Tag Archives: B. B. Wright

Author’s Corner: An Interview with Roberta Goodman

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DSCN1992Welcome Roberta Goodman to Author’s Corner:

A Meeting Place for Emerging Authors

Q: Tell us about yourself; include how you got started writing.

A: Before I get started, I’d like to thank you for featuring me on your blog, Barry. I appreciate the support. I’m an extroverted introvert. I’m very social and talkative when I want to be, but I can be just as content spending time alone. Individuals who don’t know me assume I’m quiet and reserved. I’m actually quite loud at times. I think the tendency to raise my voice, which most of the time I’m unaware of, stems from being raised in a large city. I grew up in Philadelphia. I moved to the Eastern Shore of Maryland with my husband, then boyfriend, fourteen years ago. I hope to move to a warmer climate in the future, because I dislike cold weather. I can tolerate cooler temperatures, but I hate winter and snow with a passion. I’m an outdoorsy person who loves to walk, hike, bike, and swim. I practically go insane during the winter months when I’m cooped up in my house because it’s too cold to do anything outside.

When I turned thirty-six, back in 2008, I found myself on a quest to find my passion in life. There had always been this desire inside of me to tell stories, but up until that point I was busy being a SAHM to my two children, so I waited until they were both in school to pursue a writing career. In January 2009, I embarked on writing my first manuscript. A Sojourn in Hell is loosely based on situations that occurred to members of my family. I weaved fact with fiction to create a story that’s an emotional roller coaster ride. I revised it in 2012 to make it a much deeper read than it had been originally. It’s my second published novel, but the first one I self-published.

About seven months ago, I started focusing my energy on becoming more involved in the indie writing community. I created Tweetathons on Twitter to showcase some of the amazing writers I meet there on a daily basis. I initially focused on writers, but I realized there were lots of other talented individuals as well as those trying to make their small businesses successful that deserved support, so I started including them. My scheduled tweets run four days for twenty-four hours straight. I devote Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays to help spread the word to all my followers about books, music, or anything else they might not learn about otherwise.

Q: What is your favorite part of writing? Is there a least favorite part? And, if there is, what is it?

A: My favorite part of writing is creating scenarios that will get readers thinking. I prefer writing fiction to non-fiction overall. In the case of my upcoming memoir, I used my writing ability to document a very dark period of my life, because I needed a way to cope. It was a cathartic experience to know my words might end up helping others who are dealing with a cancer diagnosis of themselves or a loved one. I haven’t discovered a least favorite part of writing, at least not yet.

Q: Are you a plotter or a pantser? And, how would a typical day look for you while you are writing?

A: I’m a complete pantser. I make notes about my characters, but I never outline. I do my best writing when I’m alone in my home. I can’t concentrate unless I have a quiet atmosphere. I usually start right after my kids leave for school. Depending on my mood, I’ll either sit on my sofa or at my dining room table with my laptop. I’m a caffeine addict, but I’m not a coffee drinker, so I usually have a Diet Coke or a cup of hot chocolate sitting beside me. I usually work for hours completely unaware I’ve done so until something alerts me to the time.

Q: Were you inspired by particular writers or genres and, if so, how did they influence your style?

A: I’ve been inspired by every writer I’ve ever read. It’s a list that’s way too long to write here, but I can’t honestly say any of them has influenced my style. I like to believe I have my own unique way of telling a story which is independent of anything I’ve chosen to read.

Q: What are you reading now?

A: I’m ashamed to admit I’m not reading anything at the moment. When I have free time from editing my memoir, which I’ve been working on daily, the only thing I want to do is rest my eyes.

Q: Was your road to publication difficult or a walk in the park?

A: I apologize in advance for this lengthy response. My journey to become a published novelist wasn’t an easy one. In January 2009, I began writing my first manuscript. My tragic romance/family saga took ten months to complete. After many months of querying to agents I failed to secure representation, so I decided to set it aside.

I was inspired to write Snow Escape a few months later. It took me a total of five and a half months to complete it. Again, I started the process of querying to agents. I had high hopes someone would feel as passionate about this work as I did. I sent out over a hundred queries and waited patiently for the responses. Rejections started to pour in from about half of those queried. After several months I ended up shelving Snow Escape.

I started doing some freelance work, because I couldn’t bring myself to write a third manuscript. I didn’t even consider self-publishing, because I didn’t feel it was a road I wanted to go down. At the time, I falsely believed the stigma some people attach to self-publishing, and I was convinced the only way I’d succeed in the writing world would be through traditional means.

At the beginning of 2011, my husband was diagnosed with Testicular Cancer. It was an incredibly devastating time in my life. I knew I had to stay strong and find a way to deal with the stress of his having to go through surgery and chemotherapy, so I began to write a manuscript about our struggle. After I completed it I started the process of querying to agents, but I didn’t get very far. I was told several times our story is too personal, therefore it isn’t marketable. I made the difficult decision to set it aside.

In July 2011, something compelled me to revise Snow Escape. Within a week, through fate, I had the number of a small independent publisher. I called her up and told her about my project. I ended up sending her a query, a synopsis, and the first three chapters of my manuscript. A little over a week later I received an email stating my work was going to be published.

