Val Muller

Spot Writers: Not With My Teeth, You Don’t!

October 17, 2013 Val No comments

Welcome to the Spot Writers. This week the key word is “teeth.”

Today’s contribution comes from Cathy MacKenzie. She is currently working on a short e-book, Creepy Crazy Christmas, Volume 2. (More stories of the weird and wacky Grimes Family; publication date in November.) For now, check out her most recent book of 18 short stories, Between These Pages. Only $2.99 for the e-book. Available on Amazon and Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/329083 and http://www.amazon.com/Between-These-Pages-ebook/dp/B00DP3RDOA/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1372780978&sr=1-1&keywords=Between+These+Pages

Next week’s post will come from Deborah Dera, who traditionally ghostwrites articles and web content and is currently mentoring other freelancers. She hopes to put together her first eBook for publication in early 2014.

Not With My Teeth You Don’t!

Rita stood before a mirror and stared at the foreign face leering back at her.

Who are you? I don’t know you. Do you know me? “I didn’t think so,” she muttered.

She combed her fingers through her sparse hair, wanting to pull out every limp strand. She might as well be totally bald, since there wasn’t much hair left. A shiny, hairless head would be the perfect complement to a toothless grin.

After waving goodbye to the image in the mirror, she grabbed her purse and headed to the dental school, where she’d have to pay only a token amount for dental work. Students at the local college clamored for guinea pigs. She had seen the ad on the soup kitchen bulletin board and had attended for a consultation just the previous week.

“You need all your teeth pulled,” the student had told her. “You have gum disease and there’s no saving your teeth. They’ll soon cause you untold grief. Better to get rid of them now, while the services here are free. Administration will be raising prices next semester, which will make our fees almost as high as the dentists.”

Rita had hesitantly agreed. She didn’t have extra money to fritter away on dental work, not on her meagre government pension.

While sitting alone in the waiting room awaiting her appointment, she pondered her unfortunate fate. She may have bad teeth and thinning hair, but her hearing was intact. She knew that, because she had attended at the audiology clinic the day previous, when they offered hearing tests for seniors. She only went because the test was free, not because thought she had a problem. Besides, it gave her something to do and someone to converse with. Of course, the audiologist had an ulterior motive to sell hearing aids, whether a patient needed one or not, but that stunt wouldn’t succeed on Rita, although they had tried. She had been told she was hard of hearing—almost deaf in her left ear—but she knew all that to be hogwash. Her left ear was her phone ear, and she could hear perfectly. She didn’t have any friends, so she often telephoned businesses and listened to their recordings for hours. To prolong the experience, she’d punch in this extension or that extension, not that prolonging the calls were hard feats, since it was almost impossible to reach a live human on the telephone nowadays and, if one were successful, one had to attempt to converse with a foreigner from India or China or another such place. No, her hearing was perfectly fine. The world strived to take advantage of seniors.

She watched the young woman behind the desk and, when the phone rang, decided to eavesdrop, if nothing else to prove she wasn’t yet ready to kick the bucket. Despite the receptionist keeping her voice low, as if purposely concealing her words, Rita couldn’t help but overhear snippets of the conversation.

“Don’t worry…told you I’d get them…one patient here now…at least twenty-four…they may be rotten…nothing a bit of white paint won’t fix…Miranda’s tooth fairy…tonight for sure…yes…

Positive her teeth were as flawless as her hearing, Rita didn’t need to hear any more. Heck, she couldn’t remember the last time she had had trouble with her teeth. She had only gone to the dental consultation because it was free and she wanted someone to talk to.

No, siree, no one’s going to pull my teeth needlessly. “Never underestimate the hearing of a senior,” she muttered. She let the door slam behind her.

***

The Spot Writers- our members:

RC Bonitz
http://www.rcbonitz.com

Val Muller
https://valmuller.com/blog

Catherine A. MacKenzie
http://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Deborah Dera
http://www.deborahdera.com

flash fiction none

Name That Cat

October 15, 2013 Val No comments

While I planned to write Corgi Capers 3 over the summer, a fortunate influx of writing projects (Forging Freedom anthology and some other exciting forthcoming projects I’ve written or edited) has put me behind schedule. Looking at my upcoming schedule, it looks like I’ll be writing Corgi Capers 3 in December and January. That’s good news for readers!

