Saturday, April 20, 2013
Friday, April 19, 2013
Al Neuharth, R. I. P.
USA TODAY founder Al Neuharth dies at 89: Allen H. Neuharth, the newspaper visionary and former Gannett chairman who founded USA TODAY, helped create a museum dedicated to news and became one of the industry's most influential and sometimes controversial figures, died Friday at his home in Cocoa Beach, Fla. He was 89.
Once Again Texas Leads the Way
Plague of Unexplained Hairballs Is Strange Mystery for Texas Campus
Hat tip to Jeff Meyerson, who says that Unexplained Hairballs WBAGNFARB.
Hat tip to Jeff Meyerson, who says that Unexplained Hairballs WBAGNFARB.
PimPage: An Occasional Feature in Which I Call Attention to Books of Interest
Okay, sure, I'll admit it. I don't usually tout books like this one. But The Art of the Croods is different. It has foreword by Nicolas Cage! So how could I resist? It's a short foreword, but there is it. Besides, Cage voices Grug, the star of the film. Well, maybe not the star to some of you, but a huge role, nevertheless. The art in this coffee-table book is gorgeous, and if you liked the movie, you might want to grab this.
Amazon.com: The Art of the Croods (9781781164112): Noela Hueso: Books: The Croods takes us back to the beginning, to a previously undiscovered era known as the Croodacious - a time when Mother Nature was still experimenting and the flora and fauna we know today hadn't evolved yet. Trying to find their evolutionary niche are The Croods, a family who must adapt to survive after their cave home is destroyed.
The Art of The Croods traces the evolution of the comedy adventure movie with over 400 pieces of concept art, character sketches, storyboards and digital paintings, along with interviews with the key animation talent.
PimPage: An Occasional Feature in Which I Call Attention to Books of Interest
Amazon.com: Black Pulp (9781484135716): Walter Mosley, Christopher Chambers, Michael Gonzales, Gar Anthony Haywood, Ron Fortier, Joe R. Lansdale, Gary Phillips, Mel Odom, Tommy Hancock, D. Alan Lewis, Derrick Ferguson, Kimberly Richardson, Charles R. Saunders: Books: From Today's Best Authors and up and coming writers comes BLACK PULP from Pro Se Productions! BLACK PULP is a collection of stories featuring characters of African origin, or descent, in stories that run the gamut of genre fiction! A concept developed by noted crime novelist Gary Phillips, BLACK PULP brings bestselling authors Walter Mosley and Joe R. Lansdale, Gary Phillips, Charles R. Saunders, Derrick Ferguson, D. Alan Lewis, Christopher Chambers, Mel Odom, Kimberly Richardson, Ron Fortier, Michael A. Gonzales, Gar Anthony Haywood, and Tommy Hancock together to craft adventure tales, mysteries, and more, all with black characters at the forefront!
Free for Kindle for a Limited Time
The Rocks Below: Nigel P Bird: Amazon.com: Kindle Store: The Rocks Below is a tale suitable for adults, young adults and older children. It contains a subtle yet powerful message relating to environmental issues.
Fusing elements of crime fiction, science fiction and adventure stories, this is a book that entertains and stimulates thought in one exciting read.
First It Was the Thin Mints Melee . . .
Brooklyn brother and sister busted after fighting over toilet paper: Wipeout! 2 busted in toilet-roll brawl
Hat tip to Art Scott
Hat tip to Art Scott
Your Own Publishing Empire?
If you live near Norman, Oklahoma, Mel Odom will tell you how to make it happen at the Third Annual Writing Workshop sponsored by the Oklahoma Writing Federation.
I Miss the Old Days
Best Figure: 1931 Photoplay Magazine: Judging the "Best Figure in Hollywood," 1931
AbeBooks: Riddled with Gilt
AbeBooks: Riddled with Gilt: Gilding is an age old art which consists of applying gold in powder or thin sheet (gold leaf) form to an object - in this case, a book's pages or even cover boards. The gold in gold leaf has typically been mixed or alloyed with other metals such as silver or copper. But there are other options, and not all that glitters is gold. Some cheaper editions simply have gold-colored paint, which can dull quickly, while at the other end of the spectrum are firms like Easton Press, who still accent editions in genuine 22kt gold.
