tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73664856650943298852024-02-07T05:18:37.794-08:00Robert L. Conley Book BlogBlogging about Books I've read and Books I'm writing, some of which are at <a href="http://RobertLConleyStore.com"> RobertLConleyStore. </a> Robert L. Conley Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07226184673803149203noreply@blogger.comBlogger93125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366485665094329885.post-3420874307172208192016-02-16T12:08:00.001-08:002016-02-16T12:08:59.356-08:00How to buy Robert L. Conley Novels I want to take a minute and thank everyone that has bought a book or a Kindle. It's been a pleasure hearing back from you.<b> <a href="http://robertlconleystore.com/" target="_blank">Again to contact me click here</a>. </b>I promise to keep writing for as long as these fingers and brain work.<br />
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I also want to take a moment to tell those that haven't read my work yet, that if you like page turning adventures I'm your guy. I've been told that it's like reading the Bourne novels.<br />
<br />
You can find them all at <b><a href="http://amazon.com/author/robertconley" target="_blank">Amazon Author Page for Robert L. Conley</a> </b>with new novels coming all the time. I've got a bunch more coming soon. It just seems like it takes forever to get them up. I can write them about as fast as I can get them published.<br />
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Bob Robert L. Conley Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07226184673803149203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366485665094329885.post-24761437002653118082015-12-16T13:51:00.000-08:002016-02-16T12:15:19.003-08:00Ballet Shoes
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span>Dan stood there. Glazed eyes still wanting to be
close to her. Watching, looking all around, knowing. Far away now but
there had been a time. The glazed hardened eyes softened for a second
as he remembered.
</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
His eyes darted around his perimeter one more time. His immediate
thought was why? Why didn't he just let it happen? He'd be closer to
her wouldn't he? All that religion crap he was taught when he was
younger said so. He could go to heaven couldn't he?</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
Within the tree line he could see the casket being lowered. For the
first time since he was a kid tears slipped out of his eyes. The
extreme sadness that he had felt once in his life was turning him
sideways one more time.
</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
His eyes went blank and the tears stopped as fast as they started.
He would wait until they all left then he would go to her.
</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
He didn't feel the cold or the snow melting inside his shoes.
Nothing mattered anymore unless it was the state's evidence he was
going to turn. He was sick of the killing. The immoral, horrid way of
life he had lived.
</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
Why would they kill a mob boss when his wife and ten year old child
were with him? They had done nothing. Especially Jess. An innocent
child. Why didn't that fatal bullet hit him. It was supposed to.
That's why he was there. If his arm had been an inch to the left it
would have hit bone. Instead it went through and hit Jess. He wasn't
fast enough.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
He hadn't felt the pain until now. The pain in the arm and the
multiple bruises in his chest and gut. He lit another cigarette. He
laughed. The damn things would kill him one day. Yeah right. What a
bunch of crap. Something else had his name written all over it.
</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
Everyone was gone. He walked slowly through the snow. His legs were
heavy, like in a dream. Once he saw the casket there would be no
denial.
</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
Jess had changed his life. He remembered the very moment. She had
begged him for a year to come and watch her practice ballet. Ballet?
What kind of crap was that. A wiseguy, bodyguard didn't do ballet.
Didn't think about ballet. Didn't watch ballet. Their relationship
had been tenuous at best. He needed to guard her, not watch her
dance. He needed to stand guard out front of the studio and protect
her from the outside world. His world was simple. Guard her with his
life or his boss would kill him.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
For some reason that day, Jess took his hand. His hand enveloped
hers. It was huge around hers, but hers felt strong. She pulled on
him to come inside. When her pleading blue eyes caught his that day
the tenuous relationship was over.
</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
He remembered smiling and something flipping around in his chest. It
was probably the bullet proof vest. He walked beside her. She was
almost skipping.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
She introduced him to her teacher who seemed scared and hesitant to
shake his hand. There was the bulge under his suit coat jacket. His
face did have a scar from a knife fight long ago that someone else
had lost. His nose didn't set just right on his face and the part in
his hair wasn't a natural but one that was made by a bullet. No one
could see a soul in his eyes except for Jess. She had seen it from
the very beginning. Even if he didn't know it, she did.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
She kept holding his hand as if to say "You're safe with me".
He didn't understand. He wasn't a dummy but she had something
stronger. Her heart was full of love and compassion. She would show
him the way just like she showed him the way to the front row seat.
She didn't let go of his hand until he was seated. Of course he
didn't let go of hers either.
</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
Her tights were a little too tight, Dan thought, but she was
dressed like everyone else. With a swish and a swirl and a rubber
band her perfect blond hair was in a bun on top of her head. She
automatically walked to the dance bar: toes never leaving the floor
and began her stretching.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
Before she even started any routine, she laid her heel on the bar
and placed her face on her knee and smiled at him. It was at that
very moment he knew he would protect her for the rest of his life. No
longer was she a job. No longer did he have to answer to his boss. He
would only answer to himself.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
The last few steps to the cold hole in the ground took an inordinate
amount of time. He wanted to run. This was the first time in his life
that he was scared. If he didn't see it, maybe it wouldn't be. He
took the last step. Again the damn tears. This time he couldn't stop
them. His knees shook as this giant turned to jello. He wanted
control but his control was in a casket.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
He'd kill them all, ran rampant through his mind. Then Jess
sauntered in and calmed the rage. "<i>Now Dan you know you can't
do that". </i><span style="font-style: normal;">She left as he
looked around trying to find her again. All he saw was the hole. He
couldn't stop the tears. He tried but even the tears didn't show the
real sadness. The loneliness and emptiness of the last few days. </span>
</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"> He reached inside his overcoat and
pulled out a wrinkled brown paper bag. He opened the top and grabbed
what was inside. </span> The old beat up pair of ballet shoes she had
given him about a year ago. They were pink of course with long
ribbons drifting off the heels.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
He looked at them hoping but knowing. He couldn't save them. They
reminded him of too much. They caused too much pain. She needed them.
He was sure no one put a pair in her casket because no one knew her
the way he did. He knew her passion and all of her secrets. He was
the only one in the world she trusted with her soul. He knew that
because she had told him. They never lied to one another. He had
never thought of having children but if he did, he'd want one just
like her.
</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
He dropped the shoes onto the casket. Luckily they stayed on top in
the wreath of flowers. He would have hated to crawl down there. He
laughed at the silly thought. She would have laughed too. She laughed
at all the silly things he did. Especially when he tried to be a
ballet dancer.
</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
When he'd lift her in a pose and fly her through the air she would
giggle but hold her pose perfectly until he touched her down.
