FEATURED AUTHOR: MICHAEL MIROLLA

ABOUT THE BOOK

Michael Mirolla, in The Photographer in Search of Death, tells us stories that blend the explicable with the inexplicable. As if a camel were actually passing through the eye of a needle, these stories pass what is commonplace through a hyper-realistic lens into the utterly mysterious. Houses have rooms that appear and disappear. Very real objects, invaded by an unbelievable force, become believably unreal. Streets filled with everyday individuals become – in our modern technological environment – ultra ordinary. What we wish to avoid becomes unavoidable. This is a world beyond the merely “magical” – this is a binary world of becoming.

Book Details:

Title: The Photographer in Search of Death

Author’s name: Michael Mirolla

Genre: Magic realism/Speculative fiction


Publisher: Exile Editions (November 2017)

Page count: 128

LOVE IT OR LEAVE IT INTERVIEW WITH MICHAEL MIROLLA

A few of your favorite things: Daily SuDoku, AC Milan Official Soccer Shirt, Grade Six Certificate for Religious Instruction, Tom Swift Jr. books, signed Charles Bukowski, baseball cap from City Lights Booksellers, portrait of Silenus the Satyr.
Things you need to throw out: Instruction Manual for Grade Six Religious Instruction, pre-2000 Income Tax Receipts, running shoes whose bottoms flap, worn-out jogging pants that could serve as veils, T-shirts predicting the Y2K disaster, Kuerig coffee maker.


Things you need in order to write: Computer in reasonable working order with memories of a typewriter in reasonable working order, espresso.
Things that hamper your writing: Everything else in the universe seeking engagement and attention from cardiac rehab classes to young idealists in search of sage advice, and thoughts of a Kuerig coffeemaker.


Things you love about writing: The idea of creating something out of 26 letters of the alphabet, the startle and elation of a story or a poem or a play coming together, the interaction with the characters, the sending out of one small paper boat on the seas of entropy.
Things you hate about writing: The necessity of endings, the downward spiral waiting for new ideas and inspirations, the greyness of the world between creations.

Hardest thing about being a writer: Trying to balance life as a writer with life as a family person, as a social animal.

Easiest thing about being a writer:
Nothing easy about being a writer but to choose the least hard – the impression of making a difference.


Things you love about where you live: Peacefulness, ease of travel, diversity, easy-access mall
Things that make you want to move: Lack of excitement, blandness, distant neighbors, easy-access mall.


Things you never want to run out of: Ideas, compassion, espresso, seeds for the winter birdfeeders, a good supply of undergarments.
Things you wish you’d never bought:
Kuerig coffeemaker, barcode scanner.


Words that describe you: Taciturn, witty, slow to anger, sensitive.
Words that describe you but you wish they didn’t: Dour, pun-ny not funny, slow to act, emotionally fragile.

Favorite foods: Cornmeal and cabbage, lentils and rice, olive oil on Italian bread, all sprinkled with hot peppers.
Things that make you want to throw up: Butter, ketchup, mustard, Kraft Food Products, snake oil salespeople.

Favorite music or song: Folk/folk rock/hardcore punk; song: "Highway 61." Revisited or anything by the Dead Kennedys.
Music that make your ears bleed: Michael Bublé, Celine Dion, anything in today’s Top 40.

Favorite beverage: Red or white wine.

Something that gives you a pickle face: Bailey’s with or without castor oil.

Favorite smell: Grated orange peel sprinkled on rice pudding.

Something that makes you hold your nose: Uncleaned rabbit hutch, fish remains in the composter.

Something you’re really good at: Compromise and copy editing.

Something you’re really bad at: Decision-making, I think
.

Something you wish you could do: Pilot the next flight to Mars, or go along for the ride.
Something you wish you’d never learned to do: Texting, chemical formulae, formal logic.

Something you like to do: Special occasions with the entire family (grandparents/parents/kids)
.
Something you wish you’d never done: Leave Italy.

People you consider as heroes: The peace makers, activists, and healers [Gandhi, MLK, Mandela, Mother Teresa, Doctors Without Borders]

People with a big L on their foreheads: Grubby, mealy-mouthed politicians, sold-out hacks, self-involved narcissists—they know who they are.



Last best thing you ate: Sushi
.
Last thing you regret eating: Pizza that wasn’t margarita pizza.

Things you’d walk a mile for: To burn off some calories and get the heart pumping, tickets to an Arsenal soccer match at the Emirates.
Things that make you want to run screaming from the room: Hearing a gun lobbyist justify being an accomplice to murder.

Things you always put in your books: Some part of myself; a surprise around the corner; mysterious deeds that almost (but not quite) reach a metaphysical level
.
Things you never put in your books: Facile situations or plots; meaningless characters; obvious politics; formulaic writing.

Things to say to an author: “I read your book. Can I buy you a beer and talk about what I liked and didn’t like about it?”

Things to say to an author if you want to be fictionally killed off in their next book: “I’ll give you a thousand bucks if you include me in your next book.”

Favorite places you’ve been: Nigeria, India, Kashmir, Italy, Ireland, Latvia, England, France, Germany.

Places you never want to go to again: Dubai.

Favorite books: Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, Waiting for Godot, The Good Soldier, Schweik.

Books you would ban: Anything by James Patterson.

People you’d like to invite to dinner:
Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Bob Dylan, Maggie Smith
.
People you’d cancel dinner on: The current President of the US (obviously), Boris Johnson, James Patterson.

Favorite things to do: Write, edit, evaluate manuscripts, watch soccer, watch British mysteries, attend readings, travel, write
.
Things you’d run through a fire wearing gasoline pants to get out of doing: Go shopping, drink Kuerig-made coffee.

Things that make you happy:
My partner, writing, watching soccer, watching British mysteries, being married for 46 years, having grandchildren and watching them sprout, getting books published, publishing good books
.
Things that drive you crazy: Listening to mealy-mouthed politicians, being called a civilian by police officers, Super Bowl hype, self-identifying authors, any and all TV ads, listening to Jordan Peterson being called a genius.

Most embarrassing moment: Picking a fight just to show off in front of friends.

Proudest moment: The launch of my first published book.

Biggest lie you’ve ever told: That I never lie.

A lie you wish you’d told: That I always lie.

Best thing you’ve ever done: Switched from science to the arts in my second year at university.

Biggest mistake: Not pursuing a higher degree beyond my masters.

Most daring thing you’ve ever done: Purchased a literary publishing house at the age of 62.

Something you chickened out from doing: Skydiving from a plane when invited to do so with a friend.

The last thing you did for the first time: Drove a car.

Something you’ll never do again: Drive a car.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Michael Mirolla is the author of numerous novels, plays, and short story and poetry collections. Among his publications are three Bressani Prize winners: the novel, Berlin (2010); the poetry collection, The House on 14th Avenue (2014); the short story collection, Lessons in Relationship Dyads (2016). “A Theory of Discontinuous Existence,” was selected among the stories chosen for The Journey Prize Anthology. “The Sand Flea” was a Pushcart Prize nominee. Born in Italy and raised in Montreal, Michael now makes his home in the Greater Toronto Area.

