A question asked?

My first novel is based upon true events of my life and invariably I'm asked certain questions about what was real and what was fiction but the best question ever was:
Did your wife really blow up?
Which I'm waiting to say this again "Only in my best day dreams."
You may think, since you haven't read the book, why in the world would anyone think that he blew up his wife. Well first my writing about her was maybe a little on the angry side but it portrayed the essence of what I wanted people to believe and that she was the bitch from hell. Which in my mind she was, but I didn't blow her up.
Fiction is a wonderful thing and I can tell you from experience that it was after I wrote the book and that its cathartic mechanism flowed from my brain to the paper that the real healing started. I could put it away and let it go and there was a sense of freedom that I hadn't felt in years. It was wonderful and even more important, it still is.

Another beautiful day in Duluth

Sorry I haven't been blogging the way I should but I had to take a trip down south to Kansas City where I'm from. Had some business to take care of. But I'm back now and had probably one of the best times ever with silly Gracie, my wife. You should get used to me talking about her because first, she's crazy and second, she's another bitch from hell (or at least can be) and third, she's my all time favorite person to be around.
Like I said I had a great time on this run just because she was there. She is the one that has inspired my next novel. Working Title "Two Old People". Of course I'm talking about the two of us and the mental escapades that we both travel and usually not in unison. It should be a funny book; at least we laughed our asses off at ourselves and in between the tears she would write down quips from the conversations that at least one of us would have later.
I'll write some more soon.

Just to update

I'm going to finish the rest of that novel "Bad Day" when I'm done writing this last one. I don't even have a working title for this one yet but I'm only about 300 pages into it. This one follows Stricland and Scanlon through more adventures of the homicide division out of Kansas City, Missouri. They are very good at their job, of course. They coupled up in my first novel and now they just kind of run the show from a distance, you might say. Too good to quit and too in love to stay on as paid employees.
Her money lets them do a lot of things in a more upscale way but what's most important to her is her relationships with Stricland, Townsend, and Bobby. Yeah, they do their detective work but most criminals are a bunch of dummies. Most detectives are usually smarter than the norm but every once in a while there comes a good one that is called in to find the perpetrator. I put plenty of twists and shoot 'em ups and close calls and some surprises that even surprised me. Damn, it's fun writing, especially when you don't know how the book is going to unfold. I have as much fun as I hope you readers will have all curled up next to a blazing fire, with a glass of wine or a great beer (My son-in-law is turning me on to different beers of late.), your favorite blanket keeping you warm and just enough light to read by, but not so much that it ruins the mood.
Hell, where's my beer and blanket. I've got to go.

