You Should Probably Read This: Kin Types

Check out Luanne Castle, excellent poet and writer.

Yesterday and today: Merril's historical musings

So–this arrived last night. I left it on the kitchen table, and I just started reading it–you know, leafing through it the way one does–and I got sucked in. I had to force myself to put it down because I have work to do. It is a powerful, lyrical mixture of poetry and prose, tragic accounts of everyday life–stories from her family history. Well, at least that’s what I’ve read so far. I’ll return for more in a bit.

OK, back to work now!

Luanne Castle is an award-winning poet. You can read more about her here.

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Whispers Under the Baobab

One of my favourite writers, Darlene Jones (yes, she’s the one on the camel) has just completed another book, “Whispers Under the Baobab.” It is a stand-alone sequel to her previous publication, “When the Sun was Mine.”  In this sequel,  the setting goes back and forth in time.  We are taken from the U.S. to Africa and back, to events that happened earlier in the life of award-winning journalist, Flo McAllister. When she died, Flo left a mystery behind. The story evolves as we try to decode her secret notes.

I’d like to share the author’s thoughts with you here. Welcome Darlene. What can you tell us about your new book, “Whispers Under the Baobab”?

Darlene Jones

It’s always exciting when “the book” is finally edited, formatted, and published. Holding the print copy in your hands never fails to make your heart beat a little faster. You’ve done it.

Whispers Under the Baobab, my seventh book, is as gratifying as my first. Perhaps even more so for not only have I honed the craft of writing in the process, but I’ve set much of this one in West Africa including Mali, a country that has been dear to my heart ever since I lived there many years ago.

Even more gratifying are the comments from my Nigerian friend, who graciously agreed to be a beta reader.

As an African currently living in Nigeria, my country, I could relate especially with the African setting. Aside from developing the plot, Jones doesn’t fail to present the reader with tidbits about the life and culture of Sidu’s people.

Some sequels tend to lose steam along the way, but not this one. This second installment is a book you can relax with, and finish in a day. If you are looking for a novel where good triumphs over evil, where love is mutual and undying, where new friendships are forged from the unlikeliest of situations, and above all, where the plot is driven by suspense and some bit of code-cracking, then Whispers Under the Baobab is the book for you.

Darlene Jones demonstrates exceptional talent as a wordsmith, and for plotting an intriguing story whose premise invites readers be to resolute in their quest for what is true and right.

See both books here: http://ow.ly/aKXh30bMH88

 

Passion is Her Middle Name

I’m pleased to host Emma Calin on my blog today. One of my favourite authors, Emma writes intriguing police novels laced with so much passion that you won’t be able to put the book down.

Today, Emma Calin announces the release of the third novel in her ‘Passion Patrol’ series: ‘LOVE BLEEDS BLUE’.

Firmly in the ‘suspense romance’ genre,  this story features another sassy female hero-cop who is as passionate about her job as she is about the love in her life. Each Passion Patrol novel can be read as a stand-alone story; characters from previous stories make cameo appearances across the series.

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LOVE BLEEDS BLUE  by Emma Calin, is a stand-alone fast-moving action adventure with a love story at its core. The third novel in the Passion Patrol Series, featuring hot cops, hot crime and hot romance.

Emma

 

When single mother Sergeant Sophia Castellana stumbles into a terrorist shooting, things are not as they seem. Global forces beyond her grasp sweep her up into an audacious scheme to re-unite a world in chaos. The love of a far younger man, the infatuation of a charismatic woman leader seduce her into a blur of inappropriate love and infinite danger. Power and celebrity beckon, betrayal and violence threaten every move as events unfold in the city of Paris. Her brute courage and loving woman’s heart confront ruthless enemies who offer no second chances. She knows the streets, she knows her power as a lover. Can she, dare she, seize the prizes before her? Will the world offer her the choice?

Love Bleeds Blue, another stand-alone novel in the #1 Kindle Bestseller, Passion Patrol suspense romance series . Steamy Emma Calin holds nothing back to bring you her juicy mix of cops crime and passion.

