or all the other stuff running through my mind.  But I did actually wake up with the tag line below on my mind, so I got up and wrote it down at 2:30 AM.  I would up going back into the bedroom at 5:30 AM.

My website.  It's been a while since I revised it.  Problem is, the laptop with all my files and the FTP setup crashed.  I replaced it with my MacBook Pro, which is totally not compatible with the files.  I spent Saturday night developing a new site on iWeb.  It came out okay, but I have lots of cleanup work to do.  Check it out if you'd like.

www.wbereswill.com

On top of all that, I am headed to Orlando this week for my day job to give, not one, but seven presentations in a two day period.  At our company, this is the big conference of the year and presentations have to be spot on with content and presented flawlessly.  I've given 5 dry runs in the past week.  With 3 days left before the presentation, and days of time that I couldn't afford to spend putting it together, this week will be busy.

On top of all that, I did sell a short story to Echelon Press Publishing.  I don't have a release date yet, but I've been asked to put together a marketing plan.  Here's the tagline I came up with:

Some temptations really are, to die for.
SINFULLY DELICIOUS coming soon from Echelon Press.


So what do you think?


Well, I hope you all have a less frenzied week than I.  I'll try to check in a few times.

Persistence Is Not Stubborn

By

Wilfred Bereswill

I was going to title this blog, “Maybe You’re Not Good Enough – YET”.  But I didn’t want people to do a double-take on the URL thinking they might have clicked Janet Reid’s Blog.  Sorry, Janet.  I, for one, like honesty and that’s what you bring to this crazy business. 

This month we are offering the best writing advice we can give.  So why the hell am I talking about not being good enough?  It’s certainly not very uplifting.  But for me, my biggest motivation is rejection.  Plain and simple, it pisses me off when somebody tells me my work is not good enough.  And I don’t mean I get pissed off in a bad way.  It’s in my nature to prove that person wrong.  When I’m challenged, I work harder.

I have always said that all the compliments in the world won’t make your writing better.  It’s constructive criticism that is the most valuable of things.

My motivation for my first novel now resides in a five-inch accordion file in my den.  By now it’s buried under piles of office supplies, my to-be-read pile and a copy of Michael Crichton’s State Of Fear.  But, while I was querying they were front and center and forever present.  They stood there on my desk taunting me.  I heard them saying things like, “You’re not good enough.”  “Give up and go home.” 

I suppose some people listen to those rejections and give up.  Those people will never share their writing beyond some friends and family.  If you aspire to be a writer, you’d better thicken your skin.  This is not a task for those with tender feelings.

On the other hand, going back to the Blog’s title, you need to be willing to listen to criticism and use it.  Submitting the same thing over and over again is just plain stubborn.  Sure, there may be a good business reason why a particular agent might not accept a really great manuscript, but if you get 20 or so form rejections, then you might need to work on it some more. 

Before you learn how to write, you need to learn how to listen.

I’ve said that I don’t care for critique groups.  I’ve been in a few and they have failed miserably.  I received conflicting advice, and made changes that I didn’t believe in.  Bottom line, if you’re in a critique group take advice with a grain of salt.  For me, I sought advice from other established authors that I had met and made friends with.  For Jennie Bentley it was Tasha Alexander and for me it was John Lutz and Bobbi Smith.  Some of the best advice I received came from Bobbie Smith’s freelance editor.  I sent her a good portion of my manuscript and got advice.  Is that cheating?  I don’t think so.  She didn’t do any writing, she merely pointed out some things, some very important things.  And after spending an hour telling me what was bad about my story, I asked her a simple question.  “Do I have 300 pages of crap, or do I have something worth working on?”  Her answer was short and to the point. She said I had a great story.  I just needed to learn how to tell it.

So, what’s the best advice I can give?  Listen and be willing accept constructive criticism.  Be committed to making your work the best it can be.  Also, no matter how good you are or think you are, writing is fairly subjective.  Your work can always be better.  Seek qualified help.

Drumroll, please....

by Jennie Bentley

The results are in for the first part of the Flash Fiction contest, better known as The Guessing Game. The other part, where you, gentle readers, post your own 200 word stories, starting with the sentence, “If you have to die, February is the best month for it,” in the comments section of a certain post you’ll find if you look to the right of this... that’s still ongoing. At the end of February, Wilfred Bereswill is graciously giving away a copy of his book, “A Reason for Dying,” to the guest story determined to be the best of the bunch.

This time around, the prize is one of my DIY books: “Fatal Fixer-Upper,” “Spackled and Spooked,” or “Plaster and Poison,” or an advanced reader copy of “A Cutthroat Business,” first in the Savannah Martin real estate mysteries.

You know, I had no idea when we started this that it would be so hard to match stiffs to stories. I figured everyone would get at least me and Will and John Lutz matched correctly, since our work is readily available even if you’re not familiar with it already. Imagine my surprise when no one – and I do mean no one – guessed that I wrote #2.

Yes, folks, the male POV 3rd person science fiction piece is mine. I figured if I wrote first person female like I always do, you’d know right off the bat that I wrote it. So I decided to be devious. Even so, to me, it still screams in my voice, loud and clear. The sentence structure, the rhythm, the flow... Yet even Will – whom all of you; every single person – thought had written it, told me that he if he didn’t know which entry was his, he’d have thought he wrote mine.

I’m going to take that as a huge compliment, y’all. Little old girly-girl me wrote male POV well enough to fool everybody!