Connect with Michael:
Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Goodreads 

Buy the book:
Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble  |  Indigo

FEATURED AUTHOR: STEVE MYERS

ABOUT THE BOOK

Dreaming .400, like baseball itself, exists outside of time. Its 11 short stories are infused with the magic of the game — in the seductive swing of a girl who turns tinsel into gold; in the passion of an orphan on a quest to reach the Astrodome; in a vision of the future in which players are made, not born.

Dreaming .400 spawns pen pal love between friends that grows into poetry; it shrinks the gap between the head and heart of a Brewers’ fan; provides a way out for a teenager stuck in the shadows; inspires a vagabond to an impossible dream to be lived out between the white lines.

INTERVIEW WITH STEVE MYERS

Steve, how did you get started writing and when did you become an “author?” I was a sportswriter in high school, mostly game summaries and a few editorials. I remember a massive letter writing explosion with friends when exiled from my childhood home, to attend University. We asked and discussed the typical existential questions. I kept writing. I traveled. I wrote poetry, short stories and a few reached novel length. I applied for a one year graduate diploma program in journalism. I learned a lot about being precise and focused, but fiction and poetry would not leave me alone. Dreaming .400: Tales of Baseball Redemption is my first book to be published.  

What's your favorite thing about the writing process?
Discovering what I'm trying to say. It's very much a psycho-analytical experience, as my own life and motivations, emotions get splintered into the characters I create, plots weaved and lessons learned.

Can you share some of your marketing strategies with us?

Word of mouth, Amazon, and my wordpress blog.

You have a day job . . . how do you find time to write?
It finds me.

If you could only watch one television station for a year, what would it be?

Hmmmm, good question. A year is a long time. Whatever station offers movies, sports, and historic/music documentaries at different times. Did I just squiggle out of answering your question?

Yes, pretty sure you did! That's okay. 
How often do you tweet?
Never.


How do you feel about Facebook?
I think it's a brillant and wonderful idea, but it makes me paranoid and self-, I avoid it like an old lover, but all of my wordpress posts get automatically uploaded to my Facebook page, and I did announce my book on Facebook, but I treat it like a shop selling little glass and ceramic chotchkies. I get in and out of there in a hurry.

For what would you like to be remembered?
Integrity.

What scares you the most?
The 12 hours leading up to any surgery.

YouTube is . . . Heaven with a few beers.

What five things would you never want to live without?
My girlfriend, my parents, my brother, baseball, music.

Who would you want to narrate a film about your life?
God.

Are you an introvert or an extrovert?
I think I'm addicted to the moon, so both.

Do you spend more on clothes or food?
Food for sure.

What’s the worst thing someone has said about your writing? How did you deal with it?
That I tended to be long-winded. I made a conscious effort to be more concise.

Who would you invite to a dinner party if you could invite anyone in the world?
My girlfriend.



What's your relationship with your cell phone?
I don't have one.



Gasp! How many hours of sleep do you get a night?
Six or seven.

What is your favorite movie?
One of them is The Hustler. Such a great redemption story and the absence of color and special effects almost forces the dialogue to be elemental and it is.

Do you have a favorite book?
In order for a book to be my favorite, I would have to read it more than once. That's the only way I would get caught using superlatives. So let's see. I read Aldous Huxley's Island two times as well as Kerouac's Dharma Bums and also George Plimpton's One for the Record. Did I just squiggle out of a question again?


You're a good squiggler. How about a favorite book that was turned into a movie? Did the movie stink?
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. I loved both the book and the movie. It seems silly to me to compare books and movies. It's like walking or riding in a car. When I'm in a car, pedestrians have no respect for us drivers and when I'm walking, “Those damn cars!”

Do you sweat the small stuff?
Absolutely, I'm very uptight.


If you had to choose a cliche about life, what would it be?
Sing, dance, scream. Do whatever it takes, but get yourself feeling good and happy.


What are you working on now?
A new set of short stories, a book of poems, and paintings with my girlfriend, and a novel based on a blog I kept in the summer of 2014.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Steve Myers grew up in Milwaukee, walking distance from Lake Michigan. There was no other side, not visible anyway. The water went on and on. The cliffs were savage. The trees left to die. The abandoned boat houses not bothered.



Steve attended the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee and earned an honers degree in history. He studied in southern Spain, lived in San Francisco, Brooklyn, and for the last eight years Montreal, Canada.



He recently completed a Graduate Diploma in Journalism. He is the author of two blogs. Brewers Baseball and Things is where Steve experiments with baseball and fiction. Broken Bats is home to his poetry.



Connect with Steve:
Website  |  Blog  |  Facebook  

FEATURED AUTHOR: JAMES MOUSHON

A 6-PACK of MYSTERIES FOR THE HOLIDAYS 

Operation Alpha Dog released November 23, 2015, now only 99 cents on Amazon

A 6-pack of Jonathon Stone Mystery Short Stories by James Moushon 
Mystery, Murder, Intrigue, and Espionage

ABOUT THE BOOK  

Again we catch up with CIA Agent Jonathon Stone in a collection of his latest adventures. We follow Jonathon as he moves from trying to catch gun runners to solving a terrorist plot in the Los Angeles Harbor to an assassination in Palm Springs to stopping a NSA leak of information.

The collection includes a 6-pack of Jonathon Stone short stories. As always, Jonathon’s ops include a lot of mystery, lots of espionage, some thrilling events and suspense. Being a CIA agent working domestically has its unique situations, and Stone seems to take advantage of them.

Operation Hidden Truth

A plea bargain turns deadly and a known gun runner is the primary suspect. Jonathon Stone becomes involved with the FBI to try to catch the elusive terrorist. With espionage and government secrets in play, the DHS suddenly becomes a problem. Jonathon needs to be on top of his game for this op.

Operation Misdirection

A female CIA agent is found dead in a motel in Long Beach and her husband, a Long Beach detective, quickly becomes the prime suspect. Jonathon Stone is given the task of investigating the murder of one of his own. His findings reveal the dead agent’s unscheduled trips to the Middle East, a cover up by the FBI and espionage.

Operation Adrift

An empty cargo ship suddenly appears in the LA Harbor. Problem: apparently there are no passengers or crew. Jonathon Stone finds out that the ship was abandoned at sea and the CIA had been tracking the vessel from the Far East. The op seems to be stalled until Jonathon gets information from an unexpected source which leads him to a terrorist plot on American soil.

Operation Red Dragon
Jonathon Stone’s plans for a quiet gambling experience is interrupted by the sighting of a known gun for hire from Mexico. A casual weekend in the desert for Jonathon changes into an apparent assassination plot. With the FBI and the Secret Service involved, Jonathon tries to apprehend the elusive hit man before he can do damage.

Operation Runaway

NSA information leaked by a spy sends Jonathon Stone and his fellow agent, Chuck Chun to Hawaii to stop the flow of information. Is our suspect a whistleblower or is it espionage? Their assignment: neutralize and stop the flow of information. At a luau in Paradise, they get help from an unlikely source before Jonathon and Chuck can complete their mission.

Operation Deadline

A hit and run death of a man on the CIA’s watch list sends Jonathon Stone on another op. This time he teams with FBI Agent Jodi Shannon. They quickly find out it was a planned murder and the victim was part of an investigative reporter’s study of a Middle Eastern student group. Then, a second murder with a similar MO occurs and Jonathon is sent in a different direction.

