Well, my hiatus is over, tomorrow morning I begin writing again on a regular basis.  I'll set aside three hours every morning and have at it.  I've got a bunch of ideas swimming around in my head again and have gathered some technical information that I need to support one of my stories, The Book Club Murders.
I've also gathered several stories to support the other novel in my head, tentatively titled, Brothers, so as soon as I've written something acceptable I'll post samples.

I recently had some great news!  I have been selected to be one of the presenting authors in Austin's Artworks Festival, August 24th and 25th.  I will be talking about my books on Sunday, August 25th, 2013 at noon for about 45 minutes.  My presentation will cover why I began writing, the process I use, reading a couple of selections from my books, and a question and answer portion.

I'm very excited about this opportunity and looking forward to it.  My books will also be on sale at the event.

The Austin Artworks Festival will take place in the old Utility Building in downtown Austin.  Please stop in and visit.

The Book Club Murders (tentative title of my next mystery novel)

This is the prologue for my next mystery, tentatively titled, The Book Club Murders.



The Book Club Murders

Carin, Jenny, and Mary investigate two murders of their book club members in Rose Creek and Austin, Mn. They are assisted by Beth and Lisa Dolcheski, deputy sheriff of Spirit Grove.


                                                             Prologue
                                                  Rose Creek, Minnesota


She watched and waited, shielded from view by the protective shadows across the street.  It was 10:08 p.m.  The porch light had flicked on and the door had opened.  Laughter permeated the air as women filtered out of the house, saying their goodbyes and then getting into their cars and driving away.
Laura Walters was the last to leave.  She stood clearly illuminated in the porch light as she shared laughs and final words with the host of the monthly book club meeting. Laura said her last goodbye as she turned, exited the porch, and began the four block walk to her home; it was a neatly kept two story colonial on the north side of County Road 4.
The four glasses of wine she had drunk during the "meeting" seemed to warm her innards, although she still pulled the collar tighter against her exposed neck.  She wore no hat as she braved the winter chill and negotiated the icy sidewalk guiding her to her house, slipping and sliding a little as she proceeded.  A wordless, ephemeral melody flowed from her lips, guaranteeing that she would pay little attention to her surroundings.
Nightstick in hand, the stalker inched closer to her target until she was only a few steps behind.
The night was quiet except for Laura's singing and the crunching sound made when their boots mashed chunks of ice on the sidewalk.  Both figures stopped when Laura ceased vocalizing the wordless melody and turned to see the one behind her.
Her eyes brightened, losing the dull sheen of inebriety.  "I thought-."  Before Laura could finish the sentence the nightstick crashed into her skull several times, sprinkling the sidewalk and snow with spatters of blood.
Breathing heavily, the stalker removed a glove and felt for a pulse in Laura's neck.  There was none.  "One down," she said to no one and then quickly returned to her vehicle two blocks away.

Gymocha books

I've been busy with a basement renovation project and left with little time to write, but did manage to sketch out a very iffy outline for a novel about brothers.

My current idea, and I say current, because my brain was in flux when I formulated it, is to begin with a scene that involves all three brothers in a life altering event.  However, I am fairly certain that will change a couple of times before finally settling on what I might consider a beginning that could have potential.

 I have two other stories begun with rough prologues and another one with a simple idea written down and saved.  I may take a longer time working on all of these as I flesh out plot lines.

 So, oh well.  I'll keep plugging away with ideas and frameworks for a story about brothers.  I have a feeling that I'll be wrestling with this for awhile.

Oh, I almost forgot my main reason for posting today, and that is, both of my books, Trust Me Now and Cassandra's Moon, are now available at Gymocha.

I attended an author presentation last night at the Austin Public Library.  Peter Geye talked about the two books he had written and published.  The first was Safe From the Sea.  His second novel, which he had to be asked about by an attendee, was The Lighthouse Road.  Although I haven't read either one, my wife has and highly recommended both to me.  I will be reading them.

I was struck by the humble and honest presentation from Mr. Geye.  I was also impressed by his reading of a short section from his first novel, Safe From the Sea.  Mr. Geye, I think is an honest to goodness fine human being who has an endearing interest in becoming a good writer.  Based upon what I heard, he's already there.

His presentation actually inspired me to write a story about brothers and explore the interactions, differences, inconsistencies, and love that exists among them.  Since I have two brothers I have some background to drawn upon.  Although my younger brother died in an ATV accident several years ago, memories never seem to fade, and he is as alive today within me as he was when we were young.

My older brother has lived a colorful life and I would certainly draw upon some of his experiences as I try to weave a story that would allow people to laugh, and maybe even shed a few happy tears, hopefully in recognition of similar interactions with their own siblings.

 It will be a different type of writing for me, but I'm excited about trying something like this.  Hopefully, I will be able to turn out a good product, because, in the end,  I, like Peter Geye, would eventually like to be known as a good person, father, husband, and...writer.

Cassandra's Moon

My second book, Cassandra's Moon, is finally ready and published on Amazon.com.  It is available as either a Kindle ebook or paperback.  It completes the first book I wrote, Trust Me Now, but in a strange way can stand on its own.  I believe you could read the second book and get the feeling of what fundamentally happened in the first book through my use of flashbacks at two or three different points along the way.

I'm quite happy with how it turned out and am now turning my attention to writing a murder mystery involving a book club and a few of the characters from my first two novels.

New section of Cassandra's Moon

About half the action in my second book (Cassandra's Moon) takes place in Italy.  I've based much of the descriptions upon my memories of the areas in Sorrento and Capri that we visited.  The brief section I've posted here relates the background of one of the characters who plays an important role in the Italian portion of the book.  All of the characters in the book have Minnesota connections.