My “Name that Cat!” contest has thus been extended into the winter.

I’m offering the chance for two readers to name a character in the next book in the series. To enter, take the quiz below, which is based on events in the Corgi Capers series. The two readers earning the highest score will win! In the case of a tie, I will conduct a random drawing of those with the highest score.

Winners will get to name and describe a character from the upcoming Corgi Capers 3. Each winner will also receive an autographed copy of the book when it is released.

Halloween-themed Corgi Capers 2, now just $2.99 for Kindle (also available in paperback)

The first character is a feline. One winner of this contest gets to describe and name the feline character in Corgi Capers 3. While we’re talking cats, check out this free short story about the corgis and their discovery of a neighborhood kitty!

The second character is Adam’s friend at the firehouse, where he volunteers. This can be a male or a female but should be close to Adam’s age (anywhere from 8 – 14 years old would be appropriate).

That’s right–two winners will get to choose the name and description of a feline or human character that will be featured in the upcoming Corgi Capers 3. Winners will receive an acknowledgement in the book as well as an autographed copy (for US addresses only; International winners will receive an electronic copy). The book is meant for children ages 7 – 12, so final approval of names and descriptions will rest with the author and publisher. (Names or descriptions that are incendiary, suggestive, or allude to people or characters of ill repute, or under copyright or other restrictions, or that are likely to create other problems, will be rejected, and winner may choose an alternate name and/or description). Contest is open to entrants 18 years of age and older. Children under 18 wanting to enter the contest must have a parent/guardian enter for them.

Use the link below to answer the 9-question quiz. If you’re stuck, you can find the answers in Corgi Capers (or likely by poking around http://www.CorgiCapers.com!)

Ready to Name the Characters? Take the quiz here, and be sure to enter your email and character names in the last question! Good luck!

contest, corgis, dog, Halloween, holiday, inspiration, writing none

Book Review: Three Sisters by Helen Smith

October 14, 2013 Val No comments

Continuing my review of spooky books for September and October, I’ve reviewed a quirky and spooky–yet humorous–mystery. The first in the Emily Castle mystery series, this short novel follows twenty-six-year old Londoner Emily Castle to a strange party. Emily is grieving for her late dog, and the party thrown by a neighbor is her first attempt to begin her new life sans dog. The book is quirky and fun and a fast read. At the party, Emily witnesses a duo, sisters, performing a knife trick. One of the sisters looks like she dies on stage, and the crowd goes crazy with police arriving at the scene. But then the sister miraculously seems recovered… though Emily swears she saw her die.

Emily is thus left with a crime to solve—except no body to prove the crime even happened. Along her way to solving the mystery, she meets all sorts of eccentric characters. The party takes on the feeling of a circus mixed with a close-knit neighborhood mixed with a big city. It’s an interesting read, and it made me want to keep reading until the end. Speaking of the end, although the crime is solved, the book opens with lots of possibilities for sequels.

Though there are references to adult content, none of it is shown explicitly, so this would be an appropriate book even for young, young adults. I look forward to reading the next books in the series.

book reviews none

Spot Writers: Filling

October 10, 2013 Val 2 comments

Today’s Halloween-inspired tale comes from Val Muller, author of the Corgi Capers mystery series. If you like spooky tales, check out her horror novel (for grown-ups), Faulkner’s Apprentice, also available as an ebook for just $2.99. Her short horror story also appears in the just-released anthology Scared Spitless, available in ebook.

Filling

Elenora Trantridge sat on the vinyl bench in Dr. Ferrier’s waiting room. She jiggled her knee and bit her lip, trying not to remember her last trip to the dentist. She’d needed three cavities filled, and the Novocain coupled with the grinding pressure of the drill had left her pale. She’d wavered as she tried to stand from the dentist’s chair that last time.

“Don’t rush it,” Dr. Ferrier had told her. “It’s a strange experience, having a tooth drilled. Just lie back and wait until the blood returns. You’ll be feeling better in no time.”