EXCERPT FROM OPERATION ALPHA DOG

Prologue

My name is Jonathon Stone. Like a lot of single, All-American men I enjoy gambling and drinking and the ladies.

I am a writer for the Real Sportsman Magazine. At one time our offices were located in downtown Long Beach, CA. On the main floor was a complete magazine group with secretaries and a writing staff that produced a monthly magazine.

Being a writer is a realistic, workable cover because I am, in reality, a Special Agent for the CIA. I am assigned to the west coast based – Far East Operation Center located in San Francisco.

In the basement of that office building was a full blown CIA operation with a security setup and computer center.

About a year ago, our cover was blown and the staff was scattered to the wind. My boss, Russ Evans, changed my status to At Large and kept me in the Long Beach, CA area. Actually, Belmont Shore, if you want to be more specific.

I am what my fellow agents call an Asset On Call. I may show up anywhere in the world.
As a footnote, we also handle the Domestic Operation - Terrorism (DOT) division. It was formed to handle terrorist threats inside the U.S. after DHS took control of intelligence.
This group is not on the Company’s organization chart.

Jonathon Stone

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

James Moushon is a mystery writer and a published writer in the electronic document field.



Starting over 15 years ago, he helped lead the startup of the electronic forms industry in the creation, conversion, and usage of electronic forms by supplying that industry with a continuing source of published literature, software products, and training seminars. 

In 2003, Moushon changed his focus to ebooks and their development. 

He is the author of the Jonathon Stone Mystery Novels. He has published three books: Black Mountain Secrets, Game of Fire and Operation Alpha Dog, a collection of short stories featuring Jonathon Stone.



He is currently wearing two hats. He is a mystery writer and a book publishing blogger.


HBS Author's Spotlight is intended to help authors get exposure in the book publishing industry. He has interviewed and showcased over 450 authors to date.



HBS Mystery Reader's Circle provides information about the latest novels and what is coming next from a collection of bestselling and outstanding authors in the mystery, thrillers, historical fiction, and crime genre.



eBook Author's Corner is a collection of author advice and studies including marketing, social media, and other major topics created to help writers in today's ever changing world of book publishing.



He has spent the majority of his adult life developing computer systems and thinking about writing mysteries.



James's website is: www.jamesmoushon.com



To contact him, e-mail: james.moushon@gmail.com

BUY THE BOOKS

FEATURED AUTHOR: GRAYDON MILLER

ABOUT THE BOOK

South of the border there is love and loss, revenge, betrayal and mystery. “International Bridge” follows a young, expecting Central American couple who travel in hopes of crossing into the United States. Love joins smuggling for a white-knuckle flight in the title story, “The Havana Brotherhood.” These eleven tales presented by the author of the acclaimed thriller, Hostages of Veracruz, include three stories now published for the first time in English — the funny and playful “Rivals,” the brooding “Nostalgia for Death” and “American Paranoia,” a serpentine, multi-layered spy tale. This collection showcases the heartbreak and humor, unsurpassed craftsmanship, and drama that reveal Miller as a master of the short story.

INTERVIEW WITH GRAYDON MILLER

Welcome back to A Blue Million Books, Grady. The Havana Brotherhood shows you in a new light as author of short stories. How did this book come about?
For years I wanted to gather all these Mexican-themed stories into one book. Then the success of my thriller, set in Veracruz, got me into action. From the material at hand, mostly written during the nine years I lived in Mexico, I weeded out all stories unrelated to Latin America. Honestly, there wasn’t much left — certainly not the size book I’d dreamed of, and it would give my daughter yet another chance to yap, “Dad, you should write longer books.” I hunkered down to translate three remaining stories from my Mexico period from Spanish into English.

What was that like?
Suspenseful. I didn’t know where the other two stories were. I only had in my hands a copy of one story that had been published in a Sunday supplement in Guadalajara. The copy was falling apart and you couldn’t read the words anymore in some places. As I finished translating “Rivals,” another story reappeared from my files, and so on, till I had the three stories. I also added a long story about a Chicano detective who works in Mexico. When all the stories all came together, there was a kind of magic, like the golem coming to life. The stories bounce off each other in amazing ways I could never have planned, and Cuba emerges as a leitmotiv woven throughout, this symbol of mystery and danger. A couple of these Spanish stories had been real orphans, estranged from me. When I started sharing the English versions with another reader, her enthusiasm brought the stories, and me with them, back to life.

The cherry on top was my daughter holding a proof copy, flipping through the pages and pronouncing “187 pages.” And, oh boy, when an agent’s reader declared it a cohesive collection, I was walking on clouds.

I'll bet! What most pleases you about the response to this book?
That it is going to be taught in two Community College English classes. If students read and like these stories they’ll be story readers for life — that’s an exciting prospect. Also, there’s a heavy responsibility in kindling a love of the short story. Hemingway, de Maupassant, and Juan Rulfo are depending on me.

The stories may also stir up controversies as well as entertain. One story reverses the stereotype of the lawless immigrant in the U.S. and replaces it with a gringo con-artist who plies his trade in Mexico. A lot of the stories contrast U.S. and Latin culture and attitudes. These can clash painfully in a two-culture relationship. In the title story, about cigar smuggling, the contrast is implied. Harry Stockton is your typical super conscientious law-abiding guy thrust into crime for the first time in his life. In the U.S. we’re conditioned to obey the law in the tiniest details; in Mexico there’s a no-seatbelts attitude toward life. Friends could egg you on to join them blindfolded on a tightrope and, if you show reluctance, the standard response is “No pasa nada.” Nothing will happen. And the funny thing, they’re usually right.

How does it feel to translate your own stories?
What I’m doing is recreating. Since I’m the author, there’s no worries about being faithful. To me, translation is re-creation. Re-creation is another rewrite. And rewriting, for sure, is my favorite part of writing. The story is in place, I know pretty much who my characters are and and what they’re doing. The theme is there. Each new draft is a baby step toward something I like better. I learned this especially with my comical writings. The ugly duckling became a swan with elbow grease, pencil lead and toner. And lots of walks; I take lots of walks to sort things out.

How do you decide whether an idea is for a novel or a short story?
The short story aims for perfection and unity of effect. Everything is related, there are no stray details whatsoever. As Capote said, "a short story should be perfect like an orange." A novel is something bigger than I am, that’s going to take some research and growing. The Hostages of Veracruz was meant to be a short story, you know, but it had a life of its own. It fits the definition of a novel, though I didn’t know it at the time.

What's your theory about a short story?
It must have a secret behind it that one will never know. Take “Nostalgia for Death.” It seems to be about a bellboy wrongly accused of shooting a policeman, but that is not its secret. Great art can be born from something very trivial or shameful and yet it fuses to transmit emotion in a way that is meaningful to any reader.

You’re pulling a fast one, Graydon. What’s the secret behind “Nostalgia for Death”?
Fear of terminal disease.

What short-story collections have inspired you?
Dubliners by James Joyce is a model for a cohesive collection. I can go back and read “The Dead,” again and again. And there’s A Tree of Night by Truman Capote. Every time I have read it,a different story will stick out, most recently “Master Misery.” It’s really a mini-novel. Silvio Martínez Palau’s Made in U.S.A., left a lasting impression on me. It’s a satirical and deadly serious ride on the roller coaster that is American life.

