Jack Canon's American Destiny

Broken Pieces

Friday, November 28, 2014

Margaret Westlie Shares an #Excerpt from Anna's Secret @MargaretWestlie #HistFic #Mystery #TBR

Ian surveyed the expanse of red fields linked one to the other by the rail fences and the wild blueberry bushes, remembering that day, and Anna’s sturdy figure hurrying away over the crest of the hill, her auburn hair in its neat bun, shining in the sunlight, her back straight in its grey drugget dress.
He strode on. The night air against his skin was as warm as milk. He thought again of the tiny daughter lying beside Anna in the churchyard. We should have had another, and another after that.
He had said as much to her after she had recovered from their daughter’s birth, but she had only smiled at him and nodded. She never conceived again, he thought. …
Old Annie had attended Belle’s delivery, but there was not much she could do except give her wormwood against the pain. The baby was turned, she said. She had tried to turn it but Belle had only screamed in pain and had begged her to stop. Belle had laboured for a day and half and finally died from exhaustion. “The baby was likely dead long before that for the same reason,” said Old Annie.
Old Annie knew things. She had the second sight. She also knew about plants and seeds and weeds. She attended Donald’s birth too, Ian remembered, and the birth of the nameless little one. Anna seemed to take great comfort in Old Annie’s presence after that. She spent many hours visiting her. At least that’s where I thought she was, he thought. They say Old Annie knew how to help a woman get with child. I wonder if she knew how to prevent it too? He shivered at the idea. Would Anna have done such a thing? Old Annie’s senile now so I guess I’ll never know.
His thoughts took him past Murdoch’s ruined house, doorless now in the bright moonlight. Old Annie was right about this, too. Murdoch’s door was smeared with blood, the blood of the just. My Anna’s blood. Though I don’t know anymore how just she was. Oh, Anna.
He followed the path that took him across the field to where Anna had lain so few weeks ago. The little pillow of straw, still dark with her blood, lay a few feet into the field, Ian stopped and stared at it. This is all that’s left of her, he thought. Rage filled him. Why, Anna? He kicked the straw pillow to bits and began to run, a great lumbering run. It felt good to run again. The soft wind blew past his face and whistled across his ears.
Suddenly he was in James’ dooryard. The house was dark and silent now, the windows jagged where Donald had broken them. The rage, which had abated somewhat in his run, returned to a hot boiling fury. “I will burn this house of sin!” he shouted, and ran to the barn to gather some straw. He returned in a few moments with a great armful and stuffed it through the gaping windows, then went back for another. Armload after armload of straw he carried and stuffed through the windows, far more than he needed to start a fire.
“My father helped build this house,” he raged, “and I will destroy it!” He stood and surveyed the dark silent house before lighting the match that would burn it to ashes. His father’s face seemed to hang in the air before his own, its expression sorrowful. He remembered that expression from his childhood, and hesitated before striking the match. The rage drained away. “Oh, Poppa, what am I to do?” He fell to his knees and wailed like a tiny child, the tears finally coming, awkward, hot and wrenching. He buried his face in his hands and wept, the tears dripping between his work-roughened hands onto his grey homespun shirt. At last, his sorrow and his anger spent, he rose and stumbled away across the moonlit fields to his own place, the match still clutched in his fingers.

Anna Gillis, the midwife and neighbour in Mattie’s Story, has been found killed. The close-knit community is deeply shaken by this eruption of violence, and neighbours come together to help one another and to discover the perpetrator. But the answer lies Anna’s secret, long guarded by Old Annie, the last of the original Selkirk Settlers, and the protagonist of An Irregular Marriage. Join the community! Read Anna’s Secret and other novels by Margaret A. Westlie.
Buy Now @ Amazon & Smashwords
Genre – Fiction, mystery, historical
Rating – G
More details about the author
 Connect with Margaret Westlie on Facebook & Twitter

Thursday, November 27, 2014

Mikey D.B. on the Musical Inspiration that Led to His Book @mikeydbii #MustRead #TBR #Dystopian

What inspired me to write my book?

