Rebecca Besser
The Many Moods of David Moody Contest - You Could Be The Lucky Winner
Right now there is a contest going on... The winner will received a VERY rare book as the prize. A while back, a few of us members of the David Moody fan group on Facebook decided to make him a special birthday present. We each wrote a story staring David. After all the stories were written the book was compiled, printed, and sent off to David as a birthday present. It was a surprise for him! Of course, we had the help of his loving family... hehehe
Here's David's blog post about his gift:
http://www.djmoody.co.uk/2012/02/14/the-many-moods-of-david-moody/#.T8Ji5VJAWsp
Shawn Riddle's contest post in Moody's Survivors Facebook Group (http://www.facebook.com/groups/maddicts/):
Ok
Survivors, the much anticipated contest is finally open for business.
As we discussed before the prize for the winner of this contest is one
paper copy of “The Many Moods of David Moody” the one-off birthday book
written for David by many of your fellow survivors. Its filled will
chills and thrills and a LOT of laughs. You cannot buy this book
anywhere and there are only a very limited number in existence. Good Luck.
Part 1 of the contest. Post this link to your facebook page to help
promote David new release “Joe and Me” available this June. You do NOT
have to pre order the book to be eligible but you must post the link on
your facebook page. This is my rule, not David’s. I simply want to help
get the word out.
Part 2 – The most important part of the
contest. David has kindly provided me with the word count to this
upcoming chapter book release. Post IN THIS STRING your guess as to the
total word count. The closest guess along with the pimping of the book
on your page will be declared the winner. I encourage all survivors to
post this link whether they are eligible to enter or not. Anyone who was
a part of the book project is not eligible to enter.
http://www.thisishorror.co.uk/shop/joe-me-by-david-moody/
I will give you a hint as to the word count, this is a chapter book and
not a novel. And the word count will be between 10,000 and 20,000
words. I will announce the winner this coming Monday June 28, 2012 at
approximately 6:00 P.M. Eastern Time. Good Luck and thank you for your
support of the project!
Here's a sample story from The Many Moods of David Moody (my story: Lucky Winner):
LUCKY WINNER
By Rebecca Besser
Lisa and David were sitting in the living room, watching a rugby game and eating some snacks, when the door bell rang.
“Who could that be?” David grumbled.
Lisa stood and patted him on his bare shoulder.
“I’ll go see who it is – you enjoy the game,” she said, leaving the room to answer the front door.
He grunted and proceeded to scream at the television when the England team mucked up a play, giving the opposing team the advantage.
“Oh, please come in,” Lisa said. “I forgot that was today!”
“Thank you,” a male voice replied. “I couldn’t forget! Today’s the best day of my life.”
She laughed and stepped back into the living room.
“Peter Eckley is here, David,” she said, motioning to a man standing in the doorway, looking around the room.
“Who?” David asked, standing to reveal that he was wearing nothing more than a pair of boxer shorts.
“Peter Eckley,” she said again, turning to smile at the man behind her.
Peter’s eyes darted over David’s state of undress fleetingly, before he stepped forward and extended his hand to David.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Moody,” he said, grinning broadly. “I’ve read all your books!”
David shook the man’s hand with a confused expression on his face.
Lisa sighed inwardly, and stepped in to help her husband remember.
“Peter was the winner of the ‘Spend A Day With Author David Moody Contest’,” she said and smiled encouragingly at her husband.
“Oh...right!” David said. “I suppose I best get dressed, unless you want to have a seat and watch the game with us...”
Lisa nudged him and scowled.
Peter smiled. “No, thank you. I have a full day planned for us.”
“Sounds great,” David said with false enthusiasm as his eyes darted longingly to the television screen; he turned and left the room, heading upstairs to get dressed.
***
When David returned a few minute later, he was dressed in one of his favorite band’s T-shirts and a pair of jeans.
“Just let me get my shoes on,” he said, interrupting the conversation Lisa and Peter were having. “Hun, where are my white trainers?”
“Right there where you left them,” Lisa said, pointing to the shoes in the corner of the room.
“Thanks,” he said, and sat down to put them on. “Where are we heading out to?”
“I thought I’d show you where I work, and we could hang out with a few of my friends,” Peter said excitedly. “They’re dying to meet you.”
David’s eyes briefly meet Lisa’s, letting her know how much he loathed the proposed outing – he’d never even wanted to have the damn contest in the first place, but his publisher said it was good publicity.
She bit her lip to keep from smiling, knowing exactly what was going through his mind.
“The day you have planned sounds just lovely!” Lisa said, giving Peter a broad smile.
He grinned in return. “Well, it’s not every day someone like me gets to spend time with their hero.”
David flinched at the word ‘hero’ as he stood.
“I’m ready,” he announced.
He took a couple steps forward and kissed Lisa. When he looked up, he noticed Peter had a twisted smirk on his face, watching them. He frowned for a moment, almost fearful of going with the man, but Peter’s expression changed in a flash and he shrugged off his misgivings. Must be all that writing and plotting I do, he thought to himself. My imagination is starting to haunt me!
“All right, Peter,” he said, heading for the door. “Let’s be on our way!”
He opened the front door and waited.
Peter led the way outside, grinning.
“We’re going to have so much fun!” he said, walking to his car. “I’ll drive; it won’t take but a few minutes to get there!”
“Get where?” David asked as he climbed into the passenger’s side of the car.
“To where I work,” Peter said, climbing behind the wheel of the vehicle and starting the engine.
“How do I know you aren’t going to steal me away and kill me?” David half-joked.
Peter paused before starting out and turned his head, looking David directly in the eyes. “Trust.”
A shiver went down David’s spine as he realized the man had just answered with the title of one of his books, and he turned his head to look out the windshield. Trust indeed, he thought to himself.
Peter rambled on and on about how much he loved David’s books and how he was so excited to learn he’d been selected as the lucky winner of the contest, because he was his hero.
David cringed again, hearing the word ‘hero’ made him uncomfortable. He didn’t see himself as anyone great. In his mind, he was just a man who shared his stories with the world and was honor to have people read and enjoy them.
He was lost in thought while Peter prattled and drove, and before he knew what was going on, the car had stopped and his guide announced: “We’re here!”
He looked around and tried to figure out where ‘here’ was, and with a jolt of shock, he realized they were in front of a strip club.
“Uh, this is where you work?” David asked, following Peter’s lead and climbing out of the car.
“Yes,” he said and winked.
“Are you a bartender or something?”
“No,” Peter said and laughed as they walked through the door into a large, dimly lit room. “I’m one of the dancers.”
David froze as the man’s words sank in; his eyes drifted around the room and were glued in morbid horror to a man ripping his clothes off on a centrally located stage. Music with a strong, primal beat pulsed through the establishment and vibrated his bones.
Before he could dart back out the door, a man dressed in a 70's style disco getup spotted and greeted them.
Peter took David by the elbow and leaned over to speak loudly in his ear to be heard over the music.
“This is the owner, Shawn Riddle, but everyone calls him Dog Blood!”
David’s head jerked around to look at Peter, he was shocked to hear another of his book titles, but he quickly turned back to the bald man in a sequined pink shirt and glitter-trimmed, orange, bell-bottomed pants.
“Welcome to my establishment,” Dog Blood said with a bow, naturally speaking loud enough to be heard, since he was used to the noisy environment.
“Uh, thanks,” David said. “Is this a gay strip club, for like...homos?”
Peter scowled. “Don’t be a Hater!” he growled.
“Sorry,” David said, holding his hands in front of himself, thinking: He used one of my titles again! “To each their own, I just wanted to be clear.”
“I think he needs a drink...or two,” Dog Blood said and laughed. “Get him a table.”
Peter nodded, and before David knew what was going on, he was seated at a little table close to the stage.
He looked around and gulped, feeling like he was a piece of meat as other men’s eyes drifted over his body.
“Straight To You,” Dog Blood said from behind him, making him jump, “from the bar.”
“Thanks,” David said, shuddering because yet another of his titles had been mentioned.
Dog Blood winked and leaned over to whisper something in Peter’s ear.