</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
"Dan"</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
He whirled pulling his gun.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
"Dan it's me. Randall." He instantly had his hands in the
air and stumbled backwards falling on his ass in the snow. The blank
no soul look was staring at him.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
"Where the hell did you come from?"</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
"I was behind the big monument over there."</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
He pointed to the huge monument put up for Jess' father. It was a
gaudy thing. The mob boss had it done a few years previous knowing
he'd catch it sometime down the road. He was always prepared except
for this.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
"Dan slowly put away the gun. "Have you got anything?"</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
"Yeah. Here's the guy's name, number and address. Since they
didn't kill you he figures you're coming."</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
Dan took the torn piece of paper.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
"He figured right."
</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
He started backtracking through the same tracks that lead him to the
grave. He was alert again. He had slacked off for a second and look
what it got him. He had to keep his wits about him.
</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
"Dan, wait up."
</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
The informant tried getting to his feet twice, slipping both times
in the snow. Finally getting upright he ran to catch up.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
"Dan, don't go after these guys. They're waiting for you. Turn
state's evidence. Stay alive."</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
The man waited for a reply. He got none.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
"Really Dan, that will hurt them more. You worked for them.
You've got the goods man. There's no better time than now to use your
get out of jail free card."</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
He waited as the big man kept walking one stride to the informants
two. He grabbed Dan's arm and tried to spin him around. Dan seized
him by the collar and lifted him straight up into the air.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
"<i>Don't do this Dan."</i></div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
The blank black stare was horrid. The man shook in the breeze. Dan
threw him on his ass in the snow and walked away. The man had to get
up. His ass was getting wet.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
He wanted to go after his friend but he knew there was no changing
his mind. He turned to the opposite direction, looked all around,
then took off on a dead run. He'd leave town now. This was no place
for him at the moment.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
<br /><br />
</div>
<div align="CENTER" class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
***</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
<br /><br />
</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
"<i>Don't go." </i><span style="font-style: normal;">Kept
running through his head. It was her voice. That soft, kind, magical
voice that could make him do almost anything. He'd let her put makeup
on him. She made corn rows in his hair. There wasn't a tutu big
enough or he would have been in one of those. She did get him a set
of tights he wore with pride. He even helped the teacher on more than
one occasion. The teacher choreographed different dance routines for
the two of them. He was even surprised at his grace, form and lines.
He wasn't surprised at Jess'. </span>
</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
"I will go. You're not here dammit. You can't tell me what to
do anymore."</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
He slammed a clip of fifty calibers up the butt of one of the many
Desert Eagles that were draped all over him. Seeing that each held
seven rounds; fifty six with ten more clips should do the job. He
wrapped his overcoat around him and his friends. He had killed two of
the shooters that night. He wanted the third and the man that ordered
the hit. There would be an army waiting for him. There was a knock at
the door. He pulled his favorite friend and walked to the side of it.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
"Who is it?"</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
"State's Attorney, Dan. Let me in."</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
"Go away. Got nothin to say."</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
"Let the law handle this. Tell us your story. We'll put you in
a new witness protection program. No jail time for you. We'll protect
you."</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
"Yeah like you protected Jess. All you guys are just words. Go
away."</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
"You know Dan I'll have to arrest you if you do anything
stupid."</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
Dan snapped back. "Who the hell is stupid. You're a bunch of
idiots believing your laws mean a damn thing to these guys. There's
only one law they understand. My law. Now go away and do your job the
best you can. I'm done talking."</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
Dan walked over to his liquor cabinet. He hadn't opened it for
years. Probably since the day she held his hand for the first time.
Something dropped in the bottom of the tumbler. He wiped the others
away. He poured so many fingers he should have just drunk out of the
bottle.
</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
He kept hearing the stupid State's Attorney trying to convince him.
Men like that would never understand. These men understood only one
law. Kill or be killed. Survival of the fittest. That was his dance
studio. And he was real good at this routine. They should have killed
him when they had the chance.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
<br /><br />
</div>
<div align="CENTER" class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
***</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
<br /><br />
</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
Night shadows were drifting in and around the sanctuary of the man
that killed Jess. Dan was waiting. He kept hearing her voice. It was
the purest torture he had ever been through. He had been through a
lot in the mid-east. It was time now. He had to shut his thoughts off
and do what he had done best at one time.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
The giant of a man moved like a panther. The black charcoal on his
face and hands made him look like the Grim Reaper. Quietly and
quickly, with the butt of his friend, he went about nullifying the
outside perimeter. The inside would be doing a check in a minute.
Within seconds of the calls he was inside the house and four more men
were down.
</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
There would be his two left. Three steps at a time and the staircase
opened to a large open area. The man that killed Jess was supposedly
guarding his boss' bedroom door but he was asleep. Dan walked over
and with one one punch knocked him out. He zip tied him. He'd come
back for him to make the last seconds of his life as painful as he
could.
</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
He walked through the bedroom door. The man and his wife were
asleep. At the boss' side of the bed he pulled two friends and then
put a knee on the chest and one gun to the head of each. It kind of
stirred things up.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
The man yelled his cowardly pleas until Dan shut him up with the
butt of his friend. The woman was beautiful and naked. Dan took an
extra look then said. "Put a robe on then sit in that chair.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
She did as she was told. Dan threw zip ties at her feet and told her
to put them around the chair and her ankles. She did as she was told.
Then he did her wrists to the arms.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
"Are you going to kill us?"</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
He didn't answer. He walked out and and got the killer and dragged
him into the bedroom. Very unceremoniously and a little on the rough
side he threw him at her feet.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
She asked again. "Dammit, are you going to kill us?"
</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
Again he didn't answer. He grabbed the mob boss by the hair and
politely lifted him out of bed and sat him in the other chair and
zipped him up. He shook some hair out of his hand and straightened
up. He took his time to look around the room. More than likely he had
plenty of time to make the two men miserable enough that they would
beg to die. He'd start by breaking fingers.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
The light from the two night lights was the only illumination. He
liked it. It reminded him of Jess for some reason. The woman opened
her mouth to talk. She looked at the black blank stare from hell; she
shut up.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
He walked over to the bed and sat. He smiled when he saw blood on
the boss' pillow. He was going to have fun now. It had been a long
time. He didn't realize how much he missed it.
</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
She butted into his revelry. "If I told you where you can find
everything you need to give to the cops, will you let me go."</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
He stared but didn't say anything. There was turmoil going on in his
brain.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
"Behind the nightstand. Pull the drawer out all the way.
There's a button on the right. Put his left thumb print on it and it
will open to the safe."</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
He looked at her and smiled. He got up and pulled his large knife.