This is War by 30 Seconds to Mars.  I got that album for Christmas in 2009, and the second I heard the first song, Escape, my mind went crazy.  Youtube it!  It’s the only way to properly visualize what I’m about to tell you.  

As that first song played, I imagined a man, tortured and beaten, sitting in a chair in the middle of an abandoned football stadium.  The war drums built and built and as they did, another man, a rebel, stepped into the scene and began to circle the one in the chair.  As the lyrics then played, I pictured that it’s what the rebel would be saying to the man in the chair.

Time to escape the clutches of a name,
No this is not a game,
It’s just the beginning.

I don’t believe in fate but the bottom line,
It’s time to pay,
You know you’ve got it coming.

The way Jared Leto says these words, it’s as if he’s seeking revenge for the destitute and war torn lifestyle the man in the chair caused.  Just then, he and a crowd of people shouts:

This is war!

I was listening to that song on a major sound system, taking in the details of all the instruments and voices, and when this declaration of war sounded out, the bass shook and goose bumps shot all up and down my arms.  The rest is history really.  I wanted to write about a revolution, and that album became a major player in my writing process.  I did end up getting stuck at one point.  The plot became a poor version of The Hunger Games that had a lot to do with some drama I was dealing with in the dating world.  That whole sad realization put the project on hold and I started a second one that ended up becoming the missing half to Area 38. 

I do have to say, that the ending though, it was my favorite part to write and is my favorite part to ask people about.  I came up with it while sitting on my bed.  No music this time, just was pondering and it came.  I won’t give any spoilers, but it leaves the reader asking “How--what just happened?”  It makes them mad because it seems so contradicting to the nature of a character, but that’s what I love about it.  

This book, Saga of the Nine: Area 38 leaves the reader asking these questions, and more, in utter confusion, while the rest of the three books in the saga are meant to answer those concerns.  The ending seems random to some, but that’s only because the reader is missing a huge middle chunk.  They’ve read ABC and then X.  They don’t know the rest of the alphabet, and that’s where books two, three and four come in.
Saga of the Nine

Change affects everyone and it is no different for Jackson. Living in Area 38 for as long as he can remember, he knows of no better way to exist than under the tyrannical rule of Christopher Stone, son of Stewart Stone from The Nine of The United Governmental Areas, aka The UGA. This all takes a dramatic turn when Jackson finds a red, metal box buried in his yard, filled with illegal artifacts—journals, a Bible, CDs, etc.—that are from a man of whom he has no recollection of: Mica Rouge.

 The year is 2036 and Mica, unlike Jackson, does know of a better way of life but is torn apart as he sees his country, The United States of America, crumbling from within by group known as The Political Mafia. The Mafia has infiltrated levels upon levels of governmental resources and it is up to Mica and a vigilante group known as The USA Division to stop them and their dark Utopian vision. To their demise, and at the country's expense, The Division fails and has no choice but to watch The Constitution dissolve and transform into The UGA.

In a final stand, having not given up hope, Mica and what is left of The Division, give one final fight in Colorado, or better known as Area 38. However, all is lost as The Division is betrayed by one of their own, Stewart Stone. Mica is left with no choice but to hide in exile, leaving what little history he can of himself and the great United States of America, with his wife, long time friends, and newly born son in hopes that they will one day finish what he could not.

Jackson, having found this legacy twenty-seven years later, decides to start the war that will end The Nine, and he with an outcast group known as The Raiders, begins his fight with Christopher Stone in Area 38. Filled with betrayal, unity, despair, hope, hate and love Area 38 follows both Mica and Jackson in their attempts to restore what they believe to be true freedom, and where one fails, the other rises to the seemingly impossible challenge.

Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Dystopian Thriller
Rating – PG13
More details about the author
Connect with Mikey D. B. on Facebook & Twitter
Website www.mikeydb.com

Saturday, November 22, 2014

ENEMY OF MAN (Chronicles of Kin Roland) #Excerpt by @ScottMoonWriter #Goodreads #SciFi

Excerpt from Enemy of Man, Chapter One 

Earth Fleet assaults the lost planet .... 

