Report

I want to talk about my many accomplishments last week. I want to, but I can't because there were almost none. Well, that happens sometimes. I guess.

Last week:
- Did household chores.
- Babied my back.
- Fought a cold and sore throat.
- Set up the Author of the Month at the store downtown.
- Filed and cleaned desk.

And that's it.

This week:
- Household chores.
- Continue to baby back and to fight this lingering danged cold.
- Start publicity for Author of the Month.
- Work on Murder by the Mile.
- Restart my diet and exercise program. I've been unable to really pursue my fitness goals since freaking October when I hurt my ankle and hip. After that, it's just been one illness or injury after another. But I'm on the uphill slope from all that, I feel, so I'm going to slowly, slowly, slowly begin again. As for the diet ... yeah, I'm eating less sugar and more veggies and better protein, but I could be doing so much better, and I know it. I eat when I'm depressed, and I've used food to drug me over the holiday season. Well, there are worse faults. I guess. Anyway, this week I will start doing better.

I do believe in that old, tired adage about "Today is the first day of the rest of your life." I believe in the power of new starts and getting back up after being knocked down. I refuse to surrender my health and happiness just because the odds and habits are against me. I can beat the odds, and I can make new habit. Yeah, I'm trying to convince me, too. But other people do it. Why not me?

Anyway, that's what's going on in my world. Hope things are going well in yours.

Nonproductive

This has been a nonproductive day. I did some household chores, ran a couple of errands, did a bit of filing, but that is it. It's been the theme of the whole week. Some of it is because I've been fighting a cold and still suffering from back problems, but the rest of it ... I don't know. Spring fever? Or longing for spring fever? Lazy?

Lazy. The worst word in my world. I don't know why. It's always been busy people who are tyrants and despoilers. It takes effort to wage war. Lazy people, though, don't put out the effort. Truthfully the world might be a much better place if hate-filled people were simply too lazy to do much.

Maybe laziness is actually a virtue. If so, I was very virtuous this week. Think this will fly?

No, me neither.

Red Hot Sinner Man, 7

From Red Hot Sinner Man


In his long life, Marcus Ryan had slept with a lot of people. Perhaps it was more correct to say he had sex with them because he rarely stayed the night so there was no sleeping. It was correct to say people, however, because he was equally intrigued by women and men. Their gender didn't matter as much as the chase did.

Naturally he had caught a few STDs, but fortunately nothing lethal and nothing that hadn't been cured with a healthy dose of antibiotics. He liked to say -- but only to those privy to his lifestyle -- that the Lord look care of drunks and fools and he didn't drink. Except he did drink. Not as much as he used to, of course. A man his age had to take everything in moderation. Even his excesses.

At 65, he held the dubious distinction of being the oldest employee at Gallant and Sons. He didn't look it. He didn't look older than 45. Well, 50. But careful application of moisturizer over the years and genetics had given him good skin that he had kept out of the sun. He had a full head of rich, black hair. He drove over to Glensdale twice a month to keep his hair color just so.

As for exercise, he had once worshiped at the gym and still went three times a week, but the workouts were slower and more difficult than when he was younger. He still caught the attention of the other people at the gym, and they would comment how good he looked, but he had a suspicion they were silently adding "for his age." Once a rude young man had even told him that he hoped to look as good as Marcus when he reached his age. Marcus only smiled and thanked the young man. On his way out, Marcus keyed the young man's black Ford truck. Twice.

He could have retired five years ago. Go cruising the islands with arm candy. Maybe finally make that trip to Paris he had often talked about. He had always been smart with money. He could live comfortably on his investments for the rest of his life. But he stayed at Gallant and Sons because he knew a secret. One that bound him to this company. At times he thought it was his greatest mistake. At other times, he thought it was the only thing he had in his life that was worth living for. Even if no one else could ever know.

From Red Hot Sinner Man. Copyright 2013 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved. No copying without permission. Thanks for reading.

Happy V.D.!

Happy V.D.!

Excerpted from Floozy & Other Stories.

By Stephen B. Bagley

I like several holidays. Christmas and Thanksgiving, of course, and who doesn’t love the wild, passionate excitement of Groundhog Day, but I confess I don’t much care for Valentine’s Day. Or, as I like to call it, Passover.

I hope you have a nice day with your loved one, perhaps going to an expensive restaurant and gazing soulfully into each other’s eyes and then you glance out the window at the lovely moonlit night and exclaim, “Hey! What is that guy doing to my car?” Just so you know, I’m letting the air out of your tires, thus ensuring you a night to remember. I hope you brought a jack.

No, no, no, I won’t let the air out of your tires. I’m happy you’re happy with your lovey dovey. I’m sorry someone (but not me) texted your ex-boyfriends/girlfriends that you want to see them immediately to rekindle your romance and they should bring whipped cream, handcuffs, two nuns, and a goat.

Not that I’m bitter that you’re with a loved one while I am alone, of course. I wish you much happiness and joy and perhaps a plague or two. Nothing serious, mind you. Just an inflamed pimple or a hacking cough or say, leprosy.

That might seem harsh, but Valentine’s Day has a harsh history that I will now share with you. I did almost no research on this, but a few facts did creep in despite my best efforts.

The Catholic Church recognizes at least three different martyred saints named Valentine or Valentinus. All three died in terrible agony, thus giving rise to their remembrance with little candy hearts, expensive flowers, and boxes of cheap chocolate. That might seem odd, but remember most people mark Easter by eating chocolate bunnies and hiding hard-boiled eggs. So it does follow the same bizarre theme.

The most commonly held legend says that Valentine was a priest in Rome during the third century. When Emperor “Killjoy” Claudius II decided single men made better soldiers than those with wives and families, he outlawed marriage for young men. Valentine defied Claudius and continued to perform marriages for young lovers in secret. When Valentine’s marriages were discovered, Claudius had Valentine thrown in prison.

Supposedly, Valentine actually sent the first ‘valentine’ greeting himself. While in prison, Valentine fell in love with his jailor’s daughter. (Why the daughter was visiting men in prison, the legend doesn’t say.) Before his death, he wrote her a letter, which he signed “From your Valentine.” He also healed her blindness through his faith. (Her first words upon regaining her sight were, “Who are you? And why am I in this terrible place? Eek! Are those rats?”)

