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!
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
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.)
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.)
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Yes, buy my books!
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
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
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
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
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
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
Monday, January 28, 2013
Riddle 8
The more of this there is, the less we can see it. What is it?
Answer in comments if you can.
Answer in comments if you can.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
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.
Answer in comments if you can.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
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.
Answer in comments if you can.
Friday, January 25, 2013
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.
Answer in comments if you can.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Monday, January 21, 2013
Sunday, January 20, 2013
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.
Friday, January 18, 2013
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!
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!
Thursday, January 17, 2013
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.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
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.)
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.)
Monday, January 14, 2013
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.
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.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Buy My Books!
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
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
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
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
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
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
Saturday, January 12, 2013
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
From At Cross Purposes by Stephen B. Bagley
Friday, January 11, 2013
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
- Ralph Waldo Emerson
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