Peter grinned, giggled, and nodded.
“I’ll be right back, David. I have a surprise for you!”
He stood and walked away, disappearing with Dog Blood behind a shimmering curtain.
David stared down into his drink and thought about possible escape scenarios, wondering how the hell he’d gotten into this mess in the first place.
Suddenly, all the lights in the club went out, plunging everyone into darkness.
Now’s my chance! David thought and stood to make his getaway; the stage light came back on just as he was tripping over a chair with a middle-aged man in it.
The man winked at him.
David smiled awkwardly and backed away.
“I would like everyone to welcome David Moody!” Dog Blood’s voice said, booming over an intercom. “As a special treat for the famous author, The Rowdy Romper is making an appearance!”
Everyone in the joint – except David – stood and started cheering and whistling.
He looked around for an escape route and noticed that he was blocked in as the press of bodies wrapped around the protruding portion of the stage; something poked his hip as they moved forward and he stifled a scream, not wanting to think about what it might have been.
The sound of a horse neighing came across the speakers before Peter came prancing out onto the stage, dressed as an indecent purple and pink unicorn.
The crowd roared and David covered his ears. To add to the overwhelming atmosphere, pulsing, fast paced music blasted through all the speakers in the room loud enough to make the floor vibrate.
Peter frolicked out to the edge of the stage, turned and shook his hind quarters at David, and ripped off his pants.
“Fancy yourself in Autumn?” he asked and giggled into a microphone that hung down by a thin, clear wire from his unicorn horn; he tossed the pants into the crowd and the excited, aroused men tore them apart in their eagerness to have them as their own.
A title, again! David thought as he was knocked around in the testosterone jungle.
Peter caught his eye and winked.
David clamped both his hands over his mouth and gagged as he almost vomited; he turned and pushed his way through the distracted crowd and made his way outside.
As soon as he was outside, he spewed his stomach contents out onto the parking lot. After he got his stomach under control, he withdrew his cell phone from his back pocket and dialed Lisa; he listened as the phone rang, mentally willing his wife to pick up.
“Hello?” Lisa asked cheerfully as she answered.
“Lisa?!” David almost sobbed. “Thank God! Hey, I need you to...”
A sound behind David caused him to pause and turn – Peter stood behind him, almost completely naked, holding something. The object became a blur as it came toward his head.
David tried to dodge, but it was too late.
***
“David! David, wake up!” Lisa said, patting him lightly on the cheek and shaking his arm. “You fell asleep!”
“No!” David screamed and shot up with his fists clenched.
“Wow!” she said, stepping back to avoid his violent movements. “I just wanted to wake you so you could get dressed for your birthday dinner with me and the girls.”
“What?” David asked, glancing around in confusion. “I’m at home!”
“Yes,” Lisa said slowly and laughed. “Where else would you be?”
“I thought...” he paused and swallowed hard, not wanting to say that he thought he was being attacked by a gay striper named, of all things, Peter. “I’ll go get dressed.”
“Okay,” she said, patting his shoulder. “You do that. I’ll go see if our destination has been decided – the girls are arguing over where they want to take you.” She sighed and rolled her eyes.
David went upstairs and dressed to go out for his birthday dinner, and was back downstairs in less than twenty minutes.
He heard one of his daughters giggle.
“I guess he’ll have to choose between sitting with us, or them,” she said.
“Dad!” another of the girls said, spotting him. “Are you going to sit with Them Or Us at the restaurant?” She pointed to Lisa and two of his daughters, then back at herself and her other two sisters, giggling.
A chill ran down his spine, but the fear and memory the book title triggered – the dread of his dream – was quickly dispelled by the loving faces of the women in his life.
Fear and horror be damn, he thought with a grin. I’m going to go out and have a great birthday celebration with my family, and my night, my life, will be filled with the happiness and joy of them.
Good luck to all those who enter the contest. I hope you win your very own copy of this SUPER limited edition book. 
Copyrights owned by Rebecca Besser, 2011/2012. All rights reserved.
The Craziness -- A Writer's Life
As many of you know, I started a part time job in March, but it has turned into a full time job recently. This has left me with no time to write. Hell, I barely see my family!
When I'm at home all I want to do is sleep because I've been working 43-50 hours a week (nights). During the day -- while my hub is at work and my son was in school -- I normally write because I'm not getting bugged every 5-10 minutes with someone else's wants or needs. Now I sleep during that time because there is no other time to do so. (My son's last day of school is today, so now he'll be home all the time. I'll prolly get more writing done and less sleep since he'll be here to entertain me.)
Many people ask how writers balance their job, their family, and their writing. I'm here to tell you that it's hard and all about the mix. You have to want to do it. If you don't want it bad enough, you'll never getting anything writing related done (at least if you're putting your family first).
The other night I had off work. Since my sleeping schedule is messed up from working, I was awake in the middle of the night. Instead of laying in bed and tossing and turning, I got up and managed to write 895 words. It wasn't much, but it was more than I'd written at one time in over two weeks. (I'd written part of a poem a couple days before, but I think that only came to around 200 words...)
I know that I can fit in writing and accomplish something, even though the going is slower now. Things are supposed to calm down at work and I should be back to part time soon. The fact of the matter though, is that I want to write and I'm not willing to give it up. I'll find a way to get it done. I'll find my balance in the craziness that is my life! Until then, I'll take the few minutes I have here and there to get some kind of writing done (like this blog post! LOL).
Copyrights owned by Rebecca Besser, 2012. All rights reserved.
Zombie Awareness Month - We Are The Zombies by DM Youngquist
We Are The Zombies
by DM Youngquist
Brraaaiiinnnssss…We already know what’s coming. The word hisses across our mind like a cold snake. It sends chills down our spine. If we turn around and look, there’s going to be a rotting, slimy corpse on the other end of that muttered word. The fear is a primal, gut reaction that turns our bowels to ice. It’s the fear of our cave dwelling ancestors when they hear that growl from the back of the cave in the deep of night.
We have deep rooted primal fears in our brain-stem. Our reptilian brain that is all about instinct and survival keeps us alive with these fears. Good movie makers and writers know this, and know how to tap into it. Probably our biggest fear is the fear of death. It’s taken a lot of forms over the years, from giant cave bears, to the four horsemen of the apocalypse, to vampires, to now zombies
But right now, zombies have become the biggest thing in niche lit. They’re everywhere. They have zombie walks, (actually a damned good excuse to get dressed up and shuffle downtown and drink with some good friends) zombie apocalypse marathons (the first rule: Cardio) and magazines. Can’t really say that about too many more monsters in the genre out there. I mean, yeah, you’ve got vampire balls here and there, and nightclubs, but it’s mostly goth and emo kids out looking to hang with others of their type. It’s not really a come one come all kind of thing. And really, I don’t think it’d be all that fun sitting around being moody and elegant all night. Not when I can get all cover in blood and go shuffling off down the street with my buds. And when was the last time you saw anything major done for werewolves
Thing is though, the overpaid researchers who look into this kind of stuff have been scratching their head, trying to figure out where this is coming from. The literary snobs who predicted it would die out, as it was just too ridiculous are puzzled. They don’t get it. They don’t understand. They’ve spent all this time and money studying the phenomenon in the research area, and making fun of it in literary circles, and they still are no further ahead than when they started
Well, here’s a clue: It’s something the 99% of us can relate too. Zombies are mindless creatures shuffling around from one place to the next trying to find a meal. When one zombie finds a meal, everyone else shuffles over for a bit. There’s not much out there in the way of food, so competition is fierce. One has to force his way through the pack to get the tasty bits to himself. Eventually, there are more zombies, and less in the way of food, so the weaker zombies get left behind
Replace that with jobs, and you’ve got the picture of why 99% of the world can relate to zombies. We’ve all got our degrees. We’re all competing for jobs in a smaller and smaller market. For each job out there, there are thousands, literally in some fields, or applicants. One person is able to get the good job, and the rest of us shuffle on through our crappy job, or unemployment until we stumble across the next hot lead. We go week to week trying to pay bills on our paycheck that doesn’t cover cost of living, and hasn’t increased since the 1980’s
Hell, we are the zombies. Yes, they represent death. They represent an unstoppable enemy that is going to kill you. They’re a force that even after you’re dead, you’re corpse is going to stagger back to life, and try to eat the rest of your family
But they’re us. We get up every morning and head off to our rotten job that pays the bills and buys food for the week, and if we’re lucky, we can take the wife and kids to a movie. We do it every day while looking for that one promotion or transfer that makes life better
And in the meantime, there’s some bloody good fun involved. You can’t take it too seriously. There’s now a whole circuit of zombie-thons going on throughout the US. There’s one coming up in August not too far away, and I plan on going. I’m not much of a runner, but I can dress up and shuffle after people with the best of them. And it’s a damned good excuse to meet up with my buddies down in St. Louis and have a good weekend
And if anyone is wondering why I have anything to say about zombies in the first place, find a copy of Snareville or Snareville II: Circles. I got REALLY tired of zombies invading New York, LA or Chicago, so I stuck them in a small town similar to the one I live in. Funny how things are a little different where people actually know how to get by in the first place.