For Valentine’s good works, Claudius had him beaten, tortured with hot irons, beaten some more, more torture, another beating because you can’t have too much beating, and then finally beheaded. They beat him after the beheading, too, but all the fun seemed to have gone out of it.

Some historians say Valentine’s Day is celebrated in the middle of February to mark the anniversary of Valentine’s death and/or burial. Others claim the Christian church decided to celebrate Valentine’s feast day in the middle of February to ‘christianize’ celebrations of the pagan Lupercalia festival. Still other historians don’t care and have gone out for a bite to eat.

We do know that, in ancient Rome, February was the official beginning of spring and a time for purification. Houses were cleansed by sweeping them out and then sprinkling salt and wheat throughout their rooms. (This was centuries before the invention of Lysol and those nifty Swiffer mops.) Lupercalia, which began on February 15, was a fertility festival dedicated to Faunus (the god of agriculture) and Romulus and “Uncle” Remus (founders of Rome as well as the Romulian Empire that bedeviled Captain Kirk so much).

To begin the festival, the Luperci priests would gather at the sacred cave where the infants Romulus and Remus were believed to have been raised by a she-wolf or lupa. No, seriously, that’s what they believed. The priests would then sacrifice a goat (for fertility) and a dog (for purification) and then several lawyers (for fun).

The boys of Rome then sliced the goat’s hide into strips, dipped them in the sacrificial blood, and took to the streets, gently slapping both women and fields of crops with the goat hide strips. Supposedly, Roman women enjoyed being touched with the strips because it was believed the strips would make them more fertile. I don’t know what would happen if you slapped a modern woman with a goat hide strip dipped in blood, but it wouldn’t be pretty.

Later in the day, all the young women in the city would place their names in a big urn. The city’s bachelors would each choose a name out of the urn and become paired for the year with his chosen woman. These matches often ended in marriage and sometimes bloodshed and feuds. This is quite similar to the state lotteries of today or winning big in Vegas.

Pope Gelasius declared February 14 as St. Valentine’s Day around 498 A.D. The Roman ‘lottery’ system was condemned as un-Christian and outlawed. The Church tried to replace it with a system where the young men pulled out the name of a saint and then would spend a year trying to be like the saint, but for some reason, the public wasn’t as interested in that as you might suppose.

No one really knows where the tradition of sending greetings to your loved ones on Valentine’s Day started. The oldest known valentine still in existence today was a poem written by Charles, Duke of Orleans, to his wife while he was imprisoned in the Tower of London. The greeting, written in 1415, is almost unreadable but most scholars think it goes: “Roses are red, Violets are blue, The Tower is stinky, I have the flu” or something not even close to that.

In the 17th century, Valentine’s Day began to be popularly celebrated in Great Britain. (So it’s really the fault of those dang English.) By the middle of the eighteenth century, friends, lovers, and chimney sweeps commonly exchanged small items of affection or handwritten notes. By the end of the century, printed cards began to replace written letters, and decreasing postage rates helped spur the popularity. (Postage rates weren’t much of a problem for the royal family due to their tendency to date within the family. Many times they could walk across the room and hand their Valentines to their cousins.) Americans probably began exchanging hand-made valentines in the early 1700s. In the 1840s, Esther A. Howland started selling the first mass-produced valentines in America. Hallmark maintains a shrine for her with a perpetual chocolate fountain.

The Greeting Card Association says an estimated one billion valentine cards are sent each year, making Valentine’s Day the second largest card-sending holiday of the year. (An estimated 2.6 billion cards are sent for Christmas.) Valentine’s Day is celebrated in the United States, Canada, Mexico, the United Kingdom, France, and Australia. The rest of the world is free, free, free of it.

By the way, have you noticed that the best Valentine’s Day cards are always sold by the time you go to the greeting card store? Apparently the pretty cards are sold by the end of November, and the funny ones by the end of December. When I get there, the only selection left is a few tattered cards that say things like, “Stinky the Skunk thinks you’re grand! Stinky the Skunk wants to hold your hand!” Your loved one will forgive you only once for a card such as that. After that, if you can’t find a good card, it’s better to fake a coma the entire month of February.

Valentine’s Day is also when we remember that terrible massacre where a bunch of gangsters killed another group of gangsters, which upset a lot of people, although I don’t see why. I would think gangsters killing gangsters is a sport we should encourage. In fact, I’ve been thinking we should arm both sides in Congress, seal the doors, and let them fight it out. We could televise it as a Pay-For-View event and use the proceeds to pay down our debt to the Chinese government. Then as the weary, battered survivors come limping out, we feed them to rabid batweasels. Hurrah!

And now I must go. I hope you have a great Valentine’s Day if you’re with someone or if you end up alone, which happens to the best of us and is not a reflection on your worth as a person so put down that gallon of cherry pecan ice cream. Just remember to keep your chin up, particularly if you’re eating soup, and you’ll be okay. And if romantic bitterness is eating your soul, join me outside. I’ll be picking out cars.

Be seeing you in the parking lots.

Excerpted from Floozy & Other Stories. Copyright 2013 by Stephen B. Bagley. No copying without express written permission from the author and publisher.

Another excerpt from "Murder by the Mile"

Edwina Rivers turned up in Murder by the Mile unexpectedly. Edwina, the mother of Councilman Benjamin Rivers, has been quite helpful to me, although not so much to the other characters in the book. This scene happens early in the book.

Except from Murder by the Mile    

Edwina Rivers turned over the Tarot card. She drew a deep breath. The same card again. She looked across the crowed living room. Three times she had drawn it and in three different spreads.

Usually her cards weren’t that literal. Oh, they were always correct, as she had told many people who cast doubts on her abilities, but sometimes a person’s destiny was confused and dark. That was hardly the fault of the cards.

And she had a healthy dose of skepticism about Tarot herself. Not that she would share that with anyone, but she knew how easy one could twist events to meet the predictions of the cards. However, she also knew the cards could tap into the greater reality of the universes. Not always, but sometimes she felt ... power ... flow through her. Then she could turn the cards with certainty, knowing the universe had chosen her to be its vessel.