She wasn’t feeling better in no time, but she did manage to pull herself out of the seat and hobble down to the reception area, wiping drool from her the numbed right side of her mouth. That’s when the receptionist reminded her that Dr. Ferrier needed to see again to fill the three cavities on the left side of her mouth.

“Aw-right,” she said, mumbling over numbed lips. “I’ll come by nexth week. Give me the lathest appointment you’ve goth.”

The latest appointment was today, October Thirty-First, at 6 p.m. Dr. Ferrier always stayed late on Wednesdays. Elenora glanced outside. The large picture window of the waiting room revealed the coming storm, which brought twilight earlier than usual. People were already crowding into the outdoor shopping center for the Halloween festivities. In fact, her group of friends had reserved several tables at the Italian eatery just down the block. Elenora grabbed a three-month old copy of US Weekly and pulled it up over her face, hoping that if her friends did arrive, they wouldn’t look in and see her.

“Elenora?” called the young receptionist.

Elenora peeked over the magazine and swallowed hard. It was a major embarrassment for someone of her stature to have to see a dentist so frequently like this. What would her friends say? She hurried down the hallway into the exam room, glancing behind her to make sure no one she knew was looking through the window. But what could they expect? It wasn’t like her diet was calcium-rich, and she was too embarrassed to admit to them that she used the calcium paste the dentist prescribed—every night.

Still, the paste wasn’t enough to prevent these three cavities.

“Teeth just get worn out as they get old,” Dr. Ferrier reminded her as he waited for her to lean back in the dentist chair. “Now you remember the injections from last week. It will only hurt a pinch…”

He brushed some topical anesthetic onto her gums, and she shuddered, knowing it wouldn’t be enough to hide all the pain. She waited for it to take effect and listened to the people in the next room. A mother and her two sons—one speaking through a series of dental instruments—discussed plans for Halloween at the shopping center. All the stores were sponsoring trick-or-treaters that year. The younger boy would go as a ghost. The older one, a vampire.

As the doctor jabbed Elenora’s gums with the Novocain needle, she wondered if the tiny, cool prick felt the same way as a vampire’s tooth piercing the neck. As the numbing medication pumped through her veins, she watched Dr. Ferrier’s neck and wondered what he would look like being pierced by a vampire’s fang.

The image made the rest of the afternoon more bearable.

For the next hour, Elenora tolerated the shrieking drill, the grinding pressure, the violent chipping away of the compound pressed into the large hole taken out of her teeth. She tolerated the way the drill pressed just close enough to the root to create the slight cool sensation of pain, just for long enough to create a panic.

No matter how old she got, Elenora would never get used to such things.

“This last cavity is between two teeth,” Dr. Ferrier stated. “I’m going to stick this wedge in between your teeth to protect the gums.”

His assistant handed him a small implement, which he wedged into Elenora’s mouth with a force that resonated through her skull.

“Dang!” he said, pulling back his gloved hand. “I snagged it.”

He covered his bleeding finger in gauze, and the assistant left the room to secure first aid supplies, but it was already too late.

A drop of blood from his cut had dripped onto Elenora’s tooth. It fell onto her gums and mingled with her saliva before it could be whisked away by the vacuum with the rest of her spit. She tasted it almost immediately. The saltiness was distinct—much different from any other tastes of the dentist’s office.

Her eyes opened in rage, and she sat up, ripping the vacuum and gauze from her mouth. “This last cavity can wait,” she said.

The doctor, still in shock from his injury, watched her as she rose. Soon she was standing above him, pushing away the hanging light and the tray of implements. And then she was grabbing him by the shoulders with inhuman strength.

“I’m sorry, Miss—”

But she would hear no excuses. His bleeding hand was pulsing, the blood-scent permeating the room, making her salivate even through the Novocain. She lifted him from his chair, and he dropped the bloody gauze. She wanted to lick his bleeding finger with every cell of her tongue, but she forced herself to hold back. That would have been undignified, after all. What would the others say, if they heard?

And they would hear.

Instead, she lifted him from his seat and placed him supinely in the patient’s chair on which she had just been prone. “If you’ll just relax,” she said. “It’ll go much easier.”