Unfortunately, I didn’t realize how much control I was giving up by going with an indie publisher. Couple that with the fact promotion of the book was my sole responsibility and most writers will understand why I decided to try self-publishing. After I revised my first manuscript, I was able to overcome the intimidation and stigma I initially felt about the process and it’s not something I regret. I plan on self-publishing my memoir.

Q: Now that you are a published author, what is the most rewarding thing for you?

A: It’s a powerful thing to know I possess the ability to entertain readers or help them escape their own troubles just by reading something I’ve written. If I can get them to relate to my characters, and to become engrossed in the story, then I’ve done my job.

Q: Do you ever suffer from writer’s block? If so, what do you do to combat it?

A: I have suffered writer’s block, and I continue to occasionally. The only thing that helps me combat it is to walk away from what I’m working on. I’ve learned the more pressure I put on myself to break through a block, the worse the block will become. I’ve purposely shelved work, because I felt I couldn’t do justice to the story by forcing myself to continue. I do find myself going back to most stories, but there are some I’ll probably never finish. My philosophy is I can’t beat myself up when inspiration leaves me.

Q: What is most difficult for you to write? Characters, conflict or emotions? Why?

A: Characters give me the most trouble. I have a tendency to focus more on their flaws as opposed to highlighting their positive traits. I believe flawed people are much more interesting to read about, so I always have fear readers will think my characters are boring if they aren’t flawed enough.

Q: Though A Sojourn in Hell was your first manuscript (2009), a very different novel Snow Escape (September 2011) saw the ‘light of day’ ahead of it. What was happening to bring this about? In other words, what inspired you to write Snow Escape as your first published novel?

goodman_SnowEscape_final (414x640)A: I endured three huge snowstorms during the winter of 2009-2010. Two occurred within a week of each other. I was sitting at my computer querying agents for my first manuscript, A Sojourn in Hell, about a week after the back-to-back storms. I looked out the window and watched as more snow fell. Thankfully, this storm was going to pass my area and head up to New York. I remember thinking Thank God we’re not going to get hit from another storm. Let New York get clobbered with it, because I’ve had enough snow. That’s when I had this light bulb moment. What if you had a woman in New York who’s trapped in her apartment, because it just keeps snowing? What if this woman uses online dating to meet guys and one of them decides to contact her during the blizzard? The details basically came flooding to me, so I was compelled to write them down. Here’s a brief description of my murder mystery/thriller:

Set against the backdrop of a historic snowstorm, Snow Escape is the story of one woman’s innocent foray into the world of online dating turned deadly.

 

Allegra Maxwell is a 30-year old, single school teacher looking for love. Having chosen to use the Internet to meet the opposite sex, she encounters an articulate, prospective beau on the night the biggest blizzard in history is blanketing the Big Apple. Their pleasant conversation soon turns sinister when she discovers “Charles” has been stalking her for weeks and claims he lives in her building. When threats of destroying her little by little are made Allegra must stay one step ahead of the mind games. Turning to neighbors for help, tragic consequences ensue.

When her sanity is questioned because the online evidence her stalker exists disappears, Allegra must prove he does exist, and she isn’t losing her mind. She’s convinced he’s somewhere in the building just waiting for the right time to attack, so when a power outage thrusts her into darkness will she be able to overcome the helplessness she feels? Placed in a situation that’s spiraling totally out of her control, while trapped in her apartment building with no escape, will she survive until the authorities can reach her?

Q: A Sojourn in Hell—a multigenerational novel spanning almost 80 years from the Depression through WWII and beyond—is rich in historical research. Was it difficult for you to capture the life during that period? Describe how you went about preparing yourself to write this novel. 

A SOJOURN IN HELL EBOOK COVERA: It wasn’t difficult for me to capture life during the period starting with the Depression, because I grew up in a family whose members enjoyed talking a lot about what life was like in the 30s, 40s, 50’s, etc. The only thing I did to prepare myself to write A Sojourn in Hell was recall stories told to me throughout my lifetime. Writers write what they know, so for my first manuscript I chose to build a story intertwining fiction with real life events. Here’s a brief description:

A Sojourn in Hell focuses on the tragic romance of a young woman. Losing the love of her life in combination with a dysfunctional upbringing help to shape the subsequent decisions she makes. As you’ve stated in your question, the story is a multigenerational tale spanning almost eighty years. From the Great Depression through WWII and beyond, the reader is witness to the changes one woman’s life undergoes as she becomes a wife, mother, and grandmother as well as the trials and tribulations her own children end up going through. Alcoholism, untimely deaths, physical and mental abuse, adultery, and life-long regrets abound in this heartbreaking character study of human emotions.

Q: A Sojourn in Hell explores the long reaching effects that violence has on a soul. Why do you think this is a common theme in literature?

 

A: Writers know most readers can empathize with suffering characters; ones who’ve been physically or emotionally scarred from a violent incident or incidents. If they’ve been a victim of violence themselves, reading about a character in a similar situation can sometimes help individuals delve deeper into how the violence they experienced shaped their own lives. If they’ve never been a victim of violence, reading about it will hopefully build compassion within them for those who have suffered.