That certainty filled in a way no one else – certainly not her son – could ever understand. She felt she had much in common with the Catholic mystic saints, despite rejecting their parochial-based religion which denied the power of the feminine soul. As she had explained to the odious Father Kramer when she saw him and stupid Bliss Fowler at the Free Fair last September.

She looked down at the table where the cards still lay in the Celtic Cross. She had used a simple three card spread first, then moved to the five card – which she called the Star – and, after pulling that card again, had used the Celtic Cross, her most reliable and trusted Tarot spread.

Her good friend Cynthia Ferryman had called her and told her about Cyrus Fowler about an hour ago.

“I knew you’d want to know immediately,” Cynthia said breathlessly, as if she had run to tell Edwina. That was how Cynthia always talked, but Edwina found it annoying today. “After all the bad things he did to you.”

Edwina decided to chose the better karmic path. “Don’t speak evil of the dead,” she said. “Cyrus is facing his debt on the Wheel of Life now. I will light a white candle and pray he grows from his death experience so that he can return as a better being.”

“Of course,” Cynthia said. Edwina could hear the disappointed tone in the other woman’s voice and grinned. Cynthia enjoyed a good spiteful conversation better than anyone she knew.

“Naturally, he will have much to answer for,” Edwina said. “We must encourage the universe to show him mercy.” But not too much mercy, she thought.

Cynthia and she talked a few more minutes about various town scandals, but Cynthia wanted to talk about Cyrus and Edwina, strangely enough, found herself not wanting to discuss his death. She felt a cold chill every time she thought him hanging himself. Cynthia hung up eventually, leaving Edwina strangely unsettled.

She paced her overcrowded house, dusted a few crystals, re-arranged the books by her computer. She needed to be working on an article for her webpage, but she couldn’t concentrate. Finally, she pulled out her Tarot cards. They often calmed her, but not this time.

The cards aren’t literal, she told herself again. She let her eyes wander over the spread again, the various positions denoting challenges, the past, goals, destiny, and so on, but the 10th and final card was for result. The ultimate outcome.

She reached out and took the card. Three times she had drawn it. Three times in three different spreads. Her hand trembled.

“I deny this,” she said firmly, addressing any powers heeding her words. “I deny this once, I deny this twice, I deny this trice!” The ancient counter charm didn’t comfort her. She could still feel doom slinking around her house, leering at her.

She lit a bundle of sage incense and put on her hematite and bone necklace, which had been blessed by Cherokee medicine man. After a moment, she added several other necklaces and two amulets. She started a CD of Tibetan chants. She tried to meditate, but a terrible thought keep intruding.

Three times she had turned over the card known as The Hanged Man. And she knew – the way she knew gravity existed – more people were going to die.

Excerpted from Murder by the Mile. Copyright 2013 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved. No copying in any form is allowed. Thank you for reading.

Riddle 10

All about, but can't be seen,
Can be captured, can't be held,
No mouth, but can be heard.
What am I?

Answer in comments if you can.

Deacon Jones Doubts

Let us speak plainly, Brother.
There are times when I doubt you,
when I wonder what truly moves
you. You spread your arms as spit
gathers in your mouth and spray
your unholy words to the adoring
crowds. You cater to prejudice
and ignorance as you misquote
and twist Scriptures to match attitudes
that would give pause to the devil.

But the crowd amens you on,
content when you confirm
their backward views of the world
and don't challenge the status quo.
How easy it is to rail against other
people's sins while letting those
of your contributors slide past
with a knowing wink and sideways
smiles as the choir sings, rapt
in words you don't truly know.

Now you raise your hand
against me and deliver a bless you
that sounds like something else
because I dared to question
these things and make plain
my doubts. Let us part, you and I,
and make our way to the bright
silver shores where -- if you arrive --
your shocked eyes will behold
multitudes you denied any grace.

Copyright 2013 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved. No copying in any form. Thank you for reading.

Overshare

I will confess a great character flaw: I want my work to be appreciated. I know we're supposed to labor for the sake of the work -- and most times, I can do that -- but sometimes I'd like a pat on the back.

At times I've wanted to be appreciated more than paid. My poor bank account sure looks that way.

By the way, I'm talking about creative work. And no, this isn't a call for you to pat me on the back. It's more of a reminder to myself to not be so dang ... needy, I guess.

I think I might be in overshare mode. Just avert your eyes until it's over.

Wrong handed

Sometimes you have people in your life who pretend to support you. They are worse than the people who openly oppose you. You probably have these pretenders in your life, too. Those people who have mastered the wrong handed compliment: "That shirt makes you look so much thinner. I just wish it wasn't so out dated." "You do so well. If only you could do that way at work, you'd be a huge success." "Oh, your book is  good, but have you ever thought of writing something that everyone will like?"

The leading compliment is only to soften you up for the later blow. Frankly, I'm tired of the people who pretend to be subtle, who think they're sly, who think they can keep me down. Support me, and I'll support you. Attempt to tear me down, and buddy, I'm walking away, changing my number, arming the alarms, blowing up the bridges between us. I don't need people like that. I'll be happier without them. They can go and find other prey. Or drop off the earth into a swamp. I don't much care.

These hidden enemies can be friends, family, bosses, co-workers ... the levelers who back-stab and back-bite, who rejoice in your failures behind your back but sympathize to your face. They're levelers because they want to bring you down. How dare you aspire to be more. How dare you raise from the mud to reach for the stars.

And when you find those people, when you realize what they are, let them go. Push them away, run from them. De-friend them, block them, be ruthless. You're in a fight for your life. Don't let them win.

P.S. By the way, if you think this post is about you, it is. I probably didn't write it with you in mind, but you know yourself better than I do.
P.S.S. I've removed most of those people from my Facebook, Linked-IN, my life. If you're on there, this post isn't about you.
P.S.S.S. Unless it is, of course, and then you know what's coming, don't you?

Riddle 9

Always hungry, must be fed, touch me, turn red.

Answer in comments if you can.

Bought my books yet?