She ripped off his face mask and tore back his white lab coat. His neck was pulsing now, the fear and adrenaline caused by her actions making the blood course quickly. Then she smiled and popped her pointed incisor. The left side was too numb, and the tooth would not budge. No matter. She could accomplish it with just the right side.

She brought her finger to her lips, dabbing a sticky bit of saliva, which she rubbed onto the doctor’s neck.

“It’s a sort of natural topical anesthetic,” she explained. “It works much more quickly than yours. Still, you’re going to feel a little pinch.”

Her fang sparkled in the light before plunging into the dentist’s flesh. The ordeal of the afternoon had left her quite famished, and she drank greedily, ultimately having to stop herself before she was completely satiated. She couldn’t kill the guy, after all.

She was feeling much less woozy than the last time she was here, and she glanced at the clock, noting that her friends would probably be at the eatery by now. “I’ve got to go,” she said. “Maybe we can schedule a follow-up, though. I rather enjoyed this. And, Dr. Ferrier, I think my teeth are in pretty good shape, considering they’re over three hundred years old.”

She looked down at the man lying limply on the chair. He looked up at her with glazed, horrified eyes, his mouth hanging open, and his chest rising and falling as if taking breath required all his concentration.

“Don’t rush it,” she told Dr. Ferrier. His skin had drained to a pale blue, making his eyes look bleachy white. She took a paper bib from the counter and wiped a puddle of drool from his right cheek. “It’s a strange experience, being drank. Just lie back and wait until the blood returns.” She licked the last of it off her lips and her pointed incisor before retracting it back into her jaw. “You’ll be feeling better in no time,” she said. Then she flashed him a smile and smoothed her hair in preparation for joining the Halloween festivities with the rest of her coven at the restaurant down the street.

The Spot Writers- our members:

RC Bonitz
http://www.rcbonitz.com

Val Muller
https://valmuller.com/blog

Catherine A. MacKenzie
http://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Deborah Dera
http://www.deborahdera.com

flash fiction, Halloween, horror, inspiration none

Spot Writers: The Veteran

October 3, 2013 Val No comments

Welcome to the Spot Writers. This week the key word is teeth

Today’s contribution comes from RC Bonitz, author of A LITTLE BIT OF BLACKMAIL, A LITTLE BIT OF BABY, and A BLANKET FOR HER HEART.

Next week’s story will be by Val Muller, author of FOR WHOM MY HEART BEATS ETERNAL, a sci-fi romance, and CORGI CAPERS: DECEIT ON DORSET DRIVE, a mystery novel for young readers.

The Veteran

He stepped from the shower and began to towel off. After months in the caves and mountains of Afghanistan he could soak in a nice hot shower for a week at a time. But, there was a picnic to go to, people to meet, hands to shake. Ben Hardin was an electrical contractor with a good reputation, just the kind of guy he needed going forward. He wasn’t much for buttering up people, but what the hell, when a man dropped an invitation in his lap might as well make the most of it. He had to get used to this networking stuff if he was going to make it in civilian life.

He chose a pair of jeans and a regular sport shirt and got dressed. Civies were a new thing for him after ten years in the army. This was a business event but a picnic too, so no shorts or dress slacks for the day. H e hoped.

If only Mike and Scott were going to be there. Brothers they were after the war, guys whose minds he could read at the drop of a hat. He smiled. Great guys, he was lucky they kept in touch after they got out. Scott lived on the West coast now, so that took a little doing, but Mike had an apartment right here in town which made things easy.

He finished dressing and combed his hair. The photo on the dresser caught his eye as it always did. Margaret. Before.

“I’ll find him,,” he whispered, as he did every time he glanced at her. The cops hadn’t come up with a thing and neither had he, but he would not stop hunting her killer. Every suspicious character, every possible lead, drew his attention, but so far he had zilch to show for the effort. Mike told him to move on, find another woman and get married. He didn’t understand.

He could do that, get married, but he would never stop hunting, and his wife would have to accept that. He smiled again. The right woman just hadn’t come along though. Marge was a tough act to follow.

The phone rang. He checked caller ID and gritted his teeth. Talk about not being the right woman. He picked up the phone.

The Spot Writers- our members.