Talk soon

Maybe "Bad Day" working title

"Shut the fuck up. Your bad day has just started."
"What the hell is wrong with you, man? These guys mean business up there. They're going to shoot both of us. Look at that one taking aim at your head."
The gunman quickly put his head behind Ross's. Ross laughed then started moving his head back and forth.
"You want to die asshole?"
"First of all I'm not an asshole and second of all I just lost four million dollars and my wife left me and the only thing I had left in this world was that Suburban that's upside down and just about to blow up with the only thing that ever loved me inside. My couch. So, dip shit, I think you picked the wrong asshole to hide behind."
Ross could feel the man give just a little knowing he didn't have a chance just because he had to run into the wrong asshole. Ross was in better than good shape and with that little loss of intent and with the speed of lightening he grabbed the hand with the gun and lifted it away from his head. The automatic started firing. He held the hand up with one hand and elbowed his ribcage hard with his other arm. Ross felt bones break as he tried for a huge gasp of air. He swung around twisting the gun hand and as the gunman was bending forward Ross's knee came up fast. His knee felt the guy's nose break as blood flew everywhere. He pulled the gun from the man's hand and cracked him over the head with it. The man crumpled and hit the ground face first. Ross looked at the gun and then with two fingers threw it about ten feet away. It went off again and he jumped and screamed like a little girl. He turned and gave the cops a sheepish grin then knelt on the gunman with his hands up.
"I really do want to give up, guys."
"Get off him and lay face down on the ground."
"I'm really not tired. As a matter of fact, I'm a little buzzed. Do you guys get to do this stuff all the time?"
The same cop started to get pissed. "Get down on the ground asshole or I'll put you there."
"Now that's the second guy that's called me an asshole in the last ten minutes. That one there ran into my car and just about killed me, then he had a gun to my head as you all had four to my guts. I haven't done anything that deserves your attitude. I'm going to see if my Suburban can be saved or at least some portion of it."
The cop tried to grab for him and as fast as he had grabbed the gun he moved out of the way. The cop staggered forward thinking he had him. One of the other cops jumped in.
"Come on, Jim, he's okay. Hell he kept us from getting shot. Let him alone."
He lunged at Ross one more time and again Ross just moved out of the way. The cop pulled his taser and shot at Ross. Ross moved again as one of the prongs clipped his shirt. The good cop grabbed the taser from Jim and yelled at him.
"Damn it, Jim, stop this shit now."
"Yeah, before I get hurt."
Ross walked off to see what had happened to his Suburban. He was pretty sure that the gunman probably didn't have insurance, if that other car was even his. Thank God he had full coverage, at least he thought he did. But the way this day was going he was betting that the damn insurance company was taking their damn sweet time posting his check. Of course, he thought he had enough money in the account but that would depend on whether or not the bank had obsconded with the rest of his money. This day was really turning to shit real quick. He was looking over the damage when one of the cops came up behind him and touched his shoulder to get his attention. It scared him half to death and he let out another girlie scream.
"Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Damn it, can't you hollor or something. I was just about shot a minute ago, my car is dead, my couch is terribly wounded, my wife has left me, and...oh my God I'm a country-western song."
"Hey I just wanted to tell you that Jim really isn't a bad guy, just a little trigger happy. And I also wanted to thank you for what you did to that guy. It was a good bust for us."
"Oh God, I'm so glad it was a good bust for you guys. It just makes my heart sing with praise to the Lord that something I've done is working for someone. What the hell am I going to do now?"
"Well, you'll need to go with us because you just took down one of the mob and you'll have to testify against him so you will probably qualify for witness protection."
"Oh what the hell. You mean I couldn't even get a easy criminal to deal with? Now I've got the mob after me."
"More than likely."

Short story to be named later. Maybe "Bad Day"

Since I'm so new at all of this I was looking through other blogs and, low and behold, I found the Writers Den. I perused though some of the authors and what they were doing and there was an opinion that all writers worth their salt should be writing something all the time, especially on their blog. The blog should be more than just a daily diary. It should contain your work. It didn't take long for me to think how much I would like to do this. Show the people out there that I can write and maybe some of them would even like to read my stuff.
Okay enough about that. It was just about 30 minutes ago that all of this was hitting me so I came up with this idea to just write a short story. (Okay, Gracie, don't throw things at me; it was your idea.) Here goes.