 

Q: Do you have plans to extend A Sojourn in Hell to follow any of the central characters on new adventures? Do you think there is scope to follow up the novel in this way?

 

A: I don’t have any plans to extend A Sojourn in Hell. The supporting characters are definitely interesting individuals, but I purposely built the book around a complex main character. The reader follows her throughout her lifetime until her death. I felt content ending the story with her passing and letting readers use their imaginations to envision what happens to the other characters in the future.

 

Q: Your most recent project Persevering through the Unforeseen: One Couple’s Experience Conquering Testicular Cancer will soon be published. Recently you wrote “…Persevering is closest to my heart because everything documented happened. I hope to spread the word about Testicular Cancer by releasing this story.” Cancer has touched many families including my own. I am still battling stage 3 prostate cancer (Gleason 7) after a prostatectomy 2 years ago. Describe this most recent endeavor and how you hope “to spread the word about Testicular Cancer.” How can people reading this Blog help you reach your goals?

PTTU eBook Cover copyA: I’m sorry to hear about your struggle, Barry. I certainly hope you win the battle. Cancer is an insidious disease that can strike anyone at anytime. I was hit with this realization when my husband, who was thirty-six at the time, was diagnosed with Testicular Cancer in January 2011. He underwent an orchiectomy to remove his testicle which we later learned contained two tumors. When TC is suspected removal of the testicle is the only way to perform a biopsy. When it was discovered the cancer had spread to his pelvic area, he was forced to endure four aggressive cycles of chemotherapy for a total of twenty doses.

It was a very stressful time for my entire family, because we didn’t know what to expect. When I initially looked for information about TC, I was overwhelmed by the medical jargon. I also discovered not many people have written personal accounts of their TC battles. It’s not a cancer that gets much publicity, because the numbers of men who get it are overshadowed by the number of individuals who get other cancers. I decided I needed to document what was happening to better educate people about the emotional upheaval and the treatment options for this particular cancer. I knew very little about chemotherapy until my husband went through it. I didn’t realize older people can’t get chemo in the amounts he received, because they’re not strong enough to handle it.

Writing down what we went through was my way of coping with a situation I couldn’t control. If I can reach those who might be comforted by reading what my husband and I as well as our family went through, and triumphed over, then all the work I’ve done writing, revising, and editing it will be worth it. If I can educate those going through a similar situation, so they are aren’t terrified by the experience, then all the suffering that happened in our lives won’t be in vain.

Q: Where can readers find you? And, where can readers find your books?

A: Website/blog-  http://rogoodman.com

Facebook Author Page- http://on.fb.me/Wm9RBE

Twitter-  https://twitter.com/#!/RobertaGoodman

Linked in-  http://www.linkedin.com/pub/roberta-goodman/44/886/b87

Goodreads-  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5253029.Roberta_Goodman

Goggle + –  https://plus.google.com/103358666573770201293/posts

Buying info for Snow Escape:

Amazon- amzn.to/16sh1oN

Amazon UK- amzn.to/1h1FjfF

Write Words Inc-http://www.writewordsinc.com/snowescape.html

Barnes & Noble-bit.ly/11x6dBK

Buying info for A Sojourn in Hell:

Amazon- amzn.to/11wu4l3

Amazon UK- amzn.to/15MdlCe

Barnes & Noble-bit.ly/168oIAJ

Buying info for Persevering through the Unforeseen: One Couple’s Experience Conquering Testicular Cancer:

eBook coming soon to Amazon, Amazon UK, & Barnes & Noble

Thank you Roberta for taking time from a very busy schedule to participate in this interview. I hope all goes well and I am looking forward to your next book.

When Yesterday Becomes Tomorrow: Chapter Seven

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index

When Yesterday Becomes Tomorrow is written by B. B. Wright

Ethan said nothing for a long time. His back pressed against the kitchen counter, he scrutinized the three of them at the table as he crossed one foot over the other. Where the fuck do I begin? He had no idea whether Jeffrey and John had anything to do with that bullet that came through the living-room window earlier; but, he knew he had to establish an answer to that one quickly. As for Louise… well… he knew she knew more than she was letting on. The question was: “How the hell to get it out of her.” Working for two masters is a BITCH! He lamented. He bit his upper lip and let loose a long sigh. How close should I play my cards? Since he and Tom took on this assignment, he had gone from trusting some to trusting none. And now, he was looking at two people-Jeffrey and Louise-who use to be among the some. Too long in the fuckin’ sewers of this world, he thought.

“Ethan?” Jeffrey asked, a smile taking shape from the corner of his mouth. “Do you mind?” He nodded toward the entrance to the dining room. “Maybe I might come up with something,” he suggested with a slight shrug. Receiving only a cold stare and no answer he continued. “I knew Tom was working undercover. It wasn’t until about 6 months ago though that I learned he had also been working for CSIS.”