Catherine A. MacKenzie

http://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

RC Bonitz

http://www.rcbonitz.com

Val Muller

https://valmuller.com/blog/

flash fiction none

Book Review: Cabal by Clive Barker

September 30, 2013 Val 4 comments

Comprised of the novel Cabal, as well as four (long) short stories, this horror novel is typical Clive Barker, and you must enjoy horror to read this book. With his descriptions, little is left to the imagination, and this is definitely for the 18-and-over crowd. This story is violent and depraved from the very start. Boone, our protagonist, is seeing his psychiatrist, Decker, discussing a series of serial murders Boone committed but cannot remember. We learn early on that Boone is innocent; Decker is the serial killer and has been using his influence as Boone’s doctor to convince Boone that he is lucky.

One thing leads to another, and Boone ends up in Midian, the location of Necropolis inhabited by the Nightbreed, a strange community of ghost-vampire-shapeshifter beings that make Boone one of their own.

Much of the story was told through the point of view of Lori. While Boone was alive, she was his girlfriend, and she is so devoted (despite Boone’s inability to fully give himself to the relationship while alive) that she follows Boone to Midian, willing to give her life to be with him forever.

What I enjoyed about the story is how the characters all seem shaded by death (remember that I enjoy horror novels). They are all torn and tormented by something or another. Lori and Boone, unable to fully consummate their relationship while alive, find completion after Boone joins the Nightbreed. Decker, the serial killer, takes great pleasure out of his deeds, but he does so in obedience to the Mask, the disguise he wears while killing. I almost felt sorry for him, as his killing sprees seemed to be beyond his control. (Note I said “almost”—the guy is still a serial killer!).

The book does have graphic scenes, describing the residents of Midian, gruesome murders, and sex, so it’s not for the faint of heart. The four (long) short stories in the book continue the theme of death, with most characters being tormented and torn as in the novel. Most of all, I enjoyed Barker’s language. There was one line that stood out to me—we’re in the serial killer’s point of view, and the phrase used to describe the wound he imposes on his victim is the wound “he fathered,” capturing at once a fatherly sense of pride at the horrendous act, the feeling of power connoted by being a father over someone, and also a slight sexual rise, as the act is compared almost to rape—the forceful taking of her life. Yes, it’s a gruesome topic, but a good piece of writing will evoke a reaction, and this one certainly did.

book reviews none

Spot Writers: The Fire

September 26, 2013 Val No comments

Welcome to the Spot Writers. The prompt for the writers this month is to use three of the following words: tub, motorcycle, papers, or hard.

This weeks’ post comes from Deborah Dera. Deborah traditionally ghostwrites articles and web content and is currently mentoring other freelancers. She hopes to put together her first eBook for publication in early 2014.

Next week’s chapter will come from RC Bonitz, author of A LITTLE BIT OF BLACKMAIL, A LITTLE BIT OF BABY, and A BLANKET FOR HER HEART.

* * *

The Fire

“What the hell did you do to your hair? You know I don’t like it when you cut your hair so short. You never listen to me.”

I’m not a huge fan of you these days, I thought, but I keep my mouth shut.

“I’m sorry. Ok. I’ll let it grow out.”

I passed the hall mirror and glanced at my reflection on my way into the kitchen. My hair fell just to my shoulders. Granted, it was a good 14 inches shorter than it was that morning, but it wasn’t that short.

I felt him coming up from behind as I entered the kitchen. I moved right to the freezer and started looking for something for dinner.

“Besides, you spent so much time at the salon you were late coming home. We usually eat dinner at 5:30. It’s almost 6 now. By the time you’re done f’ing around out here, we won’t eat until 7. Can’t you plan anything out right?”

I contemplated ignoring him, but that doesn’t generally work out very well.

“I’m sorry. I said I’m sorry.”

I turned to put the meat on the counter and he pushed me out of his way so he could grab a beer from the fridge. I glanced past him at the open door, where he kept his beer so it would be accessible. There were 7 there this morning. There were 2 left. He was on number 5. Great.

“You’re always sorry. Just make me something to eat so I can get the hell outta here. I’m going down to the station to play cards with the guys tonight. Don’t bother waiting up.”