JUNE 1947   MARSHALL ANDERSON

Marshall tightly gripped the railing of the ferry as the view of Sorrento flanked by cliffs and hills appeared in his view.  It was a beautiful, blue sky encasing the world he was in.  In fact, Mount Vesuvius could be seen clearly in the distance across the bay from the charming city, a rare sight.  Usually, it was covered in clouds swirling around the top one-third of the mountain.

  During his tenure in Sicily, only four years ago,  he had been a soldier in the American army.  Now, he was just a twenty-two year old civilian on the proverbial quest to "find himself".  He had been greeted as a hero after the war when he returned home to Beaver Bay, Minnesota.  He hadn't felt like a hero.  He had done his job, even though he was scared out of his wits most of the time.  Most of them had been scared, scared beyond their grossest childhood dreams. Many who had come back were damaged, not just physically.  That was the easy part.  Emotionally, the scars would last for decades.  He hoped to erase his memories of the war and what he did, or didn't do, here, where he sought a new life.  A quieter, simpler life.  

Marshall wanted justification for continuing a life that seemed without meaning.  He wanted to atone for what he wasn't, and find what he wanted to be.  Although, he had no idea what that was right at this moment.  

He had finished high school, but in reality, his skills were limited.  His greatest skill had been thrust upon him by the army.  It had taught him how to fire the M1 Garand, officially designated as United States rifle caliber 30M1.  It was the first semi-automatic rifle to be generally issued to the infantry of any nation.  It had a metal clip containing eight rounds.  The rifle fired one round each time the trigger was pulled.  After the eight rounds were shot, the clip automatically ejected, causing a ping noise to occur.  He learned to hate that damn noise.   It clung to his brain like a tick on a dog.  It wouldn't let go, along with every memory he had of firing the gun.  

So, here he was, ready to start over doing whatever he could.  He needed to put it all in the past.  Through a bit of circumlocution, the reasoning going on in his brain gave him the idea of coming back to Italy and facing whatever demons he needed to exorcise.  Marshall didn't know if it would work, but he was willing to give it a go.  He had chosen Sorrento because a buddy had told him it was the most beautiful place in Italy.

The ferry entered the Marina Grande, port of Sorrento.  It's speed had slowed perceptively when they approached the protected harbor.  The refreshing breeze he had been basking in earlier diminished to nearly nothing as the boat slowed and approached the main dock.  His Boston Red Sox cap took its place on top of his head while his eyes soaked in the the stunning view before him.  

The position of Sorrento, which was known as Surrentum more than two thousand years ago, was very secure.  It was naturally protected by deep gorges.  Old walls, forty feet high, defended a 300 metre section on the southwest side of the city.  Those walls dated from Roman times.  The arrangement of the modern streets remained the same as the ancient town.  No ruins were preserved in the town, but, part way up a cliff, underneath the Hotel Victoria, an ancient rock-cut tunnel descended to the sea.  In future days, Marshall would learn its location and follow its pathway with Sarah.

A member of the crew called out something in Italian to similarly dressed men on the dock.  Ropes were tossed from the ferry and caught by the men below.  The ferry captain threw the engines into reverse, gently bringing the boat to a halt as he swung it around and kissed the side of the dock.  When the boat was securely tied, streams of people poured from the ferry onto the dock.  He waited patiently till the others lined up and filed past him.  He kept his gaze upon the city and the mountainous backdrop.  He had heard of a road built along the cliffs paralleling the sea.  He had caught the tail-end of an American couples conversation; Amalfi coast he had heard them say.  Something about a breathtaking, beautiful drive they were going to take from Sorrento to the south and then back again.  Heights and sheer cliff drop-offs did not excite him.  

The crowd thinned until only a few passengers, including him, remained on the ferry.  Picking up his lone duffle bag, stuffed with everything he could pack into it, he walked with some trepidation to the steps arranged for disembarking.  A lively, young man sporting a sailors cap waited at the bottom of the steps, ready to catch anyone that might stumble as they descended.  Marshall nodded and then stepped onto the dock.  

"Buongiorno," said the dock-man just as cheerily the last time as the first.  Marshall replied with the same "good morning" greeting while he disembarked.  His eyes cast down to the clear waters of the Mediterranean slapping the posts sunk deep into the bottom below.   Pausing, he watched fish darting between rocks and in and out of hollows.  They reminded him of the herring caught in Lake Superior, but he had no idea what kind of fish they actually were.  He knew that sea bass, salmon, and swordfish inhabited the waters, but probably not this close in.  Not having anything else to do, and being intensely interested in the scene below, he kept watching.  

"Don't fall in," he heard from a female voice speaking English.  The most beautiful woman in the world stood twenty feet further up the dock.  Her thick, dark hair cascaded well below her shoulders.  The features of her face definitely identified her as Italian, at least, in his view.   A dark complexion and angular cheek bones caressing a Roman nose, filled his vision.  Her expressive eyes appeared to reflect the sailboats gliding across the sea behind him.  While standing slightly turned towards her, he quickly decided that he wanted to find out more about the girl who had just warned him.

"I was just watching the fish."  He couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Instead of watching them, you should try catching them."

"I would, but, as you can see, I don't have a fishing pole.  She smirked a little and walked close, stopping a perfect, socially acceptable distance away.

"Well, there are other ways of catching fish."  Without elaborating, or waiting for him to respond, she walked towards the ferry, and then she turned and shouted, "My name is Sarah."  The sound of her shoes clapping upon the wooden planks of the dock floated to him like music in a great outdoor theater.  His eyes followed the young girl in the loosely fitted dress.  He was a bit flustered, but intoxicated by her presence, which was now leaving.  She hopped gracefully up the steps and onto the ferry.