CSIS is the acronym for Canadian Security Intelligence Service. It was created by an Act of Parliament on June 21, 1984. Its headquarters is located in Ottawa, Ontario. CSIS works closely with the intelligence agencies of the United Kingdom, Australia and the United States. Though initially its emphasis was combating the activities of foreign intelligence agencies operating in Canada, it has broadened under the CSIS Act to include the worldwide collection of security intelligence related to threats to the security of Canada.

“Tom?” interjected Louise.

His head tilting slightly downwards, Jeffrey turned to Louise, took in a deep breath and nodded. “It was a big surprise to me too,” he replied softly.

“But…how would you even know that?” she retorted. “I sure didn’t! And, if there was anyone who should have known it would have been me. We never kept secrets from each other. NEVER!” She folded her arms tightly across her chest and looked away.

Biting on his upper lip, Jeffrey watched Ethan’s reaction to this exchange between Louise and him from the corner of his eye. “Louise, how do I answer you?  I…I thought you knew.”

“Hang on there for a moment, Jeffrey,” Ethan interjected, pointing the Glock at him. “How did you find out about his CSIS connection? Only a select few including me knew that. It was a closed group and I don’t recollect your name being on that list.”

“You forget that he reported directly to me,” Jeffrey retorted, thrusting out his lower jaw.

“But, only on matters that related to law enforcement. Not national security! So, again, I ask: “How did you find out about his CSIS connection?””

Louise’s jaw dropped. “National security? My Tom? Ethan…what are you talking about?”

Ethan ignored her query and kept his eyes fixed on Jeffrey.”Well?”

Looking at Louise and then John, Jeffrey shifted forward in his chair, folding his hands together on the table “Let me dig out that bullet in the wall first. If my hunch is right, that bullet should have a lot to tell us.” Seeing Ethan’s askance look he felt compelled to say more but decided to hold off and just wait for his reply.

Ethan rolled his tongue around the inside of the front of his mouth as he thought about Jeffrey’s request. “You and John must have brought cuffs with you. Right?” Jeffrey nodded. “Cuff them to the chair and slide both sets of keys across the table.” Once they were cuffed and he had the keys, he shifted to a better location to keep an eye on all three. “Now, you can go ahead and dig out that bullet.”

A few minutes later, Jeffrey was rolling the bullet back and forth in his palm. “Hmm!” he repeated several times as he continued to examine it. “Notice anything unusual about it, Ethan?” he asked, holding it up for him to see.

“You’ve got to be kidding? I’m suppose to see something from this distance?”

A wide grin formed on Jeffrey’s face: “Aren’t you CSIS boys the crème de la crème, the exceptional of the exceptional, the…”

“I get it smartass! No need to continue. Let’s have a look.”

Jeffrey dropped the bullet into Ethan’s hand and returned to his seat and sat down, stretching out his legs and crossing his arms.

For a few minutes Ethan said nothing as he scrutinized the bullet. “Well it’s definitely a 9 millimeter.

“And, what else do you notice?” Jeffrey asked.

“It’s both longer and heavier than I expected.”

“And?”

Ethan rolled the bullet between his thumb and forefinger as he looked at it more closely. “Well, I’ll be damned! It has a hardened steel penetrator as its core.” Jeffrey nodded his agreement. “Did either you or John hear the shot?” Seeing a blank stare from both Jeffrey and John he knew the answer was no. “Then they used a silencer.”

Jeffrey straightened up in his chair. “Whoever it was meant business. That bullet was designed to pierce military issue body armor.”

Ethan slid the keys to the cuffs across the table to Jeffrey. “Would you and John be up to checking if the sonofabitch who shot this left behind a cartridge.”

Jeffrey looked across to John as he un-cuffed Louise. “No, I don’t think that will be a problem. Do you have any idea within what perimeter we should scour?”

“Considering the weight of this bullet, I’d say no more than a 400 meters radius. When the trajectory is factored in, it will narrow it down to only a few locations. By the way, you still haven’t answered my question.”

“What question?” Jeffrey replied, over his back as he un-cuffed John.

“About how you knew that Tom had been working for CSIS?”

Jeffrey slowly turned to face Ethan. “Why don’t we leave that for later? Eh? Let’s find that cartridge. It may tell us about what kind’a weapon was used. Unless…Huh!…Unless you already know?”

“A Vinovka Snaiperskaja Spetsialnaya,” Ethan replied.

“Russian?” Louise interjected.

Ethan nodded: “VSS Sniper Rifle.”

“But how would you know that?” asked Jeffrey.

“I don’t. It’s just a guess. You know one of those playing the odds sort’a thing.” Ethan held off Jeffrey’s next question. “You’ll understand later. In the meantime, let’s try to find that cartridge.”

“If that’s the way it’s gotta be then that’s the way it’s gotta be. Later it is. Still…” Ethan’s cold stare stopped him dead and he decided to redirect his attention. Rubbing his hands together, he looked around the kitchen. “Is there any coffee? I could sure do with a cup right now. It looks like we’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

“I’ll make a fresh pot,” Louise piped in. She turned to Ethan with a scowling look. “I think you can put away that gun, don’t you think? And, once you’ve done that put the leftovers from supper in the oven to warm up while I get a coupla flashlights.” She saw Jeffrey eyeing the wine rack. “Are you sure you don’t want something stronger, Jeffrey?”