I turned in time to watch him stomp from the room. He settled into his recliner and was immediately absorbed by the crime drama on the TV. He glanced and caught me looking at him. “What’s wrong with you! Get moving!”

“I’m working on it. Just a few minutes. I have to go out to the garage to grab some potatoes.”

The garage door was right off the kitchen. I kept the onions and potatoes out there, in bags on the shelves. They lasted longer that way. I’m not sure why I cared so much.

I stopped on the landing and went down the stairs into the garage. Suddenly weary, I sat on the bottom step and look around. The two-car garage held his car and his motorcycle. I had to park my car in the alley behind the house. The garage was the cleanest part of the house – the only place he’d keep tidy because of his babies. His stupid car. His stupid bike. The newspapers were tied in neat bundles in the corner. The tub of greasy rags was under the workbench.

Hearing his voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I grabbed an onion and some potatoes and moved back into the house. He was yelling from the living room. I didn’t have to hear what he wanted. I grabbed #6 from the fridge and headed towards him. “Hurry the hell up with dinner. What’s taking you so long?”

I hurried back into the kitchen. I imagined his face as I used a fork to stab holes in the potatoes. I imagined his face as I sliced the onions. I felt the bruise under my rib from when I “slipped” down the stairs earlier in the week.

I glanced back at the living room, where my darling husband was fast asleep.

Perfect.

I took the reheated ham out of the oven, smothered his slices with onion, dressed the potato, and covered the plate. I set his place setting at the table.

Moving quietly, I opened the drawer next to the sink and took out a pad and paper. Running to the grocery store. Didn’t want to wake you. Back in 20 minutes. Love you! I grimaced just a little bit as I propped the notepad up against the plate.

His jacket was hanging over the back of his kitchen chair. I rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a cigarette and a pack of matches before grabbing my purse and keys and moving back into the garage, pulling the door kitchen door quietly behind me. I wanted him to stop smoking, but he wouldn’t listen.

Move quickly, I told myself. I opened the back garage door so I could make a quick exit to my car in the alley. I pushed the pile of paper and the bucket of rags, moving them to the workbench closest to the hood of his car, making sure they were touching. I grimaced at the cigarette in my hand and struggled with the matches.

Standing by the open door, I flicked the cigarette towards the bucket of rags and watch the embers arch through the air, landing solidly in the bucket of dirty, greasy rags. Without another thought, I turned on my heel and left the garage.

It only took me 25 minutes to get to the grocery store and back. I had gone to get some ice cream for dessert and some coffee for the morning mug. That’s what I told the police later on, after the fire was out. The entire garage was gone – the motorcycle, the car. There was some significant damage to the rest of the house, but it was salvageable. My husband, the firemen said, never felt a thing. His official cause of death was smoke inhalation, and they figure he must’ve tossed his cigarette the wrong way before grabbing his last beer and passing out on the couch again.

Go figure.

* * *

The Spot Writers – our members:

RC Bonitz

http://www.rcbonitz.com

Val Muller

https://valmuller.com/blog

Catherine A. MacKenzie

http://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter

Deborah Dera

http://www.deborahdera.com

Uncategorized none

Freedom Is My “Thing”

September 22, 2013 Val No comments

I apologize if I’ve shied away from social media lately. I have been working on a few editing projects lately—ones I am quite proud of. The first I’ve mentioned here. It’s an anthology that’s been over a year in the making—Freedom Forge Press’s Forging Freedom Anthology. You can read all about it here.

In short, it’s an anthology featuring thirty-five stories from around the globe—fiction and nonfiction featuring freedoms lost, sought, found, and won. I’m proud that the press even earned a review from Michelle Malkin, who urges readers to “share these stories.”

And she’s right. Freedom is what makes humans, human.

It got me thinking. You may have noticed that most writers have a “thing.” A theme or a type of character, something common running through all or most of their work. Once you “crack” their style, you sort of know what to expect from their future works. I’ve been thinking about branding myself as an author—as of now I’ve dabbled in middle-grade corgi fiction, adult horror, light sci-fi and time travel, young adult, and more. I enjoy writing all of it, and I haven’t been too serious about finding an agent yet. But the more I write, the more I realize something. The stories I’m most passionate about contain my “thing.” It’s the “thing” I’ve been trying to capture since I first started writing (my stories were horrible, but the themes were there). My “thing”—the element of my stories that makes my characters tick—is the struggle to regain freedom that is lost or dwindling.

