Smoking was not allowed in the dimly lit arcade but the scent of marijuana was strong, carried in by its users, the odor clinging to the clothes, mixing with body sweat, cheap perfume, after shave, and competitive fear emanating from the players’ pores. Curse words, groans, grunts, and the constant electronic sounds spewed forth from the machines…the roaring motors of race cars, bomb bursts, gun battles, beeps, and harsh monotonic whirs of games gone tilt from constant pounding and use. The big warehouse-like building held them all – the common and now highly sophisticated pinball machines, war battle machines for single or double play with hand-held remotes, car racing machines, more complicated and different versions of Pac-Man… All were there.

The big room was crowded with teenagers and adults, male and female. For me it was rather fascinating to see this different culture, this rapt attention to machines. My bored editor felt a good public interest piece could be garnered from my visit to ‘Tilt’, a relatively new enterprise begun just a month prior by two Chinese investors… The only reason for my editor’s interest, he had passed the ‘Tilt’ on the way to his bank and saw so many people and their cars filling up the parking lot – he had not known that arcades still possessed such drawing power.

Walking among the crowd I got jostled several times by the over-exuberant players, not even mindful that they had touched me…so rapt was their self-involvement. The noise was not so shatteringly loud. It was just pesky, like the steady hum of a bunch of houseflies. I found it fascinating, the taut serious faces of the crowd lost in the moments of conquest, fighting these mechanical bulks of electronic imagery.

Paused behind a large teenager, his face covered with acne and perspiration, his arms and hands frantically moving the hand-held objects to stay some ultimate course and reach a high-scoring goal, a flying elbow came at me, caught me flush on the temple, and I went down, confused and stunned by the sudden swirling of the room. I tried to get up, but my body swayed and the entire area around me began to sway and rattle madly. Bolts and metals parts came flying dangerously close by me. I closed my eyes, shook my head, sure that I must be hallucinating. When I opened again my eyes, the scene was worse.

The machines became shadowy floating objects of different colors, blue, green, red, yellow, and I was ducking out of their way as they went by me. Then I saw the floor ahead of me coming apart, ripping, becoming a gaping one-foot aperture, getting wider as it came toward me. The crowd began screaming. The machines became a cacophonous roar, their bright colors disappearing in dissonant swoons all around me.

I reached for a shiny metal wall rail which seemed unaltered by the clamor. There I clung, both hands grasping tightly the round metal, while bodies and the machines were sucked downward into the jagged fissure. I screamed but could not hear my voice. A blond lady who resembled my wife came flailing toward me, her face fixed in disbelief and horror, her hands reaching out to me for help. But I could not let go of the rail.

Then came the turbulent wind! Now I could see grotesque images of men and women, their hair seemingly drawn straight out from their scalps to become part of the landscape of terror. My body was rigid there on the rail and unaccountably not in discomfort. As my mind registered that thought the world went black and deathly silent…

The grayness slowly spread itself into light, hazy at first but growing into a purity of brightness. The brightness came with forms and sounds…beeping sounds and voices with echoic effects. My mind was initially reluctant to accept possibilities of this current reality, but slowly it made its way to a conclusion, just as the purity of brightness gained contour and completeness.

It was a hospital room, my mind suggested, not a heaven nor a hell nor an alien planet. Now from the echoic voices came the solid enunciations of some recognition. Was my wife in the room, noticing my stirring, speaking to a doctor, a nurse, to whom? I found no language clarity in the seemingly faraway words. Then, a spasm within my head made void all sound and I was being absorbed by some pleasant paralysis.

Then, the moment passed, and, again, came the clamor and din, the colors, the machines, the vortex from hell, and my body would not move to avoid once more the blackness that came to engulf me. Just before the blackness a thought came, prosaic in its numbness… Was this the end of days of which I had heard so much?

Flash Fiction by Billy Ray Chitwood

NOTE: My 12th book was just published. It was inspired by some personal experiences and some actual events in Mexico. It is set along the Sea of Cortez in a small fishing village and has kidnapping, murder, mystery, suspense, and intrigue. It has 5-Star Reviews, and I hope you enjoy the read.