Forgotten Books: The Graveyard Shift -- Harry Patterson
This is an early book by Patterson/Higgins, and it shows. He still hasn't developed the easily recognized style of his middle period books (my favorites), but you can see that he's working in the right direction. The main character is Nick Miller, a cop, but one who's rich, who plays piano, who owns great cars, who has refined tastes. Naturally at least one of the older men on the force doesn't like him in the least and tries to show him up by doing something on his own. Big mistake.
Ben Garvald has just been released from prison. Money from his last robbery has never been found. His former sister-in-law goes to the police and claims that Garvald might try to harm her sister, Bella, who's divorced Garvald and married to a gangster and nightclub owner, who happens to have been Garvald's partner. Miller eventually catches up to Garvald, who nicks Miller's car and escapes. He's later found shot to death. Miller has to find the killer, and there are plenty of suspects.
Miller's an abrasive character and takes a little getting used to. He's thoroughly hardboiled, and he'll do whatever it takes.
I always enjoy Patterson/Higgins' books, as I've said any number of times on this blog. This one's not one of the better ones, but it has its moments. Cheap copies abound on the 'Net.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
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The 1949 Renovation of the White House
I wrote a short story with this setting. One reviewer of the anthology it appeared in didn't believe that the renovation could've have happened the way I described it.
The 1949 Renovation of the White House
The 1949 Renovation of the White House
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Doing the Dishes
Yesterday, for no reason at all that I can determine, I started thinking about washing dishes. I used to do it all the time.
I didn't work my way through college (The University of Texas at Austin), but I did earn most of my meals by washing dishes at a boarding house run by Mrs. A. B. Cryer. I never knew her first name and never called her anything but Mrs. Cryer, and I never knew her husband's name, either. He was Mr. Cryer. You'd think I might have been curious, considering that my actual name and initals make me Mr. A. B. Crider. There's a nice little similarity and rhyme going on there. But in those days, I wasn't even curious. Surely I heard his wife refer to him by name once or twice. Alfred? I don't remember.
I was a little curious about Mr. Cryer's job, if not about his name. I never knew what the job was, exactly, but I saw him on campus all the time. Before eight o'clock in the mornings, as students began heading into the buildings for the first class of the day, Mr. Cryer could be seen standing by one of the front doors to Sutton Hall, which I always thought of as the history building. He'd be greeting the students as if he were an official representative of the Department of History, although I think he was on the janitorial staff.
But I digress. Back to the boarding house. A good friend of mine, Bob Tyus (or the Big T as we sometimes called him) got a job as the head waiter at Mrs. Cryer's. He didn't do any waiting, however. He was more like the greeter, and it was his job to know everyone who ate there. If you hadn't paid for your meals (I believe the price was $36 a month for lunch and dinner; no dinner on Saturdays, and no meals on Sundays), you weren't seated. If you got past Bob, he might point you to a table, or he might hold you in the entrance way if the tables were all full, which wasn't unusual. Bob's the one who told me and my roommate, Walter Funk, that there were some openings for dishwashers. Wash dishes for an hour, get a free meal. Simple as that. Seemed like a good deal, so Walter and I became dishwashers.
The dishwashing room was in the back of the house. There were three connected metal sinks lined up in front of the windows. The first sink was for washing, the second was for rinsing, and the third was for sterilizing. Usually two people worked the sinks, sometimes three. We really needed three at the peak times, but it didn't always work out that way.
The dishes and utensils were stacked on a counter beside the first sink, and the dishwasher was supposed to take a dish, wash it, and put into a basket that sat in the rinse water. When the basket was full, the second man would shake it around a little, take it out of the rinse water, and put it in the sterilizing sink. That one had a fire under it and the water was often close to boiling. After a little while, the guy would take the basket out, tilt it to drain off the water, wait a few minutes, dry the plates, and then stack them on a table behind him. The utensils were passed along the same way.
When the house was crowed, some of those steps got short shrift. The dishwasher might take a whole stack of plates into the sink, swish them round, and transfer the stack to the rinse. Nobody ever got sick, though, as far as I know.