Copyrights owned by Rebecca Besser and DM Youngquist, 2012. All rights reserved.
Interview with Samantha Wisneski - The 'Mom' Behind the Minivan Mom Mystery Series
Hi! Thanks for having me here today! This is officially my FIRST interview. That’s because my husband is the writer, not me…
My husband is Jim Bronyaur, author of many horror/thriller novels and short stories and the widely popular mystery “If Errands Could Kill”. We make a great team as writer/editor while raising our two toddler sons. I am very excited to be here to promote the Minivan Mom Mystery Series as book #2, “A Mess to Die For” is set for release very soon!!Bec: What first gave you the idea for Eve and her adventures? (I know this is a joint project between you and your husband, Jim.)
I’ve been a stay-at-home mom for almost 4 years now, and as of this past Fall, my husband has been a SAHD. So he not only gets to spend more time with the kids and me, he has been able to see the laundry list of activities that need to be accomplished each day! He was trying to think of his next novel to write and I insisted that mystery was the way to go. Eve Bailey, according to my hubby, is based on my personality… Am I really as stubborn as her??
When all you do is talk to kids all day, every parent craves a little excitement/adventure…so there was born Eve’s story.
Bec: What are the worst struggles you think writers face, writing and marketing?
Where are they supposed to start!? LOL. Jim’s mind NEVER stops, so in my eyes I just want the world to see how great of a writer he is. But how do you reach the world? Yes, there is social networking, but how do you make contact with the people that can give you that boost you need. Word of mouth seems to be the best tool when it comes to books. If you want to build a reputation, start locally. No one will be more supportive than friends/family.
Bec: Tell us about the Minivan Mom Mystery Series book/s –
This series began because of me…
My husband is used to writing more horror/thriller novels, but he wanted to write something that would appeal to men, women, and people of all ages. Mystery is that one genre that can reach everyone. So we talked about what kind of mystery to write and we decided that we should incorporate something we both know about - being stay at home parents. So main character Eve Bailey was brought to life as a stay at home mom who just happens to be at the wrong places at the wrong times, but still continues to get her To-Do lists done and makes time for her husband and three children. It is humorous, realistic, and even frustrating at points. There’s something everyone can relate to in each book.Bec: Are you working on a sequel/s?
The first book of the Minivan Mom Mystery Series is called “If Errands Could Kill”. The second book, a brand new release, is called “A Mess to Die For”, which features the same family but in a different scenario. There are at least two more books already mapped out for the series, so stay tuned on www.jimbronyaur.com for future updates!
Bec: Are there other projects are you working on or involved with?
I am always involved either as an ear to listen as he works out holes in stories or as the editor. I am a complete supporter of all his ideas, but I make sure only the best ones make it out onto the internet
(He can get carried away sometimes, so he needs me to put him in his place!)Bec: What's your favorite color?
Well my wardrobe is 97% black, but I do love the color green.
Bec: What's your most memorable 'mom' moment from the past week?
We celebrated our younger son’s 2nd birthday. Just seeing the smile on his face as he realized that the 30 people singing Happy Birthday were singing to him was something I’ll always remember. It was so cute and innocent and honest. It wasn’t about presents or money, but just the fact that so many friends and family came to celebrate him. Those are the best moments.
Bec: Do you like to listen to music while you clean or have complete silence?
If I had the time I’d like to clean everyday, my ideal routine would be to open every window, crank up the radio (country or rock), and go nuts. Being a writer’s wife, there’s enough silence while the keyboard is clicking. The more noise, the better! Haha!
Bec: What's the thing/room you hate to clean most?
Bathrooms! You clean them, and then someone ALWAYS has to use it 2 seconds after you clean it. Waste of time!
Bec: What genres do you most like to read?
I’m a big literary fiction reader (complete opposite of what my husband writes, oops!). But I do very much enjoy a good mystery/thriller novel to take me out of my own world for a while.
Bec: What was your favorite Mother's Day? Why?
My favorite Mother’s Day was May 9, 2010 because our littlest boy arrived into our world. You can’t get a better present than that!
Bec: What's your 'take' on writing, from a spouses point of view?
I think writers deserve a ton more credit than they receive. Honestly. I am in complete awe of the talent, the time, and the patience it takes to write a book. It is such a hard job to do, and it’s not guaranteed to ever reach the amount of people it deserves. Many kudos to all the talented writers who view it as an art and not as a get-rich quick scheme like celebrities and other bandwagoners.
Bec: What's your favorite thing about being a mother?
Watching their personalities blossom. I love to see if they are more like me or Jim. Hearing our two sons (3 ½ and 2 years old) communicate with each other when they think we aren’t listening melts my heart. They are so polite to each other and it proves that we are doing a decent job.
Bec: What would you share with a new mother?
Enjoy every second. Every crying fest. Every time-out. Just everything. It goes by way too fast and those bad times will be forgotten or laughed about down the road.
Bec: Okay, it's the middle of the night and you're locked out of the house (without your cell phone) with your family safe inside (or so you think!). While you're looking for an open window to crawl through, you spot one, only to find that a stranger is in the room beyond. What do you do?
PANIC!! Then I would make a loud distraction outside to try to get the stranger to leave the house ASAP, and then I would be able to get in the house through whichever way they come out. I’d call police and check on my family to make sure they were safe. That’s the logical side of me talking. If a stranger ever comes into my house uninvited and even remotely puts my family in danger, they will not be leaving in one piece. You’ve been warned.
Bec: What do you wish someone would have told you when you first started your parenting journey?
Remember all those clichés that your parents said to you and you swore they were so lame and that you would be the cool parent who never said things like “Don’t make me turn this car around!”? You WILL say them, without even thinking about it.
Bec: What's your favorite book? Why?
“To Kill a Mockingbird,” by Harper Lee. It is a book that everyone needs to read. Prejudice isn’t something we are born with, it is something that is taught to us.
Bec: Who's your favorite author? Why?
Oh, I can’t name just one… I love a ton of authors in all sorts of genres. Koontz, King, Sparks, E.B. White (Charlotte’s Web), and a bunch more. If it is well written and tells a great story, I’m a fan.
Bec: Is there anything you would like to share that I haven't asked you about?
Jim Bronyaur is not only a gifted author, he is a truly amazing, honest, and generous soul. His writing is a result of his wonderful mind that is so beyond creative that I am fascinated every time he speaks. Give his writing a chance, no matter the genre. You will not be disappointed.
Bec: Thank you for stopping by and sharing! Best of luck with your family and future projects!
Thank you so much for having me!! You made my first time easy and enjoyable!
Copyrights owned by Rebecca Besser, Samantha Wisneski, and Jim Bronyaur, 2012.
All rights reserved.
Mmmm! A Bacon Horror Story - On Account of Bacon by Rebecca Besser
ON ACCOUNT OF BACON
by Rebecca Besser
“Now tell me everything leading up to the events that got you arrested.”
I looked at the pompous attorney. I knew he wouldn’t believe me if I told him. Silently I sat there, twisting my wrists back and forth inside the cold steel circles of my handcuffs, staring straight ahead.