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http://www.goo.gl/d1fSnc (Amazpon US)

http://www.goo.gl/U3pZtP (Amazon UK)

http://authl.it/1r2 (Amazon Worldwide)



http://twitter.com/brchitwood (@brchitwood)



http://linkedin.com (billyraychitwood)


Our Crazy Wonderful World

download (7)-R.Williams

Our Crazy Wonderful World

Do you ever idly surf youtube.com, listen and watch the musical and singing talent that appears on the various global ‘got talent’ and ‘X-Factor’ shows? I spent a morning doing just that and felt some strong emotional stirrings bringing tears to the brim.

Musicians and singers as young as nine years old, some as wide as a small VW, female, male, all colors, shapes, and sizes, came on stage giving the judges preconceived negative notions as to their talents. When the unique and wonderful quality of their instruments and/or voices reached those doubtful ears of the judges and the audiences, eyes opened saucer-like, faces altered, and mouths were momentarily locked in a community gape of jaws.

The cameras focused on the stunned people as they slowly began to utter their words of OMG and disbelief, stood in unison to applaud and roar approval. Tears came to many eyes on the judges’ stand and in the large auditorium.

“Unbelievable!” said the judges. “This is incredible!” said the judges. “Amazing!” On and on the praise was delivered to the thrilled singers, most of whom cast their lovely humility and thanks.

My morning idling led me to search my heart, mind, and soul for appropriate digestion of what I saw…being a hopeless romantic and aging seeker of metaphysical truth. The best I can offer is this:

I saw the ‘beauty and the beast’ that abides in all of us…

A long-haired, obese and scraggly young male appears on stage with a young and pretty female. The male is shy and barely audible as he answers the questions of the judges. The petite female is more casual and open in her responses. There is a palpable awkwardness felt all the way into my great room television. Then, magically, there comes the beautifully booming operatic voice of the obese male and the accompanying female’s harmonious notes of unity, a tour de force with everyone standing and applauding.

I saw a young girl, Melissa Venema and her trumpet join the official orchestra of Holland and Andre Rieu to play magnificently ll Silenzio, a version of Taps.

I saw a handsome fourteen-year old lad from Australia sit on a stool with his guitar and bring the tears to all assembled with a voice so vibrant and clear, singing songs he himself wrote.

I saw nine-year old Amira Willighagen sing O Mio Babbino Caro with Andre Rieu’s orchestra, with outstanding beauty and clarity.

As I spent most of my morning surfing these venues on YouTube it came to me that our world is rich in beauty and talent, regardless the skins and structures our DNA dictate, regardless ages. The big question I asked myself in listening to the music of the varied many, why did it evoke tears? Were the tears a natural protocol of the aging masses? Tears of joy for the performing youth? Tears of sadness that these joyous sounds had only this momentary passage in my life already lived? Tears of remembrance for beloved comedians who made people laugh with their pieces of genius?

The only answer which satisfied me was that my soul recognized some eternal message of the ages – Love conquers the beast (the evil) that hides in all of us. The caveat that followed? It seems so much of the world in its misery cannot accept the beauty that surrounds it, and the soul cries in torment. Are the tears but another way in which God tries to reach us, to tell us that there in eternity we will find the beauty found in some idle morning of surfing?

Billy Ray Chitwood

(This post dedicated to ‘crazy and wonderful’ Robin Williams who made all of us momentarily forget pain and suffering with his frantic comic genius… Rest in Peace, Good Robin!)




http://twitter.com/brchitwood (@brchitwood) 

Julie Anne Chitwood = “The World After WW1″

Julie Author Picture 

Julie Anne Chitwood


Julie’s book


Amazon USgoo.gl/2hWcg

Amazon UKgoo.gl/IvtriS

The lovely lady in the top picture is my wife, Julie Anne, still smiling and bubbly after all the years with me…the only real difference is her hair: it once was deep brown and reached well below her shoulders.

It occurred to me that my blog posts are so much about me and my books, some flash fiction here and there, and some ‘stir the pot’ commentary, and I have never told anyone about this wonderful woman that has endured me all the years… But, to the point…

Julie was bequeathed ‘a ton’ of historical letters written by her two great aunts, Celeste O’Donnell, Rosalie (Roe) O’Donnell, and her grandmother Anna Mae (O’Donnell) Malin. It was my pleasure to read these magnificent letters and it struck me that these epistles had historical value, the writing itself superb but the topics of which they write deal with the major issues of that era. It took some doing but I finally convinced Julie to do a compilation and the result is, The World After WW1. The compilation became a tome – some 713 pages plus an index. For history lovers, that period (September, 1918 through December, 1921) is covered thoroughly by the three sisters…the Irish question, the League of Nations, American troop return, the Black Sox Scandal, Spanish Influenza, Economic conditions, strikes, riots, release of POWs, the Red Cross, and so much more. There is even a ten-page letter from James Thurber written to ‘Roe’ (Rosalie) and two other co-workers in 1919…the three ladies had been with Thurber at the same Pensione in Paris (a small hotel/boarding house). Ohio State University now has that letter in their ‘James Thurber Museum’.