REVIEWS FOR LOVE BLEEDS BLUE:

“Politics – Philosophy – Terrorism – Romance – Coup D’ Etats –  Assassinations – World Reordering – Steamy Hot Sex! An intriguing love story.” Charles Smith, USA.

“Between the criminal plots, assassination attempts, and cases of almost innocent subterfuge, Ms. Calin weaves in passionate sex scenes that threaten to set the pages on fire.” Anneli Purchase, Canada.

Staggering!! Wonderfully descriptive coupled with an outstanding story line makes this book a must read! The underlying satire provides some essential humor through out the book.” Evonne Hutton, South Africa.

*****

LOVE BLEEDS BLUE is out, worldwide, on Amazon for Kindle and digital e-readers, on the 3rd April 2017.  The print edition will be available by May 2017.

 

Universal Book Sales Link on Amazon:  http://www.smarturl.it/AmazonLBB

 

FREE BOOK FROM THE PASSION PATROL SERIES: Try one of the Passion Patrol novels for free  https://www.instafreebie.com/free/1LZ7p

Don’t miss out on this great novel. You’ll love it!

Ever Been at your Wit’s End?

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Lori Virelli says she’s just an ordinary woman, but don’t you believe it. In her writing she makes everyday life extraordinary, filled with dramas of people’s lives in fiction and nonfiction. You will relate to her characters and find inspiration in the outcomes of the stories.

Lori has been blogging for five years and we have “followed” each other for four and a half of those five years. Bloggers come and go, dropping in and out, but Lori and I continue to be buddies.

I’m honoured to host Lori Virelli here today. I’m grateful that fate brought us to each other’s blogs.

Now that she has published her first novel, I feel that I have something to crow about: Lori’s novel Whit’s End.

Lori says she has enjoyed my blog posts and my novels, but today I hope you will click on her amazon links and enjoy her novels. I did that some time ago and have not regretted it. When you read Whit’s End, you’ll find yourself thinking, “Oh, that character sounds just like ‘so-and-so,’” someone you may know in your own life.

Lori finds human behavior fascinating. She says:

“Two people can react differently to the same experience. Two people who grow up in the same household may come away with quite different perceptions of what they have experienced. Perhaps our genes are programmed to respond in our own unique ways, and that’s part of what makes us individuals. This is why I like writing from two perspectives, to show how each person responds to, and handles similar situations in different ways.”

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In Whit’s End, Meg and Ava Whitaker are married to the dysfunctional Whitaker brothers and each handles their marital problems in a different way. Their efforts to cope in their marriages only seem to make matters worse, until, just when the women are at their “Whit’s End,” other men come into the picture. How will each of the women react to the temptation of another man? Where will their actions lead them? Will they “jump ship”? Will that solve their problems? Read Whit’s End to find out.

Lori is the author of short stories published in the magazine Angels on Earth – Dogs and the Women Who Love Them, and in her anthology, Home Avenue, about growing up in 70s in the suburbs of Chicago.

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And psst! If you want a treat, click the link to her book, Whit’s End.

For a peek into Lori’s view of life in Chicago in the 70s, click on her link to Home Avenue.

Home Avenue – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01LPJ9YDI

Whit’s End – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N77QY32

Lori’s Lane – http://loreezlane.wordpress.com

Lori is currently working on her second novel. Please leave a comment and say hi.

The Dreaded Cliché

Useless words, tired and worn out, contributing little to the richness of the writing–that’s what clichés are all about. So why do we have them? I suppose there was a time when clichés were fresh and new and, sparingly used, they added a certain zip to the sauce of writing, but most of these prefabricated phrases are now considered redundant, overused, or, worse yet, misused.

When I first began writing seriously, my early efforts were sprinkled with many clichés.

My critiquers waggled their fingers at me. “No,no, no! You can’t do that! Clichés must not be used in good writing.”