I can still picture and hear a waiter named Enrique, who was from Argentina. He'd come back into the room yelling "Spoons! I need spoons!" We were always in a rush.
The person who stacked the plates on the counter before they got washed was known to everyone as "Sister." I don't know her name, but she was the sister of one of the cooks, Lela. Sister would scrape the food off the plates into a big garbage can, except for the good scraps, which she kept "for my puppy." When the garbage can was full, we dishwashers would haul it outside and bring in an empty one.
On our shift, Walter and I would occasionally sing, beautifully of course. We sang the John H. Reagan High School alma mater (Walter was a grad) and other great tunes. We sometimes got to sing as many as two before Mrs. Cryer came back to tell us that the "boys" were complaining and that we'd have to stop.
Mrs. Cryer was often the victim of pranks. About once a month she'd wander through the rooms were her boys were eating, saying, "There's a phone call for Dick Stroker. Is Dick Stroker here?" Once someone made a really nice sign for the front yard: "Cryer's Boarding House. You can't beat our meat!" It stayed for several days. It didn't take much to entertain college kids in those days.
Sometimes I'd wash, and sometimes I'd rinse and scald. By the time I went home in the spring, I'd have the worst case of dishpan hands you can imagine. They were red and chapped and cracked. Mrs. Cryer probably used cheap detergent. One year I tried using rubber gloves, but the sink was deep, and the soapy water would slosh over the tops of the gloves and stay in them for the whole hour of washing. That wasn't good for my dishpan hands at all, so the gloves got discarded.
I don't remember much about the food, other than that there were a few things I refused to eat. That was okay. As a dishwasher, I had kitchen privileges, so I could make myself a peanut butter sandwich. And there were always mashed potatoes at every meal. I could eat those. Another privilege of the dishwashers was extra desserts. I liked the cobbler.
And that's what I have to say about doing the dishes.
I didn't work my way through college (The University of Texas at Austin), but I did earn most of my meals by washing dishes at a boarding house run by Mrs. A. B. Cryer. I never knew her first name and never called her anything but Mrs. Cryer, and I never knew her husband's name, either. He was Mr. Cryer. You'd think I might have been curious, considering that my actual name and initals make me Mr. A. B. Crider. There's a nice little similarity and rhyme going on there. But in those days, I wasn't even curious. Surely I heard his wife refer to him by name once or twice. Alfred? I don't remember.
I was a little curious about Mr. Cryer's job, if not about his name. I never knew what the job was, exactly, but I saw him on campus all the time. Before eight o'clock in the mornings, as students began heading into the buildings for the first class of the day, Mr. Cryer could be seen standing by one of the front doors to Sutton Hall, which I always thought of as the history building. He'd be greeting the students as if he were an official representative of the Department of History, although I think he was on the janitorial staff.
But I digress. Back to the boarding house. A good friend of mine, Bob Tyus (or the Big T as we sometimes called him) got a job as the head waiter at Mrs. Cryer's. He didn't do any waiting, however. He was more like the greeter, and it was his job to know everyone who ate there. If you hadn't paid for your meals (I believe the price was $36 a month for lunch and dinner; no dinner on Saturdays, and no meals on Sundays), you weren't seated. If you got past Bob, he might point you to a table, or he might hold you in the entrance way if the tables were all full, which wasn't unusual. Bob's the one who told me and my roommate, Walter Funk, that there were some openings for dishwashers. Wash dishes for an hour, get a free meal. Simple as that. Seemed like a good deal, so Walter and I became dishwashers.
The dishwashing room was in the back of the house. There were three connected metal sinks lined up in front of the windows. The first sink was for washing, the second was for rinsing, and the third was for sterilizing. Usually two people worked the sinks, sometimes three. We really needed three at the peak times, but it didn't always work out that way.
The dishes and utensils were stacked on a counter beside the first sink, and the dishwasher was supposed to take a dish, wash it, and put into a basket that sat in the rinse water. When the basket was full, the second man would shake it around a little, take it out of the rinse water, and put it in the sterilizing sink. That one had a fire under it and the water was often close to boiling. After a little while, the guy would take the basket out, tilt it to drain off the water, wait a few minutes, dry the plates, and then stack them on a table behind him. The utensils were passed along the same way.