‘Roe’ is in the Red Cross overseas covering some dangerous areas, meeting some interesting and intriguing people. She is writing to her sisters, Celeste, in St. Louis, Missouri and to Anna Mae in Chicago, reporting on the sights, sounds, events as she travels the different cities of the war-torn world. Celeste and Anna Mae are responding with their news and events happening in the United States.

For anyone interested in history and particularly this time period, these inspired and intelligent letters will more than satisfy. Without any historical revisions, one will read from primary sources exactly what is happening at that time.

The jammed-packed book is available both in paperback and Kindle editions. Here is the ‘Forward’ to The World After WW1 I was privileged to write:


Generally, when people write about any era in history there is always a possible inclination toward revision, toward subjective observation as opposed to objective observation, toward embellishment of facts and events. It is perhaps a natural act by any writer to make his/her version of an historical period read as dramatically, as poignantly as possible. Essentially, the historical data has some commitment to accuracy, surely. In our political climate today there is so much speculation and doubt as to the accuracy of a writer’s sources relative to a particular time in history, apropos to personal and political bias. That aspect of historical writing will always be with us.


What is so refreshing to this reader is the publication of THE WORLD AFTER WWI. The author of this historical work has relied solely on one source, the primary source. THE WORLD AFTER WWI is a remarkable collection of letters by three sisters. One sister is in the Red Cross at the conclusion of World War I, stationed in remote corners of the world, writing to a sister in St. Louis, Missouri and a sister in Chicago, Illinois. The three sisters communicate with each other with minimal mundanity. Rather, they write about the events occurring at the time, like, ‘The Irish Question,’ the League of Nations, American troop returns, the ‘Black Sox’ scandal, silent picture shows, opera, Spanish Influenza, economic conditions, births, deaths, and, of course, personal issues they were facing at the time.


These charming and intelligent letters will give the reader perhaps a better glimpse of an era so unique and transforming than any ‘date/fact’ based tome. There is no disrespect intended for our major historical books. They are needed to tediously chronicle the lives of other generations and the events that shaped the future of all other generations. It is just that these letters carry a poignant human touch, weaving in and out of personal matters into the personalities and topics of the day, sharing their views both positive and negative.


The letters cover a three-year period from September of 1918 to December of 1921. These three years had some titillating days and months that became headlines of the day. For Genealogy and historical buffs, THE WORLD AFTER WORLD WAR I is a must read.


Billy Ray Chitwood

Julie Anne is not as active in the Social Networking world as I but she does maintain a twitter account (@juliechitwood1). Anyone with questions about The World after WW1 she will be happy to hear from you.


Hold on! Not so fast! You do need to know I have my twelfth book JUST RELEASED and it is getting many 5-Star reviews. Hope you will pick up a copy of A Common Evil at Amazon Worldwide – http://authl.it/1r2. If you like the book write an Amazon review. It will be greatly appreciated. In the meantime, my very best wishes to you all.

http://twitter.com/brchitwood (@brchitwood)




(NOTE: for this blog post, I do not include my nine blog awards of which I am very proud.)

Meet My Main Character Blog Tour – Bailey Crane

Meet my Main Character Blog Tour – Bailey Crane


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BUY SITES : http://www.goo.gl/d1fSnc US

http://www.goo.gl/U3pZtP UK 

I’ve been tagged by the always effervescent lady (never knew her when she ‘effervuscent’!), Eden Baylee, http://edenbaylee.com, to partake in a blog tour involving my main character.

THE RULES ARE SIMPLE: I must answer seven (7) questions about the main character in one of my novels. Then, I nominate five (5) authors to answer the same seven (7) questions about the main character in one of their novels. Mention the person who nominated you.