EndlesS
By Stephen B. Bagley
Poetry - Enjoy more than 50 sensual & moving poems, including the award winning "Non-Communion," "Torrent," & "Endless."
Buy on Amazon
Buy on Lulu

Floozy & Other Stories
By Stephen B. Bagley
Humor - Laugh at more than 80 hilarious tales from the author's decidedly different life.
Buy on Amazon
Buy on Barnes & Noble
Buy on Lulu

Murder by the Acre (Second Edition)
By Stephen B. Bagley
Mystery - Who killed the ladies man? Bernard, Lisa & the chief are back! New expanded edition. 2nd in Measurements of Murder series.
Buy on Lulu
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Murder by the Acre (First Edition)
By Stephen B. Bagley
Mystery - Who killed the ladies man? Bernard, Lisa & the chief are back! 2nd in Measurements of Murder series.
Buy on Amazon
Buy on Barnes & Noble

Murder by Dewey Decimal
By Stephen B. Bagley
Mystery - Who killed the librarian? 1st in Measurements of Murder series.
Buy on Amazon
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Tales from Bethlehem
By Stephen B. Bagley
Inspirational - Have you ever wondered about everyone else in Bethlehem on the night of the Nativity? These charming and touching Tales will tell you their stories.
Buy on Lulu

Back problems are back

Been fighting with my back all week. It's determined to put me in a walker, and I'm just as determined not to. And I think it's better today. I still can't do much, but there was less pain today. Just have to stay careful about how I move and what I do, do my back exercises as gently as I can, and take my meds.

Naturally, this doesn't mean it won't get worse, but I'm hopeful.

Email, chat & phone tag

Spent the morning and part of this afternoon emailing, live chatting, and finally telephoning my publisher to fix a problem. Got it fixed and everyone I talked to was nice, but gee, it look hours to get it fixed.

Yesterday I went on a couple of errands. That was the first time I've been out by myself since I hurt my back. Just me and my cane cruising town! Except my back didn't hold out long so I had to come home fairly soon, but I'm hopeful that I've finally turned the corner on this and soon will be out harassing people all the time.

Chai latte on my back

It's official: I'm addicted to chai latte. Oh, I could stop whenever I want, but I don't want to and I'm not going to. I'd like to thank my Keurig Coffee machine for making it so easy to brew a cup and Staples for making K-Cups available. And of course, each and every one of you who inspire me to indulge. Thank you all. :)

Author's new website

Visit my friend Laura Eckroat's new author website: The Books of Laura Eckroat. Laura writes children's Christian fiction. Here's a listing of her excellent and touching books:

A Simpler Time
Buy from Amazon
Buy from Tate Publishing
Over-saturated with the latest video games and iPhone apps, does anyone slow down to remember A Simpler Time? Join A.J. as she discovers a summer of fun with her mom, finding animals in the clouds, and a trek to find the perfect four-leaf clover!

The Life of BUD
Buy from Amazon
Buy from Tate Publishing
This is the story of life and how important we all are and how hard it is to let go in the end. The story follows Bud, who starts out in life as a tiny bud. He feels insignificant, but Bud grows into a beautiful, vibrant leaf on the Mighty Oak Tree and becomes an important part of the tree. Those who have looked for a children's book that explains gently about the topic of life and death, look no further.

Went Out To Get A DONUT- 
Came Home With A MUFFIN
Buy from Amazon
Buy from Tate Publishing
A charming, whimsical way to engage the littlest readers into the importance of animal rescue. A family goes out for a routine day, then stumbles upon a surprising opportunity: a cute, fluffy  puppy. Should the family take him home?

Treat

I had such a painful and distressing day that I have just treated myself to a delivery pizza.

Okay, it's a thin crust one topping pizza, but it still feels like a treat to me on this low carb diet.

My back really beat me up today. I could barely move, and I have so many things I wanted to get done. Got to lose more weight. That will make my back feel better. It won't fix it, but it will help.

Well, that will happen, God willing, but right now, I just had to endure this until my back decides it will get better.

It's enough to make me want to drink!

Gateway Beverage

I'm feeling a profound gratitude to coffee today. I'm also feeling I shouldn't feel that appreciative. But apparently all my green tea was only a gateway beverage to coffee.

That's how it sneaks up on you. You think you're dedicated to a healthy lifestyle, but then ... you wake up with coffee on your back.

And that's the way it goes.

A Great Big World - This Is the New Year!

Wish I had found this on New Year's Day. It would have been especially fitting, but since every day can be the start of a new year for us ... this is a new year!

Excerpt from "Murder by the Mile"

Thank the Lord for coffee breaks! My throat is sore, my back hurts, and the characters in my novel are trying to kill me. Of course, I've been tormenting them, but that's my job. They're just being contrary and childish to oppose the slings and arrows. Speaking of my novel, I've posted a couple scenes that were cut. Here's one (unedited) that's staying.

The Ryton Many Mile Marathon Chairperson Dolores Hyatt had been working in the huge race tent when runners began to share the news about what was happening on Watts Ridge. She had been horrified as the details emerged, but she kept the volunteers focused on processing the racers and making sure they all received their t-shirts and giveaways. At least none of the racers had been injured.

“Dee,” Abby Lange hissed at her. “It’s him!”

Dolores looked up from her clipboard. Michael Hyatt stood in the entrance scanning the tables. Strangely enough, he was dressed in his jogging suit even though she knew her soon-to-be-ex-husband hadn’t run in the race. Or had someone else checked him in?

She saw when he saw her. His face twisted. She tried to control her rapid breathing as he strode over to her.

“We need to talk,” he said flatly. “Now. Come with me.” The anger in his voice made her flinch.

For a moment, her body nearly betrayed her. She had always done what her husband said, had always taken his anger as her due, and had hid the bruises to protect him time and time again. But she would never do that again.

“You need to talk to my attorney,” she said, proud that her voice didn’t quiver. “Call Harold Hast –”

“I know who your attorney is,” Michael cut in, his voice shaking with fury. “I read the papers you had served to me today!”

“I guess the server couldn’t find you yesterday,” Dolores said. “Call Harold.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Michael yelled. “Now, come with me!”