Sighing, the attorney looked up at me over the rims of his too-large glasses.
“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened,” he said.
I looked down at my lap, at my hands clasped together – knuckles white and jutting. I could feel my jaw muscles tightening, clamping my teeth together. I reared back in my chair, my chains clanging against the table and the legs of my chair. I looked this idiot-man-in-a-suit in the eye.
“You won’t believe me! Why should I tell you anything?”
He blinked at me for a moment, withdrawing his hands from the small metal table between us.
“I’ll believe you,” he said, but his eyes said he was lying.
Biting my bottom lip, I thought for a moment; it might be worth telling this smug idiot the whole story, just to see his reaction.
“Leslie?”
“Okay...” I sighed. “I’ll tell you everything, but you have to promise to sit there and not say a damn word until I’m done.”
Sitting forward, I leaned my arms on the table.
“Deal?” I asked.
The attorney nodded.
I could see he was confused by my abrupt mood change, but I didn’t really care. Let him wonder.
“Well, it all started when I was seventeen. My dad died, and my mom lost her job when the factory closed. She couldn’t afford to take care of me, so I was sent to live with my mom’s sister and her husband. My aunt and uncle lived on a farm; they raised chickens, cows, and pigs.”
The attorney raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to speak.
I held up my hands and shook my head.
“You promised,” I said.
He nodded and shut his gaping hole.
“Anyway,” I continued. “I was sent to live at their farm. At first it wasn’t too bad: Aunt Tisha was really nice and caring; and her husband was always busy with the animals. Their lives ran like clock work – getting up, making breakfast, taking care of the animals, all the normal farming stuff.
“When I first arrived, school was still in, so I was away from the house for the most part. I remember being eager for that summer to start – I had plans of getting a job at the local diner waiting tables and having some spending money. I’d made lots of friends at school; country people are actually as friendly as I’d heard they were.”
I smiled, thinking about the warm welcome I’d received at Riverside High.
“It seems so childish now, how eager I was to have a summer of fun and freedom before my senior year of high school. I was even thinking about what college I might want to go to – some place fun, but that could also build me a good future through a decent education.”
Sighing, I lifted my hands to tuck my curly blonde hair behind my ear. The handcuffs were a pain, because I had to remember to use both hands all the time instead of just one.
“I was out of school for a week, working at my new job. Life was great. My mom had even found a new job, so I was supposed to move back home in a couple of months. I was actually happy for the first time since before my dad died. Then it happened. I woke up early on a Saturday and heard my uncle yelling at my aunt.”
I paused and took a deep breath.
“He was yelling at her because she’d burnt the bacon. That’s like sacrilege to Uncle Troy. If you burn the bacon, it’s as bad as wrecking his truck or a tornado destroying the house. He was flipping out on her. I’d never heard him yell like that before.
“I heard a smacking sound, my aunt scream, and then a thump. I raced down the stairs to see what was going on. I was scared, but I wanted to make sure my aunt was all right. I would have never gone down there if I’d known what was going to happen.”
I reached for the paper cup filled with water that had been placed on the table for me. I picked it up with a hand that was trembling and took a few slow sips. Setting it back down, I reminded myself to breathe.
“It was horrible. Uncle Troy was standing over Aunt Tisha. She lay flat on her back on the floor in front of the stove. He raised his fist to strike her again, and she was crying and trying to wiggle away.
“Aunt Tisha was a big woman, easily three hundred pounds; she couldn’t move very fast. He hit her hard in the face. Then he hit her again as I ran through the kitchen, yelling for him to stop. With the second blow he’d knocked her out.
“I grabbed his arm, still screaming. He pushed me away and kicked my aunt in the stomach, although she was already unconscious. I grabbed his arm again. This time he grabbed me by the hair and threw me into one of the hardwood kitchen chairs; it fell backward and my head hit the floor. The blow stunned me, but I vaguely remember him correcting the chair and tying me to it. He tied my legs to the two front legs of the chair, looped the rope around my neck and then tied my wrists to the back legs. He had the rope run in a way that made it tighten around my neck if I moved my wrists or legs. I had to sit with my back arched, just to keep from strangling myself. He stepped into the laundry room and came back with one of his bandanas; he rolled it up and used it to gag me.
“After he finished tying me, he went over and drug Aunt Tisha off the floor and put her in a chair as well. He was extremely strong from doing the farm work and moved her like she was nothing more than a limp rag doll. She started coming to while he was moving her, which seemed to please him.
“He used a roll of duct tape to imprison her in another of the kitchen chairs, growling and swearing at her. All I could get out of it was ‘bacon’ every few words – mostly because he would scream the word at her.
“The kitchen was filling with smoke from the bacon that was still on the stove, burning. Uncle Troy seemed to get more and more agitated. He started rooting through drawers, until he found a silicone brush that Aunt Tisha used when she needed to baste something.
“The look in his eyes was psychotic. With a huge grin on his face, he dipped the brush into the bacon grease sizzling in the skillet. He turned toward Aunt Tisha and touched it to the tip of her nose. She screamed, shaking her head like a dog trying to get a certain taste out of its mouth.
“Uncle Troy laughed; it was the most evil laugh I’d ever heard, causing goose bumps to break out on my arms and legs.
“He dipped the brush in the bacon grease again, grabbed Aunt Tisha’s hair and held her head still. He brushed the hot bacon grease down across both her cheek bones, like he was putting blush on her backwards.
“She was no longer screaming, she was shrieking like a crazy person. Her whole body was shaking with the effort to free herself from her bonds. I could smell her flesh burning – the scent mixed with the aroma of bacon. Every breath I pulled into my lungs made me gag.
“I knew Uncle Troy wasn’t worried about anyone hearing the shrieks and screams Aunt Tisha was bellowing – living on a 300-acre farm, he knew no one would hear us, and that no one would come to our rescue.
“Aunt Tisha was begging him to stop, pleading between each massive sob that racked her body. What he did to her was terrible. He just kept dipping and painting, until all the skin of her face was fried. But the worst of it all was when he held her eyelids open and let bacon grease drip into her eyes. I looked away and wished I could disappear. The sounds she made were almost not human. I couldn’t even imagine the pain she was suffering. I felt bad for her, but at the same time, I was praying I wasn’t next.
“I thought the bacon grease in the eye thing was the worst he was going to do to her, but I was wrong. He picked up the entire skillet of hot bacon grease and held her head while he dumped it down her throat. Telling her that she could eat the crap she’d made. His body blocked my view of his actions, but I knew what he was doing, and I knew there was nothing I could do to stop him. I couldn’t even move without choking myself. I realized I was crying, that my tank top was soaked with tears, and that I was trembling.
“Aunt Tisha’s body lurched violently. I heard strangling noises, saw one more violent attempt of her body to fight off the onslaught, and then she was still – too still. Uncle Troy placed the skillet in the sink with a smile on his face and pleasure in his eyes.”
I stopped talking and looked at the attorney. His expression was one of total disgust and blatant disbelief. I’d seen it happen and it was still hard for me to believe. I picked up my water and took another drink. My hands weren’t trembling now; they were shaking, making it difficult for me to drink without spilling water on myself.
“He,” the attorney said, clearing his throat before continuing. “He, your uncle, killed your aunt with bacon grease?”
“Yes.”
“That’s unbelievable,” he said, shaking his head. “What happened after that?”
Sighing, I closed my eyes and went back into the horror of my memory, the terror of that day.
“I tried to be quiet, so I wouldn’t draw his attention – I didn’t want him to use the bacon grease on me next. I watched as he cut the tape holding Aunt Tisha in the chair, letting her slump to the floor with a thud. He kept mumbling something about ‘poor piggy.’ He dragged her out the back door, onto the covered wooden porch; he left her lying there, with her feet still sticking though the doorway.
“I heard his heavy booted foot steps as he walked around on the porch, as if he was searching for something he couldn’t find. He swore loudly, and then I saw him strolling toward the barn, just like he was going out to milk the cows; not hurried, but relaxed and enjoying the day.