When the house was crowed, some of those steps got short shrift. The dishwasher might take a whole stack of plates into the sink, swish them round, and transfer the stack to the rinse. Nobody ever got sick, though, as far as I know.
I can still picture and hear a waiter named Enrique, who was from Argentina. He'd come back into the room yelling "Spoons! I need spoons!" We were always in a rush.
The person who stacked the plates on the counter before they got washed was known to everyone as "Sister." I don't know her name, but she was the sister of one of the cooks, Lela. Sister would scrape the food off the plates into a big garbage can, except for the good scraps, which she kept "for my puppy." When the garbage can was full, we dishwashers would haul it outside and bring in an empty one.
On our shift, Walter and I would occasionally sing, beautifully of course. We sang the John H. Reagan High School alma mater (Walter was a grad) and other great tunes. We sometimes got to sing as many as two before Mrs. Cryer came back to tell us that the "boys" were complaining and that we'd have to stop.
Mrs. Cryer was often the victim of pranks. About once a month she'd wander through the rooms were her boys were eating, saying, "There's a phone call for Dick Stroker. Is Dick Stroker here?" Once someone made a really nice sign for the front yard: "Cryer's Boarding House. You can't beat our meat!" It stayed for several days. It didn't take much to entertain college kids in those days.
Sometimes I'd wash, and sometimes I'd rinse and scald. By the time I went home in the spring, I'd have the worst case of dishpan hands you can imagine. They were red and chapped and cracked. Mrs. Cryer probably used cheap detergent. One year I tried using rubber gloves, but the sink was deep, and the soapy water would slosh over the tops of the gloves and stay in them for the whole hour of washing. That wasn't good for my dishpan hands at all, so the gloves got discarded.
I don't remember much about the food, other than that there were a few things I refused to eat. That was okay. As a dishwasher, I had kitchen privileges, so I could make myself a peanut butter sandwich. And there were always mashed potatoes at every meal. I could eat those. Another privilege of the dishwashers was extra desserts. I liked the cobbler.
And that's what I have to say about doing the dishes.
George Beverly Shea, R. I. P.
NYTimes.com: George Beverly Shea, who escaped a life of toil in an insurance office to become a Grammy-winning gospel singer — and who was known in particular for his long association with the Rev. Billy Graham — died on Tuesday in Asheville, N.C. He was 104.
Hat tip to Jeff Meyerson.
Hat tip to Jeff Meyerson.
1993 Vs. 2013
1993 Vs. 2013: Side by side photos will remind you just how awesome our technology has gotten in only 20 years.
James Bond’s alternative name revealed
James Bond’s alternative name revealed: A newly unearthed manuscript for Ian Fleming’s 1952 draft of the first Bond novel, ‘Casino Royale’, reveals the surprising moniker.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Richard LeParmentier, R. I. P.
Richard LeParmentier Dead -- Darth Vader Force-Choke Victim In Star Wars Dies At 66 | TMZ.com: Richard LeParmentier -- the Empire goon who was famously Force-choked by Darth Vader in "Star Wars" -- has died at 66, TMZ has confirmed.
LeParmentier appeared in more than 50 films and TV shows, but he'll be best remembered as Admiral Motti, commander of the Death Star who mocks Vader's "sorcerer's ways" and "sad devotion to that ancient Jedi religion."
LeParmentier appeared in more than 50 films and TV shows, but he'll be best remembered as Admiral Motti, commander of the Death Star who mocks Vader's "sorcerer's ways" and "sad devotion to that ancient Jedi religion."
PimPage: An Occasional Feature in Which I Call Attention to Books of Interest
Love-Haight: Spectre of Justice: Reagan Hill, Jean Rabe, Mel Odom, Kevin Ward: Amazon.com: Kindle Store: Set in the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco, the urban fantasy serialized novel follows the law practice of Thomas Brock and Evelyn Love. The duo crusades for the rights of "OTs" . . . Other Than Humans, and their clients include ghosts, gargoyles, vampires, and things they've yet to put a name to. The danger and intrigue is as thick as the mist that teases the Golden Gate Bridge. From Spectre of Justice: The "OTs," as they were often called, tended to cluster in cities, and Thomas was well aware there were a good number of them in San Francisco, where some say true magic was born and laid heaviest in the land. OTs: Other-Than-Human, like his client Holder, who was a ghoul, an undead creature normally associated with graveyards and considered a corpse-eater.