Here’s the actual rundown of who wrote what:


1. Will
2. Jennie
3. Joyce
4. Gina
5. John Lutz
6. Pat R.


Nobody got’em all right. A few of you got a few. The person with the most matches, interestingly enough, was someone who doesn’t know any of us: Kris the Cajun Book Lady! Congratulations, Kris. Email me or DM me with your address and your choice of reading material, and I’ll get a book in the mail to you!

Thanks for playing, everyone! And don’t forget to post your 200 word Flash Fic pieces in the appropriate place for a chance to win “A Reason for Dying.”

Flash Fiction February

By

Wilfred Bereswill

Well, I get to kick off Flash Fiction February.  First things first: enter the Flash Fiction contest.  BIG PRIZES and PRESTIGE!  A win will go on your permanent record, although it probably won't land you an agent.  See Joyce's post immediately preceeding (SCROLL DOWN) this one for details.   WAIT!  Don't click the link yet, finish reading, then go back. 

We're hoping this is a very interactive and fun month.  Short month, short stories. So what’s the big deal?  I think most people believe that writing a short story is easy, or at least easier than writing a full blown novel.  Personally, I don’t think so.

When my aunt encouraged me to try writing, she meant I should write a short story, not a novel.  I didn't listen.  The first thing I wrote was a novel of 105,000 words.  That became A Reason For Dying.  My second manuscript is currently at 110,000 words.  While I was writing my first novel, I took an advanced fiction class put on by the University of Missouri’s MFA Program.  The entire class was dedicated to short stories.  About halfway through the class we were given an assignment to write an original short story.  Of course, it had to have a clear beginning, middle and end.  It had to be no more than 2,500 words.  Since the novel I was writing about was about a natural viral outbreak that was mistaken for an act of terrorism, I decided to write a story about the hopelessness of the Spanish Flu Pandemic. In Flew Enza was the title. 

The first draft was over 4,000 words.  After some serious cuts I pared it down to 3,200.  I went back gutted it down to 2,800 words and that was it.  I couldn’t take it down any further.  Or so I thought.  

That’s when I really learned about economy of words, that in a short story, every word counts. If a word can serve double duty, well it would have to take on the extra work.  Your adjectives and verbs need to be especially powerful.  Here are a few really bad examples.

A man leaves a bar.  Well, you could say:

He sipped the last of the cognac, flipped a twenty to the valet and slid behind the wheel of the Mercedes. 

Or

He crushed the empty beer can against his forehead and stumbled across the parking lot to his rusty Chevy.

Basically the same action, but you’ve said volumes about the characters without going into details.  Each picture you gain from reading the sentence is completely different. 

In a novel you have the luxury to devote a chapter to show (not tell) the reader how stressed your character is.  In a short story that chapter can be replaced by:  She popped her last Valium and flushed it down her throat with the last of the whiskey.
 

Okay, that’s an extreme case, but I hope you get the point.

Anybody who has written a manuscript and prepared a query knows how difficult writing short concise stories can be.  Try taking a 105,000 word, high concept thriller and distill it down to a 5 page synopsis.  Then, concentrate it down to 2 pages.  Then one.  And finally, write 2 or 3 paragraphs that would go on the back jacket.  Oh, and try doing all that in the same writing style you used in the novel.  It’s some of the hardest writing you’ll ever do.  If it’s easy for you, you are insanely talented and I'm insanely jealous.

It is merely my opinion, but I think in the age of the Kindle, e-Reader, and now the iPad, short fiction could become popular again.  Priced similar to a song on iTunes, a digital short story is cheap, an easy read and in our fast paced lives, can be read in one sitting. 

I hope you enjoy this month and I really hope you give our little flash fiction challenge a go.  Flash fiction puts you to the extreme test and I’m putting up a signed copy of A Reason For Dying to the reader story I like best.

And just maybe, some special guests will stop by and post a flash fiction piece of their own.

So, what do you think?  Is it harder to write a good short story or a novel?

This just in.  Speaking of Short Fiction February, The Kill Zone members, a group of great authors and equally great people has released an anthology of short stories in ebook format callled Fresh Kills.  They are talking about it on their blog this week.  You might go visit them.

Point Of View Redux

By

Wilfred Bereswill

I had a whole different topic in mind for today’s blog, but Jennie’s Friday subject intrigued me.  You see, I don’t think writers just starting out even think about point of view.  I know I didn’t.  Good writers make it so seamless that readers don’t even realize it is a device used in writing.

When we read a well-written piece, we instantly know the narrator.  We should know whose mind we’re in.  A writer can really jar a reader right out of a story by inadvertently switching POV in the middle of a scene. 

On Friday, some of you discussed how you like to write and I found it interesting how different we are.  As an example, Jennie mentioned that she automatically writes 1^st person.  I, on the other hand, automatically start writing in 3^rd.  Several of you mentioned that switching from 1^st to 3^rd in the same piece could interesting and I mentioned I thought it was a bit of a cheat.  So, while there are many ways to attack it, I thought I’d explore how change in POV can affect structure.

My work in progress is a Suspense.  Because I automatically think in 3^rd person, my first chapter starts on a serene morning with a highway worker mowing the sides of a lonely stretch of road.  She jockeys the mower to work around one of those roadside memorials that people erect to remember the spot on a highway where someone they loved died, only to uncover a shallow grave with the remains of a young woman in it.  If I do it well, it should give the reader the feeling of horror and surprise one would experience stumbling on something unexpected and horrific, while drawing in the reader with a dead body that sets the tone of the story.   My outline has me alternating between my detective protagonist and the killer.  At this point I don’t want to give away too much, sorry.