He grabbed the man's thumb and whacked it off. The man screamed. He
let him scream for a moment then gave him a right cross that shut him
up.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
He had to give it to the woman; she didn't flinch.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
He walked over to the nightstand and pulled the drawer and there was
the button. He put the bloody thumb on it and it opened. The woman
gave the combination to him quickly. He opened it and there in front
of him was money and books. Lots of both. He sat back on the bed.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
He threw the thumb across the room then something strange began to
happen. A soft glow of sparkling water started at the floor. Dan
grabbed for one of his guns. It was swirling as if it was a small
water spout. It rose from the floor spinning and then slowly a figure
formed. Within seconds right before his eyes Jess was there. The
water kept swirling but there she was in the mist with that smile
that could melt the hardest heart. She was holding her pink, beat up
ballet shoes.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
He reached for her but all his hand touched was air.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
"Jess" His voice cracked.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"> "Dan, this is enough. You are
not like this any longer. You're my Dan, not theirs. My Dan doesn't
do this."</span></div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
"But Jess they killed you."</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
"My job was done on earth. I changed you."</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
The water dropped to the floor. He grabbed for her and got nothing.
In seconds the water disappeared. He kept staring as his eyes
glistened then tears dropped to the floor. Stunned he sat there not
knowing what to do. He looked around to see the woman as stunned as
he. The woman knew better than to say anything. She thought maybe it
needed to sink into that big skull.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
His head dropped and caught by his massive hands. There was no way
they were going to stop the rivers flowing from his eyes. Why him?
Why Jess? Why did he matter! He should have died, not her. She was
beautiful. He was horrid. Why would she believe all that crap. He
wasn't worth it.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
He felt her soft, strong hand on his face. It made him cry harder.
The Grim Reaper was much easier to be than what she was asking,
especially without her. How could he be without her.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
A few minutes passed before he caught his breath. He wiped his face
with the sheets. He stood and stared at the woman. That same black
blank soulless stare from hell. She shivered. He walked to her with
the bloody knife in his hand. All she could think of was that whoever
Jess was, she hadn't made any difference. He was going to answer her
first question in the affirmative. She closed her eyes. She didn't
want to see it coming.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
Next thing she felt were the strips being cut. She opened her eyes.
His were different now.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
"You've got five minutes before the cops show up."</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
She didn't say a word. She got up quickly and threw on some clothes
and sheepishly went to the safe and pulled out a bunch of cash and
slipped it into her purse.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
He pulled his phone and called the State's Attorney. The man
answered.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
"Come and get him." Was all Dan said.</div>
<div class="convert--1-western" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.06in;">
He looked around the room one more time. This was the last of it and
for the second time in his life he was happy. Jess would find him
anywhere and that's where he was going. Anywhere there was a pair of
pink, beat up ballet shoes.</div>
Robert L. Conley Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07226184673803149203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366485665094329885.post-13578863687328221222015-07-10T15:19:00.002-07:002015-07-10T15:19:56.674-07:00Please pray for me, it's NONFICTION!!!! Watch out everyone here's a change of pace that I didn't think I'd ever do but here goes. I just got through reading "The Last Gunfight" by Jeff Guinn. It's the real story of the shootout at the O.K. Corral and how it changed the American West. Boy that was a mouthful and there were a mouthful of words in this book. I'm not sure everyone knows but I'm a fiction fan. Die hard fiction fan. The ultimate fiction fan. So you ask; why in the heck did you pick up this book? Well I'll tell you. I'm not sure if this person is a real friend of mine because she made me read this. I felt a little violated especially before I read it. She's in my book club and we've been daring each other to get out of our comfort zones. I was so uncomfortable that I itched every time I picked it up to read. I have the scars to prove it.
After the first night of about three pages I knew that if she hadn't been a good friend I would have thrown it at her. Have you ever read nonfiction? It's dry and boring and full of facts and figures and dates. I might as well be back in history class with Brother Bernard and his amigo stick. In fact I would have rather met the amigo stick. I trembled the next night not wanting to go to bed because that meant I had to read NONFICTION. Horrors.
I won't go into the gruesome details of night after night going to bed later and later so I wouldn't have to read for so long. Suffice to say, one morning it was four o'clock. My God the pain.
Then at almost the end something even more terrible happened. I want you to remember it was almost to the end, right after the most boring description of a gun fight I've ever read. Okay here it is. I needed to finish the book. Can you believe the nightmare. I actually picked it up and didn't itch and I didn't cuss. I still didn't like my friend much but I had to finish the book. What was worse I think I learned something. I won't admit that to her but I think I did. What a waste of time. Will the world ever stop tormenting me.
Bob.
P.S. You can find my wonderful, beautiful, perfect fiction at
<a href="http://amazon.com/author/robertconley">http://amazon.com/author/robertconley
</a>
Robert L. Conley Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07226184673803149203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366485665094329885.post-60399538141838844572015-06-26T07:53:00.000-07:002015-06-26T07:53:25.039-07:00My Book Club Meets. I started our book club over a year ago and through a process of elimination we've created a worthy group of crazy people to make up the surly mob. I'm always there a half hour before to make coffee and hot water for tea and someone in the group brings something to eat that is related to the book we've read. Povitica was introduced to our palates. There was one dissenting vote but other than that the rest of us busied our grubby little fingers and wasted that big serving dish that was full.
Okay, since we had our fill of Croatian food and filled our second cups of coffee, we were ready for the onslaught. We all knew Gayle was going to have her say and she would be right no matter what anyone else thought. Linda would add her two cents and not care what Gayle had said. Inez would just talk about anything. Most of us would try and listen to her but when she would start talking about some other book it was time to tune her out. She kept rambling anyway. She didn't need anyone to listen. She was just happy to be talking.
Michele listened carefully. twirling her hair into ringlets but just in front on the left side. It didn't go well with the rest of her hairdo but it was her trademark. She would always throw in an Atta Girl or in my case Atta Boy.
Sandy not only paid close attention to what everyone said she also crocheted at the same time. Some would take offense and most did just because it was the battle field. In Sandy's defense though she would take off on someone and be right with the conversation.
We had a new person this month and I hope she stays. I think Annie's too sweet for this group of blood thirsty mongrels. She was a little more conniving than most of us. She waited with baited breath for the conversation to die down and the heat strokes to prevail so she could pounce with vengeance. She did and wouldn't you know it her strategy worked. Either they were too tired to talk back or she had a great point. I don't think we'll ever know because most of the towels were being thrown in during her dissertation of "The Cellist of Sarajevo".
My group of blood thirsty mongrels is a great group. I wouldn't trade them for the world. They make me think and aspire to greater writing. There will be more episodes of the Great Book Club to come in the future. They won't be disappointing.