Pat Summerall, R. I. P.
NFL broadcaster, local icon Pat Summerall dies at age 82 | Dallasnews.com - News for Dallas, Texas - SportsDayDFW: Employing a signature succinct staccato style that was brief and to the point, Pat Summerall grew into the pre-eminent network NFL voice for a generation of television viewers. Summerall has died at age 82.
He worked a record 16 Super Bowls on network television, the first five as an analyst. He worked for CBS from 1961 to 1993. He moved with the NFL from CBS to Fox in 1994. He retired after the 2002 season.
He worked a record 16 Super Bowls on network television, the first five as an analyst. He worked for CBS from 1961 to 1993. He moved with the NFL from CBS to Fox in 1994. He retired after the 2002 season.
Another View of the Adverb
I'm glad you like adverbs — I adore them; they are the only qualifications I really much respect.
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Joe Lansdale Appreciation Day . . .
. . . was yesterday, but the various blog posts are linked here.
Literature from Librarians: Great Reads Written by the Experts
Literature from Librarians: Great Reads Written by the Experts | AbeBooks' Reading Copy: This is a unique reading list – these books were all written by librarians and most of them were recommended to us by librarians. If any profession is well qualified to write books then librarians truly fit the bill.
Overlooked Movies -- Swashbuckler
Monday, April 15, 2013
PimPage: An Occasional Feature in Which I Call Attention to Books of Interest
Wolf Creek: The Taylor County War: Ford Fargo, Troy D Smith, James Reasoner, Clay More, Matthew Pizzolato, Douglas Hirt, Chuck Tyrell: Amazon.com: Kindle Store: Welcome to Wolf Creek. Here you will find many of your favorite authors, working together as Ford Fargo to weave a complex and textured series of Old West adventures like no one has ever seen. Each author writes from the perspective of his or her own unique character, blended together into a single novel.
An innocent field trip goes horribly awry when Wolf Creek’s headmaster, Marcus Sublette, and his pupils find themselves in the crossfire of a range war. Ambitious rancher Andrew Rogers will stop at nothing to eliminate his rivals and initiate his broader, nefarious plans –and he has a small army of hired guns to prove it. Can the cowboys of the T-Bar-B, and the lawmen of Wolf Creek, stand in his way, or will the prairie be soaked in blood?
You -- Austin Grossman
Russell gets the job, but soon afterward Darren leaves to set up another company, taking most of the best people with him. To keep Black Arts going, Russell, Lisa, and the others who are left will have to develop a great game. But there's a mysterious glitch. Russell travels through generations of the game trying to find it and its meaning, not to mention the meaning of his own life.
Flashbacks in the novel tell the story of the four friends as they grow up. It feels right to me, as if Grossman has really captured what it was like to be young and nerdy and brilliant in the '80s. There's a fine computer camp episode, for example.
Gamers and brilliant nerds are probably going to love this book. An old geezer like me can only sit on the sidelines and look on in wonder. And maybe learn something. Check it out.
NOMINEES for the third annual (2013) Peacemaker Awards
Western Fictioneers (WF) is pleased to announce the NOMINEES for the third annual (2013) Peacemaker Awards