“Maybe once we find that cartridge. You know… to celebrate,” he chortled, winking at them and shaking his head. “In the meantime, your flashlights along with mine plus coffee to go should do the trick.”

Flock or Not: That’s What It’s All About

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Flock or Not: That’s What It’s All About

A Poem

by B. B. Wright

 

A group of sheep is a herd or flock;

the shepherd is never a flocker.

A volery of birds is a fleet or flight

also a pod, congregation or parcel.

While small birds’ in groups

a dissimulation is called,

a mouthful to remember indeed!

Though these words are few,

soon you’ll learn new,

to describe a flock, congregation or parcel.

A gaggle of geese look up from the ground;

while in flight a skein, a wedge of their kind take notice

of Albatross—feathered giants indeed—

in flock or rookery combined.

“Spectacular!” the geese exclaimed,

in confidence of the sighting just seen.

Until the screech from the ground

where a party of jays

made the whole thing turn upside down.

“What do jays know?” was the harsh, self-assured, raucous reply

from the murder of crows nearby.

“There’s no mystery in this!”

screeched their unison entreat,

“It just simply is.”

A committee of vultures circled the gathering

waiting for the ripe time to come down.

“Look!” alerted the fall of woodcock:

“a wake, a kettle ‘uptown.’

An exaltation of larks

drowned out the woodcocks;

while an unkindness of ravens

on their way to the barn

scared a gulp of swallows in turn.

Grouped in charms, chattering, drums or troubling

—whatever their group is called—

humming wings and twittering squeak,

the hummingbirds’ nectar reply

was to counsel the geese

and give the jays peace

the hardest wisdom to buy.

In the front of the court

a murmuration of starlings and a host of sparrows patiently sit looking on;

while a pitying of turtledoves and a rafter of turkey hope the trial will not last long.

When the learned parliament of owls finally arrived,

with white gowns all newly preened;

before they could “hoo”

a prorogue was ensued

from the charm of warbling finch.

When the bouquet of pheasant nodded support

— simply not expecting a hitch—

that’s when the ostentation of peacock

yelled “Foul play!” and called it “A BITCH!”

But,

when the owls consorted

with a sord of mallards

the tidings of magpies flew away.

Debate and rebuttal and erudite rubble

crumbled the mumble astray;

until egos did stumble

and they did fumble

apparently lost in melee.

An answer came out

—expedient no doubt—

and here’s what they had to say:

“Agreement lies far to the south…there’s simply no other way.”

Askance looks

—filled with doubts—

their dilemma chirped underway.

“Hoo, hoo-hoo, HOOH should go,

mallard or owl this day?”

“That answer is easy,”

quacked the team of ducks,

bunched up with their newly born.

A hush, like hoar-frost,

suddenly settled over

the cacophonous pod that day.

“Hmm!” said the chief owl, glaring down his nose

at the paddling of duck on the pond.

“Hoo-hoo can a bunch of ducks like you

and your brood of duckling know?”

His oppressive eyes and threatening ways

gave the ducks a stuttering blow.

Until,

a dole of doves

settled in

to defiantly stand in a row.

“Hoo, hoo-hoo, HOOH!  Okay!” the chief owl yawned,

“If you must. Let’s hear what you have to say.”

A young duckling stepped forth

to firmly take hold

her bold intention precise:

“Your answer is clear! Stay here!” she exclaimed,

stamping her web-foot twice.

“But…” stumbled the owl,

trying to recover

from someone as outspoken as she:

“the… Kingdom of Penguins…

with their waddle on land and their raft in water

have wisdom greatly revered.”

“I don’t give a damn!” the duckling exclaimed

“Look around you silly old owl!”

With a paradoxical look the parliament shook,

and clearly shrugged an answer in vain;

while moans and groans as if in pain

mixed with the congregations’ disdain.

The duckling strode forth

and with her mother’s support

the duckling took center stage.

“Wait!” she cried out,

with a surprising rapport,

for someone as young as she.

With the tip of her wing, she took them all in

especially the parliament to her lee.

“The paradigm shift

is real easy to see

if only you would all listen, please.”

When the siege of herons called out their support,

the volery of birds settled down.

“Here’s my question to you,” she slowly began,

earnestly looking around.

A slight murmur arose

among all the rows

until silence reposed profound.

“How many agree ,”

she preceded her challenge,

“raise a wing if you concur,

that a flock or rockery

of Albatross in flight

is a spectacular sight to see?”

Opinions and thoughts never really sought,

the pods hesitated ever so slight.

A glance to the left,

A glance to the right,

the center led the flight.

All wings raised

—except the jays—

for what they knew was right.

The chief owl humbled,

but still shrewdly insightful,

did not let his goals go astray.

“Answers all, lie within?” He thought,

this scrupulous circumspection could  pay.

His trap now laid

the duckling displayed,

scooped up so the flock could see.

His position without doubt

would now have real clout

sea to sea to sea.

Then laughter broke out

his parliament backed out

screeching pee-hoo-hoo

pee-hoo, pee-hoo at he.