Here’s the link to Eden’s main character in Stranger at Sunsetwp.me/p1cWaE-4Q8  - Kate Hampton – quite the lady! I’ve read the book and it’s a humdinger! (Okay, mark it up to aging!) I once dated women like Kate – minus certain qualities! Suffice, Kate is beautiful, amazing, and, well, Eden has already described her. BUY SITE for Stranger at Sunset: goo.gl/YhKSmz

* * * *

Here are the answers to the seven (7) questions about Bailey Crane, my main character in A Common Evilthe sixth and final book of my ‘Bailey Crane Mystery Series’.

1. Tell us a little about this main character. Is he fictional or a historic person?

He is fictional and controls the narrative in all six of the ‘Bailey Crane Mysteries’.

2. When and where is the story – A Common Evil – set?

The story is set in nostalgic old Mexico along the Sea of Cortez – 2014.

3. What should we know about him? 

Bailey Crane is an ex-cop, among other things. He muses about his life, loves, mistakes, successes, and, of course, the critical criminal matters at hand. He is also married to an ex-cop, Wendy, and she is his ‘port in the storm’. AND, there are some similarities to the author.

4. What is the main conflict? What messes up his life?

Bailey’s main conflict in A Common Evil has to do with the Mexican cartel, his wife’s kidnapping, and a dubious death.

5. What is his personal goal?

Bailey’s personal goal is to find his kidnapped wife, restore sanity to his fun and sun life, and to efficiently run the HOA of the resort in which Wendy and he live.

6. What are the titles of your novels, and where can we read more about them?

You can find my twelve titles at my website – http://billyraychitwood.weebly.com (Just read the bio and scan down the ‘Home Page’.)

The titles of the ‘Bailey Crane Novels’: (1) An Arizona tragedy (Brutal murder Inspired by truth!) – (2) Satan’s Song (Inspired by some truth!) – (3) The Brutus Gate – (4) Murder in Pueblo del Mar (Inspired by a true homicide of a US wife and mother from Arizona) – (5) A Soul Defiled – (6) A Common Evil (NEW! Inspired by some truth).

Aside from the ‘Bailey Crane Books’, there are these books — (7) The Cracked Mirror – Reflections of an Appalachian Son (A memoir!) – (8) Butterflies and Jellybeans – A Love Story (A romance novel with suspense!) – (9) Mama’s Madness (Inspired by true events!) – (10) The Reluctant Savage (Mystery, suspense, romance!) – (11) Joe Public’s Political Perspective (I had to open my mouth!) – (12) What Happens Next? A Life’s True Tale (An embarrassing memoir!)

7. When can we expect your next book to be published?

Sometime late this year or early 2015 – a historically accurate and fictional novel about my grandfather who migrated to the United States from Bern, Switzerland – My grandfather was a saint, but there were some ugly things (like murders and suicides) happening around his life.


Now I’ll nominate (tag) five other authors. All of them are terrific writers, so please visit them and give their books a read.

- John Dolan, author of A Poison Tree, book 3 of his ‘Time, Blood and Karma Series’ – http://johndolanwriter.blogspot.com and Twitter @JohnDolanAuthor

- Carmen Amato, author of Diablo Nights and other ‘Emilia Cruz’ detective novels – http://carmenamato.net and Twitter @CarmenConnects

- Dianne Gray, author of Soul’s Child and other most notable books – http://diannegray.wordpress.com and Twitter @Zigotide

- Jeff Joseph, author of Pursued, sequel to A Novel Obsession – http://jeffjosephauthor.wordpress.com and Twitter @author_jeff

- E. B. Sullivan, author of Different Hearts and Bloom Forevermore http://ebsullivan.com and Twitter @EBSullivan1

 * * *

My best wishes to all.

(NOTE: I’m the proud recipient of nine blog awards which I normally show on my blogs – as a requirement. With this post I’m foregoing their showing.)

Animal Clouds




Animal Clouds

Okay, too much time on my hands, you say! Really, do we ever have enough time? It was only yesterday I was a young man ‘courting the girls’ when my ‘young man’s fancy lightly turned to thoughts of love’. Time has taken those wonderful moments away from me, yes, but it has given me a love, comfortable and serene. Or, is it that my dotage has made it so much easier for my mind to wildly ponder the unrealities of life? Or, is it that my cleverness lives only in a return to childhood? That seems an inconsistent thought when one foot is already inside the boat that gives passage to the River Styx.

Animal Clouds, indeed!