** Nominees are in no particular order.
The Lifetime Achievement Peacemaker will be presented to Robert Vaughan
2013 BEST WESTERN NOVEL:
City of Rocks (Five Star Publishing — Cengage) by Michael Zimmer
Unbroke Horses (Goldminds Publishing, LLC) by D.B. Jackson
Apache Lawman (AmazonEncore) by Phil Dunlap
Wide Open (Berkley Publishing Group) by Larry Bjornson
2013 BEST WESTERN SHORT STORY:
“Christmas Comes to Freedom Hill” (Christmas Campfire Companion — Port Yonder Press) by Troy Smith
“Christmas For Evangeline” (Slay Bells and Six Guns — WF ) by C. Courtney Joyner
“Keepers of Camelot” (Slay Bells and Six Guns — WF) by Cheryl Pierson
“The Toys” (Slay Bells and Six Guns — WF) by James J. Griffin
“Adeline” (Protectors: Stories to Benefit PROTECT — Goombah Gumbo Press ) by Wayne Dundee
2013 BEST WESTERN FIRST NOVEL:
High Stakes (Musa Publishing) by Chad Strong
Wide Open (Berkley Publishing Group) by Larry Bjornson
Red Lands Outlaw, the Ballad of Henry Starr (AWOC.com Publishing) by Phil Truman
Last Stand At Bitter Creek (Western Trail Blazer) by Tom Rizzo
Sipping Whiskey in a Shallow Grave (Sunbury Press) by Mark Mitten
The 5-2 : Crime Poetry Weekly: Jerry House
You can hear Jerry House read his poem at this link, and he has a few words to say about it, too. I liked it because it made me smile about the way we watch TV, knowing that what we watch isn't real but pretending that it is. Knowing that not only is it unreal but that it's essentially pretty goofy even though it pretends to be showing us how the cops really work. And I liked the way the the ridiculous nature of the show is played up in the poem even as the narrator admits that he watched obsessively. We won't get fooled again, he says. Oh, yeah?
Jerry House
CRIMINAL FOOLISHNESS
We won't get fooled again.
That's what you told me
Over and over and over
For ten seasons.
Ten long seasons.
For ten seasons
I watched you:
Bend the law,
Twist the law,
Break the law,
All the while defecating on acceptable police procedure,
And occasionally shooting suspects we knew
(and you knew)
Were guilty.
For ten seasons
I watched your female colleagues
In low-cut, cleavage-bearing tops --
The professional attire
Of your special universe.
For ten years
I saw it all:
Speed's dead.
Marisol's dead.
Delko got it in the head
(and got it on with Calleigh).
Ryan got it in the eye.
I saw it all.
Ten seasons' worth:
Your quiet fury.
Your pissing contests --
Testosterone v. testosterone --
Mano a mano --
With the scum of the earth
(or, at least, Miami).
For ten years I knew
The scum would always lose.
Delko left and Jesse came
And Jesse left and Delko came back.
Alexx left and Tara came,
But she was no good so
It's Tom's turn at bat.
Kyle showed up,
Then went to jail,
Then went into the service --
Yeah, he was stuck
In a storyline without a purpose.
So what was the crime?
My watching?
Or, you being there
For ten long years,
Stoic, unchanging,
Always staring downward?
And now,
After ten years,
You put your sunglasses on
And glide smoothly off-camera.
And now,
At last,
I know
You can't get fooled again.
We won't get fooled again.
That's what you told me
Over and over and over
For ten seasons.
Ten long seasons.
For ten seasons
I watched you:
Bend the law,
Twist the law,
Break the law,
All the while defecating on acceptable police procedure,
And occasionally shooting suspects we knew
(and you knew)
Were guilty.
For ten seasons
I watched your female colleagues
In low-cut, cleavage-bearing tops --
The professional attire
Of your special universe.
For ten years
I saw it all:
Speed's dead.
Marisol's dead.
Delko got it in the head
(and got it on with Calleigh).
Ryan got it in the eye.
I saw it all.
Ten seasons' worth:
Your quiet fury.
Your pissing contests --
Testosterone v. testosterone --
Mano a mano --
With the scum of the earth
(or, at least, Miami).
For ten years I knew
The scum would always lose.
Delko left and Jesse came
And Jesse left and Delko came back.
Alexx left and Tara came,
But she was no good so
It's Tom's turn at bat.
Kyle showed up,
Then went to jail,
Then went into the service --
Yeah, he was stuck
In a storyline without a purpose.
So what was the crime?
My watching?
Or, you being there
For ten long years,
Stoic, unchanging,
Always staring downward?
And now,
After ten years,
You put your sunglasses on
And glide smoothly off-camera.
And now,
At last,
I know
You can't get fooled again.
Sunday, April 14, 2013
O Brave New World
THE DAILY STAR: A new “digital public library” set to launch this month aims to provide an alternative to Google for those looking for U.S. cultural information online.
Visitors will be able to view letters penned by George Washington, a copy of the Declaration of Independence in the handwriting of Thomas Jefferson, and ambrotype and daguerreotype images of Abraham Lincoln.