BobRobert L. Conley Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07226184673803149203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366485665094329885.post-16522181215333668192015-06-19T08:28:00.001-07:002015-06-19T08:34:55.506-07:00Review of "The Cellist of Sarajevo"Hey Everyone,
I'm back like a bad penny. Just can't get rid of me. I've been reading a lot in the last year and I'm finally going to start blogging about some of the great books I've read.
The latest in my book club has been "The Cellist of Sarajevo" by Steven Galloway. First of all I want to say that the man has put some real work into this novel. Although it is a novel and not the exact truth he gives us an understanding of what it's like when a city is under siege. I'm not sure we could understand the snipers up on the beautiful mountains that once entertained the Olympics but he gives us a great description of what it's like to be shot at.
The main theme of the book is about a wonderful cellist by the name of Vedran Smailovic that played Albinoni's Adagio in G Minor for 22 days at the site where 22 friends and neighbors were killed by a mortar blast while waiting in a bread line. There is Arrow that is to protect him with her sniper talents which caused a real adrenaline rush for me. If you've read any of my books you would understand why.
Overall I thought it was a good read. Short, sweet and most of the time to the point. I'm not a guy that likes a lot of descriptive stuff clouding what is really going on. This goes a little far at times but I think a lot of people would really like it. In other words it's worth the time.
Talk soon,
Bob
Robert L. Conley Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07226184673803149203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366485665094329885.post-74199873790235757582014-06-15T10:23:00.001-07:002014-06-15T10:23:37.536-07:00When Tomorrow Starts Without Me A friend of mine happened to read this to me a while ago and I thought that maybe this might be appropriate for some today, since some of our fathers are not around any longer. Since I'm limited on space a "-" means a new stanza.
When tomorrow starts without me, and I'm not there to see, if the sun should rise, and find your eyes, filled with tears for me.- I wish so much you wouldn't cry, the way you did today. While thinking of the many things, we didn't get to say.- I know how much you love me, as much as I love you, and each time you think of me, I know you will miss me too.- But when tomorrow starts without me, please try to understand, that an angel came and called my name, and took me by the hand, and said my place was ready in heaven far above, and I would have to leave behind all those I dearly love.- But as I turned to walk away, a tear fell from my eye, for all my life I'd always thought I didn't want to die.- I had so much to live for, and so much yet to do, it seemed almost impossible, that I was leaving you.- I thought of all the yesterdays, the good ones and the bad, I thought of all the love we shared, and all the fun we had.- If I could relive yesterday, I thought just for a while, I'd say goodbye and kiss you, and maybe see you smile.- But then I fully realized, that this could never be, for the emptiness and memories, would take the place for me.- And when I thought of worldly things, that I'd miss come tomorrow, I thought of you and when I did, my heart was filled with sorrow.- But when I walked through Heaven's gates, I felt so much at home, When God looked down and smiled at me, from His great golden throne. He said "This is eternity and all I've promised you."- Today for the life on earth is past, but here it starts new, I promise no tomorrow but today will, always last and since each day's the same day, there's no longing for the past. But you have been so faithful, so trusting and true.- Though there were times you did some things, you knew you shouldn't do, But you have been forgiven, and now at last you're free.- So won't you take my hand, and share my life with me? So when tomorrow starts without me, don't think we're far apart, for every time you think of me, I'm right there in your heart.
I don't know who wrote this but "thank you" whoever you are. I'm no poet laureate and I'm sure I don't understand the whole concept but I do know what I like and I really like this. I wish I could have written it in stanza form but for some reason blog wouldn't let me. I hope this touches some other hearts and souls like it touched mine.
Robert L. Conley Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07226184673803149203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366485665094329885.post-86905350391395366622014-05-29T16:12:00.000-07:002014-05-31T07:57:32.797-07:00The Illusion of Big Boy BritchesHey There,<br />
<br />
Okay I had a real first in my life and I've lived 64 years. I have a bucket list but this one sure wasn't on it. I had to have a tooth pulled without being put under. I've got to say, that for a week before, I was mentally getting ready for the worst. I couldn't write, I couldn't think, I couldn't even really listen to my one true love; Grace. I knew I had to get my big boy britches on because I was going to be in major pain for a long time and I wasn't going to be able to take anything but aspirin. (Last time I took Lortab and it caused my liver to stop producing prothombin 3 and my body threw a clot in my right leg. That was more painful than having all my uppers pulled.)<br />
Anyway, I was up for it. I was going to be a real man about it and I wasn't going to cry even though I wanted to even before I got to the dentist's office. I was pumped. I was ready. I could take on the world and let the pain come and the blood spill forth and I would fulfill my destiny and slay the mighty dragon of pain.<br />
I was prepared when they summoned me to the back room. All lit up and beautiful pictures on the ceiling as if I was some whore that needed distractions. I didn't. I wanted to deal with the pain. I wanted to fill my big boy britches. Then the long stemmed cotton swab came rushing into my mouth with something brown and ugly and pasty. I heard someone in the background say something like; "you can close your mouth now."<br />
I knew it was a trick. Something that looked that ugly couldn't taste good. It reminded me of ipecac. They were going to make me throw up, stick a pin in my butt and then reach in and grab and yank my tooth out. I'd fool that dentist. Nothin was going to make me throw up.<br />
Five minutes later someone in the background asked. "You can let go of the swab now if you want?" I knew as soon as air hit the thing I was going to throw up. I'd fool them. I didn't throw up. I kind of wanted to just so I could throw up on the guy that was going to hurt me; put me in so much pain that I'd rather have a gun shot wound to the gut.<br />
Then this fake kind voice said something like he was going to take this needle and give me a couple of shots. I was ready for that half inch pipe with a sharp end to plow through all the skin covering my mandible. I still had my big boy britches on and hadn't messed in them yet. I was going to show them all. Bring it on. I can take it.<br />
Next thing I heard was that damn voice in the background again. Pretending to be all nicey, nicey saying. "Okay we'll give that ten minutes....." That's all I heard. I wasn't going to listen to the fool. He wasn't going to fool me. I knew better. I had my big boy britches on. My momma didn't raise no idiot. MAMA MAMA.(Did I say that out loud?) The woman is dead. Where are they when you need them.<br />
Someone sat back down next to me. My eyes flitted all around the room and this guy finally came into focus. There was something in my eyes that was awful. They were going to blind me so that I couldn't recognize them in a line up. I'd fool them. I had my big boy britches on and I was going to see both of them.<br />
