Book Review for Rodd Clark's Rubble and the Wreckage

Rubble and the Wreckage was a hard read for me. I went into it excited, thinking serial killer story, someone who hasn’t been caught yet, oh this is really going to be a wild adventure…and it was, but it was a really slow start that had a hard time holding my attention. It kicks off very Anne Rice “Interview with a Vampire” like, but quickly slows down to the point where it becomes bogged by internal monologues and at times, way too much telling.

I felt like Christian came into the situation with descent intentions, though I did feel as if there was some ego involved and that he was planning to break the story for fame, rather than turning Church in and perhaps saving others, so that made him come across as complacent to me.

As for church, he is every bit as cold, dark and ruthless as I imagined he would be, despite the moments of attraction. He was able to connect with Christian, I think because of the fact that he was sharing his story, and thus a hidden part of himself, but I was never convinced that deeper emotions were involved.

As a psychological thriller it was a very intriguing read. The first killing showed both viciousness and determination, and Church’s propensity for killing only grew from there. Each one explains in order, some have reasons, some don’t he’s honest enough to admit that and thankfully, the author never tries to paint him in a sympathetic light.

I think the pairing worked out well, each was able to, at least for a short while, get what they needed from the other. In the end, it became clear, as well that they had both had an effect on the other that had not been planned when they entered into the venture. The writing was intelligent, if a bit wordy, and that wordiness did have an effect on the flow and ease of readability. For that reason, I can only give three dancing hamsters.  

Sneak Peak Saturday

This past week I've been fairly busy traveling up and down the back roads to take my daughter to camp, working on jams and jellies for the fair at the end of the month, and setting up my newest Work in Progress for the final scenes to be added before I start my hunt for Beta readers. I was having so much fun working on the piece that I decided to share a little sneak peak today. So this is the first meeting between the primary MCs.

“What can I get from you?” the guy behind the counter asked. He looked like a cowboy with longish blond hair and gray-blue eyes, like flint. Nicky was pretty sure the guy was older than him, mid-thirties maybe, and damn was he built like he lived in a gym. His flannel shirt and jeans fit snug and showed off his defined build even with the black apron he wore over it.

“What kind of pie do you have?” Nicky asked.

“Boston Cream, French silk, cherry and apple.”

The man’s voice was a lazy drawl and Nicky found it a little arousing.

Nicky tried to give the man a smile. “I’ll take a slice of French silk and a slice of Boston crème please.”

The big man chuckled, “Got a sweet tooth do you?”

“More like depressed as hell,” Nicky muttered.

“Oh, well then, you sure I can’t bring you a slice of each?”

Nicky laughed. “Nope, two will do. I don’t need to get fat on top of everything else.”

The guy’s eyes raked over him and Nicky was sure he didn’t misinterpret the way that he was being appraised. Nicky watched as he cut the pie and brought it over. “Whipped cream?”

“No thanks,” Nicky said.

“Doubt it would pack on any extra pounds,” the man quipped.

“Fine, whipped cream,” Nicky relented, his eyes widening a little as the guy piled it on.

“Eat up,” the big man chuckled before he resumed wiping down the counters.

Nicky ate the pie slowly, savoring it. It was very good and he couldn’t help but close his eyes and slowly chew several bites, allowing the flavors to roll over his tongue as the anger and tension of the day slowly began to melt away.

“Wow, you really love pie, don’t you?”

Nicky’s eyes popped open to find the man watching him. He felt his cheeks heat up a bit as he averted his eyes.

“It’s umm, really good,” Nicky said. “Chef must be awesome.”

“I am, thanks,” the man quipped, then chuckled as Nicky blushed more.

“They are really good,” Nicky responded, and then blushed more when he realized that he was just sitting there repeating himself.

“Where are you from?” the man asked.

Nicky swiveled in his seat and gestured towards the east, “The valley.”

“Long way to drive for some pie.”

“Pie like this I might drive for more often,” Nicky quipped. “Really though, I was almost out of gas. Figured I’d fill me and the truck and be on my way.”

“Where you headed?”

“No fuckin’ clue,” Nicky admitted.

The guy raised an eyebrow. “So what are you running from?”

Nicky laughed bitterly. “My life, which is an epic fuckin’ mess right now and since the shitstorm keeps getting worse, I decided to drive.”