In For Whom My Heart Beats Eternal, my time-travel collection, humans are contradicting the rules of time to find true freedom to be with someone a generation away. In Faulkner’s Apprentice, protagonist Lorelei is fighting a situation that has locked her to a predetermined fate—and her undying spirit to fight that is what drives her through the story. Many of my short stories feature protagonists up against oppressive bad guys or oppressive societies. Even in Corgi Capers, Adam Hollinger refuses to accept the things adults tell him without investigating them on his own—often proving the adults wrong. My upcoming young adult novel features a protagonist who refuses to give in to social pressures despite an impossible situation, staying true to what makes her unique and valiant.

So as I continue to consider branding myself as an author and begin seeking an agent, I’ll continue contemplating that theme—freedom, my “thing”—and consider the proper genre and age range to communicate my ideas to the world.

In the meantime, I’m working on another editing project, a novel by new author David Bagwell, which is soon-to-be-released by Freedom Forge Press. More on that in a future post.

Until then, stay free!

inspiration agent, editing, freedom, writing

Spot Writers: Free

September 19, 2013 Val No comments

Welcome to the Spot Writers. The prompt for the writers this month is to use three of the following words: tub, motorcycle, papers, or hard. This week’s posting—a poem—comes to us from Cathy MacKenzie. Her newest book, “Between These Pages,” a compilation of 18 short stories, is available on Smashwords and Amazon for $2.99:

Free

He dons a helmet for the fun

On a glorious day of spring,

Peering through the sun

He heeds nature’s eager ring.

Across the long stretch he goes,

Over the hills, up and down,

The wind fans his clothes

Like a ghostly flowing gown.

Wheels roar off the ground,

Handlebars high and strong,

Motor revs its mighty sound

Not unlike a hearty song.

Motorcycle zooms into air,

A mighty machine hard and free,

Sitting upon a monster-like chair

He sails toward a heavenly spree.

Breath swallowed, then lost,

Fragile like papers burnt to ash,

His strong lithe body tossed

High and away in the crash.

Light beams from a daytime star

And scatters shadows in the mist,

Angels caress earth’s new scar,

God watches while he’s kissed.

Strong and stately by the tree

Colourful wildflowers grow,

A slumbrous soul roams free

Within gentle breezes that blow.

(RIP –TAD)

The Spot Writers- our members:

RC Bonitz
http://www.rcbonitz.com

Val Muller
https://valmuller.com/blog

Catherine A. MacKenzie
http://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Deborah Dera
http://www.deborahdera.com

flash fiction none

Book Review: Secret of Haunted Bog by BBH McChiller

September 16, 2013 Val No comments

This book is the second in the Monster Moon series written by BBH McChiller, which is the pen name of a team of three authors (Lynn Kelley, Kathryn Sant, and Maria Toth). The book follows the adventures of a twelve-year-old named AJ. He and his friends, Freddy and Emily, travel to Chinatown with his aunt. While she is at her acupuncture appointment, the three get into trouble when they wander into a bog. Turns out, the bog is haunted as well as harboring a mysterious girl named Mei, whose face has been plastered around town on “missing persons” posters. There are also mysterious noises and creatures in the bog, including two-headed frogs and something that appears to be a giant monster. While in the bog, the three also break out in a mysterious rash.

The book is a mystery, so I won’t reveal too much. On the way back from acupuncture, AJ’s aunt hurts her ankle, so she must spend the night in the hospital. As a result, the kids are able to sneak around in the bog for a while. The book is perfect for kids who like creepy reads. There’s enough “boyishness” to attract male readers, but there are also two strong female characters as well, appealing to female readers. It’s reminiscent of the types of stories one might read in the Goosebumps series. I especially enjoyed the use of kid-friendly imagery—very effective. I would have loved this series when I was a kid, as I’ve always been partial to slightly creepy stories.

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Val Muller

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Book Review: Secret of Haunted Bog by BBH McChiller