When the chief owl looked down,

it was with a frown,

his white gown was all brown

below where the duckling had peed.

His plans now a shamble

by his selfish gamble

revealed by an innocent duckling like she.

When the duckling got down

she stood her ground

and the pod drew near to hear.

“Our rights are our might

—never surrender—

to someone the likes of he.

Though choices may be slender

your vote must be rendered

to ensure your destiny.”

When Yesterday Becomes Tomorrow: Chapter Six

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holding GlockWhen Yesterday Becomes Tomorrow

by

B. B. Wright

“Whoa!”  Jeffrey Deaver’s outstretched arm stopped the forward motion of his companion in his tracks. For a moment, the two of them stood frozen in the door frame facing down at Ethan’s Glock pointing up at them from under the kitchen table. “Ethan?” Getting no reply, only a cold stare from him, Jeffrey let his revolver dangle from his forefinger. “I’m going to put my revolver on the floor and kick it over to you.” Turning to his companion he said: “You do the same, John.” The two revolvers slid across the floor, stopping a few inches short from where Ethan continued to keep his gun trained on them.

“Both of you take two steps in. Jeff, you turn to the right and you there, directing John with the tilt of his Glock, to the left. Now face the wall and take the position.” Arms outstretched, Jeffrey and John leaned into the wall in front of them and spread their legs apart.

Louise gave a slight tug at Ethan’s arm lying across her. “Ethan. The captain’s here to protect me.”

The bridge of Ethan’s nose pinched together as he glanced over at her. “Protect you? Protect you from what?”

“From you asshole!” bellowed Jeffrey. “Who else?”

“From me?!”  He turned and glared at Louise. “Do you know what the hell he’s talking about?”  Getting no answer, he nodded for her to follow him as he slipped out from under the table and stood up. When she was standing beside him, he turned and faced her. “Well? What in heaven’s name is he talking about?”

Louise pursed her lips and looked down at the floor. “Ethan…I…”

Ethan rolled his tongue around the inside of his mouth before pushing it against the inside and bulging out his lower lip. He looked over at Jeffrey and the other man. Biting on his lower lip, he let out a long sigh before turning his attention back to Louise.

“Look. Ethan. This position is getting kinda uncomfortable,” complained Jeffrey. “Do you mind?”

“Yes, I do mind! So, stay put!” Ethan stepped away from Louise to scrutinize the living-room through the opening to the dining-room from the kitchen side.  A spider web configuration around a hole in the upper corner of the large living-room window left no doubts in his mind that a bullet had entered through it. Maneuvering slightly to obtain a better view and not diverting his attention from the two men except for seconds at a time, his trained eyes followed the bullet’s trajectory from the window through the chandelier in the dining-room and into where the mirror had been on the back wall. He reflected on where he and Louise were standing when the shot rang out. He felt a cold chill travel up his spine as he looked at the now empty wall and then down at the shards of mirror on the floor. He murmured under his breath: “Jesu…the shooter saw me…my reflection … in that goddamn mirror.” He glanced over at Louise. “They were shooting at me. They had to be.”

“Ethan? What did you say? Are you alright?”  Louise asked, somewhat flummoxed by his appearance.

“Nothing important…I said nothing important. Here.” He said holding out his gun. “I hope Tom taught you how to handle one of these?”  Acknowledging that he had with a smile and nod, she took it. “Good!  Now, shoot the sonofabitch who so much as twitches.” And, he walked over to Jeffrey and began to pat him down. “You know Jeff, I think that bullet was meant for me. So, obviously there’s some kinda flaw in your reasoning, don’t you think?” Finished, he quickly moved across to John and repeated the process.

“What makes you think it was meant for you?” Jeffrey growled as he watched Ethan pat down John. “Maybe you set it up to look that way.”

““Look that way”?” Ethan rolled his eyes. “Look you overstuffed retired fathead, all you have to do is follow the trajectory of the bullet. If I had been two steps that’a way it would have hit me square in the middle of my forehead. Whoever it was, thought it was me not my reflection.”

Slightly flustered, Jeffrey replied: “I’ve only got your word on that.”

“There was a time, Jeff, when my word carried weight with you.”

Jeffrey shrugged: “Times change.”

Louise interjected: “Jeff, I think he’s telling the truth.”

“Maybe…you’re right…still, I need to see it for myself.” He motioned to straighten up. “So do you mind, Ethan?”

“Huh?”

“Do you mind?” he asked again, emphasizing his intent with the wave of one of his hands.

“Yes I do mind!  So stay the fuck there!” Satisfied that John wasn’t carrying any concealed weapons, Ethan stepped back and shook his head in dismay. “It wasn’t me who burst in here with guns drawn, Jeffrey.  As far as I know it could have been you or your sidekick who laid down that shot.”

“Really? Now, come on. Do you really believe that?”

“Like you said, Jeff: “Times change.””

“It’s getting fucking difficult standing like this,” Jeffrey replied, not trying to conceal his frustration. “By now you must have established that John and I aren’t carrying. Huh? So what’d ya say?”