Any others?
The stories of Chekhov which I discovered in Mexico in Spanish translation, Jorge Luis Borges in general, and Raymond Carver. A lot of people think I don’t like Carver because of views expressed in a story I wrote, “A Confession.” The truth is I’m fond Mr. Carver’s stories, and as I get older they gain only depth, humor and compassion. I also admire two contemporary collections: S.R. Mallery’s Tales to Count On; Richard Lange's Dead Boys is not to be missed.

Did you develop any new marketing or editorial techniques in putting together the Havana Brotherhood?
The release of the thriller The Hostages of Veracruz last summer spawned the idea for the story collection. I gave myself until May of 2015 to prepare the manuscript, emulating the long calendar of traditional publishers. This provided plenty of time and patience to lavish on the editing. I am particularly grateful to Patricio Maya and Brenda Buttner. They made the quality of book possible; they also gave me the best year of my life.

Brenda’s enthusiasm for the stories buoyed my spirits. Patricio pushed me to the last mile, and beyond with close reading, that bordered on the premonitory. Here I was weeding out the “dumb” straight quotes, ready to wrap it all up, and he gave me a batch of comments that cast me back into full creative mode. Faulkner said, “Try to be better than yourself.” That’s what Brenda and Patricio helped me achieve in the course of assembling The Havana Brotherhood.

And as far as marketing techniques: as editing progressed, I got these Mexico stories back into circulation with magazine editors. I’m pleased to say that “Poison Pen” has a slot in an upcoming issue of Ellery Queen.

That's fantastic! What are your thoughts about traditional publishing?
Gosh, it has its place. And yet I really think the traditional world seriously underestimates the indie world. The tables were already turned before anybody was looking. Self-publishers are way ahead in the game, empowered by contacts with fellow authors, feeling the joy of helping other talents to be recognized, and are unable now to tolerate the vagaries of the traditional publishing world. You know what I told Patricio Maya, the first author I published beside myself, “I want to give you what nobody ever gave me.” At the end of several months, there was his book of brilliant essays, “Walking Around with Fante and Bukowski.” And now he can go on to the next book and the next . . .

When you start receiving recognition, it feeds such a sense of purpose, and you can’t go back. Something S.R. Mallery said, it’s “important to get one's work out there so we're not living in a vacuum, eating ourselves alive with self doubt!”

Sure, I respect what traditional publishers do, and they do it well. They will have a place; both will have a place. And the more successful self-publishers will evolve into traditionals. It is ironic but true.

How long have you been a writer?
As long as I can remember.

How often do you tweet?
Sorry about that, Amy. What was the question? I just had to tweet that I’m being interviewed by Amy Metz.

Sweet! :) How often do you tweet?
Like to do it often, in real time. I often fall short and suffer twitter guilt. Of course I still tweet in my head all the time.

Who would you want to narrate a film about your life?
John Huston. There’s that infectious voice with a brogue, and I can hear him saying, “Graydon Miller grew up in this white ranch-style house of Usher on the corner of Beach and Blackburn in Watsonville, California in the pancreas of Steinbeck Country.” Huston’s own life had a small role in sparking my own fascination with Mexico, starting in my teens. He had more than passing acquaintance with Mexico; as a young man was in the Mexican Calvary, later he put Puerto Vallarta on the map in Night of the Iguana, and of course he directed Treasure of the Sierra Madre in Mexico. Through that movie I knew Mexico before I ever set foot there.

If you had a swear jar, would it be full?
Hell yeah. I grew up very overprotected, I would say almost a prude, and avoided curse words like the plague. It was a real shock in third grade when my friend John Lintz taught me a word he overheard his mom, Judy, saying, and I innocently told my mom, proud of my acquisition of one of the cleanest and most satisfying words I’ve ever learned. She doused all my enthusiasm for saying ‘shit.’ But since returning from Mexico in 2001, I have become American. I grew up here, of course, but didn’t become fully American till my return to this country after nine years away. I hold that it takes a person ten years to become American, and part of the process is becoming very fluent in curses. Some newcomers pick it up right away. I still cringe at how my profanity may sound to my more genteel friends, and the majority of curses remain spoken inside my head still. My dad was terrible in the swearing department, the way he’d say “excuse my French” after going all profane. It was painful to listen to; I always wanted to laugh.

Do you spend more on clothes or food?
Honestly, more on clothes than food. I prefer shirts by Turnbull and Asser. That’s my secret nobody would suspect. Those shirts are like Havana cigars, they cost plenty.

What is the most daring thing you’ve done?
This is something I planned to take to my grave. Then my daughter went to Mexico this summer and her grandmother blabbed. My daughter recognized that it had not been easy what I had done. I ferried a family member without papers across the border. I was aware of the consequences having already written my short story “International Bridge,” the one that opens The Havana Brotherhood. I knew there would be hell to pay — fines, car impounded — if I got caught.

It sounds like there’s another story in there?

It would not be nice to go back there yet. No. But there is one more Mexico story on its way. I find at the end of every big creation there’s always a bonus story. As Havana Brotherhood was winding down, I went to a play in Los Angeles, and the play’s oppressive atmosphere of people wanting to flee an apartment and being trapped with a nasty visitor who won’t shut up triggered a memory so acute from when we were in Guadalajara. So there is one more story from that period that I’m working on now.

What inspires your stories?
Emotion. And if it goes good, it all clicks together in a flash like a joke. Mismatched ideas mesh, and there’s even a punchline, the end provided. Then I sweat it out. Also, it’s worth mentioning another type of inspiration. A single moment can inspire a story. In Beverly Hills this week I saw an automatic sprinkling system watering Astroturf. There’s a moment that is already looking for a story. In “Nostalgia for Death” there were all these types in inspiration working. I always had in mind the rusty stains on the ceilings in the finest houses of Guadalajara; there was always this irritating touch of disrepair. On some level the stains symbolized a decadence I wanted to explore.

Tell me about Guadalajara?
It figures in many of The Havana Brotherhood stories. I’ve called it my Paris, a perfect place to grow as a person and grow art. It’s got the major requisites of low rent and high saturation of culture. And I got to know at all, from the morgue to the zona roja, the red-light district, to the grand houses. And of course the cafes. People there laugh at me for saying Guadalajara is Paris, because I guess Paris is always something “out there.” I do know when I go to Paris and they ask what I think of their city I will say, “Paris is my Guadalajara.”


Lightning round:
Cake or frosting? Frosting
Tequila or bourbon? Tequila
Chevy Chase or Bill Murray? Bill Murray, hands down.
Laptop or desktop? Desktop
Emailing or texting? Postcards
Indoors or outdoors? Indoors.
Tea: sweet or unsweet? Depends.
Plane, train, or automobile? Train for sure.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Graydon Miller grew up in Watsonville, California in the heart of Steinbeck country. He attended local schools and later went to Columbia University in New York. In 1983 he moved to Los Angeles to study cinema, but discovered literature instead at T.C. Boyle’s fiction writing workshop. At U.S.C. Miller was awarded the Ed Moses Short Story Prize. He lived in Mexico for nine years, where he enjoyed his first literary success with the publication of Un invierno en el infierno (A Winter in Hell). His other works include the organ-trafficking thriller, The Hostages of Veracruz (on Amazon) and a screenplay based on the notorious Black Widow murder case, which he covered as a reporter in Mexico. Graydon Miller lives in Hollywood.