Today, I write and find a multitude of ‘fancies’ as subjects for my pen – well, the laptop, if you must! Today, as I gaze out upon a sunny day with clouds drifting by as if on parade, I make of the shapes animals of all kinds…there’s a boar kneeling in prayer…there, a heavily plumed fowl stretched full out and zipping along with the wind…above the fowl, there’s a huge turtle creeping by the lovely blue background.

Actually, I’m procrastinating! I’m writing my thirteenth book, a saga about my saintly grandfather, his family’s turbulent emigration in 1885 from the Canton of Bern, Switzerland as his fetus lay curled in the tummy of his mother. Well, perhaps it is not to be a saga – don’t know if I have a saga in me, perhaps a mini-saga if there be such a thing. Through the genealogical channels, my wife has found a very interesting life of the man I loved very much as a child. There is of course love, two lovely sisters vying for his troth, his devotion and loyalty. There is madness, literally, as my grandfather’s mother spends much of her life in a mental institution. There is murder, suicide, and all sorts of interesting turns and twists in his life, so I shall make it into a fictional novel that will contain much factual information. After all, there is much that my novel mind must create.

So, I procrastinate, take a break from the longer form of writing to hallucinate and enjoy the circuitous routes the synapses dictate.

Should you wish to form your own animals from the scudding clouds, do not use mine…be proper and original with your laptop. If there is some other wild writing trip you wish to take, turn to any page in the dictionary and pick a word with which you’re not familiar…you can then amaze us blog lovers with the profundity of your wisdom – ahem, as I have here…

‘Tongue in cheek’ time over, I’m back to my saintly grandfather.

Oh, one last thing, I do have twelve books of mystery, suspense, romance, memoir, politics that really need to be read…consider them lonely for attention, words and phrases ‘just looking for a home’. Books have ‘feelings’, too, you know!

Might I suggest one (or, all) of my six ‘Bailey Crane Mysteries’ – some inspired by true crime?

If ‘Romance’ is your staple, my Butterflies and Jellybeans – A Love Story will answer your call, plus add a dash of suspense (don’t let the title fool you).

If you want the hard reality of evil in our world, try my Mama’s Madness (fiction from truth) OR The Reluctant Savage (romance, mayhem, murder) OR my brand NEW thriller A Common Evil.

 Memoirs of my sordid and wonderful life might interest you. The Cracked Mirror – Reflections of an Appalachian Son and What Happens Next? A Life’s True Tale.

Finally, you can determine whether or not you truly hate me or like me by reading Joe Public’s Political Perspective, a ‘rant and rave’ about government – yes, I had to open my mouth, or, in this case, my laptop! Don’t know if I have it right but the thoughts come from an honest place.

All these books are on my personal website – http://billyraychitwood.weebly.com – just scan the home page after the short bio section. Really, could you just start something ‘viral’ for me? The books are entertaining and non-convoluted – I would not know how to make a book too complicated!

Now you’ve seen the begging and crass side of me after getting your attention with animals in the clouds.

Next week, I promise to behave!


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Feel free to comment. My best wishes.

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Flowers and Fate


Flowers and Fate

“Red or yellow roses, Sir?” the older lady in the flower shop asked.

The young man in his early thirties smiled and raised his brow. “Now, how did you know it was to be roses, Millie?” He knew her from a name tag.

“It’s the body language, young man. Your step, your face, the happy gleam in your eyes.”

“Really! I’m that obvious?”

“You’re that obvious,” she teasingly grinned, “plus I’ve had this shop too many years not to know when love walks through the door.”

He put his hands on the counter and gently asked, “And, do you know how many roses I’ll be sending FTD today?”

“You’re a two-dozen fellow, I’m betting.” She pursed her lips.

“And, does my step, my face, and the happy gleam in my eyes tell you which color I’ll pick?”

“Red, of course! You’re obviously in love and you want the red roses to convey your love for the young lady.” She tilted her head slightly in a positive gesture.

“Why would I not choose yellow roses?” the man asked, amused by the conversation.

“Yellow roses would be fine, but you wish to make a deeper statement. Red gets the point of love across rather profoundly. They say, ‘I love you’. Yellow roses convey happiness and joy in more of a friendship fashion… My goodness, listen to me, giving you information you likely already know.”

“No, you’ve actually tagged me perfectly, and I thank you. It will be two dozen red roses, and I trust you will pick out twenty-four of your very best.”