Ethan turned to retrieve his Glock from Louise but found it aimed at his head. “Aah, I think Louise will have to make that call.”

“Louise? What the hell are you talking about?” Jeffrey glanced back over his shoulder. “Oh!.” He began to change position when a bullet from her gun slammed into the wall centimeters above his head. “Fuck! Okay! I’ll hold it!”

“Ethan, get over beside Jeffrey! NOW!” she commanded.

Pepper rounded the corner from the hallway barking and jumped up at Louise. The distraction was long enough for Ethan to twist the Glock from her grasp and regain command of the situation.

“Please sit there,” he directed her, pointing to the far end of the table as he backed up slightly.  “As for you two, stretch yourself out and join her. And, keep your hands flat on the table.”  Once the three of them were seated, he reached down and patted Pepper’s head. “Good boy! Louise? Where do you keep his treats?”

“In the pantry behind you, top shelf,” she replied.

Backing up he opened the cupboard with his free hand, found the box of treats and lifted it down and poured some into Pepper’s bowl. Ethan watched as Pepper gobbled it up. “By the way he ate it, it must be pretty good stuff.” Louise smiled back and nodded. He then looked at the three of them with a long, hard stare. “Well, I think it’s time to discuss what just happened and…why I’m here. Don’t you think?”

Winter’s Arrow Bowed

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Winter’s Arrow Bowed

by B. B. Wright
pollution13 Factories
Crooked fingers steer ahead.
Another row he goes.
Spinal entrails trail behind,
like autumn’s earth before.
Dreams—long in tooth—
like swirling leaves scattered
in their fateful flight.
Each clouded breath’s opportunity
misspent words for blight.
Another row he goes.
Naked truths, fingers point.
Another row he goes.
Furrowed brow, windows cracked.
Another row he goes.
Leathered skin pierced sharply
by winter’s arrow bowed.
Turning down another row
his labor’s hopeful load;
hopeful next year’s seeds
and spring’s nurturing lead
will breathe bountiful crop
like toils long ago.
But… times have changed!
Faultless winds blow unchecked.
Another row he goes.
Landscapes wither in overflow,
greed’s bliss point’s undertow.
Another row he goes.
History’s hindsight useful tools,
not in future’s fold.
Imprisoned minds must unchain
before the shadowed Scythe
ravishes fields and swallows-up
DNA’s genealogical threaded might.
Another row we go?

Hell Explained by a Chemistry Student

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A few days ago, I received the following in my email which purported to be an actual bonus question given on a University of Arizona chemistry mid term, and an actual answer turned in by a student. Whether the information is true or not does not matter. What does matter is the ‘profound’ thought that went in to answering it. For search of a better word to describe the thought processes that put it together I can only say ‘genius.’ To come up with such an answer under the pressure of an exam is ‘genius’ working on all cylinders.

Most students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle’s Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant.
Bonus Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?

Before you read the student’s answer, take a few minutes to reflect on the question and sketch out your reply.

DONE?

GOOD!

Now, without further ado and for your reading enjoyment, here is what the student wrote.

First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving, which is unlikely.. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, let’s look at the different religions that exist in the world today.

Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle’sLaw states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.

This gives two possibilities:
1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.

2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.
So which is it?

If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa during my Freshman year that, ‘It will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you,’ and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number two must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over. The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct….. …leaving only Heaven, thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting ‘Oh my God.’

THIS STUDENT RECEIVED AN A+.

Author’s Corner: A Meeting Place for Emerging Authors

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Welcome to the premier of Author’s Corner!child-and-books-134831705568z

Developing the Creative Mind: It all begins in childhood.

 I am pleased to have as my first guest, Kelly Graham, author of the novel Eyes of the Many. From the moment I began reading Eyes of the Many, I found it difficult to put it down.  Your debut novel is as ingenious as it is a compulsive page turner. Thought provoking and action packed, your novel hits the mark in every way from well developed scenes and memorable characters to delivering underlying weighty themes. And, you managed to it with the light touch of a writer immersed in creating suspense; the result was a delight with an ending that both shocked and satisfied to boot.

Welcome to Author’s Corner, Kelly.

As both a reader and as an author, I have always been interested in how it all began. So, Kelly, how did you get started writing?

It followed after a bout of illness, actually.  I wasn’t able to do very much for a couple of months around this period and so I found myself filling in time by reading fiction novels: something I hadn’t done for quite a few years.  Well, as it turned out, reading wasn’t enough – I began to ask myself the question, “Could I write something like this?” There was only one way to find out!

Do you have a favourite part of writing?

Finally getting on paper the kazillions of ideas that are buzzing around my head – whether a mere chapter or an entire story. It’s like having a mental flush-out.

You probably know my next question. What is your least favourite part of writing?

The inability to sit still and focus for any substantial length of time – I’m a relentless fidget and constantly on the look-out for distractions. (It’s probably why I got into so much trouble at school.) Also, knowing that as soon as I start to concentrate my two children will embark on their next sibling war.  How do they time this so well?