The guy chuckled at hearing that. “I know that story my friend. About five years back I came home to find my stuff on the lawn and a foreclosure sign outside. Guess there was a second mortgage I didn’t know about. Tossed most of the crap in the dumpster, packed my clothes and music in my trunk and lived in my car for a while, until the owner sold the restaurant I was working at and the new management brought in their own people and a menu I couldn’t even pronounce. They turned it into some snazzy upscale thing and me, I just started driving. Saw a help wanted sign in the window when I stopped for gas and I’ve been here ever since.”

“Hopefully not still living in the same old car,” Nicky commented.

“Nope, I have a trailer out back,” the guy said. “So, what happened that you’ve got no place to go back to?”

“I guess it isn’t that bad,” Nicky relented. “I mean I’ve got a place to live and I’ve got a job even if I did just quit my day job this morning.”

“Ahh, so it’s a woman then?” the man fished.

Nicky shook his head. “Not a woman.”

“Not a woman but someone, ‘cause I’m sensing that if it isn’t home and it isn’t work than a relationship tanked somewhere.

Nicky looked down, “yeah.”

“How long were you and he together?”

Nicky blushed a little, “Since high school.”

The man studied Nicky for a moment, a small smile on his face when he saw the other man blush. “First and only relationship, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, time heals all things kid. Was with my guy for twelve years before I came home to that foreclosure sign. It don’t get any easier the older you get. It still sucks when it all blows up in your face.”

“Just wish he wouldn’t rub my nose in it every time I turn around,” Nicky muttered.

“He can only rub your nose in it if you let him,” the guy pointed out. 

Book Review on “A Family Affair” by Tim Yingling. Released Today!

I’d like to wish a happy release day to Tim Yingling, whose novel, A Family Affair, was released today. I was fortunate enough to receive an advance reader’s copy, and I have to say, it reminded me a bit of one of my favorite TV shows, “The Unit.” Mr. Yingling’s military background allows him to weave a story filled with gritty reality and a bunch of intrigue.

What snagged my attention right away were the notes of research scientist James Pederson in regards to a metal he’s found that washed up on the beach. Right away we are made to understand that this metal isn’t on the periodic table and is thus, unknown in the scientific community. This is also the first time we see Eli mentioned, which in turn gives the reader an idea of just how long he’s been involved in this process.

The book then fast forwards to present day and Eli’s son Chase, a police officer, receiving several harassing phone calls in the night. Come morning, when Chase investigates them, he comes across a triple murder that will pull him back to an ill-fated mission him and his special forces group were involved in several years before in Mexico.

Coupled with the personal attacks on his family, and the reveal that both Chase’s military family and the drug cartel are intertwined in several ways, the tension level quickly heats up. Fortunately, Mr. Yingling takes us back in time and shows us what took place during that raid, and the decision that Chase made that night that leads into the events of A Family Affair. There is corruption at several different levels of government, plans within plans, and new revelations about the ‘drug’ at every turn, and all of it goes back to one scientist and his discovery.

While at times I felt as if the story got bogged down in too many details, one thing it was not lacking in was action, secrets, double deals, and retribution. Chase, Eli and the rest of their family show that they not only stick together but they excel as a team, right down to even the smallest members. No one’s place in the family is reduced to a backseat position, which can be very hard to do. If you are a fan of military or police dramas, consider giving A Family Affair a chance. This gets a solid three and a half stars from me. 

Book Review for Break Yo Self by Jason Law

Break Yo Self, by Jason Law, is a gritty, fast paced urban fiction (often called Street Lit) novel, that is filled with raw realism in its depiction of thug and street life. The title itself “Break Yo Self,” is a slang term warning someone to prepare to be robbed or shot and is usually accompanied by threatening someone with a knife or gun. It can also be taken to mean give up everything of value in your possession, as in break the bank.

There certainly is a lot of possessions being passed around this story. Cash, guns, drugs, the four friends at the center of the novel kick things off with a robbery and from the reader is drawn into a world of dope houses, kidnappings and murders.

Let’s be clear about something right off the bat. There are no antagonists or protagonists in this book. No one’s hands are clean, no one is truly innocent, everyone is looking for ways to make fast money and stay ahead of everyone else. Lies are told, oaths are given and broken, and lives are taken at the slightest provocation. This is a novel of the streets, it isn’t designed to be pretty. There is no HEA for any of these characters, in fact, many readers might feel that they get what they deserve in the end while others will just shake their heads, desensitized to the violence.