Connect with Graydon:
Website  | 
Facebook  |  
Twitter  |  Goodreads 

BOOKS BY GRAYDON MILLER

FEATURED: CHIARI WARRIORS

CHIARI WARRIORS

AN ANTHOLOGY FROM PAUL ANTHONY ASSOCIATES

TO BENEFIT CHIARI RESEARCH

Chiari Warriors is an anthology of short stories by 18 authors from across the globe - the UK, the USA, Canada, and Europe. The tales they tell are both nonfiction and fiction. Many are based on real life experiences. Others are based on vision and a wondrous source of imagination that these very special authors bring to their readers. Some of the stories they tell will make you cry, others will make you laugh. But some of their writing will actually terrify you when you realize that some of the accounts they recall are actually true stories from real events in their lives.

Indeed, there's something for everyone here: tales of love and war, of honor and disobedience, of hate and humor, of desire and desperation. They have produced a roller coaster of emotion on their journey to complete this anthology. It's a book to savor and enjoy, page by page.

Above all, this anthology contains the true story of a young boy who suffers from Chiari Malformation - a condition for which there is currently no known cure. The work itemizes the condition and the problems associated with this horrible human condition. Written by the self-styled Chiari Warriors, the book seeks to raise funds for health practitioners and research analysts. Accordingly, proceeds from the sale of this work will be donated to the Birmingham Children's Hospital Research Unit (a registered charity in the UK) in order to fund dedicated research into this life-threatening condition. The results of this research are shared across the globe between UK institutions, the Chiari Institute in New York, and elsewhere. If you do nothing else today, download this one to savor while doing something worthwhile for the children of the future.

Paul Anthony and family meet with the Clinical Research Unit at Birmingham Children's Hospital.

CHIARI WARRIORS (AKA AUTHORS)

Mike McNeff, USA

Amy Metz, USA

C.C. Champagne, Canada

Wayne Zurl, USA

Carter Novels, USA

Marion Tervitt, Scotland

Edward Lightfoot, England

Dave Miller, England

Joan Cook, Spain

Sandy Kilpin Miller, England

Ray Gregory, England

Steve Sharpe (with Ben)

Roger Price, England

Matt Shields

Harlequins Rugby Team

presenting his Wembley shirt to our Chiari Sufferer

Paul Anthony, England

Steve Borthwick - ex-England Rugby Captain and now Forwards

Coach for Japan Rugby Team, with his teammates,

sending a message from across the Atlantic:

"FIGHT CHIARI"

FEATURED WRITER: MELISSA MARNI

And now, for something a little different . . . today I have Melissa Marni, writer of the little word studio blog. Its the tag line is: "Tiny Tales for Big Ideas." The blog was launched as a place to post original stories inspired by the work of artists and photographers from around the world. Keep reading for more on her blog, to read a sample of her short stories, and find out more about Melissa.

ABOUT THE BLOG:

It all started on the back porch of my apartment. An idea for a short story popped into my head as I sat drinking my coffee-with-milk and browsing the Internet. The whole thing took a few hours to write and when it was done I thought, “Would anyone want to read this?” So, posted it in order to find out; the experience felt just like floating a fictional message in a bottle into the vast ocean of digital content . . . hoping for the best . . . and that’s how little word studio was born.

A few weeks later, I was contacted on Instagram by a London-based graphic designer asking if I’d like to collaborate on a project – her art, my words. After hearing more about the collaboration, I realized I’d found the key to making little word studio unique: Find talented artists around the world and write the untold stories of their creations. I’ve since been lucky enough to team up with talented illustrators, photographers and animators from the U.S., England, Russia, France, Sweden, Italy, Germany . . . the list goes on. It's been amazing to see what inspires them and their artwork has helped push the boundaries of my prose.

THE TALE OF ASTRID THE BEAUTIFUL

By Melissa Marni

Somewhere in the untamed French countryside near Versailles, on the border of all that was good and evil, once sat a small patch of wild lavender, and just beyond, a smaller spring. An accidental journey brought Astrid to this spring, its water tumbling like wet poetry across flowering earth.

She was in the shrubbiest part of the woods searching for a particularly large clump of jasmine to be tucked behind her sister Maryse’s “perfect pearl of an ear.” (This ear, according to their mother, Bernadette, was but a single feature among any number of flawless ones that could be found resting on the perfect face of Maryse.)

“As you get older, it’s actually quite the luck you look so much like your father,” said Bernadette on Astrid’s twenty-third birthday last year. “Unlike me or Maryse, you have no discernible beauty now, so you’ve no beauty to lose.”

Yet, even to the casual stranger, Astrid, like her father, was undeniably beautiful in both heart and head. Her beauty was a seedling of fact sowed through compliments like this from Monsieur Claude Duvet: “Well heavens awaken me, Astrid! You’ve become a woman worthy of the gods!”

Indeed she had, growing from pretty little Astrid into a honey-haired, indigo-eyed Aphrodite. Her mother and sister weren’t completely unattractive, each with some agreeable amount of beauty – Maryse an exact, younger reflection of her mother – though when standing by Astrid, the two couldn’t compare.

But here’s the logic of Bernadette the moderately beautiful philosopher: If she was, in her mind, a great beauty then so too was Maryse, sharing her mother’s rubberish complexion and brown, wiry hair. In lingering glances, it might be said Bernadette was more keenly aware of Astrid’s goddess-like looks than she let on.

A fair bet could be made then won that this knowledge motivated Bernadette to give Astrid an endless list of daily chores like picking flowers for her sister’s hair or sewing a dead dragonfly onto the collar of a twill dress.

“I’m only asking you to make me a bug brooch,” her mother had said. “Unless those fat fingers of yours have stopped working, I don’t see why it must be that hard.”

While Astrid was busy figuring out how to thread a dragonfly’s wing, Bernadette was dragging Maryse to every fête west of Paris, teacup-clanking a path through society’s ranks. “There is grave necessity for us to be seen in public,” her mother told Maryse. “We must wow those who matter through our stylish grace and be grateful for the sturdiness of Astrid; with your father gone, we can’t afford a mule.”

Astrid was on such a mulishly mandated chore – “collect a handful of lavender that’s turned a deep purple but hasn’t yet browned” – when she found the spring. She heard the burbles of the spring before she saw it, which explained why Astrid bumped into a woman standing at its edge.

“I’m so sorry, Madam!”

The woman looked up and Astrid stared right into her dark, feral eyes. She was almost a head shorter than Astrid, a bad hunch curling her back, a frizz of gray hair growing around a face crackled as an old pumice stone.

“It’s nothing,” the woman cooed. “Come closer though, these eyes can’t see like they used to and I need your help.”

With an agreeable head shake, Astrid took a step toward the curious woman near the spring.

“Better. But would you mind bringing me some water? I can’t reach down far enough.”

Astrid did as told, emptying her bucket of the lavender inside, sweeping it clean then scooping a handful of spring water.

“For you,” Astrid said. “Please keep the bucket so you can use it if you ever visit this spring again.”