“But why not? We talk that way,” I protested.

“That’s true,” they said, “and that’s almost the only time it’s okay to use a cliché–in dialogue.”

It took me a while to see what they were talking about and in time I, too, developed a horror of those overused and abused, pointlessly distracting and detracting phrases.

Just for fun, I thought I would write a short and silly story, using as many clichés as I could manage to squeeze in. I’ve marked them in red and green to make it easier for you to pick them out. If you’re brave enough to read to the end, I doubt you will ever want to use a cliché in your writing again.

Here we go:

The Doomed Woodcutter 

Like a bolt out of the blue, George appeared on the horizon and walked down the road. The man with a heart as big as all outdoors came down the road to take care of business as a matter of course.

As a matter of fact, he had crossed the field to the house as the crow flies. He’d hoped the homeowners would come out to see him, but as a last resort he knocked on the door. He wanted to be paid for his firewood today, but receiving no answer he beat a hasty retreat.

He’d been busy as a bee from dawn to dusk, cutting firewood. The stack had grown by leaps and bounds. Conspicuous by his absence, the son was of no help to him.

He had hoped his son would show up but he was doomed to disappointment. Not having been paid, he headed into town instead to get a loan from the powers that be in the corridors of power. Gaining access was easier said than done, since he was wearing his work clothes.

He had worked his fingers to the bone and was dog-tired. He had grown up gentle as a lamb and good as gold, but if and when it would all pay off and the chickens came home to roost, in a manner of speaking he knew that his wife still would not appreciate it. Any news of a promotion or pay raise would go in one ear and out the other.

In the long run, his wife got tired of him and one day when it was pouring buckets, she said, “We have to talk turkey.” It goes without saying that the moment of truth had come and she gave him the boot and tossed him out on his ear with all his belongings, lock, stock, and barrel.

Somewhere down the road, off the beaten track, he found a new, younger woman who, needless to say, was smart as a whip. Since it was love at first sight, he decided that he would strike while the iron was hot and ask her to tie the knot. It stands to reason, that because she came from the wrong side of the tracks, when all was said and done, in no way, shape, or form would she turn him down.

On the day of the wedding, who should arrive but the useless son, one and the same, last but not least. It was already raining cats and dogs, but a rude awakening reared its ugly head when slowly but surely, the son, strong as an ox, stood up in the congregation and told his father, “It goes without saying that you can’t marry her. She’s got a bun in the oven and it’s mine.”

The wedding plans were nipped in the bud, and in time, George gave up his job to look after his pride and joy, Georgina, the grandchild with many and diverse ways to wrap everyone around her little finger. She was sharp as a tack and cool as a cucumber, always getting her own way. She was the spit and image of her mother and used to calling the shots. She was on the right track and that was par for the course.

*****

I once heard someone ask a mother how her daughter was doing in the new school, since they had only recently moved to town and it was the middle of the school year.

She said, “Oh, thanks for asking. She’s liking it well enough, but she’s finding it hard to make friends because all the girls in her class have already formed their clichés and it’s hard to break into their groups once they’re formed.”

She meant “cliques,” of course. So you see, even the word cliché itself can be misused. STEER clear of clichés as much as possible.

*****

To find out more about Anneli Purchase, follow these links:

Anneli’s Website

Twitter
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Capital or No Capital?

Capital letters are important, but should they be used on all important words? Not necessarily.

Here are some general guidelines about where capitals should and should not be used.

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Of course we begin a sentence with a capital letter. That helps to alert us that a new thought is beginning.

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Important people get capital letters. We are all important, so our names begin with capital letters. If you happen to be the prime minister or president of a country, or even a king, queen, prince, or princess, you would have a capital letter on your title as well, but only when it is used as your name. Here are some examples:

Prime Minister Smith said to President Jones, “Are you expecting a visit from King John this year?”

Mr. Jones said, “Haven’t you heard? John is no longer a king. He abdicated to marry that woman who isn’t even a princess or a duchess, or any kind of royalty.”