However, if I opted for 1^st person, the entire plan would have to change.  I can’t have the opening scene with a highway worker unless the worker was the protagonist.  I would have to have my protagonist responding to a call, where she finds out how the body was uncovered by the mower.  I would also have to get rid of all those scenes that I plan where the Antagonist kidnaps and kills, leaving the trail.  I’d have to concentrate on the protagonist uncovering clues as she goes.

Of course when a writer uses 1^st, you put yourself in the head of the narrator and write what comes to mind.  For me it’s very natural and very personal.  Using the word “I” makes it personal.  It takes a bit more work using 3^rd to get the thoughts of the POV character out there.  Because you’re using He and She, it doesn’t seem as personal, not as close.  But, 3^rd does allow a lot more flexibility.  Which is why I call switching in the same book a bit of a cheat.  Switching allows the author to write close and personal from the mind of the protagonist, but gives the flexibility of letting the reader know something the protagonist doesn’t.  I think it’s a lazier way of writing.  You don’t have to work as hard writing your way around 1^st but the reader can get to know what is in your protagonist’s mind a lot easier.

I have to admit that the 1^st/3^rd mixes I’ve read, didn’t hit me in a good way.  POV is something to definitely give some thought to well in advance of sitting down and beginning a story.  I know we’ve discussed this a bit, but I’d like to hear any additional thoughts you have on the subject.

Jennie's can o worms.

New Year Resolutions

By Wilfred Bereswill

Yes we're still on a holiday break here at the Working Stiffs, but i began thinking of some New Year Resolutions and wanted to capture some for posterity sake.  You see, it was a New Year resolution that started my writing career.  I made a resolution to start my first novel on New Year's eve 2003.  During Christmas break 2004 I wrote the first chapter of A Reason For Dying.  Yeah, I know, nothing like procrastination.  On that New Year's eve, I made a resolution to finish the novel.  On May 6, 2005, I did. In 2008 it was published.

So, in the spirit of keeping those resolutions, I'd like to ask what writerly resolutions you are going to make tonight.  Even if you come here late, go ahead and record them so I can throw them in your face next December.

For me:

I will start and finish a third novel.  At this time, I plan on it being a stand-alone Suspence with a female Asian Police Detective named Mei Ma Gi (or English name, Maggie Mae).

I will also start and finish a short story in the same theme as one I should soon be receiving a contract for.

Since my oldest daughter has set her wedding date for July 10, 2010, I will be at least 15 pounds lighter than I am right now for the wedding.

That's it.  Your turn.  Don't be afraid.

Colon Cancer Awareness

By
Wilfred Bereswill


Colon Cancer accounts for 9% of all cancer deaths in the United States. In men is the second leading cause of cancer deaths and the third leading cause of cancer deaths in women, behind lung and breast cancer.

Why am I spouting statistics about colon cancer? You see in October of 1981 my father died of colon cancer. He was 56 at the time, only two years older than I am now. I miss my father tremendously and feel like he was taken away from me way too soon. I don’t want my daughters to feel the same way about me in the years to come. So tomorrow, instead of answering your comments, I’m being proactive and having my third colonoscopy.

Yes, I know it’s not a pretty word or thought, but I’m doing it for me, my wonderful wife and especially my three daughters. If you’ve ever gone through this procedure, you would know that today, for me, is the toughest part of the ordeal. Tomorrow morning I’ll wake up get in the car with my wife and then be put into a nice sleep while unmentionables happen. But, it is for the good.

You see, I was living in Kansas City at the time my father, Wilfred Bereswill Sr., was diagnosed with colon cancer. He was an ironworker by trade and tough as nails. He worked his heart out to make a good life for my sister and I and I remember he worried daily about getting laid off and providing for the family. I think the only riff I had with my father was that he wanted me to follow in his footsteps and I decided to go to college instead. It took him a while to understand and support my decision, but once I graduated, I know he was proud of me. Just a year after I graduated, he was diagnosed and four months later, he died.

He went into the hospital for exploratory surgery and they removed a section of his colon to prolong his life, but it had spread too far and he was given two months to live. Shortly after he was released from the hospital, he put my Mother in their orange 1977 Ford Pinto and he made the drive across Missouri to see the house I had built in Olathe, Kansas. That was one of the last times he left his house.

I made the 5 hour trip every weekend I could to spend time with him. I can’t describe how it felt to watch this once proud and strong man that I looked up to wither and die. The last weekend I saw him was in late September. I remember trying to shave his face because he was too weak to do it himself. When I took his razor and shaving cream back to the bathroom, I cried. Sometime during the following week, I received a call from my mom. They called it Cachexia; the extreme loss of body mass commonly seen in cancer patients. I called it one of the unhappiest days of my life. I lost my father.
I can only remember two things during the days that followed. Hugging my cousin, Buddy, who had lost his Dad, my father’s brother, to lung cancer the year before, and my friend Patty Guempel who had lost her father to a heart attack several years before. I’ve tried hard to remember the funeral home, the gravesite in Jefferson Barracks Memorial Cemetery, but for the life of me, I must have blocked it all out.

I’m bound and determined not to let my daughters go through that feeling for a long time. I’ll try to check in when I become coherent enough to fire up my laptop.

If you have a history of colon cancer in your family, do yourself and the people you love a favor and get regular colonoscopy screenings.

Finding an End

by
Wilfred Bereswill

On Thursday, Joyce blogged about being stuck on a scene.  Well for the past two weeks I've been stuck on THE scene.  In my opinion, one of the most important scene... The ending.