….He knew she kept them all alive. She was a force of nature. He needed to meet a nice girl, someone like Becca.
The wormhole convulsed. Kin let go of the rail and stood straight. His hand went to the pistol hanging on his leg. Objects burst from the hazy opening high in the atmosphere. Most ships that crashed on this huge planet came alone—pioneers, explorers, or pilgrims fleeing persecution. Meteors were more common, but during the last three days, a variety of space junk and wreckage had splashed into the ocean and smashed against the mountains east of Crater Town. Somewhere in the universe, an epic battle raged and the debris drifted through the wormhole.
Pacing, Kin watched the sky until the wormhole began to puke earnestly. Small pops sounded in the distance, but he suspected they were explosive thunderclaps.
Objects burst into the air close together, sounding like the chatter of machine gun fire. Pop-pop-pop. Pop-pop. Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop.
That’s a planetary assault force.
Each cluster of fast-moving smoke trails were troopers in Fleet Single Person Assault Armor units. He had worn an FSPAA unit during his enlistment and recognized the formation. Several larger objects followed, flanked by more troopers in airborne assault mode.
Laura emerged from the doorway, paused to stare at the sky, and hastily buttoned up her shirt. “I’m going to the meeting hall.”
“Go to a bunker,” Kin said, but she was already running.
“Damn!” Kin estimated a division of Fleet troopers were plummeting toward Crater Town. He jumped off the side of the deck and ran to the lighthouse, sprinting up the spiral staircase. When he reached the top, he doused the light and picked up a horn.
A large ship emerged from the mouth of the wormhole, bow elevated twenty degrees too high and drifting sideways. The ship was still under power, laboriously righting itself as the atmosphere burned it. Kin watched pieces break off. He didn’t recognize the ship’s class or if it were built for entry into the atmosphere, but it was shaped like a Fleet vessel.
An armada of broken ships, huge things never meant to enter the atmosphere even if in one piece, were the last through. Kin sounded the alarm. Horns answered from every corner of Crater Town. Men, women, and children rushed from their homes with survival kits. He saw many running to the well to form a bucket line and parents rushing their children to crude fallout bunkers.
Two companies of assault troopers splashed into the water off shore. Two additional companies veered right while another two veered left of Crater Town as flanking elements. Four came straight at him. The command ship and heavy vehicles—Tanks, Strykers, and reconnaissance vehicles—fought for altitude. They soared over the town, landing near the Goliath half buried in the sand between the coast and mountains.
Kin picked up binoculars from the railing and tracked the progress of each assault force and the efforts of Crater Town’s people. About the time young men surrendered to Fleet troopers in seven-foot-tall armor, the space debris hit. The noise of the plummeting ship parts had been minimal from a distance, but as they neared, they ripped through the air, vibrating the tower where Kin stood. Troopers and townspeople ran for shelters, threw themselves on the ground, or gaped at the destruction. Earth exploded. Water erupted into steaming clouds of death. Fires rampaged like demons.
Kin risked a final glance toward the wormhole before descending the tower.
That’s not a Fleet ship.
He jerked the binoculars up.
No military emblems. No weapons. And it’s shaped like a blockade runner.
He watched the small craft drift away from the others, seeming to sneak free of the chaos. Kin didn’t like the feeling in his gut. Dread hollowed him out. He thought of Reapers and stolen technology.
The faster Fleet vessels and plummeting debris posed the immediate threat. Kin knew it. He needed to ignore the small civilian ship, but understood Reapers hijacked anything that would take them from their home world. The creatures didn’t build ships and were notoriously bad pilots, but when they left Hellsbreach, they were on a mission of murder.
Kin forced his gaze toward the ships and troops already on the ground.
Don’t think of Reapers. Don’t think of Hellsbreach. Captivity. Death. I should have died. Kin steadied his breathing, unsure if it calmed him or merely suffocated his panic. Should have killed them all.
Sweat beaded on his forehead. He waited for Fleet ships to spot the stranger and destroy it, but nothing happened. The craft disappeared beyond the mountain pass. He wanted to go after it, but Crater Town took priority.
He left the tower and ran down the unpaved street twisting around ramshackle huts near the bay. Laura hurried from a building up the street, wearing a firefighting coat. She paused to tie up her hair, then pulled on heavy gloves. People carrying tools rushed from their shelters to follow her. She accosted a group of men held at gunpoint by Fleet troopers and ordered them to follow her.
The squad leader pointed at Laura and gave an order. Get back. This is Fleet business.
Laura elevated her chin and put both hands on her hips. She said something. I’m sleeping with Kin Roland, a murdering deserter and traitor to the Fleet. He’ll cut your balls off if I even nod your direction. Fleet business my ass. This is my business. These are my people. Kindly mind your manners, you faceless killer.
The Fleet trooper spread his hands in frustration and surprise. He yelled and thrust his gauntleted finger near her face. Listen you stupid bitch. You’re lucky I don’t blow your head off.
Kin couldn’t hear the conversation, but he could imagine it. He wasn’t surprised when the troopers released the people of Crater Town to Laura. The guards followed, seeming a bit dazed.
What the fuck just happen?
Don’t ask me. You’re the squad leader. Take charge.
I’ll take charge of your face with my boot. Stay sharp. Watch the work crew. I’ll watch the councilwoman.
Kin ran up the steep hill, knowing planetary assault forces demanded immediate compliance when they made planetfall. They were paid to shoot people. He feared Laura would push too hard. Inflexible and harsh standard operating procedures placed the interests of the Fleet before the welfare of local populations. He needed to warn her about what happened when people resisted. She won this scrimmage and freed her work crew, but needed to consider a softer touch when dealing with officers.
Then he realized she had a trump card. He believed he knew Laura. He believed she had been toying with him when she said she would expose him to the Fleet. Being wrong would cost him his life.
“You there, halt and identify,” a Fleet trooper shouted. His amplified voice echoed from the helmet speaker. He held a rifle and a plasma thrower, each connected to the armor by woven metal tubes. Kin ignored the trooper, who moved forward, weapons ready.
He slipped around the corner and ducked through a cloud of smoke, then circled the area until he was behind the trooper who continued in the wrong direction.
“Identify yourself,” Kin said, under his breath.