“I tugged my wrists and legs gently, to see if there was any possibility of getting free, and the rope grew tighter and tighter against my throat. I could barely breathe; I tilted my head back and sucked in as much air as I could.
“I heard Uncle Troy’s steps on the porch again, and watched out of the corner of my eye, as he moved around Aunt Tisha’s body. I heard cloth ripping, and I saw her feet wiggle back and forth like she was being rolled over. Suddenly the feet disappeared.
“I saw Uncle Troy through the window, throwing a rope over top one of the beams that supported the porch roof; he tugged with all his weight. I could hear him grunting and swearing as he struggled with the rope. After a minute or two, I saw that he was hefting Aunt Tisha’s naked body up to hang upside down. She was hung like the pigs, after they were slaughtered. More tears fell from my eyes. My teeth were chattering from my fear and dread. I didn’t want to watch, but for some reason I couldn’t look away and had to know what was happening – almost like if I saw everything he did, I would somehow find an advantage that might save me, even though every movement he made was more terrible than the last.
“He came back into the kitchen, glanced at me, and shook his head. ‘You silly piglet, you’re gonna hurt yourself,’ he said. Coming over to where I was, he loosened the rope so I could breathe without my head being tilted back, but still tight enough that my back had to stay arched; my whole body was aching from the effort of staying in that position.
“Leaning down behind me, he whispered in my ear: ‘I haven’t forgotten about you. Don’t worry, you’re gonna be next.’ He kissed the side of my neck. I closed my eyes and tried not to scream – I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
“He turned and sorted through the knives in a wooden block on the counter, whistling under his breath. He must have found what he was looking for because he carried a couple of them outside with him.
“Turning my head, I saw him walking around Aunt Tisha’s body, thoughtfully. He nodded, put one of the knives on a small table that was usually used to sit afternoon drinks on when we were relaxing on the porch. With the one he still held, he started cutting into Aunt Tisha’s stomach, just like I’d seen him do when he was gutting a pig or a cow. He pulled out her guts, throwing them behind him, into the brilliant green grass of the yard; they landed with a sickening plop. Scarlet blood flew through the air, dripped from Uncle Troy’s arms and streamed from Aunt Tisha’s carcass.
“After he’d removed her guts, he changed to the other knife and slowly used it to cut off both her breasts, throwing them in the yard as well. He started cutting strips of skin and meat from Aunt Tisha’s stomach, and these went onto the table along with both knives.
“He turned and walked off the porch again, this time around the side of the house. I heard the squeak of the outside faucet being turned on and soon I heard his boots on the porch again. He reappeared with the blue rubber water hose and began spraying Aunt Tisha as if she was nothing more than an animal that was needed to provide food. After she was rinsed, he rinsed the strips of meat he’d lain aside.
“When he was done, he put the hose away and turned off the water. He gathered up the knives, and the pieces, before coming back into the kitchen. He dumped his load into the sink and washed off the knives, putting them back into the block, and proceeded to wash his hands and get out a clean skillet. Placing it on the stove, he turned on the gas burner; he laid the strips of flesh into the skillet, just like bacon.
“I gagged at the smell that rose from his cooking. He turned at the sound and laughed. ‘You don’t like the smell, sweet piglet?’ he asked sarcastically. ‘It’s just a pig frying in a skillet – just bacon. You like bacon.’ I looked away, and tried hard not to throw up on myself, knowing if I did, I would probably strangle to death. Laughing again, Uncle Troy turned back to the stove.
“He switched on the radio and grabbed a fork from a drawer. He sang along to the country western songs, flipping his ‘bacon’ as it cooked. I closed my eyes, and prayed that he wouldn’t kill me, that he wouldn’t hurt me, and that this would end somehow, soon!
“Uncle Troy spilled some grease from his wife-bacon on the stove when he tried to drain it off, and it splattered on the floor; he swore, stepped around it, and continued to cook.
“When the wife-bacon was done, he put the strips on a paper towel to drain, and cooked himself two eggs in the same skillet. He plated his breakfast and sat at the table to eat, directly across from me. His eyes watched me as he ate, slowly, seeming to enjoy every bite like you would slowly sip a fine wine. After watching him eat the first couple bites, I stared at the floor and tried to think about something else.”
The attorney gagged. I looked at him and noticed he was actually turning a sickening shade of green.
“He ate her?” he asked.
I nodded.
“That’s so. . .so. . .” He gagged again.
“Wrong?”
“Yes,” he exclaimed. “How did you get away?”
I smiled gently and continued with my story.
“Uncle Troy sat and ate every bite of his breakfast – chewing and watching me. The look in his eyes gave me chills; I saw him watching my breasts as I tried to breathe and yet not move because of the rope. I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t see him watching me, but it was almost worse somehow, because with my eyes closed all I could do was smell and hear – I smelled the aroma of what he’d cooked and I heard his fork clink off the plate as he took each bite.
“Eventually the clinking stopped. I opened my eyes as I heard the scraping of a kitchen chair on the hard wood floor. I watched as Uncle Troy took his plate to the sink and washed it, as well as the other dishes he’d dirtied. He dried them and put them away.
“He walked over beside me and began stroking my hair; leaning down he kissed my forehead. ‘I’ll be right back for you,’ he said, and went outside again, to the barn. At least that was the direction I saw him go. When he reappeared in my line of vision through the window, I saw a silver metal bucket in his hand as he headed toward the pig pens.
“My mind was working a mile a minute, but I still couldn’t think of a way to escape. I prayed again, for God to help me out of the mess I was in. I was just finishing my plea to God when I saw Uncle Troy again; he had mud smeared on his shirt and hands – the bucket was half covered with mud as well. I remember thinking: Mud? Why mud? But, I didn’t have to wait long to find out.
“His boots thudded slowly on the porch and the screen door screeched as it opened. He stood there – in the doorway – staring at me for what felt like hours. I stared back, which seemed to excite him. He grinned and advanced into the room, walking around the table and over to where I sat. The bucket made a loud thunk as he sat it on the floor beside my chair. He knelt down in front of me and placed his hands on my knees, making me jump. He laughed.
“He squeezed my legs. I never realized he was so big, I’d never been so close to him before. One of his hands was big enough to cover my knee and half of my thigh. He didn’t say anything for the longest time, but just kept squeezing and rubbing my legs, his breath coming faster and faster. I was trembling, not only from fear, but from the continued strain of my physical position; it had to have been over an hour since he’d tied me to the chair.
“Finally he said something: ‘I’m gonna play nice with you, my sweet little piggy.’ He dipped one of his hands into the bucket, scooping out a big handful of mud – at least I hoped it was mud, my nose had been burning ever since he’d made his breakfast, and I could no longer smell anything. He rubbed his hands together, caking them both with the thick, brown slime. He put his hands back on my legs and began to smear the filth from my knees to the edge of my shorts. I felt his fingers slip further and further under them each time. I was crying uncontrollably; sobs wracked my body and I felt the rope tightening, but I didn’t care anymore, I just wanted it to be over.
“At some point he must have decided that my legs were brown enough, because he stopped, moved around to the back of the chair, and stood behind me – I could feel his breath against my neck as he bent toward me. He stuck out his tongue and licked from the base of my neck up to my ear. I gagged, jerking on the rope.
“He laughed and loosened the rope to keep me alive. Bending over, he got more mud from the bucket and started to massage it into my shoulders and around my neck, getting closer and closer to the neckline of my shirt. ‘Squeal like a piggy for me, honey,’ he growled in my ear. I jerked my head sideways and the rope tightened again. This time he didn’t loosen it right away, but let me sputter and gag as he shoved his muddy hands down the front of my shirt. I started to black out and was thanking God for allowing me mercy, when he loosened the rope again.
“At that moment a truck pulled up in front of the house, drawing his attention to the living room windows; he swore and walked over to see who was there. I heard a truck door slam and heard him swear again. He turned, heading back toward me, passing by the stove. His boots were muddy and he slid in a bit of the grease that he’d spilled earlier. Grabbing a chair he righted himself, grinning. ‘I’ll be right back, my little piglet, to finish taking care of you,’ he said. I cringed.