The man threatened to put this huge screw in my mouth if I didn't open it. I fooled him. I opened my mouth. hah. He went in with the half inch pipe again and was out in a matter of seconds. See I can take it. There'd be no whining from the peanut gallery today.<br />
Then the Holy Mother of Pliers came towards my mouth. I had to stop him.<br />
"I want to take a look at what's going in my mouth there Bubba."<br />
"You really don't want to see these....trust me."<br />
Yeah trust me. Yeah I'll trust you just as soon as I can pull off my big boy britches and put them around your neck. I kept a wary eye on his face. I knew if something went wrong I could tell by the look in his eyes. It's always in the eyes. They are the windows of the soul. Once I thought of that, I knew I was in trouble. Dentists have no souls. I was going to have to close my mouth and bite his fingers off except the dirty putz got up from his chair and left the room. He said something, but again it was faded and in the background. I looked down to see if he had stolen my big boy britches. I wanted to go home with them in tack. I looked around to see this smiling face looking down at me saying.<br />
"You're all done. When ever you feel like getting up feel free."<br />
I thought to myself. Feel free to do what, then I looked over at her little table and I saw this tooth laying in a pan. I could tell it was mine because of the sharp corners from breaking. Suddenly it dawned on me that half my mouth was numb. Half my tongue was numb and where there had been an abscess there was no pain.<br />
I sniffed the air to see if I should be embarrassed because my big boy britches were maybe a little dirty. I had brought a change of underwear just in case. I felt my cheeks to wipe away the cry baby tears but there were none. I sat up to see if I was going to fall over from some illicit drug they gave me. I looked at my watch to see if there was time that I couldn't account for.<br />
I watched with a wary eye to make sure there had been no funny business. This whole business was beginning to hack me off. Where was the pain I was to endure. Where was the pints of blood spilling out of my mouth. Where was the nausea. I really had wanted to throw up on the dentist just to show my disgust of the whole group of savages. BUT NOOOOOO.<br />
<br />
Bob Robert L. Conley Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07226184673803149203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366485665094329885.post-37516441359501155742014-05-23T10:26:00.002-07:002014-05-31T08:00:23.544-07:00Born to do what I'm doingHey There,<br />
<br />
I wanted to tell you all that I'm still not dead but working hard trying to get my life in order so that I can start marketing my books. While reading an article on marketing there was a question asked that I had never really asked myself. "Why are you writing this book?" I had to think. Was it because I wanted to make a great deal of money? Yeah sure. Ninety percent of us authors are screaming with so much money we could take care of the national debt. Again "Yeah sure".<br />
So I asked myself the same question again and came up with the possibility that it was fame and notoriety. Nooottt. The last thing I want is to be on some fame pedestal so that I can take cheap shots from the cheap seats. That's not my bag. I've never really had thick skin. Critique is one thing Criticism is another. There are a lot of Simon Cowel's out there that just love to be rude and ruthless. I don't intend on giving them a chance at my throat.<br />
I finally came to the answer late that night. It was way to simple and that was why it alluded my superior brain. (cough, sputter) I wanted to give to people what books had done for me. I wanted to entertain and take someone away from all the strain of daily living and let them live somewhere else for just a little while. Somewhere where they new at the end of the day everything was going to work out just fine and that "Right" would always win over "Wrong" and "Good" would always win over "Evil".<br />
My real world never or hardly ever gets to be in that world unless I'm writing. Then I get to always get the bad guy and the guy always get's the girl or the girl always gets the guy and everyone lives happily ever after.<br />
When I was growing up, what has stayed with my heart forever, was the Disney movies and musicals that always had the happy ending and they all lived happily ever after. It always made sense to me that life should be like that. That's also the reason why I'm with Grace and we are living happily ever after.<br />
Back to the reason why I write. Besides entertaining people there is one more reason. I can't do anything else. This is really what I was born to do, it's just a shame I started doing it so late in life. I'm not sure I can live long enough to write everything that I need to write. I keep hoping that the real Power to be will let me have enough time to get it all down on paper. That will be my happy ending. <br />
<br />
BobRobert L. Conley Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07226184673803149203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366485665094329885.post-62014385792942103602014-05-08T10:22:00.000-07:002014-05-31T08:01:41.288-07:00What I love to doHey There,<br />
<br />
Thought I was dead for a while but nooooot. I've been working on getting my books online and creating the real books for the people that just have to have a physical book in there hands at night while laying in bed to wander off into never, never land. My characters do go off into far away places at times hunting down drug or human traffickers, or just finding a new set of elements of chemistry that the Mayan people were given by aliens. That's all in "The Friday Night Dance Club". That one was a great one to write.<br />
I've also been working my fool head off helping people in my apartment building. I created a Art, Gift and Bake Sale that all of us old folks have jumped into. It's one of the most satisfying things I've done in my life. People that haven't been out of their apartments for months at a time are finding a renewed sense of purpose and are working to produce something for sale.<br />
I didn't let them put in their rummage, they had to create something from scratch. Leather work, dishcloths, clothing lines, plastic canvas art and even frames that use Lake Superior rocks. We just finished our 3rd sale and it was a great success. The bake sale and lunch sales netted a good profit for our 501C3 not for profit organization. The money goes for taking us old farts to different events like the Maritime Museum, Pontoon Boat rides down the St Louis river and on and on and on. One by one I'm getting people up and doing something instead of sitting and watching the boob tube.<br />
Grace, my greatest cheerleader and wife constantly pushes although she's had a severe Vitamin D deficiency which is a whole other blog. One day I'll get into the trials and tribulations that she's been through.<br />
<br />
Thanks for listening,<br />