The writer never tries to sugar coat his character’s actions, he never tries to justify them, he simply tells their story and allows the reader to decide if their choices led them to the ending they deserved. There are many who might feel that Urban fiction glorifies violence and spreads hate, but in Break Yo Self, Jason Law’s writing is like watching a movie playing out. These guys are on a mission, that is their single minded focus. There is no glory in what they do, nor is there any celebration. All they care about when they are through is the money.

The pacing of this novel was fast and filled with action. These are characters that are constantly thinking of their next score, constantly trying to fill the time between it with something to remind them that they are alive. Dice, drugs, football, women, Mr. Law takes us into their neighborhood and shows the mundane as well as the violence.

For those who are a fan of Street Lit, check this book out, and for those who aren’t, keep an open mind, you never know when you might like something until you try it.

I can’t award this novel any dancing hamsters. It’s too raw for cuteness like that. So I’m giving out my first Gangsta Hamsta award. Or in this case, 4 of them. 

Writing Groups, critiques and criticisms

Twice now I have been lucky enough to live in places with writing groups and writing workshops. The first time was in a small mountain town in Massachusetts, and the second is the town in which I currently live. It was a scary thing at first, taking my work in to someone and asking them to look at it and critique it. 

Receiving it back with red all over it was crushing, but only in that first moment before the woman who would become instrumental in shaping my writing told me to take a seat.

She explained that she didn’t just mark papers until they bled, she liked to sit down with the writer and talk about what their vision was for the story. It soon became clear to me that if I couldn’t vocalize that, than I couldn’t get my story from opening line to the place I wanted it to be. She worked with me on revisions, she worked with me on streamlining my thoughts and expanding my horizons. She got me to attend poetry workshops, and workshops on one act plays. I attended her novel writing workshop two years after first beginning to work with her, and created two drafts of a novel I plan to revisit one day.

Of course this was not without the help of the wonderful writing group that ended up being formed from that 8 week workshop. For the next year and a half we met once a week, brought in the new sections of our writing and discussed the pieces we’d turned in the week before. We gave one another feedback, helped one another through writers block and wayward plots, encouraged, supported and even cried with one another.

Fast-forward ahead a decade. I’ve been with the writing group in my town about three years now, it’s mostly poetry based but still with that nurturing, supportive base I loved from my first group. In fact, I’m in the process of creating a flyer to see if I can generate interest in a weekly novel writing group in my community. Writing can be a lonely craft, but I don’t think it has to be.

One of the first things that was discussed in each workshop I participated in was the importance of not ‘killing babies.” Let’s face it our stories are our babies and it’s important not to stomp all over someone’s work. New ideas can be fragile things and having someone read a draft and say ‘that’s crap’ isn’t helpful to anyone.

Which brings me to the difference between critique and criticism.  A critique points out strengths and weaknesses and offers suggestions as to what someone can do to improve their work. More showing and less telling, adding in more details, working on making dialogue more natural, these are all helpful things to point out.

Criticism, however, tends to lean towards being a string of lines like, “this is horrible. No publisher will ever publish this. This was boring. Have you ever written anything before? Who would want to read something like this. This was a waste of my time.” These are all criticisms, I have seen given to writers in online writing groups and workshops in the last year alone and the number of those types of comments seems to be growing.

There is nothing helpful in replying to someone’s work with those kinds of comments. There is nothing specific for the writer to focus on improving. They are left wondering what parts were horrible or boring and what, exactly was it about the story that made someone consider it horrible, or boring.  Rather than being helpful, those kinds of criticisms can crush a writer’s self-esteem and kill any desire that they might have to improve and achieve. It can also leave writers new to asking for help with their work feel afraid to do so, and thus leave them unwilling to seek out the help they might need.

As writers we are lucky to be part of an industry where there is room for everyone, a genre for almost everything, and readers who are always looking for something new. New ideas are not something we should be afraid of, if anything we should be willing to embrace them and the writers who brings them to the table. I hope that in time all of our writing communities, groups, and workshops are as welcoming and encouraging as the ones I’ve been lucky to find. Let’s foster a positive atmosphere of learning and growth, rather than charging in and tearing others down. 

Small Town 4th of July

Today, rather than talk about books, writing, or up and coming bands, I just want to take a moment to talk about small town America. This is where I live. In a small farming community of about 4,000 people where you can't go anywhere without seeing folks you know. It also happens to be one of the most patriotic places I have every lived. It isn't a patriotism that is celebrated once a year, but rather, year round. This is a town where the people sing the Star Spangled Banner before every sporting event, race, demolition derby, rodeo, ect. and know every word. I live in a town where folks still gather each morning at the coffee shop together to talk town happenings, politics and yes, even gossip before they begin their days. This is a town where being married for 45, 50, 60, even 70 years is commonplace and there is still courtesy carry out and loading at the town grocery store.