“He’d turned to go outside when he slipped again, going down this time. Both of his muddy, booted feet flew up, hitting the underside of the kitchen table. He twisted in the mid air and his right temple hit the corner of the stove with a sickening crunch; he fell to the floor and didn’t move.”
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath.
“Was he dead?” the attorney exclaimed. “When he hit his head... Did it kill him?”
I nodded as more tears slid down my face.
“A neighbor from the next farm over had come to see if Uncle Troy had a part for his tractor. You see, Uncle Troy and the neighbor had the same model and Uncle Troy had a couple of junk ones he kept for parts. When he didn’t find Uncle Troy in the barn, he headed for the house. He spotted my aunt and came running. He came through the door and saw Uncle Troy on the floor, and me, tied and gagged with mud all over; he untied me and removed the gag, before going to the phone and calling 9-1-1. He kept saying, ‘Oh, Gawd! Oh, Lordie! Oh, Gawd!’
“By the time he’d untied me, and made the call, I’d passed out. I don’t know if it was from exhaustion, relief, or trauma; it took me two weeks before I was able to tell the sheriff what had happened.”
“Wow, that is terrible,” the attorney said. “Two people were dead, and for what? Burnt bacon?”
I laughed harshly. “Yeah, burnt bacon. What a world, huh?”
The attorney sat there for a moment shaking his head, trying to wrap his mind around something that no sane human could ever understand.
“I don’t get it though,” he said frowning. “What does that have to do with you being here now?”
I sighed.
“I was engaged to Mark – which was great. We were in love and he was considerate and romantic. A week before we were to be married, he told me that his favorite food was bacon and that he would like to have it every morning for breakfast. I was stunned. He went on to tell me how he would like it cooked and that I better not burn it, or I would be punished – then he laughed. If I would have thought about it a moment I would have known he was joking, or at least I would like to think I would have known. But it was too late.
“I walked into the kitchen and took out the biggest, sharpest knife we owned. I came back to the living room and stabbed him; I don’t remember how many times. All I could think about was that day at the farm when Uncle Troy had killed my aunt and was about to rape me, all because of bacon. I guess I just lost it.”
I pushed my hands into my hair, resting my forehead on my palms.
“Holy cow,” the attorney whispered. “You killed him because he liked bacon? Because of your uncle and how he snapped because of bacon? This is almost too ludicrous! I’ve never had such a case before! Are you pulling my leg here? Because I really don’t have time to be sent on a wild roller coaster of lies right now – I have a huge case load.”
Dropping my hands, I looked at him with tears in my eyes.
“I knew you wouldn’t believe me,” I accused. “You want proof? Call this sheriff.”
Grabbing his pen and a piece of his paper, I wrote down the name of the town and the sheriff who’d investigated the farm incident.
He took the piece of paper, read it, re-read it, and looked at me and blinked.
“I’ll look into it,” he said, stuffing his files and papers back into his leather briefcase. “If this is all true, we have a good chance of pleading temporary insanity.”
I just sat there watching him; he was almost comical in his rush to get out of the cell.
“I’ll be in touch,” he said over his shoulder as he dashed out the door when the guard opened it.
I saw him lean toward the guard and say something; I didn’t catch all that he said, but I heard the word bacon echo down the hall.
I threw my head back and laughed at the absurdity of it all. The death count was rising – three were dead on account of bacon.
Copyrights owned by Rebecca Besser, 2012. All rights reserved.
'Grind' Week - Coming Soon!
Coming soon! Grind Week!
Grind Week will be the celebration and revealing of this amazing title from Crowded Quarantine Publications! My story, "Insanity," is included in the collection!
What to expect from Grind Week:
1) There will be a post about the book (with an excerpt of my story) when the book is release.
*** It will also contain the blurb and TOC. ***
2) Four other authors who have a story in the book will be interviewed!
3) Adam Millard - the editor of the anthology - will end the week with some thoughts and perspective on the collection of stories within.
Sound like fun? Don't forget to come back and check it out!
*** Grind Week will commence once the book is released! ***
Interview with Author Courtney Rene
Author Courtney Rene
Bec: Welcome to my blog, please start out by sharing a little bit about yourself -
Thanks for having me! Well, let’s see. I am a writer. Who knew? I am also a mother of two and wife of one (just in case someone was wondering). I am the writer of the Shadow Dancer series, and I have an upcoming stand alone novel coming out in June about Werewolves. I also do quite a bit of magazine and anthology work, although not as much lately as I have been working very hard on my novels. Editing takes a whole heck of a lot longer when its 60,000+ words.
Bec: What first got you interested in writing?
Nothing really got me interested. I have simply always been a writer.
Bec: What are the worst struggles you think writers face, writing and marketing?
My worst struggles in the writing part, is time, esp. with children at home. I can’t get into my writing zone when they are around and talking and playing and anything really. I have to make time by waiting for them to be in bed or somewhere else.
As for marketing, I just can’t figure out which way to go. There are so many ways to market and all cost money and time and energy. You never know what is going to work or how. You never know if it’s a waste. Then there is just finding something that fits with what you are trying to market. I’m quite frustrated with marketing, so if anyone has any great ideas, please send them my way. No, really.
Bec: Tell us about your book/s –
Shadow Dancer is the story of a teen girl, named Sunny, that finds out that she is not just your regular everyday human. She is actually from another realm that has the power to hide within the shadows and become invisible. She is a Shadow Walker, and with it comes powers and gifts but it also brings problems and danger. The king of the realm does not want her found as she may or may not be the real heir to the throne.
Shadow Warrior is the second book in the Shadow Dancer series. Sunny travels to the land of the Shadow Walkers and right into a brewing war. More powers and gifts are explored and new people are introduced. A battle is waged, but the war is still coming.
Shadows End (coming September 2012) is the final book in the Shadow Dancer series. I can’t tease this one yet, but check back at my blog in July and I bet there will be a cover reveal and excerpt.
A Howl in the Night (coming June 2012) is the story of a teen girl, named Abby, that finds out she is actually a shape shifter. This is not your ‘Oh no! I’m a werewolf” story. It is a “Woo Hoo! I’m a werewolf” type.
Welcome to the world of shape-shifters and dysfunctional families. Come along with Abby as she wields her way through the mayhem and madness of wolf clans and dominate males. The story line:
Sweet Sixteen is supposed to be a turning point in your life. The world is before you in all its glory, just waiting for you to reach out and grab it. Right? For Abigail Staton no, not so much. Not only does she suddenly lose her best friend due to a fight, but suddenly her mother expects her to believe that the father, she has never met, is actually a werewolf. With that revelation, Abby is thrust into the world of two wolf clans who are not only fighting each other, but also fighting for Abby, one of the few females born to the shape-shifters. Her father is determined to pair Abby up with Derek, a very dominant and overwhelming shifter. Abby vehemently balks at this union to disastrous results. When war is declared between the two clans, Abby has to decide what side she is actually on.
Bec: Are you working on a sequel/s?
I am thinking long and hard about doing a branch-out story about Leif. He is one of the main characters in the Shadow Dancer series. I have been poked a bit about doing his story. Where he came from, how he became the man he is, and what will become of him after the book, Shadows End. I’ve never tried a boy POV before, but I am beginning to think I should give it a whirl.
Bec: What's your favorite month?
May. It’s usually nice and warm. The flowers are blooming. The trees are green again. It’s a lovely time of year. Oh and my birthday is in May, so….
Bec: What other projects are you working on or involved with?
I am in the processing of mulling around a rage novel. What do you do when you have nothing left to live for? It’s not something I have ever tried to write before but it is starting to shape up. I just hope I can pull it off. All that work to find out you stink at that type of work would be bad.
Bec: Where do you like to go when you need to hide from the world?
Franklin Park Conservatory. I am a member, so I can go anytime I want and just vanish within the trees and flowers. It’s a quiet place to go, with loads of scenery to enjoy. If I don’t feel like driving anywhere, I will hit the forest out back of my house and just spend some time in the shade.