Bob Robert L. Conley Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07226184673803149203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366485665094329885.post-11453696644625854362012-01-20T12:47:00.000-08:002012-01-20T12:58:04.050-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjILqsdjc9IFATFNMp-lyeuKdfvIRZe3ZyCe0PvHOm8zmRrtlMkyQ9agDdP9tKcF5CaF5t4jUex6Bu0eAfSThAq5_cwHwkE6XyCiQTkKCZ6BvlOCYDNwp5VqXhfsHOV3uA0qt93jExqGyU/s1600/me009_70x116.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 70px; height: 116px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjILqsdjc9IFATFNMp-lyeuKdfvIRZe3ZyCe0PvHOm8zmRrtlMkyQ9agDdP9tKcF5CaF5t4jUex6Bu0eAfSThAq5_cwHwkE6XyCiQTkKCZ6BvlOCYDNwp5VqXhfsHOV3uA0qt93jExqGyU/s200/me009_70x116.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699821314539342210" border="0" /></a><br />Hey There,<br /><br /> What a wonderful morning at the coffee shop here in Duluth. It's 7 degrees, not much wind (thank God) and the coffee shop is just about a half a block away. (Which is good in this weather) Grace had a white chocolate machioto. She gave me a taste and if I liked cinnamon and white chocolate I would have drenched myself in it. Boring old me just had dark roast regular coffee with of course cream and sugar.<br /> We met a friend there for conversation and coffee. Both were good and the one thing that I can say for Duluth is that Minnesota Nice is alive and real up here. What a wonderful place to live and work. For that matter I better get back to work on my latest novel. The last in the series of Ross and Jena. Maybe the last for right now but who knows, I don't think either one of them die in this one, at least I don't think so right now but that can always change.<br /> Jena is still in a wheelchair from the last outing and Ted lost his leg and Ross got shot in the ass again so we'll see what comes down the pike.<br /><br />Talk soon,<br />BobRobert L. Conley Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07226184673803149203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366485665094329885.post-49149520566770433072012-01-18T10:50:00.000-08:002012-01-18T10:53:56.539-08:00Hey There,<br /><br /> Just wanted everyone to know that I did finish Elizabeth Peters book last night and I hadn't even remembered the good twist to her murder mystery. It was epic as a matter of fact in so far as I didn't remember it until I read it again. There was enough smoke and mirrors with her "little lists" that there was secondary surprise is that great big package. You've got to read it!<br /><br />Talk soon,<br />BobRobert L. Conley Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07226184673803149203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366485665094329885.post-67971899676601705962012-01-17T16:47:00.000-08:002012-01-17T17:24:58.504-08:00Hey there,<br /><br /> Just all but finished "The Serpent on the Crown" for the second time by "Elizabeth Peters". She just makes me smile every time I read one of her books whether it's the first time or the second or the third. I don't come close to writing like her but I do hope that I spin a yarn as good. I hope my characters become a part of a persons mental disorders (ha ha) or at least someone that they might want to have a drink with. I don't think Emerson would have tea with me but maybe Amelia.<br /><br />Talk soon,<br />BobRobert L. Conley Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07226184673803149203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366485665094329885.post-25847878438653865002012-01-15T16:55:00.000-08:002012-01-15T17:29:08.648-08:00Hey There,<br /><br /> Here's another author for those that like tongue in cheek, sarcasm at its best and a sense of humor that will crack up most people; Nelson DeMille should be on your list of must read authors. Besides his humor he can tell a good story. A story where if it was another author some people like me would get tired of the fluff and close the book never to pick up that author again. He's not like that at all. He can make the mundane set up sound good and make you want to turn the page just to see what kind of crap he's got his characters into next.<br /> From the books of his that I've read I think the character I like the best is John Cory. He works kind of for the FBI but not really. He's a retired NYPD homicide detective that works in the Anti Terrorist Task Force with his FBI wife that he takes constantly out on that proverbial limb that just about breaks every time using his unique and somewhat strange skills.<br /><br />Happy Reading,<br />BobRobert L. Conley Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07226184673803149203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366485665094329885.post-68934641643132766862012-01-14T12:13:00.001-08:002012-01-14T12:21:22.981-08:00Hey There,<br /><br /> Okay enough about politics and the world. I have just started another book by Elizabeth Peters. It's one that I've already read but to tell the truth as soon as I started it I knew I had to read it again. She's one of those writers I can't put down and the pleasure it gives me to read her words is beyond what I can put on paper. I am truly mesmerized and taken thousands of miles to the Vally of the Kings in Egypt. Her British style of writing makes everyone come alive from Amelia to Emerson, Ramses and Nefret and of course the twins.<br /> My heart calms and my adrenaline settles to a mild roar and my eyes see the conversations and the mystical artifacts and hieroglyphics that Ramses so intelligently transcribes. If you ever get the chance to read her it is a must on every one's reading list. They are stories that astroproject you back in time along with a great cast of characters.<br /><br />Talk soon,<br />BobRobert L. Conley Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07226184673803149203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366485665094329885.post-89002800636816034532011-12-26T09:47:00.000-08:002011-12-26T10:16:44.581-08:00Hey There,<br /><br /> I recently was posed a question by my dear wife. Why shouldn't we stop providing for the rest of the world and pull our ranks back to our shores and become a little more isolated and stop this funneling of every extra penny we have to everyone but ourselves?<br /> It was a good question and one that I had to think about for a moment. I finally said; To me it's like knowing someone hated me for whatever reason and for lack of a better one let's say it's my religion. I'm not one of them so I should die. So what should I do. I have a gun and I'm in this little world of people that have nothing to do with the melee but will become collateral damage if I stay here to protect them. Should I go out and find this person that wants to kill me in his own little world or wait for him to come to me and kill him. I'm certainly on my own turf that I know better than his but still in the wind is that someone besides me will get hurt, maybe all of them. Who knows when a killer has killed me what he's going to do next.<br /> Isolationism is good up to a point but since we know that we can be killed and will be killed by known assassins it's my thought that I should take the fight to their little world and be ever vigilant about collateral damage.<br /> Protecting ourselves sometimes creates unsolvable problems that are best looked at in their basic forms then we can react accordingly.<br /><br />Talk soon,<br />BobRobert L. Conley Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07226184673803149203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366485665094329885.post-61173161703154793492011-12-23T15:45:00.000-08:002011-12-23T16:04:42.719-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhge5x4kqfvEiYfGH35l_3tbActG2Z18hs3IIzrT92YgVsCr7_6mXGg3TU-4KlvkXJKAl1EkP7D1KndsytFXUNScs_A23sxgmvU44SfxQoes_xCnSqT1g-B7lVnFfuGgwdiJKfFGKPEeq4/s1600/low+dpi+me008.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhge5x4kqfvEiYfGH35l_3tbActG2Z18hs3IIzrT92YgVsCr7_6mXGg3TU-4KlvkXJKAl1EkP7D1KndsytFXUNScs_A23sxgmvU44SfxQoes_xCnSqT1g-B7lVnFfuGgwdiJKfFGKPEeq4/s200/low+dpi+me008.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689479042841887826" border="0" /></a><br />Lesson #2:<br /><br />Hey There;<br /><br /> I hope everyone understands why I'm giving English Grammar lessons. First to teach myself and second with the advent of LOL and OMG I think it's about time we get our language back so that there are no misunderstandings of translation. It seems to me this causes great problems everywhere.<br /> One of the supposed sentences that gives me chills is when someone says; "You want to go with."<br /> How many things are wrong there! Do I want to go with who, where? Finish the damn sentence you lazy bums.<br /> Lesson #2: This is taken from the Grammar book of Gary Lutz and Diane Stevenson.