The woman giggled and the sound was young and bright. “I do come most afternoons,” she replied. “Thank you for this gift, Astrid the Beautiful, and here is mine in return …”

How the woman knew her name or how in the next moment, Astrid was back in her kitchen, lavender in hand, should rightly be described as magic.

“Late again, Astrid!” Her mother growled, grabbing at the lavender. “Maryse, come come and let’s see if these flowers can be stuck to your little ear.”

“If the lavender doesn’t work, I can …” Astrid began but never finished. As she spoke, each word produced a tiny diamond from her mouth, which fell to the floor with a ceremonious and sparkly thud.

Bernadette, a matter-of-fact woman who believed intelligence the awful stepsister of charm, never thought to ask why diamonds were suddenly spurting from her youngest daughter’s mouth. She only wanted to know how such a thing might also happen for Maryse, “whose lips are so much prettier and more deserving of jewels.”

“I’m not sure,” Astrid said, three small diamonds springing free from somewhere behind her snow-white teeth. “When I was picking lavender, I met a woman who said she had a gift for me …”

“You met a woman with a gift for you?” Bernadette was practically cackling. “Of course she didn’t know of your sister, better in every way, otherwise … otherwise! Take Maryse to this woman directly so she can give her a diamond mouth and take yours away, if possible. Though the diamonds you’ve spilled, we’ll keep.”

When Astrid returned to the spring with Maryse, the woman was still there, a huddled fairy among lavender brush.

“That’s her,” Astrid whispered, nudging Maryse forward and catching the two diamonds that left her tongue. Astrid was sure none of what her mother wanted would come to pass; Maryse barely spoke to anyone but when she did, whatever came out was terrible.

“Hello, Madame!” Mayrse bellowed. “I would like a diamond mouth like my sister but brighter and with larger diamonds! I would also like! It! Right! Now!”

The woman never nodded or smiled to let Maryse know she’d heard the request. Instead, when Maryse said her last word – “now” – an enormous, slimy toad jumped from her mouth into the spring.

“What?” Maryse burped and another toad parted her lips, splashing as it hit the foamy surface of the spring.

Astrid, in her kind heart, almost felt sorry for Maryse. Still, watching the toads that dove happily from her sister’s screaming mouth into the water below, she had only one thought: escape. As Astrid walked away, she turned one last time toward the woman, a wonderful, gift-giving nymph of the woods, who if she could speak might tell you now and ever after that Astrid lived a happy life.

ABOUT THE WRITER

Melissa Marni is the founder and author of little word studio. A native of New York, Melissa now lives in Newport Beach, California. She wrote her first story at the age of nine, (something about evil witches and shoelaces), and has been writing ever since. Melissa is a lover of red wine, soft cheese, books read by firelight, Pacific Ocean sunsets and her crooked-eared little dog, Austin.

Connect with Melissa:
WEBSITE |  FACEBOOK  |  TWITTER  |  INSTAGRAM |
 

Once Upon a Wedding Release Day Blitz

About the book:

Once Upon a Wedding (One Day at a Wedding – Book One)

Genre: Contemporary Romance – Novella

Published by: Forever Red Publishing, L.L.C.

Release Date: December 12, 2014

Length: 67 Pages

Cassie Anderson, bridesmaid extraordinaire, is tired of attending her friend’s weddings either solo, or with her best friend, Thad. Finding a real date is simply too much work. Especially when she sees an old acquaintance from high school, Dan, at her friend Shelley’s wedding.

After the spark shared between them, Dan has become the object of her affection. Too bad he has a nasty habit of having a date on his arm at every turn. Stealing another woman’s date is against the rules, but if she could just catch him alone…well, that would be fair game!

Unfortunately, timing is everything, and she and Dan seem to have the worst. Always the bridesmaid, walking away with nothing more than a dreadful dress, Cassie is committed to changing her luck and getting her man!

Excerpt

“Cassie. Cassie, did you see who’s here?” Shelley tugged at her skirt, trying to get her attention directed toward the back of the church.

“What’s the matter with you?” she asked Shelley and then turned to face the back of the church. “Ohh, now I see what you mean.”

“And yet, you ignored me,” Thad said from the other side.

She just blew him off with a wave. He would get over it in two seconds or less anyway.

There he stood, looking as dapper as a GQ cover. His suit was a very nice shade of blue, with a white shirt and what appeared to be a pinstripe tie. By the time Shelley had gotten her attention, he had already selected a pew and scooted by people for a seat. The most important thing Cassie noticed was his lack of a date.

Who doesn’t take their fiancée to a wedding?

This could be a good sign. Of course, she would have to do some more investigating before she determined whether he had a single status at this point, or remained affianced. It then dawned on her that she, herself, had brought a date to the wedding. She took her eyes off Dan long enough to glance over at Thad, currently very busy staring at the legs of the woman next to him.

Boy, can I pick ‘em. Even my pretend boyfriends are losers.

“Thad, do you think you could be a little more discrete about your appreciation for our neighbor there?” she asked through gritted teeth, trying to keep her disdain to a low roar.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry Cassie. But did you see her calves? I swear, it’s just a professional thing,” he said this with the gigolo grin, his specialty, one that hardly ever worked on Cassie. Hardly ever.

“If this is where you tell me how you’re a critic and you were just admiring her legs in a professional manner, don’t bother,” Cassie uttered in her most stern, yet quiet, voice. “You critique the arts, Thad, her legs are not performing.”

“I could argue that point, but seeing how your face is scrunching up at me, I won’t. You’re right, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Thad did his best to appear remorseful and even went so far as to kiss her forehead and squeeze her hand. She did not squeeze back.

To Cassie’s way of thinking, the fact that he had been holding her hand the whole time, including while checking out the lady’s legs next to them, made it a little worse. What could she say, though, considering she had been waiting and hoping for the appearance of another man?

She turned her head and caught Dan glancing in her direction. His mouth immediately curved up into a smile and he waved in Cassie’s direction. Cassie returned the smile and raised her left hand to reciprocate the wave, realizing she’d brought Thad’s hand along with her. Making it obvious that she had brought a date to the wedding, she immediately dropped Thad’s hand. Too late. She knew Dan had seen already.

Damn it!

About the author:

Kelly Rae is mom to an amazing young man. Everything else is just a way to keep busy between laughs with her son, or a way to pay for his sports equipment and growing feet. When she was twelve years old, she hit the big leagues by winning a Young Authors Award. (Okay, okay, it was only within her school district. Shh.) Although she has been unable to duplicate this success in her adult writing, she is giving it her best shot. Kelly, her son, and their chocolate lab, live in the Pacific Northwest where they enjoy the sun when it shines and the snow when it falls. When they aren’t dancing in the rain or singing at the top of their lungs in the car, they are planning their dream vacations…which they might even get to take some day.



Connect with the author:
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads 

Holiday Book Blitz

A Blue Million Books is part of the Great Escapes Book Tours' CYBER MONDAY Holiday Book Blitz December 1 – December 4, 2014

This book will only be available December 1 – January 31, 2015, so grab it fast!

Cozy Christmas Capers has 19 holiday short stories by 19 New York Times, USA Today and award
-winning authors!