You see, I know how the book ends.  I've known how it will end since I began writing it a year ago.  But like all good trips and books, it's the journey.  I want the last 50 pages or so to be the kind that you have to read in one sitting.  While I'm biased, I think I achieved that with my first story.  But this one isn't there yet.   And I've been stuck there for a couple of weeks.  Roughly 5,000 words to go, I know where it's going and I have a route planned.  Just not the most scenic.

Part of me says, "Just write the damn thing and rewrite it."  Part of me doesn't want to waste the time of writing something that I know won't stick.  You see, unlike some writers, I don't have a lot of time to write.  I need to make the best of it.

So what do you think?  Write and rewrite, or wait until I stumble upon the right path?

On a personal note, I'll be having somebody coming at my lower jaw with a screw gun.  Of course the oral surgeon used much more technical terms during the consult, but in essence, on Wednesday while only under a general anesthetic (Novocain) the doctor will yank a lower front tooth and bury a titanium screw into my jawbone.  Hopefully no bone grafting will be required and I'll walk out a couple of hours later with a temporary cap attached to the titanium in my jaw.  Okay, the technical term is called an implant, but that just doesn't do the whole thing justice.

And of course, dental insurance doesn't really cover the procedure, so I'll be upwards of $4,000 poorer. Seems like a high price to pay for a lot of pain and a few grams of titanium.  Anyway, wish me luck and know that on Wednesday morning I'd rather pay any one of you $4,000 to trade places with me.

Day Jobs and Writerly Things

by

Wilfred Bereswill

Lot’s of things going on in my life right now. As day jobs go, I actually reached a bit of a milestone last week. You see I was hired to start a new Environmental Department at a well established company. There is a logical reason why the company never had an environmental group before, but suddenly they’re in the game and there’s a lot of catching up to do. Honestly, it’s been so overwhelming that I haven’t been able to think about much else. It’s sapped all my creative energy and I’ve gotten nowhere on book two. But I see a dim, pinpoint of light at the end of a long tunnel.

After 25 plus years in Environmental Affairs it didn’t take me long to figure out I was in a train that was heading full speed into a train coming the other direction. It’s taken my 4 long months of thinking and presenting and meeting and revising, but I’ve finally gotten a program approved and jobs posted for two people to help. I’m a long, long, long way from feeling comfortable about things, but I’m taking baby steps.

I liken the situation to getting in a car in a foreign country not knowing anything about the speed limits or what the signs mean, or even which side of the road to drive on. So you get in and start driving. You drive at a speed that’s comfortable and you turn the way you always have, until you get a ticket or someone explains the rules, you’re not going to know what you’re doing wrong. I’m the new sheriff in town. Awareness!

So on to writerly issues. Let’s see, Bouchercon is rapidly approaching and I’ll be attending with a much different plan and attitude. I don’t have a newly published book this time and I didn’t score a panel, except for a spot in the continuous conversation. I will be trying to make connections with an agent, of course. But otherwise, I’m just planning on relaxing and talking to then many authors I met there last year.

On Wednesday I have the pleasure of meeting with a book club that invited me to come and chat with them about my book. I’ve done one before and enjoyed the hell out of it. The best part is, the ladies are taking me out to a restaurant to buy my dinner while we talk.

And finally, last Monday, Gina wrote about dreams. I mentioned that I dreamt the premises of a short story and even wrote the first paragraph in my sleep. The dream wasn’t visual at all; only words. I went on to write the story. Actually, I was fascinated by it. I think it tipped the scale at just under 5,000 words.

I have sent it around for publication. Three times. Here are the comments I’ve received with the rejections. “Your story started out intriguing and quirky, but soon turned into a bloody mess. Sorry, not right for us.” “One of the best first lines I’ve read lately. And then it went south.” “Like a bad accident, I couldn’t put it down. I’m not sure what to make of it, but I won’t be publishing it.”

Now, with comments like that, you’d think I’d be upset. BUT, the way I look at it, it stirred the emotions of each editor that read it. Enough of an emotional reaction to garner a personal response. And this from my wife, “If you ever get this published, you need to do it under a pen name. I don’t want anyone to know you wrote it.”

Yes, my little 5,000 word story has gotten a lot of reactions. Yes, I REALLY pushed the envelope on this little tale. It does have a split personality. It does start quirky and it does turn very disturbing. I have tried to rewrite it several times. I’ve tried to soften it up, but it just doesn’t work that way. For the time being, I’m leaving it as is and I’ll continue to submit it to publications that it may be right for. To give you a taste, I’ll give you the quirky part.

RECYCLED LIFE

I was having a pretty good day until Neville killed me. He walked right up to me, shoved a gun in my chest and pulled the trigger. I guess I can’t blame him. I’ve been pushing him away for the last eight months. It just so happens that, during that time, I developed a taste for women. I say that rather tongue in cheek, because I mean in the Jeffery Dahmer, Hannible Lecter sense.

You see, somewhere along the line. something hit me. An overwhelming curiosity washed over me. A culinary curiosity. I developed a taste for aureoles. Yes, that’s right; nipples. It’s quite a shame really. Rather like the Asian’s fascination for shark fin soup; catch the shark, kill it, harvest the fins and throw the succulent flesh away. Or the Russians slaughtering Beluga whales merely for caviar. But you see, areola are like little drops of sunshine--human truffles.

Reflecting back on the events of the last eight months, I realize my little problem had been a long time in coming. You see, for several years now, those little urges that tug on the strings of curiosity have been pulling at my consciousness at an ever-increasing clip. I’m sure you know what I mean. Those ‘I wonder what’ thoughts that pop into your head at the strangest of moments. “I wonder what that woman would do if I walked up to her and kissed her on the lips?” “I wonder what my boss would do if I cold-cocked him while he gives me my pathetic raise?” “I wonder what it would feel like to step off the roof of a tall building?” “I wonder what nipples taste like?”