People looked at them. All the noise in the tent ceased. Abby rose and came to stand behind Dolores.

Dolores looked down, feeling the old familiar shame. Only Abby’s hand on her shoulder kept her in her chair.

“Michael, you should go,” Abby said.

“Stay out of this,” Michael snarled. “If you know what’s good for you.”

“She does,” Abby’s husband Mack said from behind the real estate agent. Mack, a construction foreman, stared down at Michael. “And if you think you’re going to beat my wife like you beat yours, you'd better rethink real fast.” Mack brought his face down to an inch from Michael’s. “Why don’t you go before I make you go?”

For a moment, Dolores thought Michael was going to throw himself at the much larger man, but he backed away.

“This isn’t over,” Michael told Dolores.

“Call Harold Hastings,” she said, not trusting herself to look up. “I won’t talk to you.”

“You will. One way or another, you will.” Michael turned and left the tent.

“He’s so mad,” Dolores said, sick with fear.

“It’s okay,” Abby said. “It’s okay now. He can’t hurt you now.”

“He’d better not try,” Mack said. “I’ll snap him like a twig.”

“Mack, that’s enough,” Abby said. “Dee, are you all right?”

Dolores nodded. “He wasn’t supposed to be here.”

“Mack, take her clipboard,” Abby commanded. “Dee and I are going to take a break.”

“But I don’t know what to do,” Mack said.

Abby glanced at him. “You’ll learn.” She handed the clipboard to Mack. “Dee and I will be right back.”

Abby led Dolores over to the refreshment table where she got them both a cup of black coffee with plenty of sugar and creamer. “We can sit in my car,” Abby said. “It’s right over here.”

In the car, Dolores cried for a good ten minutes while Abby held her hand and listened.

Finally, Dolores pulled herself back together. “I’m sorry, Abs.”

“Sweetie, I’m always here for you,” Abby said. “You’re going to get through this, and your life is going to be so much better. I’m proud of you. And Mack and I are going to be beside you all the way.”

This caused Dolores to cry for another five minutes while trying to tell Abby how much she appreciated their support. Finally, she pulled herself together.

“Have you told Sherry yet?” Abby asked.

“No,” Dolores said. “She will never forgive me. She’s always been her daddy’s girl.”

“You might be surprised,” Abby said.

“Maybe,” Dolores said, but she knew better. Sherry was cut from the same pattern as her father who had denied her nothing. Dolores had done what she could, but it hadn’t been enough. She wished Sherry and Bernard hadn't broke up. Bernard had been a good influence on her daughter unlike Jerry who gave in to Sherry on everything.

They sat quietly for a few minutes watching the runners trickle in.

“You know what I think? I think it’s so sad that a nice man like Cyrus Fowler is dead while Michael Hyatt isn’t.”

“Don’t say that,” Dolores said. But she secretly agreed, and for a moment, wondered how to do it.

(From Murder by the Mile. Copyright 2013 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved. No copying without express written permission. Thank you for reading.)

Yes, buy my books!

EndlesS
By Stephen B. Bagley
Poetry - Enjoy more than 50 sensual & moving poems, including the award winning "Non-Communion," "Torrent," & "Endless."
Buy on Amazon
Buy on Lulu

Floozy & Other Stories
By Stephen B. Bagley
Humor - Laugh at more than 80 hilarious tales from the author's decidedly different life.
Buy on Amazon
Buy on Barnes & Noble
Buy on Lulu

Murder by the Acre (Second Edition)
By Stephen B. Bagley
Mystery - Who killed the ladies man? Bernard, Lisa & the chief are back! New expanded edition. 2nd in Measurements of Murder series.
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Murder by the Acre (First Edition)
By Stephen B. Bagley
Mystery - Who killed the ladies man? Bernard, Lisa & the chief are back! 2nd in Measurements of Murder series.
Buy on Amazon
Buy on Barnes & Noble

Murder by Dewey Decimal
By Stephen B. Bagley
Mystery - Who killed the librarian? 1st in Measurements of Murder series.
Buy on Amazon
Buy on Barnes & Noble
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Tales from Bethlehem
By Stephen B. Bagley
Inspirational - Have you ever wondered about everyone else in Bethlehem on the night of the Nativity? These charming and touching Tales will tell you their stories.
Buy on Lulu

Riddle 8

The more of this there is, the less we can see it. What is it?

Answer in comments if you can.

Riddle 7

Inside a green house outside a white house outside a red house that holds many children. What am I?

Answer in comments if you can.

Riddle 6

What runs but never walks, sometimes gurgles, never talks, has a bed but never sleeps, has a mouth but never eats?

Answer in comments if you can.

Riddle 5

It's said to be greater than God, but more evil than the devil, too. The poor have it, the rich need it, and if you eat it, you'll die. What is it?

Answer in comments if you can.

Riddle 4

White box, yellow treasure, when used, often measured. What am I?

Answer in comments.

Riddle 3

Black within, red without, if you know what I am, give a shout.

Answer in comments.

Riddle 2

Although it goes up and down, it never actually moves. What is it?

Answer in comments.

RIddle 1

Although it's always before you, you can never see it. What is it?

Answer in comments.

Idle thoughts

Just finished Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow by Jerome K. Jerome. I can't recommend it. There are a few mildly amusing moments in it, but a lot of the essays were quite depressing and sad. Three Men in a Boat also had some somber moments in it, but not so melancholy. I was quite disappointed in IDIF. The essays are out-dated for the most part, and the humor is lacking. I don't think I will read the sequel, either.

Three Men in a Boat

Finally read Three Men in a Boat and Three Men on the Bummel by Jerome K. Jerome. Although both are dated, they still had places in them where I laughed out loud, Three Men in a Boat more than Three Men on the Bummel. Considering they were published in 1889 and 1900 respectively, that's quite an accomplishment. Particularly since society has changed so much.

I recommend both books. You can find them at your local library. Online, you can find several places that offer them free, the copyright having long since expired. Here's the ebook offering from the Gutenberg project: Three Men in a Boat. Enjoy!

Twitter truth

It may be true that "the love of money is the root of all evil," but let me tell you that being poor ain't no walk in the park, buddy. 