Lost Hero

Changed by captivity and torture, hunted by the Reapers of Hellsbreach and wanted by Earth Fleet, Kin Roland hides on a lost planet near an unstable wormhole.

When a distant space battle propels a ravaged Earth Fleet Armada through the same wormhole, a Reaper follows, hunting for the man who burned his home world. Kin fights to save a mysterious native of Crashdown from the Reaper and learns there are worse things in the galaxy than the nightmare hunting him. The end is coming and he is about to pay for a sin that will change the galaxy forever. 


Enemy of Man: Book One in the Chronicles of Kin Roland was written for fans of military science fiction and science fiction adventure. Readers who enjoyed Starship Troopers or Space Marines will appreciate this genre variation. Powered armor only gets a soldier so far. Battlefield experience, guts, and loyal friends make Armageddon fun. 


If you love movies like Aliens, Predator, The Chronicles of Riddick, or Serenity, then you might find the heroes and creatures in Enemy of Man dangerous, determined, and ready to risk it all. It’s all about action and suspense, with a dash of romance—or perhaps flash romance. 

From the Author

Thanks for your interest in my novel, Enemy of Man. I hope you chose to read the book and enjoy every page. 

If you have already read Enemy of Man, how was it? Reviews are appreciated! 

Have a great day and be safe.
Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Science Fiction
Rating – R
More details about the author
 Connect with Scott Moon on Facebook & Twitter

Thursday, November 20, 2014

Erin Sands on It's Okay to Lose and More Life Lessons @TheDunesBook #NonFiction #Goodreads

The 3 things kids from the 70s can teach today’s kids

As a kid growing up in the 1970s summer held a magical allure for me. It meant playing outside from sun-up to sundown, endless games of hide and seek, double-dutch and jacks. I loved the muggy summer walks to the corner store with my friends, to purchase Grippo’s Chips and hot pickles. It was the best of times. The laughter of children filled the air and freedom was sweet and sticky, dripping down our arms like an ice cream cone in overflow. Unlike today, darkness carried no fear. Jars in hand, we engaged the night in boldness, warning all lightning bugs to beware. There is something to be gleaned from those kids, from that time, something that they could teach the youth of today.