If it isn't obvious, yes, I am very, very proud of my town.

In one hundred years there has only been one murder here. People still say ma'am and sir to their elders, still open doors for them too. Men take their hats off in restaurants, quilting circles still take place. There are farmers markets and crafting fairs, Friday Nights in the park with bands and entertainment, homecoming parades, school pride, and folks who gather when others are in need. Our fire department is Volunteer, our conservation center actually teaches classes to the children on how to preserve our natural resources, and I can walk around at night around here and not have to worry about getting mugged.

I truly can't imagine living anywhere else.

Last night we had our fireworks display. Today we had our 4th of July parade. From start to finish it was over an hour and a half. Following the parade, members of the community gathered for a town and country picnic, then it was on to the annual rodeo. During the event, there came a beautiful moment where the announcer asked everyone to sit, and took a moment to remind them of the sacrifices that have been made to attain and keep the freedoms that we all enjoy as citizens. He also took a moment to mention that the idea of freedom in America was so that everyone would have the same opportunities to live their dreams. He then asked every Veteran in the crowd to please stand up, so that they could be acknowledged by their town.

Well let me tell you, we had veterans from World War 2 forward who were present today, and it was a pleasure to take part in giving them all, including my dear mother, a standing ovation.

As I sit here now I can already smell the scent of BBQ in the air. Things are finally calming down again, only the occasional car drives up main street. But it's very easy to sort through the pictures that I took today and find plenty to share, so that you two can see a small town celebration.

Book review of Evelise Archer's Cameron's Negotiator

Nothing says ‘happy sunrise’ like a shapeshifter romance. Let’s face it, we all have our guilty pleasures, some of us more than others, and Shapeshifters are one of mine. It doesn’t matter the pairing or if there is no pairing at all, I’ve found that there are just so many dynamics to the genre, between pack infrastructure, to hunting practices, to how common place (or not) particular forms are, to the wide variety of creatures authors have chosen for their characters to shift into. While the wolf will always be the proud, majestic animal that first drew me to reading (and watching) shapeshifter themes, I have a huge love for Werebears (especially Polar bear shifters and the mythology that often accompanies them.) It’s been interesting to see how the genre has evolved over the years to include Avian shifter and snake shifters and even sharks and I continue to look forward to seeing what creature is presented next.

That having been said, it’s always fun to curl up with what brought me to the table in the first place, so when the opportunity arose to read and review Cameron’s Negotiator by Evelise Archer, through the Don’t Buy My Love program at Goodreads, I jumped at the chance.

In it I was treated to a swiftly moving tale of Cameron, the Alpha wolf of his family's pack and Trevor, an FBI negotiator who, injured on the job and needing time away to recover, ends up in a Rocky Mountains cabin not far from the pack's territory.

It doesn’t take long for Cameron to catch scent of him and deduce that Trevor has to be the mate he’s been waiting nearly a quarter of his life for. Spooked by the wolf, Trevor flees, but later decides to search for it, and who better to guide his quest? You guessed it, Cameron.

Now here’s where the story started moving just a bit too quick for me. Within’ three hours of the start of their search, they begin expressing interest in one another AND get a little steamy. Cameron slips up and starts using the word mate, while Trevor still doesn’t know that shifters exist, and a very short time, as in hours, later, they’re sitting at Cameron’s family home with him explaining the whole thing.

Things go pretty insta-love from that point on. Trevor shares his family history, the in-laws start prepping for a wedding, and Trevor shows little to no difficulty taking it all in. Not only that, but when his FBI partner and friend arrives at Trevor’s request and is soon filled in on everything, HE has little to no difficulty accepting everything he’s being told about mates and shifters as well. In a world where the characters talk about it being a secret that shifters exist, it just all seemed too readily adjusted to by outsiders.

The dialogue was another issue for me. It simply didn’t come off as natural. Terms of endearment appeared out of nowhere, and the dirty talk during the steamy bits was a bit cheesy. I was left torn at the end of the book between wanting to know more about the new pairing implied at the end of the book to set up for the sequel and not wanting to know for fear that it would come across as rushed as this one took place.

All in all, this gets two and a half dancing hamsters from me. (now to go figure out how to cut a dancing hamster in half.)