As I stated in my introduction, your thought provoking, action packed debut novel hits the mark in every way from well developed scenes and memorable characters to delivering underlying weighty themes.  What inspired you to write Eyes of the Many? Where did you get the ideas for this story?

I guess you could call Eyes of the Many a lucky dip construction.  While I was hoping to write something within the thriller or horror genres, I really had no specific ideas in mind.  Once I decided that I was going to have a crack at writing a novel, I just figured I’d sit back and wait until the story came to me.  And it did just that, about a week later, and while I was vacuuming of all things.  I guess my brain did a bit of a blind search and just plucked a few random themes from a back room somewhere.  It then pretty much fell straight into place. I ditched the vacuum for a notepad and scrawled out the skeleton for the story and went from there.

Well, I’m sure pleased you “ditched the vacuum” and took up writing. Will there be a sequel to Eyes of the Many?

I’m not sure about this. If something good comes to mind I’m all for it. I guess we will just have to wait and see!

 How would you describe your writing style: In other words, are you a plotter or a pantser?

Being a bit of a control freak, I like to know where I’m going, so that makes me a plotter.  If something new or different comes up which requires me to change course, however, I’m all for it. There is something to be said for a little spontaneity.

Have you ever suffered from writer’s block? 

Not so far.  My biggest problem is stumbling on the arrangement of a particular sentence or paragraph.  I stubbornly refuse to move on and come back to it later and so this can be time costly.  Usually it gives me another excuse to fidget.

What are you reading now?

I’m reading Unbridled Greed by Barry Johnson.  It’s a thriller about medical insurance fraud.  So far I’m impressed with what the author has created out of what might be considered dry subject matter.  Who knew that healthcare could be so hazardous to your health?

Are there certain genres that you are drawn to as a reader?

I’m open to a variety of genres, so long as the story is compelling and well written.  I do lean toward the warped and horrific, however. Stephen King gets me every time. I’d prefer not to ask myself why.

Now that you have written Eyes of the Many and your second novel is underway, what advice would you give to someone about to write their first novel (other than don’t do it)?

Dive in!  Just be mindful of the rocks beneath the surface, because they will be there.

Tell us something about your next project and when you expect it to be released.

I’m currently working on a horror-thriller called Cellular. It’s about a fit young man who unexpectedly suffers heart failure while out jogging one morning. Due to the damage inflicted on the organ, he requires and undergoes a heart transplant procedure. This all goes well but soon after some strange things begin to happen. He begins to have nightmares of brutal murders, senses that someone or something is watching him, and acquires a new talent which seems to have a power of its own. I don’t want to say much more at this point but suffice to say that it will be a lot darker than Eyes of the Many. Scary too – well, at least I hope so anyway.

If all goes well it will be released sometime next year.

What advice do you have for other authors just starting out?

Really look into the marketing and promotional side of things and strategize before releasing your book.

Where can readers find your books? (Print and/or ebook).

Both ebook and print formats of Eyes of the Many may be purchased through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and the iBookstore. Links are available on my website www.kelly-graham.com.

Thank you, Kelly. I look forward to reading your next novel Cellular and encourage everyone to check out her  website: http://www.kelly-graham.com

A Father to His Son

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For what is a poem but a hazardous attempt at self-understanding; it is the deepest part of autobiography. -Robert Penn Warren

fathers and sonsI gave this selection of poetry to my son on the occasion of his birthday two years ago.

Words and thoughts which are so often inaccessible are made accessible through the clarity and insights of Carl Sandburg. The reader is welcomed to be part of an intimate place and time that is bridged by a father’s love for his son. It is difficult not to be honored by the invitation.

It is with great pleasure that I share this poem with you.

A Father To His Son by Carl Sandburg

A father sees his son nearing manhood.
What shall he tell that son?
‘Life is hard; be steel; be a rock.’
And this might stand him for the storms
and serve him for humdrum monotony
and guide him among sudden betrayals
and tighten him for slack moments.
‘Life is a soft loam; be gentle; go easy.’
And this too might serve him.
Brutes have been gentled where lashes failed.
The growth of a frail flower in a path up
has sometimes shattered and split a rock.
A tough will counts. So does desire.
So does a rich soft wanting.
Without rich wanting nothing arrives.
Tell him too much money has killed men
and left them dead years before burial:
the quest of lucre beyond a few easy needs
has twisted good enough men
sometimes into dry thwarted worms.
Tell him time as a stuff can be wasted.
Tell him to be a fool every so often
and to have no shame over having been a fool
yet learning something out of every folly
hoping to repeat none of the cheap follies
thus arriving at intimate understanding
of a world numbering many fools.
Tell him to be alone often and get at himself
and above all tell himself no lies about himself
whatever the white lies and protective fronts
he may use against other people.
Tell him solitude is creative if he is strong
and the final decisions are made in silent rooms.
Tell him to be different from other people
if it comes natural and easy being different.
Let him have lazy days seeking his deeper motives.
Let him seek deep for where he is born natural.
Then he may understand Shakespeare
and the Wright brothers, Pasteur, Pavlov,
Michael Faraday and free imaginations
Bringing changes into a world resenting change.
He will be lonely enough
to have time for the work
he knows as his own.