Of course, we are all brought up to know right from wrong and these simple moments of weakness are quickly and promptly dismissed and never, ever brought up lest someone judge us as being evil. However, over the course of the last several years, these indulgent thoughts that tickled my curiosity were not so easily evicted. Like a bad tenant, they lingered. A little longer each time. Until eight months ago. The eviction notice was given, only to be tossed aside. My silly little compulsive thought, built like a gathering wave until it crashed on my consciousness and overwhelmed me. “What do nipples taste like?”

I'll stop right there, because as one editor indicated, this is where the story goes south. I'd prefer to say it changes direction.

So have you ever written something that pushed the envelope? If so, what did you do with it?

My Changing Heart

by Wilfred Bereswill

Everybody that really knows me is aware that I have PDD. No PDD is not some grave disease, PDD is Poetry Deficit Disorder. I don't get it. I've been in open readings where people have read poetry, all those around me are crying or laughing and they're all clapping at the end, and I have this look on my face is hard to disguise, the look of confusion. The St. Louis Writers guild has some fabulous poets in the group, or so I'm told. I listen. I try hard to understand. I really do.

I don't get poetry, never did and probably never will. I actually think that learning how to write poetry would be beneficial to any writer. In essence, the economy of words, the art of expressing more with fewer words, is something that every writer should know.

So, why am I blogging about something I know so little about? Well, because I had the opportunity to have a Father/Daughter Saturday. My wife was occupied and I had the chance to spend time with my daughters. We went to the mall and shopped in stores like Delia and Forever 21. We went to lunch at an organic foods store. and then we spent the late afternoon and evening at the St. Louis Blues Fan Fest and then a pre-season hockey game. It was an awesome day.

It reminded me what is important in my life. My family IS the passion in my life. So I guess it makes sense that my only poetry moment stems from my daughters. Last summer I was on a bicycle ride. The ten-mile trail wound through the woods. The temperature was perfect, the wind brushing my face and my eyes were focused of the asphalt in of me when my mind started wandering. I thought about my girls growing up and I wrote a poem. Well, I thought of the poem. Yes, the whole poem just bubbled up in my mind while I was riding. In that 45 minutes I felt all the emotions, happiness, warmth, sorrow, comfort, loneliness. At one point I eye blurred with tears.

As poems go, I know it's not good. I actually read it aloud in front of a group and they were gracious enough to pat me on the back and encourage me to write more. The mind is an amazing thing and writing can be the mechanism to express it. I encourage everyone to just, DO IT. With that, I give you:

My Changing Heart

She fits in my hand,

Flying through the room, giggling her silly giggle,

This is the best time,

My heart is filling.

She chases a ball,

With twenty others, giggling her determined giggle,

This is the best time,

My heart is content.

She snuggles on my lap,

Watching men skate on ice, giggling her amazed giggle,

This is the best time,

My heart is full.

She arranges her dorm room,

Hanging clothes on a rack, giggling a nervous giggle,

This is the best time -- for her,

My heart is unsure.

She walks in white,

Taking her hand from mine, giggling a silent giggle,

This is the best and worst time,

My heart is empty.

She takes a tiny hand,

And places it in mine, giggling along with a silly giggle,

This is the best time,

My heart is filling -- again.

If you want to try reading a really powerful poem, I would suggest clicking this LINK. Scroll down toward the bottom of the page and look on the left hand side of the page for To a War Protester

for Lynn Cutts, and for Captain James R. DeVore, USMC

by Harvey Stanbrough

Harvey is a friend of mine who lives in Arizona.

Happy Labor Day

by Wilfred Bereswill

So summer is coming to an end. Pretty much that's what Labor Day is, a symbolic end to summer. Officially, however, Labor day has a bit of a bloody history. After a little research on Wikipedia, and a few other places, here's what I found out about Labor Day.

During the economic panic of 1893, the Pullman Palace Car Company cut wages as demands for their train cars plummeted and the company's revenue dropped. Things escalated into a strike when workers continued to complain and owner, George Pullman refused to talk to them. Many of the workers were already members of the American Railway Union (ARU), led by Eugene V. Debs, which supported their strike by launching a boycott in which union members refused to run trains containing Pullman cars. The strike effectively shut down production in the Pullman factories and led to a lockout. Railroad workers across the nation refused to switch Pullman cars onto trains. The ARU declared that if switchmen were disciplined for the boycott, the entire ARU would strike in sympathy.

The boycott was launched on June 26, 1894. Within four days, 125,000 workers on twenty-nine railroads had quit work rather than handle Pullman cars. Adding fuel to the fire the railroad companies began hiring replacement workers which only increased hostilities. Many African Americans, fearful that the racism expressed by the American Railway Union would lock them out of another labor market, crossed the picket line to break the strike; that added a racially charged tone to the conflict.

On June 29, 1894, Debs hosted a peaceful gathering to obtain support for the strike from fellow railroad workers at Blue Island, Illinois. Afterward groups within the crowd became enraged and set fire to nearby buildings and derailed a locomotive. Elsewhere in the United States, sympathy strikers prevented transportation of goods by walking off the job, obstructing railroad tracks or threatening and attacking strikebreakers. This increased national attention to the matter and fueled the demand for federal action.