Weird weather

I just stepped outside and enjoyed the weather for a few minutes. A cool breeze, but not too cool. Sunshine. Weird weather for January, but enjoyable. I do hope we get more rain soon. The lakes and ponds still have a ways to go before they're filled.

I crave rain. I crave moisture. I'm so tired of the dead trees and grass and, Lord, I want spring, and I want it now.

Disconnect

Disconnect
By Stephen B. Bagley

We don't connect in any way.
No one speaks your name.
No romantic pictures stain the walls.
Years stand between you and me.

But I see the way of walking
of a complete stranger
and my traitorous heart leaps,
hopeful breath catches in flight.

Do you think of me at all
during the endless tasks of day?
Or in the darkest hours of night,
do you too lie awake and wonder?

You were my first lover,
and you said I was yours.
You nearly were my last,
but I wasn't yours.

With all that stands between us now --
years, words, new loves, and lovers --
still you lurk in the shadow places.
A final disconnect is what I need.

So old lover, ancient broken heart,
memories from a dream of another life,
tormentor and remembered sorrow,
time for me to let                        go.

January 2013

(Copyright 2013 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved. No copying without express prior written permission. Thank you for reading.)

Dirge Without Music

DIRGE WITHOUT MUSIC
By Edna St. Vincent Millay (1893-1950)

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains, – but the best is lost.

The answers quick & keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,
They are gone. They have gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

Buy My Books!

EndlesS
By Stephen B. Bagley
Poetry - Enjoy more than 50 sensual & moving poems, including the award winning "Non-Communion," "Torrent," & "Endless."
Buy on Amazon
Buy on Lulu

Floozy & Other Stories
By Stephen B. Bagley
Humor - Laugh at more than 80 hilarious tales from the author's decidedly different life.
Buy on Amazon
Buy on Barnes & Noble
Buy on Lulu

Murder by the Acre (Second Edition)
By Stephen B. Bagley
Mystery - Who killed the ladies man? Bernard, Lisa & the chief are back! New expanded edition. 2nd in Measurements of Murder series.
Buy on Lulu
Buy on Amazon

Murder by the Acre (First Edition)
By Stephen B. Bagley
Mystery - Who killed the ladies man? Bernard, Lisa & the chief are back! 2nd in Measurements of Murder series.
Buy on Amazon
Buy on Barnes & Noble

Murder by Dewey Decimal
By Stephen B. Bagley
Mystery - Who killed the librarian? 1st in Measurements of Murder series.
Buy on Amazon
Buy on Barnes & Noble
Buy on Lulu

Tales from Bethlehem
By Stephen B. Bagley
Inspirational - Have you ever wondered about everyone else in Bethlehem on the night of the Nativity? These charming and touching Tales will tell you their stories.
Buy on Lulu

The only way

I wish I knew an easier way to do whatever you want to do: write a book, run a marathon, rekindle your relationship with your spouse, achieve your dream ... but the only way I know is by work. Working unceasing and giving up that which doesn't advance your goals. Life is about choices, and each choice we make closes the door on another choice. It's regrettable, it's hard, it makes me want to howl at times, but in the end, you have to believe that the sacrifice is worth it -- even if you fail.
From At Cross Purposes by Stephen B. Bagley

Best advice in a while

“Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.”
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Another discard

Still slow and steady on Murder by the Mile. Adding new material and discarding old. Speaking of which, here's another discard.

He had taken a terrible chance this time and nearly got caught because of it. He wanted to get this over with. The old woman had shaken him. So he had stalked the old man yesterday and found Merriman Smith lived alone. The house had been easy to get into; the back door wasn’t locked. Once there, he had waited quietly for the old man get home.

      He knew how to wait. It seemed he had done that his whole life. Waiting for joy, waiting for happiness, waiting for closure, waiting for his life to be different, waiting for a sign. A sign of what he was to do. It all started with that story in the Tulsa World. A simple story on the financial page, but he had seen Cyrus Fowler’s name. He read it, not understanding the financial terms, but getting the gist of it. Fowler was winning an award from a professional organization.

      He felt his world spin as he looked at the photo of Fowler, a man who was nothing more than a murderer winning an award. How could they? How many people had died because of Fowler? What justice was there in the world if a man such as that could win the approval of his peers?

      When he read future and saw that Fowler still lived in Ryton and still worked for the same bank, the first inklings of what he needed to do finally came to him. Not that he started planning yet, but slowly he understood why his life had stalled. He couldn’t move on until what started all those years ago was finally finished. Justice would free him. Then his life would finally begin.

      Oh, how he longed for that release!

      He couldn’t enjoy the killings. He saw that now. His glee over Cyrus Fowler had been wrong. He was doing only what was necessary. He was doing the right thing. While in the long run, the world would be better, he had to recognize that innocent people would be hurt. He regretted that, but he had to take the long view. He could see more clearly than they what the results would be.

      Naturally since the other people didn’t have his vision, they couldn’t help opposing him. He had to be strong and smarter. Obviously the police were his enemies. And perhaps that librarian. How had this Bernard Worthington happened to show up before he could finish? He had thought he had chosen Worthington by chance.

        He had forced Fowler to walk through the woods, and by that time, Fowler had started to understand this wasn’t a kidnapping. He regretted now he hadn’t explained to the banker why this was necessary.

      Fowler had tried to run, forcing him to knock him out. Then he had to drag the banker closer to the road. He could have hanged Fowler anywhere, but when he learned about the Many Mile Marathon – where people pretended that what they did actually helped other people – he decided it would make a statement. That the statement was unclear was no one’s fault, but his own.

      He had to complete this. Only their deaths could justify his actions. He hoped the old man would die in the hospital. He would rather hang Merriman Smith, but if he couldn’t, it would work out. It wasn’t the method that was as important as the deaths themselves. Six people had to be brought to justice. Two had been. If Merriman Smith died, he would be halfway to peace and freedom.

      He would be more careful next time. But he had to keep moving forward. Time was his enemy and the friend of his enemies. He had been careful, but the longer it took to accomplish the murders, the more chance there was that the police would finally connect them and warn the remaining targets.