Enjoy these tales of mystery, romance, and laughter 
amid the backdrop of pine trees, gingerbread men, and Santas galore!


The perfect short bites for cozying up by the fire with a cup of
 cocoa . . . or waiting in line at gift wrapping!

Stories include:

• Rosolio Red (Franki Amato Mysteries) by Traci Andrighetti
• 
Chasing Tinsel (Miranda Vaughn Mysteries) by Ellie Ashe

• Death of a Christmas Witch (A Crewel to be Kind Mini Mystery) by Diane Bator
• 
Queenie Baby: Pass the Eggnog (Queenie Baby Mysteries) by Christina A. Burke

• The Holiday Inside Job by Mary Jo Burke
• 
Hard to Catch a Christmas Thief (Hard Targets) by Wendy Byrne
• 
A Christmas Ghost & Zero Regrets (Dead by the Numbers Mysteries) by Jennifer Fischetto

• Christmas Canapés & Sabotage (Culinary Competition Mysteries) by Janel Gradowski

• Christmas in High Heels (High Heels Mysteries) by Gemma Halliday

• Christmas Al Dente (Southern Pasta Shop Mysteries) by Jennifer L. Hart

• Santa Claus, Lies, and Murder (Amber Fox Mysteries) by Sibel Hodge
• 
A (Gingerbread) Diorama of Death (Helen Binney Mysteries) by Gin Jones

• Mini Pie the Christmas Spy! (Mini Pie Mysteries) by Libby LaManna

• Have Yourself a Deadly Little Christmas (Greatest Hits Mysteries) by Leslie Langtry Ornamental Danger (Working Stiff Mysteries) by Kerri Nelson

• Motion for Mistletoe (Jamie Winters Mysteries) by Kelly Rey

• Christmas in Venice by Maria Grazia Swan

• Baby, It’s Cold Outside (Tahoe Tessie Mysteries) by T. Sue VerSteeg
• 
Santa’s Little Mistake by Stacey Wiedower

Featured Author: Nancy Christie

About the book:

There are some people who, whether by accident or design, find themselves traveling left of center. Unable or unwilling to seize control over their lives, they allow fate to dictate the path they take—often with disastrous results.

Traveling Left of Center details characters in life situations for which they are emotionally or mentally unprepared. Their methods of coping range from the passive (“The Healer”) and the aggressive (“The Clock”) to the humorous (“Traveling Left of Center”) and hopeful (“Skating on Thin Ice”).

The eighteen stories in Traveling Left of Center depict those types of situations, from the close calls to the disastrous. Not all the stories have happy endings — like life, sometimes things work out and sometimes they don’t.

In these stories, the characters’ choices — or non-choices — are their own. But the outcomes may not be what they anticipated or desired. Will they have time to correct their course or will they crash?

The Stories

ALICE IN WONDERLAND
Alice is constrained by circumstances and unwanted obligations to live an unfulfilling life. Books are her only way to escape, serving as sustenance to feed her starving soul. But what will she do when there are no more pages left to devour?

ANNABELLE
A lonely young woman, all Annabelle wants is to love and be loved. But she’s fighting by the twin emotions of fear and guilt, unable to let go of the past and embrace the possibilities of a future.

ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN
Sometimes, what one fears most comes to pass because of those fears. If Charlotte hadn’t been so afraid, would the outcome have been the same?

BEAUTIFUL DREAMER
For Eleanor, it was becoming increasingly more difficult to tell the difference between being awake and dreaming, reality and fantasy. The boundaries were blurring. Would she be able to see clearly again?

EXIT ROW
He wanted an escape. After all these years, he was ready to go. But could he get away before it was too late?

MISCONNECTIONS
Anna’s recurrent dreams echo through her day, as she attempts to reconcile her inexplicable feelings of loss with what would appear to be a “perfect life.”

OUT OF SIGHT, OUT OF MIND
Despite being more than three steps over the mental health line, he’s holding fast to his belief in his own sanity. Or is the rest of the world crazy?

SKATING ON THIN ICE
Is it possible to overcome childhood trauma? And, even if you do, are you ever really “cured” or simply skating on thin ice, waiting for it to crack? Sarah is trying to skate across the thin ice. Every day, she makes a new path on the surface of her life. So far, the ice has held.

STILL LIFE
Mirror images of her life: how she wants it to be and how it is. Which one would be her true reality — and does she even have a choice?

THE CLOCK
Everyone has a breaking point. For Harold, it came one fateful evening when the clock once again stopped ticking.

THE HEALER
Cassie didn’t ask for the gift. She didn’t want the gift. For all the good it had done other people, it was killing her. All she wanted was her own healing.

THE KINDNESS OF STRANGERS
Mona was relying on the kindness of strangers to rescue her. One stranger, in particular. However, thanks to the interference of others, her plans keep going awry. But she’s not giving up yet.

THE SHOP ON THE SQUARE
His attitude of superiority had gotten him quite far in life. Until a chance stop at a small Mexican town illustrated that he had much to learn.

THE STORYTELLER
Connie makes up her stories as much for the children’s sake as her own. But even her stories can’t stop the pain of reality from hurting her listeners — or herself.

THE SUGAR BOWL
Although Chloe’s life story changes with every listener, each time her tale has achieved its intended purpose. Until she chooses the wrong person to tell it to.

TRAVELING LEFT OF CENTER
Her mama was forever telling her that, on the highway of life, she was always traveling left of center. She wasn’t a bad girl, mind you — just incapable of looking down the road and seeing where her actions are taking her.

WAITING FOR SARA
Her daughter Sara is gone, and while it was by her own choice, it was a decision ill-conceived and poorly executed. And so Sara’s mother waits, alone and fearful, hoping against hope that someday her daughter will return, safe and unharmed.

WATCHING FOR BILLY
Agnes was all alone until Billy came to stay. Would he bring new purpose to her life? Or take what little hope she had for companionship?

Brief excerpts from reviews for Traveling Left of Center

For Traveling Left of Center
“As a creative writing teacher (for over 30 years)… and fiction editor for The Chaffin Journal, I have read more manuscripts than I’d like to remember. In honesty I can say that I enjoyed reading Christie’s collection of stories as much as anything I’ve read in many a year. Her style is fluid, and her use of detail really brings the stories to life. These stories need to be read by as many as possible.” -Hal Blythe, fiction editor, The Chaffin Journal

“… the stories were beautifully written, with brilliantly developed characters and settings … Nancy Christie has written my perfect summer book, short stories that I couldn't put down.” -Sylvia Bradley

For “Alice in Wonderland”
“A mere 14 pages … this story was packed with power, emotion and punch … Beautifully written, this tiny little vignette draws the reader in …” -Suzy Wilson

“I am full of admiration for Nancy Christie’s writing. In a few short pages, she created characters that I can picture and a story which drew me in, leaving me wanting more.” -Angela Thomas

For “Annabelle”
“Beautifully written with a sense of exclusion and focus in the description of the relationship that existed between her parents, there are oblique references to the sexuality and eroticism of the connection without truly delving into the deeper issue of a child looking in on a situation she is far too young to understand or process. Christie has managed to open a window into a tortured soul with [Annabelle], one that is not soon forgotten.” -Gaele Hince

“Nancy Christie adroitly describes a remarkable journey through the mind of a woman lost between desire and guilt, unable to formulate a pathway through life that adequately resolves love and sexual desire. This spellbinding short story will mesmerize the reader with powerful character development and a tale sadly familiar to many women. It’s hard to imagine anyone who will not read this excellent book through on the first attempt.” -Charles S. Weinblatt

Story teasers

From “Traveling Left of Center”
“Girl,” my mama had said to me the minute she entered my hospital room, “on the highway of life, you’re always traveling left of center.”