The strike was broken up by United States Marshals and some 12,000 United States Army troops, commanded by Nelson Miles, sent in by President Grover Cleveland on the premise that the strike interfered with the delivery of U.S. Mail, ignored a federal injunction and represented a threat to public safety. The arrival of the military led to further outbreaks of violence. During the course of the strike, 13 strikers were killed and 57 were wounded. An estimated 6,000 rail workers did $340,000 worth of property damage.

A national commission formed to study causes of the 1894 strike found Pullman's paternalism partly to blame and Pullman's company town to be "un-American." In 1898, the Illinois Supreme Court forced the Pullman Company to divest ownership in the town, which was annexed to Chicago[citation needed].

Pullman thereafter remained unpopular with labor, and when he died in 1897, he was buried in Graceland Cemetery at night in a lead-lined coffin within an elaborately reinforced steel-and-concrete vault. Several tons of cement were poured to prevent his body from being exhumed and desecrated by labor activists.

In the aftermath of the deaths of a number of workers at the hands of the US military and US Marshals during the 1894 Pullman Strike, President Grover Cleveland put reconciliation with Labor as a top political priority. Fearing further conflict, legislation making Labor Day a national holiday was rushed through Congress unanimously and signed into law a mere six days after the end of the strike.

But back to the end of summer. This weekend caps a St. Louis summer that I have never seen before. This has to rank up there with the coolest of summers in St. Louis History. It has been glorious. It's too bad I haven't been able to enjoy it as much as I would have liked to. Starting a new job left me without the 6 weeks of vacation that I had grown used to. And since I need to save one day for Bouchercon, coming in a little over a month, I was forced to look out at the beautiful weather through my office windows. I will say, I've had the top down on my convertible since I bought it in late May.

On a lighter note, I was all ready to comment on how the St. Louis Cardinals swept the Pittsburg Pirates over the weekend. Albert Puhols put on a one man show, but alas, Ryan Franklin, closing pitcher for the Cardinals did something that he's only done twice this year. He blew the save and let the Pirates avoid the sweep. I will say, all weekend the Cardinal announcers gushed at how nice PNC Park and downtown Pittsburgh looked.

Lastly, I thought I'd leave you with a smile. Sometimes you see something and it makes you smile. THe video below did that for me. It combines one of my favorite songs, ingenuity and a sweet ending. I hope you enjoy it.

Chillin' & Grillin'

by Wilfred Bereswill

It's Sunday evening. A long day of driving is over, the thunderstorms have passed and I'm sitting out in my screened-in porch (call it a 3 seasons room) watching bratwurst sizzle on the grill while Spoon beats out an alternative tune on my stereo. My mind just returned to a novel I just picked up after a long wait in my to be read pile. Since this novel is by an author I know and like, I'll not mention names to protect the not-so-innocent.

The novel starts out like a good suspense should. Heavy on the action. In fact it starts with a woman in the hands of a killer. The writing is explicit. Details honed to a fine edge. It's like being a voyeur peeking through a thin slit in the blinds.

Excuse me a second while I grab my tongs, slide open the screen door and flip my brats.

Thanks for waiting. Now back to that first chapter.

The story begins with a woman jogging in the park. As she turns into a wooded area, she hears footsteps behind her and quickens her pace. The author finely crafts the scene, making you feel the trepidation of the woman as her instincts tell her something is wrong... Something bad is about to happen.

I'm completely drawn in. I'm hooked. This is going to be a great read.

EXCEPT! As the knife is about to plunge into the terrified woman, she wakes from a dream.

DAMN, DAMN, DAMN.

I felt like I had been sucker punched. Great action with details woven in that surely come into play through the rest of the novel and I want to throw it against the wall. Yes, I feel like I've been cheated. My mind snaps back to that prime time soap opera Dallas and the 1985/86 "DREAM" season when Bobby Ewing died.

I remember how cheated I felt then, and I feel no less cheated now. Maybe being a writer has made me too critical a reader, but I just feel like sometimes authors take the easy way out. Someone as talented as the author in question shouldn't have to resort to gimmicks to start a novel with a bang. Of course, maybe the dream is intended to be part of the story, but at this point, I'm not sure I'll pick the damn thing back up.

I need to sauce up my brats with a little Sweet Baby Ray's, so I ask you what you think? Cheating or not?

Crash & Burn - Mac or PC

by Wilfred Bereswill

I intended to write a more insightful blog, but I'm running on computer life support here. My little Asus EeePC Netbook is at my day job office, my laptop monitor is flickering uncontrollably making it useless and my desktop won't power up (not sure what the hell is going on there).

I'm borrowing my daughter's Macbook to struggle through this; something I need to get used to because I've just gone from a lifetime of PC to Mac. My new Macbook Pro is on order and should be here next week. I'll still have my little Eee PC, but that is for surfing and writing only. No website maintenance, etc.

I said I was a lifetime PC. Well, that's no exageration. Actually, my first computer was an IBM 1620 with 4 megabytes, YES, MEGABYTES, of RAM. I learned to use a keypunch in high school. I graduated to an IBM System 3, then used a Cray for a while when I worked for the Government in college.

My first job (1984/85) bought me a PC and IBM 8088. Two floppy drives and no hard drive. DOS on one disk, Wordstar or Lotus 123 on the other. A few years later I had my first Windows machine an IBM 8288. 20 Meg hard drive.

So this week I'll start a new chapter in my life, a move away from Windows.

How about you? PC or Mac?

Oh and here's a tidbit. This has been reported on the internet last week. I checked Snopes to see if it was authentic or not to no avail. Either way, there's a story here, waiting to be written.