      And what of this librarian? Had contrary fate chosen Bernard Worthington to oppose him? That made sense. What good purpose hadn’t generated opposition? He must be wary of the librarian and be ready for opposition.

      He must be ready to kill Worthington at all times. For now, he could afford to wait, but if Worthington showed up again unexpectedly, then he would know the librarian was his opponent.

      And he would end Bernard Worthington’s life with no regrets.

Slow and steady

I didn't get much done on Murder by the Mile, but I did get some progress made despite how the rainy weather made me want to curl up in bed and sleep, sleep, sleep. No sun today, but I'm not complaining. We need the rain here desperately. We're still in the middle of a drought and ever bit of moisture helps. I wish it would rain slow and steady all week.

And that's how I'm working on MBTM: slow and steady. Just like the rain I want. I am committed to make progress on the book every day. Maybe not great progress, maybe not ten or 15 pages, but progress. And by the way, it will be done.

I guess I'm dining on an elephant if you know that story. (How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time. And probably with a sauce of some sort.)

Bon appetit!

A MBTM discard

I stayed up late last night working on Murder by the Mile.

Here's a quick update on what happened to the story. Originally when I wrote the first draft, I wrote about 25 percent of the book from the murderer's viewpoint. Then I realized it was a mistake. For one, I didn't enjoy being in the murderer's head, a thoroughly nasty place to visit. Two, I had to play coy with the reader and withhold names and information, which made the writing stilted. And three, I realized that the murderer had to be a different person than I had first thought and so I had written a fifth of the book that had to be discarded.

Well, that's what I've been doing -- discarding words. It's been painful, but the story is clearer and narrative cleaner. I am regaining my enthusiasm for the story. But I thought you might like to see some of what I had to discard. Here's the first scene from the murderer's viewpoint. Or who used to the murderer. This will not be in the book:

He thought hate would carry him through this. 

Certainly the first murder hadn’t bothered him. He had even enjoyed it. But this old woman had been tough on him. She looked like the picture of every kid’s storybook grandmother. Her eyes were so soft and gentle. And she smelled of powder and cinnamon. 

 He had told her what she did in an attempt to keep his hate strong, but she only looked baffled. Said she didn’t remember, pleaded with him to let her live, and pointed out the pictures of her children and grandchildren. 

 He was tempted to let her live. Perhaps not all of them were equally guilty. But she had seen his face. When he advanced on her, she tried to run and then tried to fight. He killed her as quickly as he could, strangled her aged throat. He had to turn his face away and not watch her die. 

 Now as he stood over her lifeless body, he felt guilty. And sad. If only they had done the right thing all those years ago, none of this would be necessary. It wasn’t his fault. It was theirs. They were reaping what they had sowed. He had to believe that. He had to hold on that, the truth behind all the lies. 

 If hate couldn’t propel him forward, then justice would. 

Just four more to go, and then he could see what else the world had to offer besides justice and sorrow.

Another direction

Currently I'm printing another draft of Murder by the Mile. Tomorrow is a MBTM day. At least that's the plan. I have a lot -- A LOT -- of rewriting to do. And unfortunately, I have to cut a really good scene. I hate losing words. It feels like I'm going backwards, but I have to. I took a wrong turn, and I must retrace my steps and go another direction.

What a writer needs

Another question I'm supposed to address in the online presentation is "The Most Important Quality A Writer Needs." Creativity, of course, springs to mind, but I'm going with Discipline. I know several people who are more creative than me, and they're always saying they're going to write a book someday, but they start and then abandon the project or never start. Having the Discipline to continue is the only way to get a project done. It's not easy to sit in your chair in front of your computer after day after day after day, but that's the only way to get the words, scenes, chapters, books.

And equally important is Belief. You have to believe in your words. If you're just writing for yourself -- say, a journal or diary -- then maybe belief isn't as important. But if you're writing for publication, you have to believe you have something to say that other people will want to read. That belief has to be strong enough to carry you through setbacks, criticism, writing blocks, and other disappointments.

My best writing advice

I was asked to do an online presentation for a writing group on "My Best Writing Advice." I thought a lot about it, and I think while "Write What You Know" is good advice, I think it's more important to "Write What You Enjoy."

If you don't enjoy writing, you won't continue. Desire for money or recognition or validation can carry you only so far. (And writing only for those is, I think, a good way to be miserable.) But writing what you enjoy, then your work can give you pleasure even as you wrestle with it.

Cuppa

I'm about to have a cup of coffee. It's been several days since I've had one. I thought I might give it up completely. But then today rolled around, and I realized I needed -- NEEDED -- a cup. But I can quit any time I want to. I just don't want to.

My books! Buy! Buy! Buy!

EndlesS
By Stephen B. Bagley
Poetry - Enjoy more than 50 sensual & moving poems, including the award winning "Non-Communion," "Torrent," & "Endless."
Buy on Amazon
Buy on Lulu

Floozy & Other Stories
By Stephen B. Bagley
Humor - Laugh at more than 80 hilarious tales from the author's decidedly different life.
Buy on Amazon
Buy on Barnes & Noble
Buy on Lulu

Murder by the Acre (Second Edition)
By Stephen B. Bagley
Mystery - Who killed the ladies man? Bernard, Lisa & the chief are back! New expanded edition. 2nd in Measurements of Murder series.
Buy on Lulu
Buy on Amazon

Murder by the Acre (First Edition)
By Stephen B. Bagley
Mystery - Who killed the ladies man? Bernard, Lisa & the chief are back! 2nd in Measurements of Murder series.
Buy on Amazon
Buy on Barnes & Noble

Murder by Dewey Decimal
By Stephen B. Bagley
Mystery - Who killed the librarian? 1st in Measurements of Murder series.
Buy on Amazon
Buy on Barnes & Noble
Buy on Lulu

Tales from Bethlehem
By Stephen B. Bagley
Inspirational - Have you ever wondered about everyone else in Bethlehem on the night of the Nativity? These charming and touching Tales will tell you their stories.
Buy on Lulu

Old and New

It's that time to look at my goals for the new year. I should look at my goals from 2012, but I'm afraid they will blind me with their arrogance. Perhaps I will take a peek later, but for right now, let's talk about what I accomplished.