<br />Verbs and Tenses:<br /> <span style="font-style: italic;">Verbs are complicated parts of speech. Their parts, forms, and attributes</span> can be categorized <span style="font-style: italic;">and classified in many ways</span>. <span style="font-style: italic;">At the most basic level, verb stems <span style="font-weight: bold;">( </span></span>be in to be, run in to run) <span style="font-style: italic;">change -- or, are conjugated-- to match the subject in number (singular or plural) and to indicate the time (past, present, or future) when the action of the verb occurs.<br /><br /> </span>Isn't that a mouthful but understandable. Thanks for taking the time to read and understand lesson #2.<br /><br />Talk soon<br />BobRobert L. Conley Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07226184673803149203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366485665094329885.post-30890995959580420132011-12-22T09:48:00.000-08:002011-12-22T10:07:52.801-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRh-ueKdvJwAIhwVioZACFn7SfpxV2NywLjBPqRLqW8UqGKF8wrG_qBDoWO9Gsz1aPAN8_9Hde7jWKXdoX7hW6cadLxxu7mj68Pa4kWy0vKojHLYXczY6yiZzq0oejpe5QAWiFuWtS6M4/s1600/me009_70x116.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 70px; height: 116px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRh-ueKdvJwAIhwVioZACFn7SfpxV2NywLjBPqRLqW8UqGKF8wrG_qBDoWO9Gsz1aPAN8_9Hde7jWKXdoX7hW6cadLxxu7mj68Pa4kWy0vKojHLYXczY6yiZzq0oejpe5QAWiFuWtS6M4/s200/me009_70x116.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689015241457678818" border="0" /></a><br />Hey I'm back,<br /><br /> Again it's been a while since I've written but I'm making a New Years resolution. Oh crap I just didn't say that did I. Well I did and I'm not going for the back space bar. I mean it and that's all I'm going to say about it because the "proof is in the pudding" as my momma used to say. God bless that woman's soul for putting up with me and all my "shenanigans" as my father used to say and I'm not going to God bless him because he didn't put up with my "shenanigans".<br /> Hey I wanted to tell you that I just got through reading "Operation Dark Heart". The acronyms were overwhelming but I muddled through constantly going back to the legend to keep pace with where he was and kind of where I was.<br /> A little dry for me but I understood what he was trying to say and why. Why he thinks how important the Afghanistan war is and why it's necessary that we should win the hearts of the people and keep Karzai in power from a "Spook's" point of view. It's insightful and gives a good detailed account of what goes on over there.<br /> I'm not normally a reader of nonfiction accounts of anything but the jacket looked good and it kept my interest enough for me to wade through it. It's not a fast read but it's interesting and something we should all take an interest in. We need to each make a decision for ourselves whether in this next upcoming election whether we take on Ron Paul's isolationism and line ourselves up with the Constitution or the very right hard line of "kill the bastards" that killed almost as many in Pearl Harbor. Our friends and neighbors and loved ones.<br /> We can also look to the middle road for someone that can serve and protect. Don't know who he or she is yet but I'll get back to you.<br /><br />Talk soon,<br />BobRobert L. Conley Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07226184673803149203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366485665094329885.post-59183570676071505862011-11-06T14:12:00.000-08:002011-11-06T15:53:23.763-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghWso2j1uvvXda8WsFYrAzRkszmr2_Dalnako1ckUoTuIoIhWnHK1mGx2uqn7OVGncdce8Io-39oSPZ023WcNm4lHSrSD0rxcFVwN1IFI27_oalk40tnVNc0BDUMwpt4ZbhXIMN5gElDk/s1600/Low+dpi+me001.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 145px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghWso2j1uvvXda8WsFYrAzRkszmr2_Dalnako1ckUoTuIoIhWnHK1mGx2uqn7OVGncdce8Io-39oSPZ023WcNm4lHSrSD0rxcFVwN1IFI27_oalk40tnVNc0BDUMwpt4ZbhXIMN5gElDk/s200/Low+dpi+me001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672035139196236354" border="0" /></a><br />Hey,<br /><br /> I'm sorry I haven't written much lately but I've been busy writing another novel. In the middle of it now but I thought I'd give my self a break and learn something while giving anyone that wanted a Grammar lesson. I know I can use all the knowledge I can get when it comes to Grammar. So I thought I'd start at the beginning and as I say a lot in my novels "clarify". Anything that has quotes is from "The Writer's Digest Grammar Desk Reference" by Gary Lutz and Diane Stevenson. Let's get to our first and most basic lesson.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">"Proper nouns vs. common nouns; </span>A proper noun names one specific person, thing, or place (<span style="font-style: italic;">Woofy, Mount Everest), </span>whereas a common noun names a class or group (<span style="font-style: italic;">dog, mountain)</span>.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Concrete nouns vs. abstract nouns: </span>A concrete noun refers to a material object (<span style="font-style: italic;">the table, a dog),</span> whereas an abstract noun refers to something intangible (<span style="font-style: italic;">love, art).</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Count nouns vs. noncount (or mass) nouns: </span>A count noun identifies something that can be preceded by <span style="font-style: italic;">many or fewer, </span>and can become plural with the addition of -<span style="font-style: italic;">s: fewer coins, many rivers. </span>A noncount noun designates something that cannot become divisible, such as <span style="font-style: italic;">money, tuberculosis, or happiness.</span> Noncount nouns can be preceded by <span style="font-style: italic;">much </span>and<span style="font-style: italic;"> less.</span> Thus <span style="font-style: italic;">He ate fewer cookies today </span>is correct, not <span style="font-style: italic;">less cookies, </span>and <span style="font-style: italic;">I prefer less cream in my coffee </span>is correct, not <span style="font-style: italic;">fewer cream. </span>Often, abstract nouns are noncount nouns as well: <span style="font-style: italic;">honor, duty, authority, love.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;">How about all of that info. Actually I'm going to have to read it over again and probably again. That count and noncount stuff confused me.<br /><br /> Hey have a good day,<br /><br /> Bob</span></span></span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span><br /></span>Robert L. Conley Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07226184673803149203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366485665094329885.post-24352028963768029912011-08-19T05:19:00.000-07:002011-09-05T14:00:51.188-07:00Changing on a DimeHey,<br /><br /> The title for the Stricland, Scanlon novel finally came out while I was writing the other day. It was the second time I could use the phrase and almost didn't. You're not supposed to repeat that stuff but it seemed so appropriate for the mood of what I was writing and voila the light bulb went off in my head and it made all the sense in the world. I couldn't have done better if I tried.<br /> I'm looking forward to getting this one up on the website and speaking of websites I've got six new ones coming soon to an internet theater near you. I hope you take the time to go look through them when they're up. They should be fun to run through. I'll have audio's of short synopsis's of each book. I've had a hell of a time getting the audios just right. There will be the pic of the month by Moody Wench Reflections. A trick of the computer trade by Dan the Computer Man and I'm going to throw in my best recipe of the month. It should be a hoot and a holler.