PIRATE HUNTING CRUISE

Luxury yachts in Russia are offering pirate hunting cruises in the dangerous waters off the coast of Somalia with the hope of being attacked. Passengers pay about $5,000 to patrol and can pay an extra $7.50 a day to receive an AK-47 machine gun for protection and about $10 for 100 rounds of ammo.The yachts travel from Djibouti to Mombasa in Kenya and deliberately cruise close to the coast at a speed of about five nautical miles hoping to attract pirates.

Life With A Small Press

by Wilfred Bereswill

I want to talk about a subject that I’ve avoided like the plague; some of the disadvantages of contracting with a small press. Now I’ll say up front that my publisher, Hilliard and Harris is a small press and they’ve been good to me. I’ll just use a phrase that I use a lot to describe the situation, “It is what it is.”

What I want to chat about are things that I did not know about before signing my contract. Would they have stopped me from signing that contract? Probably not, considering how euphoric I was that I had been accepted for publication. For the record, I did chat with a few of the H&H authors that I knew and they had good things to say. In addition, I want to be clear that I’m not picking on H&H, because a number of small presses have the same or similar policies. So here are the issues you need to consider:

Returns. Or lack of returns really. This all starts with the way our book sales work. I’m speaking in generalities here so I’m sure there are exceptions. Most large book stores basically order books with the understanding that they are returnable. But there are a number of considerations with returns. First, there’s stripping. That’s the process of the bookstore ripping off the front cover and returning just the cover to avoid excess shipping charges. They throw away the coverless books. Believe it or not, that’s the most common type of return. If the shop does return the whole book, the condition of the book upon return may render it unsalable. Also, the cost to ship, unpack, restock, etc. makes it cheaper to just go the stripping route.

Because of the cost of returns, some small presses don’t allow returns through the distributors, like H&H. By the way, H&H does take returns if the books are ordered directly from the publisher, but the big chains don't want to order from anybody but the big distributors. I honestly can’t say that I blame them, but, if you don’t conform to the industry standard, you’re screwed. So what that means to the author is that you are now in a deep rut. Chains like Barnes & Noble won’t order your book. Books-A-Million won’t bring it in either. I found that by working with Borders stores individually, you can convince them to buy a few copies, but I’m telling you, it’s a lot of work to talk to each store manager and beg. Oh, by the way, I don’t patronize Barns and Noble anymore. I let my club card lapse and I won’t buy a book there either. Call it sour grapes, but a writers group I belonged to, The St. Louis Writers Guild has meetings at B&N stores twice a month. I’ve been a regular patron at a particular store for years. When I approached the manager about a signing, she insisted she couldn’t order my book due to corporat policy. Even when I was the featured speaker for the group, they wouldn't order in any books. I was forced to sell a few copies out of the trunk of my car to the members who wanted to buy it after the talk. You reap what you sow.

Indies will shy away from non-returnable books too. Several Indies in St. Louis have copies of A Reason For Dying, but for the BIG Indie in town I had to put books there on consignment. Meaning I had to buy the books and sign a contract. If they sell in six months, then they will reimburse my cost, not a penny more and no shipping.

So, that pretty much leaves internet sales, Amazon, B&N, BAM, Borders, and a lot of others have my book on their website, but not in their stores. Then you can find it on foreign sites like Booky.fi or even this AMAZON JP. I’m fairly positive my best sales are through Amazon.

And then there’s POD. Print on demand. Many people link POD with self publishing and vanity presses. It is NOT the same. In fact there was a discussion on Sisters in Crime Yahoo Group about the subject. A lot of people ask me what my print run is. That’s when I get this sheepish look on my face and say that my book is print on demand. Of course, the next statement is usually “OH, you’re self published.” That’s not true. POD is simply a technology that allows books to be printed quickly and delivered as needed. My books are printed by Lightning Source which I believe is affiliated with Ingram, the national distributor. I’ve never had any trouble getting books delivered. Ingram always keeps a enough in stock to supply the, albeit smallish, demand.

I’m telling you that the quality of my books, both paperback and hardback are top notch. No bad bindings, no bad covers, no errors besides what was my fault, never had a complaint.

So how does this affect you as an author?

Besides the common misconception of the association of POD with self publishing, if your publisher uses POD, you are not eligible to join Mystery Writers of America or International Thriller Writers as full members. You are ineligible for awards and programs those orgainzations offer. I believe it is incredibly unfair, but that’s the way it is. Rmember... It is what it is...

In my case, my small press did not send out ARCs (advance reader copies) for review. So, I was not able to get reviews printed in my book. I had to solicit and find authors to blurb me with only the MS Word copy of my manuscript. For me, it was uncomfortable enough asking several authors that I didn't particularly know that well to blurb my book. Add that I didn't have ARCs to send them, well, it didn't help the comfort factor. I owe the extraordinary author John Lutz my heart-felt thanks for helping a new author. John is an awesome writer and you should run out and buy one of his books. You won't regret it.

So to wrap this up, before you sign a contract with a small press, know what you’re getting into. There have been many instances of authors starting their careers with small presses and going on to sign with the big guys. There are instances where, despite self-publishing, authors have gone on to bigger and better things. Trust me, I know it’s tempting to sign that first offer, but take the time to understand the publisher and do what’s best for you and your aspirations as a writer.

Printers Row - Chicago

by Wilfred Bereswill

Since Annette Dashofy had so much fun organizing and babysitting the PennWriters Conference, I thought I’d stick with the theme. While writers conferences are in full swing, there have been many that have been cancelled or delayed due to the economy. Last week, over at The Outfit, a blog of Chicago Writers, Barb D’Amato wrote about the seeming demise of mystery conferences in particular. So is it all about the economy, or is it something else? Is The Internet and its virtual world making it easier to stay home and get your fill of authors teaching about writing? Personally, I think it’s a little of both.