There wasn't much left for Ross to do now but pack up what was left and maybe even take off for Mexico. He'd at least start his wanderings in that direction; he couldn't think of a reason to stay. His friends weren't really his friends, and since the failure of the great gamble, no one was talking to him for fear that the bad luck would rub off or that the only thing that made up a man was what he won at. Not his losses. Ross had a hard time with that one. He was made up of both and didn't know of anyone that wasn't.
He had been there for all his buddies, lending them money or time, which ever they needed most, but just trying to collect on what was owed him would take a gun to their heads. He wasn't about to do that yet although the idea had crossed his mind many times in the dead of the night when he was trying to go to sleep on the only thing the ex didn't take in the divorce...his old beat up but comfortable couch.
He didn't have the money to hire a lawyer and for the most part he didn't care one way or the other. He had started out with less than this before. It was just a matter of time before he was back on top. He knew how to make money. It was just hard for him to keep it. If he had known he probably wouldn't be in this predicament now.
He drug his two-seat couch out to his Suburban and hefted it up in the back. He never moved anywhere without it. That was where his dreams came to him. It was his lucky couch although lately he had to twist some things sideways in his mind to consider what had happened that was actually lucky. Well, it wasn't much of a stretch as far as the ex went. All she had wanted him for was a pair of boobs, a nose, some cheek bones, and a butt implant. After all of that had been done she started playing around. He knew it but just really didn't care anymore. She had been gold digger and that was about all there was to her. He hadn't taken the time in the beginning to find out all of the cobwebs that had set up shop in her brain. That was probably lucky but he wasn't sure the four million dollar real estate debacle that crashed when everything else did was lucky at all. He'd have to work a while to get all that back.
Well, here was another piece of luck though. The Suburban started. It's not like it didn't usually but with his run of luck he wasn't going to be surprised at anything any more. He looked back over his shoulder one last time at his beautiful home. He wasn't going to dwell on the bad stuff anymore. It was done and over so now it was time to get on with the rest of his life. He took off with a mild roar of the diesel engine. He had five hundred bucks in his pocket and life was beckoning him on. He turned on the his music and was listening to his favorite CD. Kelly Clarkson. He thought maybe someday he would meet her just for drinks. She looked like someone that he could carry on a good conversation with about anything. She seemed as good with a word as he was. God, why didn't he see that in his ex. The only excuse he had was that he had to have been thinking with his small head, not with the one that mattered. He wouldn't make that mistake again.
"Damn it, shut up, Ross. God haven't you had enough of belittling yourself. You can't be responsible for trusting someone, especially if that someone says one thing and does another."
Oh, God, no. Now he was talking to himself. What in the world is next? Maybe if he'd stop and get a six pack...no, a twelve pack of beer, maybe by the end of it he could think straight again.
He really hadn't thought much about where he was ; he just knew he wanted to go south where is was warm most of the year. He had had enough of the cold damp ugly winters that only offered snow shoveling and skidding and wrecks and just plain chaos. He had been to New Orleans once so maybe he'd at least start out in that direction.
"Because of You" came up and damn if it didn't hit home. He wasn't going to trust anyone from now on out. He was a good looking guy and he could have his fill of one night stands and he wasn't going to let the idiot between his legs rule his world any longer. He'd had enough.
And then just as he was going to belt it all out with Kelly a car T-boned him going ninety-to-nothing. It was one of the few times he had put his seat belt on, and it kept him somewhere around the drivers seat getting pummeled by the air-bag, and then his Suburban started spinning and spinning, then hit a curb, then flipping and rolling until it came to rest upside down in a culvert of sorts.
He shook his head and was glad he had been hit on the passenger side because there was no way he would have lived through that much damage if it had happened on his side. He pushed the bag out of his way and tried to dust some of the powder off. He pushed his seat belt button and let himself drop to the roof. The front window was out and he thought it best with the smell of gas to get out. As he climbed out he was hoping that the other guy had some good insurance. He finally stopped spinning in his head as he touched his feet to the ground. He backed up to the grass to take a good look at what had been the best piece of transportation that he had ever owned. It didn't look so good right at the moment, but probably because of it's size he virtually came out with out a scratch.
The next thing he felt was a man's arm coming around his neck and a gun placed to the side of his head and then he was whirled around to face the gun barrels of four officers of the law. He put up his hands in fear and said, "I give up."
"No you don't, asshole. Put your hands down."
"They're going to shoot me and I'm going to give up before they do!"
"Have you ever heard of a hostage."
"Oh damn, I just thought I was having a bad day."

One day closer

I should of been writing more but this is all so new for a sixty year old and I'm having my own troubles along with the blogger being down yesterday.
First of all, I want everyone to know that I'm writing my twentieth novel at the moment. I think I'm considered old school since I write out everything by hand in pencil first. When I type it in I do my editing of either more or less description or character development and try and take out my biggest flaws. I rarely remember what day of the week I'm in when I'm writing books. Of course, I rarely know what day of the week it is in real life, but that's the price you pay for keeping your nose to the grindstone.
I'll be posting the prologue of my first novel "Day of the Dogs" on its website real soon. Dan-the-computer-man has a day job too and has a limited amount of time to devote to all of this, but once we have it down pat things will go smoother.
Well I have to get back to the pencil to make sure everyone will have a good book to curl up with. I'm reading James Patterson right now. All of the Alex Cross books. I hear Morgan Freeman in my head as he's reading his lines in the book. Yeah, okay so I'm a little crazy. That's how I get through it all.

Buy My Book-Day of the Dogs

Why should you buy my book? I'll tell you why. Because it's a good read, I will like the money, and it's so much cheaper this way than when I had it published by a publishing company. At Amazon and Borders it was priced at $14.95. Everyone was making money besides me. The agent, publisher and book stores were the ones that made all the money while I get a small pittance and I'm supposed to be so thankful for all my hard work that didn't take hours but took months and, in this case, years to finish.
That's why I will be selling all my works as time goes on with the help of some great people like Mr. Dan Kimball who will be setting us up with great times reading about my mental adventures.