Bec: What's your favorite color?
Blue. No real reason, it’s just always been blue.
Bec: Did you base the characters in your books on people you know, or make them up from scratch?
Mostly they are made from Scratch, but as they have grown and their personalities have taken off, I find they start to resemble people I know. Their quirks or their annoying habits and the like.
Bec: Do you like to listen to music while you write or have complete silence?
Both. Some days I need the music in the background to drown out the other interfering noise. Some days I need the quiet to really concentrate and think.
Bec: Jumping jacks or sit ups?
Sadly both. Jumping jacks work the WHOLE body whereas sit ups only really focus on the tummy. Due to my age and having children, I need them both.
Bec: What genres do you most like to read/write?
I like to write fantasy and horror. I like to read horror, fantasy, and romance. Maybe one day when I am not so giggly just trying to write a kissing scene I will think about writing romance, but until then, I think I better stick with murder and mayhem and fairies.
Bec: What was the last thing that made you laugh until you cried?
It must have been a while, as I can’t think of anything lately. How sad is that?
Bec: Do you find writing a lonely profession?
Yes, but that is one of the best parts of it. I think its great to have other writers to talk with and vent to, and bounce thoughts off of, but in the end we have to do the work ourselves and as the saying goes, if you want it done right….. I don’t have to count on anyone or wait for anyone. I only have myself to deal with. It’s wonderful.
Bec: If you could celebrate one holiday twice a year, which would it be?
Easter. I love Easter. It’s family, and the colors, it’s the flowers, it’s the CHOCOLATE. I love everything about it. Plus it’s a firm in your face sign that SPRING has finally come. Yay!
Bec: Banana or grapefruit?
Banana. Ick on the grapefruit. Paatooey!
Bec: Plants or people?
Plants all the way baby! They aren’t judgmental and they don’t talk about you behind your back. Wow, I sound really jaded today. Hahahaha.
Bec: Do you think having other writers as friend is a good thing for your growth as a writer?
Yes. As I said above, we need other writes some days to talk over ideas with or to ask questions too, or to say, “Hey can you read this and tell me if its dumb?” They are going through the same trials that you are and they understand. People that aren’t writers don’t get how hard it can be some days. Writers…they get it. They’ve been there.
Bec: What's your favorite book? Why?
My favorite book is Ride the Wind, by St. Clair. It’s a thriller, it’s a historical, it’s a romance, it’s everything you could possible want. There are not many books that I will read more than once and very, very few of them that I will read more than twice. I have read this books at least five times maybe more. It’s a fictional story based on real life. A young girl is kidnapped by American Indians and adopted into their world. It’s about her life and struggles and love and death. It’s a fantastic story.
Bec: Is there anything you would like to share that I haven't asked you about?
Nope, I think that just about covers it.
Bec: Thank you for stopping by and sharing! Best of luck with your book and future projects!
Thanks so much for having me.
Blog: www.ctnyrene.blogspot.com
FB: http://www.facebook.com/#!/Ctnyrene
FB PAGE: http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Shadow-Dancer/164433473646449
Copyrights owned by Rebecca Besser and Courtney Rene, 2012. All rights reserved.
Interview with Author Jaidis Shaw
Author Jaidis Shaw
Jaidis: Thank you for allowing me to visit your blog today! My name is Jaidis and I just released my first novel Destiny Awaits. When I am not reading or writing, I am the Book Tour Coordinator for Nurture Your BOOKS™. I am also a stay-at-home mom to a very energetic four-year-old daughter.
Bec: What first got you interested in writing?
Jaidis: I’ve always been interested in writing because it was the one thing that my teachers would compliment me on. Being able to create a world in which to escape for awhile is an amazing feeling!
Bec: What are the worst struggles you think writers face, writing and marketing?
Jaidis: In my opinion most writers, especially those who choose to self-publish, have a hard time with the marketing side of being an author. I think it is important to view being an author as a job because simply writing the book isn’t good enough. You have to promote yourself and try to gain a following if you want to sell books. However, if you just write just because you enjoy it and don’t mind the lack of sales, then marketing wouldn’t be an issue.
Bec: Tell us about your book/s –
Jaidis: I am so excited to announce that I have just released my first book, Destiny Awaits. It is a YA paranormal romance in which the main female lead, Alayna, is brought into a world full of things she never knew existed after being attacked by a vampire. She struggles to accept the changes she will experience along with her budding romance with a shifter, Jayden.
Bec: Are you working on a sequel/s?
Jaidis: I am currently working on book two but it isn’t a sequel. Each book will be in the Juniper Grove Chronicles series and are stand-alone. Book two takes a closer look at Violet who is one of the secondary characters in Destiny Awaits.
Bec: What other projects are you working on or involved with?
Jaidis: I recently had a great idea for another series which I have already started on. The first book, which is tentatively named The Stager, has a much darker theme than Destiny Awaits and is for a more mature audience. I don’t want to share too much about it yet but readers can rest assured that it will be filled with plenty of action and surprising twists!
Bec: What's your favorite color?
Jaidis: Pink!
Bec: Boat, car, train, or plane?
Jaidis: Definitely boat! I love being on the water.
Bec: Do you like to listen to music while you write or have complete silence?
Jaidis: I do listen to music while I write. Music tends to help me focus on my writing while blocking out the sounds of the city, my loud husband, and daughter.
Bec: What do you dip french fries in?
Jaidis: I’m not really a big dipper but if I do, I usually go for either ketchup or ranch.
Bec: What genres do you most like to read/write?
Jaidis: For reading, I will read pretty much everything. I think it is important for authors to read in various genres as a way to study various writing techniques.
For writing, I do feel more comfortable in the paranormal romance genres but I do like stepping out of my comfort zone and trying new genres. I’ve tried my hand in a darker genre and also in western and suspense.
Bec: Up or down?
Jaidis: I guess it depends on what the situation is but I’m going to say that it is better to go up.
Bec: Do you find writing a lonely profession?
Jaidis: In terms of actual relationships…yes. I know personally I am a hermit and hardly go out of the house. But on the up side, I can create characters to keep me company!
Bec: Yard work or house work?
Jaidis: House work. The sun and I don’t get along very well.
Bec: What would you share with a beginning writer?
Jaidis: I’d tell a beginning writer that it is important to polish your story before publishing it. Don’t be in a hurry to publish it because if your story is riddled with errors, it can damage your career as an author. Also, hire a professional editor.
Bec: What's your favorite place to read?
Jaidis: I do most of my reading in my office but one day I’d love to have a beach house with a screened in porch that I could sit on and read while enjoying the ocean at the same time.
Bec: What do you wish someone would have told you when you first started your writing journey?
Jaidis: Well I was lucky and had author friends before I got the courage to share my stories but I guess it would have been nice to have someone encourage me sooner to take a chance at being an author. I feel like I missed several years in which I could have been practicing.
Bec: What do you like to do to unplug? What's your 'down time' activity?
Jaidis: Down time? What is that? J Seriously though, I don’t get much time to myself because if I’m not working, writing or reading, I am helping authors promote their work. I’m also a mom so I am always multi-tasking in order to get everything done.
Bec: Do you think having other writers as friends is a good thing for your growth as a writer?
Jaidis: I do! It’s almost a necessity. I am always asking my author friends for help when I need it or asking them what their opinion is on story ideas. Authors understand what other authors go through and know the process. I’ve tried asking non-writers for advice before and often get a deer-in-headlights look.
Bec: What's your favorite book? Why?
Jaidis: I have so many books that I love but not a specific book that I would say is my favorite.
Bec: Who's your favorite author? Why?
Jaidis: I love Jean M. Auel! I grew up reading her Earth’s Children series and it helped inspire my love of writing and the worlds that can be created.
Bec: Is there anything you would like to share that I haven't asked you about?
Jaidis: I guess I’ll take a minute to encourage everyone to stop by my blog Juniper Grove and say hello. I interview a bunch of great authors and there are numerous opportunities to learn about new books and enter giveaways!
Bec: Thank you for stopping by and sharing! Best of luck with your book and future project!