The Digital Public Library of America site, dp.la, will launch April 18 with more than 2 million objects – including digital renderings of photos, books, manuscripts and other items from places such as the Smithsonian Institution, along with museums, libraries and historical institutions around the country.
Visitors will be able to view letters penned by George Washington, a copy of the Declaration of Independence in the handwriting of Thomas Jefferson, and ambrotype and daguerreotype images of Abraham Lincoln.
The Digital Public Library of America site, dp.la, will launch April 18 with more than 2 million objects – including digital renderings of photos, books, manuscripts and other items from places such as the Smithsonian Institution, along with museums, libraries and historical institutions around the country.
Redemption: Trackdown -- James Reasoner
While the posse is hunting the outlaws, Bill's deputy, Mordecai, is dealing with a serious problem in the town: spousal abuse. It's interesting to see how the people in old west reacted to this crime. Since the families of two of the town's most powerful men are involved, the situation becomes tricky and dangerous.
Eden Harvey is in a perilous situation, and it's not just because she's been kidnapped. The gang leader has a very jealous female companion who's just looking for an excuse to kill Eden. Any little excuse will do.
Reasoner intercuts all these story lines for maximum suspense, and brings it all home with two big confrontations at the novel's close. It's another expert job, so check it out.
Nick Pollotta, R. I. P.
SF Site News: Author Nick Pollotta (b.1954) died on April 13. Pollotta has recently been diagnosed with cancer. Pollotta’s novels included Bureau 13, Illegal Aliens, and That Darn Squid God, as well as numerous other humorous novels. In addition, he wrote adventure novels under the house names James Axler and Don Pendleton. His “Satellite Night” series was written under the name Jack Hopkins.
The Rap Sheet: You Can’t Win If You Don’t Play
The Rap Sheet: You Can’t Win If You Don’t Play: As announced earlier in the week, The Rap Sheet is holding a simple competition to give away four free copies of Linda Barnes’ new standalone novel, The Perfect Ghost (Minotaur).
Free for Kindle for a Limited Time
MAKING STORY: TWENTY-ONE WRITERS ON HOW THEY PLOT (TWENTY-ONE WRITERS #1) (THE TWENTY-ONE WRITERS PROJECT): Bill Crider, Meredith Cole, Jeremy Duns, Brett Battles, Cara Black, Lisa Brackmann, Rachel Brady, Rebecca Cantrell, Jeffrey Cohen, Timothy Hallinan: Amazon.com: Kindle Store: It's often said that everyone has a book inside him or her -- but how do you plot it? In MAKING STORY, edited by the Edgar- and Macavity-nominated author Timothy Hallinan, twenty-one novelists--who have written more than 100 books among them and sold hundreds of thousands of copies--talk about how they go about turning an idea into a plot, and a plot into a book. MAKING STORY offers practical, experience-based advice from people who have repeatedly sat down to write a good book and succeeded in doing just that. The writers who will help you to create your story are Michael Stanley, Kelli Stanley, Yrsa Sigurdardottir, Jeffrey Siger, Zoe Sharp, Stephen Jay Schwartz, Mike Orenduff, Debbi Mack, Wendy Hornsby, Gar Anthony Haywood, Timothy Hallinan, Leighton Gage, Jeremy Duns, Bill Crider, Meredith Cole, Jeffrey Cohen, Rebecca Cantrell, Rachel Brady, Lisa Brackmann, Cara Black, and Brett Battles. This is an indispensable book for aspiring authors and the first in a series, each focusing on a different writing challenge.
For Those of you Who Have Been Wondering . . .
. . . about the thin mints melee, like Art Scott, let my tell you how it all began. Back on February 21, 2011, I saw this article about the original thin mints melee. I liked the phrase so much that I couldn't resist using it again. And again. And, well, you know. Since I can never let go of a good phrase, I'll probably use it several more times. Don't say I didn't warn you.
Here's the Plot for Your Next SF Thriller
Life on Earth… but not as we know it: Never mind aliens in outer space. Some scientists believe we may be sharing the planet with 'weird' lifeforms that are so different from our own they're invisible to us
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