The Outdoors are a Good Thing
The virtual world is fun and it can get you moving, but there is nothing like the real thing. Running, jumping, learning about nature and our place in it, help to define our appreciation for the earth as well as engender a sense of boldness and exploration. Nothing against the Wii, but there is something that happens when you actually kick a ball, hold a tennis racquet and grab the metal handle bars of a bike and engage.

It’s Okay to Lose
Now a days kids get a participation trophy just for showing up. As a kid growing up in the 70s, you only got a trophy if your team won. We kept score and it taught us how to enjoy victory as well as to accept defeat. I can honestly say that I learned more about competing when I lost. I learned that I had the ability to become better and to stretch myself in ways that I hadn’t before. Character isn’t born when everything goes your way. Character is cultivated in the losses and in the trenches when you learn to work as a team and overcome.

Be Fully Present in the Moment
Modern technology is great. It gives us the ability to connect with people anywhere, 24hrs a day, 7 days a week. It can also, unfortunately, be a distraction when we are more focused on it than the life that is happening around us. In the 70s if you were at an event you didn’t stop the fun to inform the world “Hey I’m enjoying myself!” You were too busy actually enjoying yourself to advertise it. Don’t get me wrong; sharing is good, but fully experiencing all of life’s great moments is even better. Telling the world electronically that you are having a great time with a friend should not be more important than savoring the moment and actually having a great time with a friend. Share, but be there, in that moment, one hundred percent.

May the memory of those 1970s kids remind us all to experience life beyond our technology.


Born in Cincinnati, Ohio and raised in the Bay Area of Northern California, Erin grew up with an innate love for dance, theatre and the written word. A graduate of Loyola Marymount University, Erin began her career in the arts as an actress and choreographer. After booking several notable roles in television and film, Erin began to use her gift of writing in blogs featuring political and social commentary, as well as developing content for theatrical use.

Although The Dunes, is a divine departure from Erin’s previous writings it is by far her most cherished work to date. “I wrote The Dunes initially as self therapy because I needed to release some painful experiences and disappointments from my past. I had this thirst to walk in the complete fullness of life with joy as my constant companion. I had no idea what effect it would have on other people. But when I saw people read it and be released from fears that had held them back for years…when I saw people forgive and be able to walk in the freedom forgiveness brings…when I saw people commit and serve and how those things opened up new opportunities in their life, I was just humbled. Humbled by the awesome power of God and humbled that I had been allowed to go along for the ride”.

When asked why she writes, Erin pauses and reflects on the truth of her heart. “I write because although I am only now beginning to truly love the process, I have always loved the outcome. Like a composer, words become my notes. I string them together in song eliciting the response of my reader, grafting a picture of my soul. Where besides the written word can you effect change so utterly and so succinctly? What besides the written word can pierce the universal collective mind? Everything begins with a thought, but it isn’t until that thought is articulated in written word and those words passed down can life changing movement happen. It must be written, it must be expressed on tablet, and when it is, we all become greater, whether the writing be genius or fatuity, it has evoked thought and debate. Why wouldn’t I want to be apart of that phenomenon? Why wouldn’t I want to share my story, give my testimony…add my paradigm to the mix? Whether it is a novel, a poem, an essay or an article, it is humanity visited. An insight into a new or sometimes shared truth. In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God and the word was God. And with that I live my life”.


If there was a journey that could masterfully change your life in seven revelations...would you take it? 

In life, sometimes the kernels of wisdom and the richness of revelation can be found in the most innocent of stories; and so it is with The Dunes. Join one man and one woman in an exquisitely simple yet remarkably profound journey as you discover with them that the mountain you must climb in order to live the abundant life of your dreams is located squarely within your heart. 

Illuminated in seven revelations; The Dunes carries the reader on a journey to not only examine the obstacles that are holding them back in life but to conquer and over come them as well. With each revelation The Dunes intimately calls on the reader as the journey companion to face a challenge…a dare if you will that requires an uncompromising commitment to change. In the family of faith-based self help books, The Dunes stands alone, simultaneously taking the reader from fiction to life and back again, equipped with a tailor made journal for the readers inner most secrets and reflections. The Dunes is part allegory, part testimony and part journal, but the best part is the healing it offers your heart. When you’re ready to step out of your comfort zone and step into the miracle of your life…The Dunes awaits. 