I’ve gone to a number of conferences both pre and post publication. I can tell you that since I’ve been published, conferences have become more fun and relaxed. Even with the pressure of being on panels, I’ve been much more relaxed at the last couple of conferences I’ve been to. You see, I’ve always been comfortable speaking to groups from my business life, but sitting in front of an agent or publisher is like getting called into the boss’s office and him saying, “Close the door and have a seat.” The stomach does a flip and food that you’ve just eaten seems insistent on making a return visit.

The most memorable of panels I’ve served on was at Magna Cum Murder in Muncie, IN. last year. I had the pleasure of working with the Barb Diamato and Austin Camacho. We decided on going almost completely unstructured, coaching the attendees to write a flash fiction mystery. We got off to a rousing start and, while it took a little time, the group really got into it. I think if we had another hour, we would have had an awesome story. It started with a man driving his big rig down the highway, when... SPLAT! Something falls out of the sky and hits the big truck. The plot was actually intriguing enough, I thought about pursuing it afterward.

Back to the economy. I’m really hoping the economy doesn’t affect Printers Row this coming weekend. I’m heading up to Chicago for my first literary festival where I’ll be signing at Big Sleep Books tent on Saturday afternoon and maybe again on Sunday afternoon. I’m looking forward to seeing some of the fabulous authors I’ve come to know up there and a few I’ve yet to meet: Tasha Alexander, Laura Bradford, Andrew Grant, Barb D’Amato, Libby Fischer Hellmann, Joe Konrath, Marcus Sakey, Sean Chercover, Jeffery Deaver and Sara Paretsky. I’m sure I’m missing a few, but if nothing else, I plan on having a good time and I hope if you’re in the Chicago area, you’ll come by and see me.

Bits & Bobs

by Wilfred Bereswill

I intended to write an insightful blog today, but then life intervened and this is what I got done. A stream of consciousness on Sunday night. So, what happened to get in the way? Well, all my daughters are back home for one. My College daughter finisher her second year and came home Friday. My oldest daughter’s new boyfriend came up to St. Louis for the weekend (more on him later.) I coached my youngest daughter on parallel parking and driving for her driver’s license test. We had a get-together with our friends on Saturday night and I just finished grilling a fabulous dinner for the extended family.

First of all, last week one of the fine authors over at First Offenders, Lori Armstrong, raved about J. J. Abrams. Of course J.J. is the director of Lost as well as a number of other great series. Last weekend I saw the much anticipate (by me) Star Trek Movie. Taking an interesting approach, the movie centered on The Beginnings, with a young Kirk, Spock and crew. Knowing JJ Abrams interesting approach to things and the mystery of Lost, I wondered what he would do with it.

Of course it’s subjective, but Abrams hit a home run. A Barry Bonds bash out of the yard. And he didn’t need steroids to do it. Somehow he held true to the entire theme that is Star Trek. Witty. Funny. Groundbreaking. Let’s not forget, some of us witnessed the first interracial kiss on TV between Kirk and Uhura in "Plato's Stepchildren", which first aired on November 22, 1968.
I don’t want to give away anything, but, go see this one. If you know the slightest bit about the old series, you will find yourself on the edge of your seat waiting for the next young version of a crew member to be introduced.

These young actors must have spent countless hours watching the old series to get the mannerisms down pat. BUT, with all that, I have a bit of a special connection with the movie. Almost, anyway. Last year I went to Los Angeles on business with Anheuser-Busch. I spent a week at the brewery in Van Nuys and when I was talking to the Safety Manager there, a great guy by the name of Guy Stancil, he showed me a binder with the Star Trek font. As it turns out, many of the shots of the interior of the ship were filmed at the brewery. The shiny stainless steel fermentation tanks became the engine room. And a scene where young Scotty is beamed into a coolant line was filmed in the utilities building with the orange painted ammonia refrigerant lines. One scene I’m not entirely sure of was a scene when old Spock and Young Kirk enter a Star Base on an ice planet. They enter a double door walk through a long tiled hallway. I had a strange feeling of déjà vu. I think the scene was shot in the abandoned Bosari Cellars. It was the original fermentation area that featured open-top fermentation tubs.

And in a stroke of genius, they hit the "reset" button on the series by setting up an alternate reality which make it different and unique from the original series. You just have to see the movie to understand.

Anyway, see the movie. I give it two thumbs up.

This weekend I noticed some people have rhythm and some don’t. I was playing Rock Band with some of the guys I golf with and it was quite obvious that we are not all created equal in the rhythm department. I remember the scene at the start of Steve Martin’s, The Jerk.



Some people have it and others… Well, not so much.

On to the boyfriend. My oldest daughter, Kelly, the Speech Language Pathologist just started seeing a new guy. He made his second visit up from Carbondale, IL where he is in a doctorate program for behavioral therapy. My wife and other daughters say he’s cute. I noticed he’s incredibly talented. He plays both the guitar and the piano, and does so very well. He also sings very good. So far I can say he seems like a great guy.

On a side note, I also got back into the work in progress, A Reason For Terror. It’s been de-railed a bit for the new job and all the other things that have been going on. This weekend’s word count, 2,000. It’s a start and I’m up to 86,000 words overall. I’m giving myself 3 weeks to finish it and with the season finales almost done, I should be able to accomplish it.

So, what did this weekend hold for you? Anything fun?