- Published and promoted Tales from Bethlehem. That is one of the best things I did last year. There were more headaches with the publishing and writing process than I expected or planned for, but overall, I'm quite proud of it. And while it hasn't outsold any of my mysteries, it's holding a comfortable third position on my sales chart. Since it's seasonal -- and I can update it -- I hope for more sales next year. 

Tales was my fifth book. Murder by Dewey Decimal, Murder by the Acre, EndlesS, Floozy & Other Stories, and now Tales from Bethlehem. I've read that you have to have 11 books published (in the self-publishing world) before you can start making a decent living from your writing. I guess I'll see if that's true.

- Published Creations 2012 by Ada Writers. Although it doesn't carry my imprint, this truly was the first Many Rivers Harbor book. It's the one that gave me the idea of publishing other people's books.

- Published Secret of the Pack Rat's Nest by Martha Rhynes. The first official Many Rivers Harbor book. I learned so much contracts, deadlines, working with authors, etc., and even made a little money to boot. A definite win.

- Published On Target: Devotions for Modern Life. The second Many Rivers Harbor book. Still learned a lot, but the process went much smoother, and it's a lovely book. 

- Was elected president of the Ada Writers writing group. My term started January 1. We'll see how this goes. I'm to guide them through the publishing process for Creations 2013. Looking forward to that.

- Continued to publish the monthly family newsletters. The subscribers continue to support its publication. It's even grown a bit. And I'm no longer losing money on it. That's a win.

- Read 119 books. I'm counting this is a win because I wanted to read 100, but still, I should watch that. When I consider the number of magazines, newspapers, websites, and posts I read ... Reading has always been my drug. Maybe I need to try to interact with the Real World more. No, I should. Really.

Well, let's look at my goals from last year and see how I did.

Writing

1. I will finish and publish Murder by the Mile. To this end, I have committed to writing one page per day five days a week. I hope to do write more, but that's the baseline. Did not do.

2. I will publish Tales from Bethlehem. Mostly I just have to be pull it together, write two more Tales for it, and create a cover. Did.

3. I will continue to work on Debt Free At Last! A Beginner's Guide to Money Management. I'd like to publish it this year, but it's not as high a priority as the other two are. Did not and abandoned the project.

4. I will continue to add Christmas cards to Oakleaf Harbor on Cafepress.com. I'd like to have 50 card designs available before November next year. Did not do.

5. I will add a birthday card selection to Oakleaf Harbor on Cafepress.com. I'd like to have 50 card designs available this year. Did not do.

6. I will continue to send Dragons Gather and Darkness, Oklahoma to agents and publishers. Because each rejection moves me closer to an acceptance. Did. Garnered two more rejections for Dragons and one for Darkness.

Health

7. I will walk at the gym 4-5 days a week, depending on health and holidays. Did although stopped walking at the end of October because I hurt my ankle. And I only walked three days a week.

8. I will improve my diet and eat more veggies and low carb foods. Did and did't.

9. I will arrange for a colonoscopy. I have to figure out how to pay for it, but with the cancer history in my family, I need to do this this year. Did not due to lack of money, but have plans for it this year.

10. I will continue to look at holistic health solutions and ways of life. Did.

Declutter

11. I will remove 50 books from my book collection and sell or donate to the local library. Did.

12. I will have two garage sales. Had one.

13. I will remove 50 items from my closets and sell or donate them or trash them. Did.

14. I will try to remove an item when I add an item to my house. Tried.

Misc.

15. I will continue to seek a job, full time or part time, even though I'm very discouraged about this. However, as my health improves, other jobs that I can't physically do now will be possible. I can do this and will. Did and suffered some crushing rejections. This one just about sunk me.

16. I will read 75 books this year. Oh, I thought the goal was 100. Well, did.

17. I will continue to read the New Testament and finish it this year. I will also read Psalms and Proverbs. Did. Read all three and most of the Old Testament.

18. I will pray daily and give thanks for my blessings. Mostly did.

19. I will remember that honesty can cause pain and remember that I can never completely know what another person is going through and thus should not judge. In other words, I will keep my mouth shut when my opinion hasn't been asked for -- and sometimes even when it has been. Slipped a few times, but mostly I did much better.

20. I will try to be more forgiving of myself and others. We're human and frail in many many ways. We all need a break. Did as best as I could.

Really, I did better on the list than I expected. Surprising. And pleasing.

GOALS FOR 2013

Writing

1. Finish and publish Murder by the Mile. It's past time.

2. Take up daily walking again. Got to do this for my health.

3. Participate in the 2013 National Novel Writing Month.

4. Blog at least one a week on three of my blogs.

Health

1. Walk at least three times a week.

2. Watch the diet and concentrate on more veggies and low carb foods, even when I eat out.

3. Go to the doctor for a check up and schedule a scope. Also, go to a dentist.

4. Seek more holistic information.

Declutter

1. Give 50 books to the local library or to friends.

2. Remove 50 items from my closets and donate or discard as needed.

3. Organize my files and discard and shred old financial records as needed.

4. Donate or discard kitchen pots never used.

Employment

1. Keep my eyes open for possibilities.

2. Look into going back to college.

3. See if Continuing Education would let me teach some poetry classes again.

4. Pursue more contacts on Linked In.

Publishing

1. Publish three books from Many Rivers Harbor.

2. Publish Many Rivers Harbor's first traditional book. Probably a poetry book. More on this as it develops.

3. Continue to seek new clients.

4. Purchase ISBNs for MRH so that it shows as the publisher rather than Lulu or Amazon.

Misc.

1. Pray daily and give thanks for my blessings.

2. Remember that honesty can cause pain and I can never completely know what another person is going through and thus should not judge. 

3. I will try to be more forgiving of myself and others. We all need a break.

4. Battle the black dog until it whimpers to see me. 

Well, that seems to be a good lists of goals. I hope we all reach our goals,or if not, we achieve other things that are even better. Happy New Year and Many Blessings on You and Yours!

2013!

You know the drill!
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Barry Manilow: It's Just Another New Years Eve