Jaidis: Thank you so much for having me!
Author Bio:
Jaidis Shaw currently resides in a small town located in South Carolina with her husband and beautiful daughter. With a passion for reading, Jaidis can always be found surrounded by books and dreaming of new stories. She enjoys challenging herself by writing in different genres and currently has several projects in the works.
When not reading or writing, Jaidis fills the position of Book Tour Coordinator for Nurture Your Books™, maintains the Juniper Grove blog and loves encouraging her daughter to let her imagination run wild.
Synopsis:
Twenty-year-old Alayna Scott receives visions around water, but even her foresight couldn’t prepare her for the tragic accident that claimed the lives of her parents. With everything she loves gone, Alayna packs up and moves to the small town of Juniper Grove in hopes of starting over.
Jayden McKnight can’t explain the attraction that he feels whenever Alayna is near, but he does know that he will do whatever it takes to win her heart. When a vampire selects Alayna as his next victim, Jayden will stop at nothing to ensure her safety – even if that means bringing Alayna into a world that she never knew existed.
Love blossoms, challenges are made and Alayna will find herself fighting not only to survive, but to understand what she has become.
Purchase Link:
Amazon US – http://www.amazon.com/Destiny-Awaits-ebook/dp/B007WFYCI2/ref=sr_1_15?ie=UTF8&qid=1335079607&sr=8-15
GoodReads Link to Destiny Awaits - http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13557288-destiny-awaits
My Links:
Juniper Grove Blog – http://www.junipergrove.net/
Amazon Author Page – http://www.amazon.com/Jaidis-Shaw/e/B0070OE758
GoodReads – http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5556095.Jaidis_Shaw
Facebook Fan Page – http://www.facebook.com/AuthorJaidisShaw
Twitter - twitter.com/#!/JaidisShaw
YouTube - http://www.youtube.com/user/JaidisShaw
Jaidis has offered up an ecopy of Destiny Awaits to one of the people who comment on this post, so if you would like to enter to win an ecopy (PDF or MOBI), please comment! (The drawing for the book will be May 8th, so you have until then to enter!)
Congratulations to Armand Rosamilia! You won the free copy!
Copyrights owned by Rebecca Besser and Jaidis Shaw, 2012. All rights reserved.
Barnes and Noble's New Deal -- Microsoft Invests in Nook
Considering the competition going on between Amazon and B&N, I think this will strengthen Barnes & Noble's chances of staying in the game. The specifications of what this will mean to authors and their books is still unknown, but the hope is that with more markets and options for readers, everyone will make more money.
I know the main thing that leads people to buy a Kindle over a Nook is the availability of books (which I think I mentioned before in a post about this subject). I still think that if Barnes & Noble could increase the Nook library they would make a lot more money. I hope this will happen in the future, and that this new deal inspires some of that growth.
It should be interesting to watch the growing collaboration and deals between Microsoft and B&N, and how Amazon tries to counter (if at all). As an author, I'm interested in seeing how things play out. I know the more venues my work is available through the better my chances are of the readers finding it, but with all the squabbling and 'exclusive' dealings going on between these companies, it's hard to make the right decisions as to what to do. The choices are hard, but at least the choices are still available with B&N staying in the game.
Interview with Tonia Brown, Author of Skin Trade
Author Tonia Brown
I’m happily married southern gal who was raised in the military thanks to having a dad in the Air Force. I prefer cats to dogs, ribs to steak, and chocolate to vanilla. I’m also an identical twin. And I can tie a cherry stem into a knot with my tongue. True story.
Bec: What first got you interested in writing?
I’ve always written something, be it poetry or fan fiction. I’ve also always been an avid reader. Once upon a time, I found myself at the mercy of a long series and seven books in it dawned on me that they were all the same book, over and over. Boring! I told my husband I could write better crap than that. So he said, “Do it.” And I did.
Bec: What are the worst struggles you think writers face, writing and marketing?
Writing is the easiest part. Editing is like tearing out your heart and pouring salt into the wound. Reading some reviews are like smoking a J and relaxing on the awesome high, while others are like running a grater over your bare ass. And marketing? Geesh, marketing is the equivalent of pouring all of your money into the toilet and flushing it, hoping that some of it might float back up to the top latched onto some important shit.
Bec: Tell us about your book/s –
SKIN TRADE is a weird west horror set in an alternate late 1800’s in the US. A virus took down the Indian Nations and cause a zombie uprising that destroyed the western frontier. Now folks are crowded on the east coast and the US Army has erected a barrier to keep the zombies in the western half of the nation. The story follows fifteen-year-old Samantha Martin as she makes her way toward the border trying to escape the dangers of her own life. Once in the border zone she is thrust into the service of the skin trade: the job of trapping and skinning zombies for profit. Only trouble is, they think she’s a boy, and she’s going to have a hard time keeping that secret in the wilds of the forbidden west!
Bec: Are you working on a sequel/s?
I have a few companion novels and sequels in the long scheme of things.
Bec: What other projects are you working on or involved with?
I am finishing up another novel, this one is a backwoods southern horror. And no, it’s not what you’re thinking. Think less along the lines of Deliverance and more along the lines of Lovecraft. And as always, I’m constantly working on my web serial Railroad! which just had it’s one year anniversary. But mentioning that is kind of like saying, “Oh and I’m still breathing.”
Bec: What's your favorite color?
I am partial to green, but only because it’s my husband’s fave. I don’t really have one, but I do like paisley. Anything paisley and I am on it. Or rather, it’s on me! Mmmmm, paisley.
Bec: Do you like to listen to music while you write or have complete silence?
I need noise. Be it a cult film, a coffee house or the radio, I can’t write in total silence. I can’t sleep in total silence either. Silence makes a noise I can’t stand.
Bec: How much skin do you show in the book?
What an odd question considering the title of the book! This one has no sex whatsoever. There are some sexual situations, but I can’t say what I mean without ruining the storyline.
Bec: What genres do you most like to read/write?
I like to read pretty much anything, but am a huge fan of scifi and humor. I love to write humor and horror, preferably together!
Bec: What's your fav scene from the book?
I think describing the traps and the act of skinning. My friend, Drew Mellon, is a master of the art of trapping and skinning animals, and he helped me with the gritty details and necessities. Plus, he never flinched when I asked for advice on how to trap and skin a human being. In fact, he pretty much laid it all out for me.
Bec: Do you find writing a lonely profession?
Yes and no. There is such a huge community to lean on, but at the same time it’s just you and the page.
Bec: Cake or pie?
Pie. No! Cake. No! Pie! Wait… can’t I have both? Pweeeeease?
Bec: What would you share with a beginning writer?
Find a good editor and do whatever they tell you to. They know what they preach. You are not the best, and it might take awhile before you are even close.
Bec: Aliens or demons?
Demons. No! Aliens! DEMONS! I hate choices! Wait, are you asking which I’d rather have as an Overlord? Because I’ll totally go with aliens. No, demons. CRAP!
Bec: What do you wish someone would have told you when you first started your writing journey?
Find a good editor and do whatever they tell you to. They know what they preach. You are not the best, and it might take awhile before you are even close.
Bec: Do you think having other writers as friend is a good thing for your growth as a writer?
Yes, I think other writers make good sounding boards and beta readers. They are also good for shoulders to cry on, because they understand rejection slips.
Bec: What's your favorite book? Why?
American Gods, because I love how Gaiman captured the different personalities of the Gods while allowing them some room to grow with the times.
Bec: Who's your favorite author? Why?
Neil Gaiman, because that man could transcribe the phone book and I would read it.
Bec: Is there anything you would like to share that I haven't asked you about?
Did you know a pig’s orgasm can last for up to thirty minutes? True story.
Bec: Thank you for stopping by and sharing! Best of luck with your book and future project!
Thanks for having me. Hope I didn’t track mud on the carpet. Have you seen my keys? Oh, there they are. Bye now!
Bec: Find Tonia Brown on Facebook, Twitter (ToniaBrown1), and visit her blog!
Copyrights owned by Rebecca Besser and Tonia Brown, 2012. All rights reserved.