“Aren’t we lucky? A prime minister or a president doesn’t have to worry about that.”

***

One of the most common misuses of capitals is in naming family members. Mother, father, mom, dad, aunt, uncle, grandpa, and grandma do not get capital letters unless that word is used as their proper name.

When you say, “my mother,” “the mother of the family,” or, “a mother and father,” think of it as if you had a cat or a dog and were saying, “my dog” or “my cat.” You wouldn’t use a capital for dog or cat.

Here are some examples:

My dog can do tricks. See the tricks Rover can do.

My mom is amazing. See what Mom can do. (Here it is used as her name.)

I love my dad. Do you love me, Dad?

My cat is sweet and loving. I love Scruffy.

That is my aunt over by the table. I can see Aunt Mary by the table.

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Places like heaven and hell are very important, but even they are not capitalized.

You can wish you were in heaven or tell someone to go to hell perfectly well without the capitals.

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Important buildings do not get a capital letter unless they are specific ones. The White House is a specific building, so it is capitalized. But if I live in a house that is painted white, it is only a white house.

The same holds true for any university you may be talking about. It only warrants a capital letter if it is a specific university, such as Cambridge University or any other university with a proper name attached.

Do you go to church? If church is important to you, it still doesn’t get a capital letter unless you are speaking of a certain one. Do you go to St. John’s Church?

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Words like nature, spring, summer, autumn, and winter, are all lower case words.

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And lastly, I would like to mention a very common capitalization mistake and that involves the directions of the compass. When the words are written out, south, east, west, and north are not capitalized. Neither are southeast, southwest, northeast, and northwest. But if you use abbreviations (SE, SW, NE, NW), these are capitalized, of course.

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If you are in doubt, use the dictionary. Don’t you think that’s a capital idea?

Anneli’s Website
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One More!

The writing contest produced some very good entries. It was hard to choose only three. I ended up choosing four, and still I had to add a fifth – Joanna Gawn –  for an honourable mention. This does not mean hers was the fifth best. It’s just that I had to make the cut somewhere.

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I liked Joanna’s story very much. Here it is. Congratulations Joanna.

The buildings seem smaller than when I left thirteen years ago. Yet the land runs forever. I’d forgotten. The city does that to you, narrows your vision, restricts your focus to the height of things, not the breadth.

Hannah Mallory and I played on that ridge every time Dad and I visited. Hannah and I were innocents back then, drinking fresh lemonade in the shade of the trees while the sun baked the earth a pale gold.

I think of my town car back in the city, tucked into its pristine garage. The Mallorys had an old Buick; Dad kept it running so Hannah’s mother could get to town for groceries.

What would Hannah say if she saw my grand house? The gilt-edged invitations on the mantelpiece? My wife, with her perfect hair and immaculate make-up? The kids with their private school uniforms? Their expensive toys?

My life is perfect, I’m told. Sophisticated. Sparkling.

This wide landscape, with its broken buildings and its handshake of dust, welcomes me back quietly, without fanfare. It cracks open my heart, the memories seeping in slowly like the trickle of water in the hidden creek. A different kind of sparkle, of droplets capturing glints of sunlight.

Air can be so pure; I’d forgotten that, too.

There is peace here, yet I’m heavy with regret. Will she hear my goodbye?

The trees murmur Hush now, this is the way of things. Breath always ends in death.

I make my way to the house, still unsure what to say. Hannah, my first love, I’m sorry I left you? Hannah, my only love, please don’t die? Hannah, my heart’s hope, I wish you were mine?

I hurry. I have to be there with her before she, too, is dust upon the landscape of our childhood.

*****

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Find out more about Joanna Gawn here:

website: http://www.lazuli-portals.com/

blog: http://lazuliportalswriting.wordpress.com/

facebook: http://www.facebook.com/lazuliportalstrilogy

twitter: https://twitter.com/LazuliPortals