CAUTION: Readers of this book are subject to significant changes for the better. Side effects may include frequent smiling and enjoying life in every season.

Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Non-fiction
Rating – G
More details about the author
Connect with Erin Sands on Facebook & Twitter

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

PM Pillon on Google Being a Writer's Friend, Research & Writing @KirstenWrite #AmWriting #SciFi

It’s hard to imagine a writer who is disinterested in being perceived as credible, and faux pas that are easily avoided is one way to lose credibility.

And it’s not just research about what kind of pavement or trees would be found in a Thai village that your protagonist visits, but also diligence with vocabulary and spelling, I just read an excerpt for instance, that ended with “had drank” instead of the correct “had drunk”. This kind of writer needs to buckle down and find an editor to correct such errors that wouldn’t likely be revealed by Microsoft or another word processor.

As the saying goes, “The Google is your friend” with which you can learn about even foreign ambiances with very specific keyword usage. But it won’t replace an editor for a writer who isn’t uncertain about “had drank” and therefore doesn’t search the phrase athttp://www.google.com/#q=had+drunk to find out that it’s incorrect.

Using the best keywords is crucial to fast and effective research. No doubt you have Googled something like “current German technology” and started reading a story only to discover it was published a decade ago – which for that topic may as well be the 19th century – and then had to go back to The Google and add the current year to the search.

Taking the above Thailand example for instance, even if you have been there you may not remember crucial details you might need to know, such as the type of architecture and the type of people you might encounter on the streets at different hours of the day; and where there are different activities are such as red light districts and temples. All of this can be found by reading travel blogs and comments, and even though it might require a lot of time, it’s worth it if you value precision in your writing. For instance, if you write about a particular season in England or Europe but have never been there, it’s worthwhile to research and find out that both places can have very drab summers except in the South, unlike the U.S. which is warm or hot in almost everywhere between June and September.

His celestial companion was waiting for him
Precariously climbing a sea-side cliff near Big Sur, ten-year-old Joey Blake was as yet unaware that near his grasp was an object, so odd, mysterious and alien to earth that it would change his life forever and the lives of countless others in the next few astonishing days. Reaching up as far as he could for a handhold it was just there; it had subconsciously lured him, occupied his mind, and made him find it. It was like he was meant to see and discover this object of unimaginable power … the power to change reality.
Time travel and more

This young adult series of sci-fi fantasy novels begins with The Reality Master and continues through four other exciting and amazing stories about time travel and mysterious alien devices. Joey and the reader will face dangerous shadowy criminal organizations, agents of the NSA, bizarre travelers from other times and even renegade California bikers and scar-faced walking dead.
- Vol 1 The Reality Master
- Vol 2 Threat To The World
- Vol 3 Travel Beyond
- Vol 4 Missions Through Time
- Vol 5 The Return Home
Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Science fiction, Fantasy, Young adult
Rating – G
More details about the author
Connect with PM Pillon on Facebook & Twitter

Saturday, November 8, 2014

Documentary Filmmaker @TheobaldSprague Opens Up About Adventure & Writing #Memoir #TBR

How do you work through self-doubts and fear?

What scares you the most?

What makes you happiest?

What’s your greatest character strength?

What’s your weakest character trait?

Why do you write?


TO WATCH THE OFFICIAL HD TEASER FOR "The Other Side of The Ice" [book and documentary] PLEASE GO TO: VIMEO.COM/45526226) 

A sailor and his family's harrowing and inspiring story of their attempt to sail the treacherous Northwest Passage.