<br /><br />Talk soon,<br />BobRobert L. Conley Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07226184673803149203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366485665094329885.post-73821379984669349902011-07-17T07:54:00.000-07:002011-07-17T08:04:16.107-07:00Stricland and Scanlon at there bestHey,<br /><br /> As tough as Scanlon is, she's got a heart of gold. Probably sometimes to easy of a touch but she's got good people around her like Bobby so no one takes advantage. Townsend epitomizes someone that wouldn't think of taking advantage of anyone. She's the breath of air that Scanlon needs in her jaded and unthinkable life to set the world straight for her after all the long hard years yearning for one thing and one thing only.<br /><br />Talk soon,<br />BobRobert L. Conley Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07226184673803149203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366485665094329885.post-73311990970474691972011-07-12T10:17:00.000-07:002011-07-12T10:31:12.700-07:00Watching the Character grow<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZAaSAzoH0J8/ThyEyl9p0xI/AAAAAAAAAA4/Hodv3T4TKpY/s1600/img003.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 185px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZAaSAzoH0J8/ThyEyl9p0xI/AAAAAAAAAA4/Hodv3T4TKpY/s200/img003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628519639025308434" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Hey,<br /><br /> Can't wait to get another novel up. Working title "Stricland and Scanlon". I'm sure that will change as soon as I see it in the novel. This one is a long one and it's been difficult. This was one of the ones that I hand wrote just to see if I could do it and what was it like before the dawn on the typewriter then voila the laptop.<br /> One thing I can say is that when you're writing by hand you really can't go back and change things very easily so what you do is note it down on the side then when you type it in you try and remember what your thoughts were at the time. Have you ever tried to read your handwriting after a year being away from it? God is that special.<br /> Anyway I'm about two thirds through and I finished reading the handwritten pages and there is no way I can leave it the way I've ended it. I'll have to carry on when I get there. The two main characters deserve better. Couple of Kansas City detectives that know their stuff. Wish me luck.<br /><br />Talk soon,<br />BobRobert L. Conley Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07226184673803149203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366485665094329885.post-27792704591865727752011-07-10T07:54:00.001-07:002011-07-10T08:04:37.568-07:00New Book Soon<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PgryK20KwmU/Thm_aHLjptI/AAAAAAAAAAo/uP_qHxiZbMo/s1600/Pics%2Bof%2BMe%2B005.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PgryK20KwmU/Thm_aHLjptI/AAAAAAAAAAo/uP_qHxiZbMo/s200/Pics%2Bof%2BMe%2B005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627739664701171410" border="0" /></a><br />Hey,<br /><br /> I'm in the throws of another novel. Bet you couldn't guess since it's been so long that I've written anything. I've had a good run with this one and I'm just a few weeks from being done at least with the second draft. This one should be the longest one yet. I think I'm getting touched by the Blarney Stone. You'll understand that one when you read it.<br /> Hope everyone is doing what they love to do. I am and I'm glad I'm doing it. May not be making much at it yet but my books keep selling and I'll have that wonderful readership in no time. Thanks to everybody that's buying my books. I'm humbled.<br /><br />Talk soon,<br />BobRobert L. Conley Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07226184673803149203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366485665094329885.post-88692285717712917212011-05-08T07:37:00.000-07:002011-05-08T07:49:17.420-07:00Mother's Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBg4LVscNhZBZpT1WJbodVZVRe0-Eutm3tFkXriUnbxFcsZILldy-xBRteT_rM4gfEKoSGAd9or50K5z6LMkXTUiiFZKUb2JqT28gJKYOTvLA0UZxOlbpoyMzEwVvXD2xNchsHf_LwDPo/s1600/Cover+for+DOtD+2.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBg4LVscNhZBZpT1WJbodVZVRe0-Eutm3tFkXriUnbxFcsZILldy-xBRteT_rM4gfEKoSGAd9or50K5z6LMkXTUiiFZKUb2JqT28gJKYOTvLA0UZxOlbpoyMzEwVvXD2xNchsHf_LwDPo/s320/Cover+for+DOtD+2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604357343941782578" border="0" /></a><br />Hey,<br /><br /> I live with two of the best Moms there are. Mother and daughter. I'm married to the mother and the daughter is my step daughter. We've had a good time over the years and I'm looking forward to many more. Our daughter has three children of her own now. Henry is the oldest and just turned four. Then there's Anna who has been termed the pterodactyl because she has a set of lungs and vocal chords that rival prehistoric animals but she's the cutest thing alive and I love her to death. She's two. Then's there's the best baby ever born and that's Gretta. She does more cooing than any baby I've ever known and she's going to be another man killer just like her sister. It's a good thing to be living so close to them.<br /><br />Talk soon,<br />BobRobert L. Conley Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07226184673803149203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366485665094329885.post-41717837701572345382011-05-07T09:56:00.000-07:002011-05-07T10:03:15.388-07:00Back at itHey,<br /><br /> Boy did I take some time from it all. I didn't realize I had laid low for so long. I think it was right after the 18<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span> that I finished the last book in the Ross and Jena trilogy and I just shut my ass down and tried to not think of a thing one way or the other. My finger tips were bleeding and my soul was drained and I needed some time to recoup.<br /> I started editing one of my favorite books that I had hand written a year or two ago. Right now <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Stricland</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Scanlon</span> is the working title. Once I get through the book the title will come. I've just got to type it up and revise and edit a lot to make it work at least for me.<br /> <br />Talk soon,<br />BobRobert L. Conley Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07226184673803149203noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7366485665094329885.post-46549569608868469102011-04-18T10:32:00.000-07:002011-04-18T10:54:04.950-07:00Just liked the last one too much<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k7FhdDuKs50/Tax6q0KcygI/AAAAAAAAAAU/VPZgx5ukd_Y/s1600/Me%2Bfor%2BBooks%2B2.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 216px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k7FhdDuKs50/Tax6q0KcygI/AAAAAAAAAAU/VPZgx5ukd_Y/s320/Me%2Bfor%2BBooks%2B2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596983312890251778" border="0" /></a><br />Hey,<br /><br /> It's been way to long since I've written anything but it was because I loved what Wanda (my muse) said about the book. If it wasn't for readers like her I'd have a tough time keeping on, keeping on. I love writing and I would probably keep on but I love the good feedback; now the bad is a different story but I brace myself for the odd person that thinks it's a good thing to batter the author. It's one of the points that us authors have to take into account. That some people need to sling arrows to hurt and try and kill off the creative process. I think that if these people would push their creative side and put it out there once and see what the public says and take the slings and arrows of their peers they would have a better idea of what it's like. It's tough but then again sitting and writing 90.000 words is pretty tough too.<br /> Hope things are doing great for everyone out there and he's one guy that loves anything creative that anyone does. It makes the world go around a little nicer.<br /><br />Talk soon,<br />BobRobert L. Conley Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07226184673803149203noreply@blogger.com0