“It will be my pleasure, plus an extra red rose to accentuate the strong statement. I shall make it a very special arrangement for you. You will wish a card sent with the roses…”

His name was Farris Stanley Ballanger. The flowers were going to Johnnie Mahannic. Stan spent some time in thought at the counter as to the words he would put on the card. Smiling, finally satisfied with his choice of words, he placed the card in the accompanying envelope, wrote ‘Dear Sweet Johnnie’ on the front, and handed it to Millie.

Stan paid for the flowers and chatted a few moments more with Millie.

As Stan was about to leave the store, he asked: “Do you mind if I hug you, Millie? You are such a great person.”

Millie obliged, and Stan left the store.

Later around midnight as Stan closed and locked his service station, he was robbed at gunpoint, marched to the ‘Men’s Room’ and shot to death at close range.

Stan’s roses arrived the next morning before news of the robbery and homicide reached Johnnie. Her heart filled with love overflowing as she read what Stan had written on the card:

Love and Time Eternal

It matters not the hours, the days, the years, the lifetime we spend together!

What matters is all the love we have gathered in our hearts

That will last eternally…

Forever, Stanley

(Flash fiction by Billy Ray Chitwood)

In Memory of my Uncle Stanley who lives forever in my heart! 


I’ve written a novel about love called, Butterflies and Jellybeans – A Love Story 

Butterfly Jellybeans Nook Size


US: http://www.goo.gl/tvaJmv

UK: http://www.goo.gl/nQ5ceF 

This book begins with two joggers fatefully brought together on a running path when a lightning strike hits… The story that follows is about love and the obstacles that get in the way: betrayal, sibling rivalry, gambling, murder, a matriarch’s secret, a desert odyssey, and redemption. It is my hope that you will read and enjoy.


http://billyraychitwood.weebly.com (for a bio sketch and all my books)

http://twitter.com (@brchitwood)





Please feel free to leave a comment below – after the blog awards I am proud to display.

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Confused and Mystified

Bill Chitwood

Confused and Mystified

Participating, watching others participate, wondering what and where is the magic in this digital mind-boggling world. You are a writer. You write because of need and because you have identified writing as the talent you most likely possess more than any other, because just maybe that activity keeps you alive and in tune with the world around you. You go through the spasms of depression, frustration, and an occasional adrenaline rush of encouragement and excitement.

Then, you take a look at the marketing aspects of selling your books, the various providers of platforms, tools, and applications. Perhaps, like me, you become aware of the specialized and confusing language used in the digital market places, things like Avatar, widgets, SEOs, RSS feeds, URLs, hash marks, and all of it somehow cannot seem to make sense to you. You become angry with yourself, with the computer and its devious foreign language, and with the madness of minds making life so much more complicated than it really needs be. You wonder what you should be doing that you are not doing but most of all how to do it. Could you have been selling more books and yourself if you had joined this group, used this platform, done this, done that?

Sure, you can hire someone for a tidy sum you think you can trust to take the marketing worries away that allows you to concentrate on your writing. Yet, you either feel not quite comfortable among the so-called professional or you are too money-tight to give it a try. So, you muddle on, writing good books – books that should be selling – and attempting a one-person publishing house. Is there an answer? Is there a Nirvana out there for you?

The odds might not be great, but you figure to keep on writing – because that’s what you love to do. Hopefully, before the grim reaper comes calling, a benevolent event, a magic will come your way and finally make all those moments at the laptop pay off. A Publishing deal with a handsome sign-up bonus? An Amazon selling spree that puts your books virally in the top echelon of the Indie market? Okay, more realistically, beautifully written and sincere heartfelt reviews may lack the money and fame but they do make you soar for a few moments in those heady clouds of success. Maybe that is all we can hope – that and learning the foreign language that is the internet.

Writing mimics life and weather! Just wait a few moments with the emotion you are currently feeling…it will soon pass and be replaced by another. Time is the arbiter of all things – it is here and gone!

Just in the time it took me to write this blog post, I became a famous writer! Talk about an emotional uplift… A good caring and loving spouse can do that for you.

Keep Writing! Good things can happen!


My NEW BOOK,  A Common Evil is set in Mexico along the Sea of Cortez – murder, mystery, suspense as good fights evil among the drug cartels. The initial reviews are 5-Stars – Hope you can enjoy it at Amazon Worldwide 



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