Sprague Theobald, an award-winning documentary filmmaker and expert sailor with over 40,000 offshore miles under his belt, always considered the Northwest Passage--the sea route connecting the Atlantic to the Pacific--the ultimate uncharted territory. Since Roald Amundsen completed the first successful crossing of the fabled Northwest Passage in 1906, only twenty-four pleasure craft have followed in his wake. Many more people have gone into space than have traversed the Passage, and a staggering number have died trying. From his home port of Newport, Rhode Island, through the Passage and around Alaska to Seattle, it would be an 8,500-mile trek filled with constant danger from ice, polar bears, and severe weather.

What Theobald couldn't have known was just how life-changing his journey through the Passage would be. Reuniting his children and stepchildren after a bad divorce more than fifteen years earlier, the family embarks with unanswered questions, untold hurts, and unspoken mistrusts hanging over their heads. Unrelenting cold, hungry polar bears, and a haunting landscape littered with sobering artifacts from the tragic Franklin Expedition of 1845, as well as personality clashes that threaten to tear the crew apart, make The Other Side of the Ice a harrowing story of survival, adventure, and, ultimately, redemption.

Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Memoir, adventure, family, climate
Rating – PG
More details about the author
 Connect with Sprague Theobald on Facebook Twitter

Saturday, November 1, 2014

Pendelton Wallace on Not Making Up Story Lines #AmReading #Mystery #Thriller

Inside the Mind of an Author 

You don’t want to know what goes on in my mind. It will shock and scare you.
I was at a writers conference and heard  James Rollins tell a good story.
He said that most people wake up on Sunday morning and think about the golf game they’re going to play or the football game they want to watch. He lays in bed on Sunday morning and thinks of interesting new ways to kill people.
I’m kind of like that. I don’t make up my story lines. I get them from the newspapers and news reports. I couldn’t make this kind of stuff up. However, once I have the story line, I have to add enough sex, murder and mayhem along the way to keep my readers interested.
I have so much trash and dirt in my mind that it could never be published. Hmm . . . maybe I should take a short at the erotica genre. Seriously though, if you’re a girl, you may not want to date me. Most of my erotic scenes are from memories of “the women I have loved before.”
I’m always looking at people, places and situations and thinking how they could fit into a book. Many of my friends and co-workers have wiggled their way in to books. They may not recognize themselves, but little pieces of their personalities become quirks of my characters.
I have a character in The Mexican Connection, who did not know her husband was a drug dealer until the DEA knocked down her door. This really happened. I met “Lisa” many years after the incident, but it was still indelibly etched on her character. A story like that just had to end up in print.
My head is exploding with ideas, I will never be able to write them all down. I keep a folder on my computer called “Story Ideas.” I have files in it with little kernels that may or may not someday become stories. But I write them down so I don’t lose them.
I know the story line for the next two Ted Higuera novels. I just have to read the newspapers.
I hope someday to be able to write historical fiction. I have at least three stories that I would like to tell. The first is about my great-grandfather in the Civil War. The next is about how my maternal grandfather came to this country and how he met my grandmother. Then there is the story about the USS Kearsarge and the CSS Alabama. What drama.
My mind never stops. I just don’t know if I’ll be able to keep up.

If Clive Cussler had written Ugly Betty, it would be Hacker for Hire. 

Hacker for Hire, a suspense novel about corporate greed and industrial espionage, is the second book in a series about Latino computer security analyst Ted Higuera and his best friend, para-legal Chris Hardwick. 

The goofy, off-beat Ted Higuera, son of Mexican immigrants, grew up in East LA. An unlikely football scholarship brought him to Seattle. 

Chris, Ted’s college roommate, grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth. His father is the head of one of Seattle’s most prestigious law firms. 

Ted’s first job out of college leads him into the world of organized crime where he faces a brutal beating. After being rescued by beautiful private investigator Catrina Flaherty, Ted decides to go to work for her. 

Catrina is hired by a large computer corporation to find a leak in their corporate boardroom when the previous consultant is found floating in Elliot Bay. 

Ted discovers that Chris’s firm has been retained by their prime suspect. Now he and Chris are working opposite sides of the same case. 

Ted and Catrina are led deep into Seattle’s Hi-Tech world as they stalk the killer. But the killer is also hunting them. Can Ted find the killer before the killer finds him? 
Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Mystery, Thriller
Rating – R
More details about the author
Connect with Pendelton Wallace on Facebook