Mama was always saying things like that. She had a phrase for every occasion, and would pronounce them with a certainty that, in my younger days, I accepted as gospel. But that time, I didn’t pay her no mind. I just went on painting my nails “Passionate Purple,” hoping that the sexy polish would catch the doctor’s eye.

I was justifiably proud of my hands, especially since, at that particular time, they were the only part of me that was skinny. A girl’s body sure takes a beating from having a baby. It had taken me at least a year to get my shape back after Robert Nicholas, and it looked like Rebecca Nicole wouldn’t be any kinder to her mama than her big brother had been.


From “Alice in Wonderland”
“Alice! Alice! Where are you?”

Her mother’s shrill voice crept up the stairs, seeping around the corners, through the cracks and under the door like a damp chill until it found Alice, sitting cross-legged on her rumpled bed, a scratchy woolen blanket wrapped around her, holding tightly to her book.

She heard the words as though they came from a great distance, not just the floor below. But instead of responding, she kept on chewing, tearing off more bits to slip into her mouth and onto her tongue. “Cairo … Alexandria … Mozambique … Tangiers …”

“Alice! I want some tea!”—complaining, demanding, the words pulling at Alice like a rope around her neck.

“Nebet, the master awaits your presence,” said the servant, bowing before her with the respect due to one of great beauty and power.

“Tell him to wait,” Alice answered calmly. She extended one slim leg to allow the servant girl to free her delicate, high-arched foot from its sandal. “I will bathe first and then see him. Perhaps. Or, perhaps not” — the control she wielded evident in her tone, her attitude … The heat from the Sahara desert permeated the room, melting her muscles and bones into a sinuous form, curled and waiting like a cobra. The perfumed water tempted her…

“Alice! Dammit, you get down here right now!”

One last bite, one final swallow, and then Alice reluctantly set the book back on the shelf, the bangles and caftan vanishing as the cover closed … She had tarried too long and the price she paid for any delay, any deviation from the daily routine, was an endless litany of complaints and grievances, lasting until her mother was fed, bathed, and finally put to bed.


From “The Clock”
“Harold,” said Margaret, sneaking up behind him and startling him so he lost his place in the Sunday crossword, “how many times do I have to tell you to wind the clock? Do I have to do all your thinking for you?”

“Harold!” rapping the top of his head where his gray hair had thinned to expose vulnerable pink flesh. “Are you listening to me? Wind the clock!”

Harold stirred his seventy-five-year-old body from the safe depths of his easy chair and headed toward the offending timepiece. There would be no rest until the clock was wound and set ticking again.

“Yes, Margaret, I’ll wind the clock. Although,” he ventured, rummaging in the side drawer for the key, “I really think it should be repaired. It never seems to stay running very long.”

“`You think, you think’,” mimicked Margaret, her words tiny thorns unaccompanied by roses. After fifty-five years together, Harold had stopped searching for flowers. “You’re just too lazy to wind it! You don’t do anything else and now you even want to pay somebody to do this for you!”

Harold climbed onto the low footstool to reach the clock, trying with limited success to ignore her words. He had learned long ago not to argue but just to let her words engulf him. So far, they had always stopped short of drowning him, although sometimes it was awfully close. Then, when her tirade would finally subside, he would have to go outside for a breath of fresh air.

“The least you can do around here is drag your useless body out of that damned chair and wind the clock when it runs down!”

I wish you’d run down, you old bitch, thought Harold, surprised at the sudden, almost overwhelming hatred that ran through him like lifeblood.


From “Misconnections”
They blamed the airplane crash on “equipment failure.” Some little cog or pin or cylinder had failed to move when it was supposed to, and so the connection was not made in time.
Mechanical misconnection. Crash. Burn.

I had purposely avoided watching any part of the televised reports because I was afraid I would dream about it. But the information could not be avoided. The news was everywhere: on the radio, in the paper, part of everyone’s conversation. And so the dreams came.

I was watching rescue workers at the scene of the plane crash. One woman, dressed in a starched white nurse’s uniform, white hose and shoes, was bringing from the wreckage small stained bundles that turned out to be dead infants.

I remember the sticky film of blood and body fluids as she unwrapped them, and I wondered why there were so many dead babies on the plane.

When I arose the next morning, I saw the bedsheet was stained with pink, and I realized my period had come—unexpectedly, but not undesired. We didn’t want any more children. We had agreed on that. That was why the IUD scraped me clean with efficient regularity.

No babies to be born, no eggs connecting to a nutrient-filled lining.

Disconnection. Removal.

So why the dream?


From “Beautiful Dreamer”
“Eleanor, Eleanor … you look beautiful tonight.”

The words drifted into her mind, like leaves on an autumn breeze, settling softly in the forefront of her consciousness. She awoke to find the phone cradled between her cheek and the pillow, the insistent buzzing the only sound from the black receiver.

Had there been a voice on the line? Or had she only dreamed it?

She had had dreams before—the kind that would wake her like an alarm bell. Heart pounding, pulse racing, it would take her several moments to get her bearings and know where she was and that she had been dreaming.

Sometimes, her mouth would be dry and her throat sore, as though she had carried on a long conversation with someone now absent. But she always knew when she had been sleeping. However real the dreams would seem—and at times, the line between reality and dreamland was very fine indeed—she always knew the difference.

She was certain this had not been a dream … With that single phone call, everything had changed.

About the author:

Nancy Christie is a professional writer, whose credits include both fiction and non-fiction. In addition to her fiction collection, Traveling Left Of Center, and Two Short Story E-Books, Annabelle and Alice In Wonderland (all published by Pixel Hall Press), her short stories can be found in literary publications such as EWR: Short Stories, Hypertext, Full of Crow, Fiction365, Red Fez, Wanderings, The Chaffin Journal and Xtreme.

Her inspirational book, The Gifts of Change, (Beyond Words/Atria) encourages readers to take a closer look at how they deal with the inevitability of change and ways in which they can use change to gain a new perspective, re-evaluate their goals and reconsider their options. Christie’s essays have also appeared in Woman’s Day, Stress-Free Living, Succeed, Experience Life, Tai Chi and Writer’s Digest. She is currently working on several other book projects, including a novel and a book for writers.

A member of the American Society of Journalists and Authors and Short Fiction Writers Guild (SFWG), Christie teaches workshops at writing conferences and schools across the country and hosts the monthly Monday Night Writers group in Canfield, Ohio.

Connect with Nancy:
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Google+ | LinkedIn 

Nancy's Blogs: Finding Fran | The Writer’s Place | One on One | Make a Change

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Order Traveling Left Of Center and Other Stories now and take advantage of the pre-release special pricing! 
Until September 9th, the eBook version of Traveling Left of Center is available for $4.99 or less. The ebook will automatically be delivered to your eReaders on September 9th.