#Excerpt Week: Even humor columnists like a good mystery — and that’s no joke

(NOTE: Look who slipped in under the wire…okay, he totally missed the wire altogether, but do we care? NOPE. So here he is, folks! Ned Hickson, with an excerpt for your reading pleasure. Take it away, Ned!)

As a humor columnist, when I mention I’ve been working on the final draft of a murder mystery, people usually assume it’s a comedy or satire. Possibly with a detective who faints at the sight of blood. And whose partner used to be a rodeo clown.

That’s actually not a bad idea.

But it’s not this book. They say for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Following that train of thought, the flip side to humor is drama. In this case, I’ve delved into the flip side of my weekly humor column to write a murder mystery that is best described as a “why-done-it.” There is no mystery behind the murder. The question is why it was committed; and what does a seemingly homeless young boy know about it? Who can he trust? And will a solitary private investigator with a dark past be able to find the answers before it’s too late for the both of them?

This is the premise behind No Safe Harbor, a murder mystery I wrote 15 years ago that has been collecting dust and waiting for its final revision ever since.

The wait is finally over for this manuscript, which I’ve begun preparing the final draft for. My goal is to have it completed by mid August. What will happen after that is the real mystery.

In the meantime, here’s a sneak peak at the first chapter. Aside from a handful of family and friends, no one has seen these pages. Please feel free to offer your suggestions and feedback.

I can take it!

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Chapter 1

Flashing red and blue erupted across Lynda Bettington’s rear window, escalating her steady rhythm of panic into a mounting crescendo. Hands trembling, she held the road through a fishtail over the damp streets, pressing the accelerator closer to the mat. She raced onto Highway 99 toward Lake Washington. The roads there were dark, with streets spurring off every few blocks. She took a narrow side road as the car shot through pale lamplight and a maze of industrial alleyways. In the back seat, suitcases bounced and shifted, slamming against the rear doors as the car careened onto another pitted avenue.

Dampness just short of rainfall blanketed thin layers of oil, creating a slick skin over the asphalt. Suddenly, the car hydroplaned, pinwheeling across the roadway. Lynda’s grip locked onto the steering wheel. For an instant, red and blue flashing seemed to be all around her, until an explosion of glass and twisting metal replaced all thoughts of color.

A few yards away, the police car swerved to an angled stop.

The caution lights turned off, leaving only high beams spilling over the mangled car. Officer Dan Perkins sat forward and crossed his arms over the steering wheel. Next to him, Gerome Taylor tossed aside his seatbelt and cracked the passenger door, planting his foot on the road. He remained seated, staring at the wreck. Continue reading

Thank You All!

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Thanks so much to everyone who took part in Excerpt Week. It was a lot of fun to see what everyone was working on, or what they’ve already published. I hope you got a lot of new exposure, and had a good time sharing! Remember, while the occasional Excerpt Week is a good way to draw in new folks, you are heartily encouraged to share excerpts of your work on this blog ANY time you wish. It’s always a treat, and always welcome!

Now…back to your writing, editing, publishing, marketing, submitting, and otherwise, creating good things. Whichever hat you’re wearing today, I hope the hours go by smoothly, and at the end of the day, you have that lovely sense of accomplishment that makes it all worthwhile.

#ExcerptWeek #JackiePhillips #TheManInTheFedora

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Jackie Phillips has asked me to share the first chapter of her WIP, tentatively entitled The Man in the  Fedora. The title and the cover are both tentative at this point, actually, subject to change after editing and a bit closer to publication.This is Book 1 of a series about a Private Eye named Dee Dee Watson, who rides a Harley, and has a black belt in jujitsu. She’s been hired to find…well…why don’t I let you read the excerpt and see for yourself? Thanks for sharing with us Jackie, and much good luck as you pursue this dream.

The Man in the Fedora  

I was sitting at my desk, wondering if I should just give it up for the day and find a good stiff drink. When he comes strolling in.

He looked like he stepped out of an old 1940’s movie set. You know the type –  tall, good-looking, strong chin and steely eyes. He was dressed in a suit that cost more than I make in a year. He wore a gray overcoat with a black fedora hat. I do love a man who looks good in a fedora. He did –  very good, in fact.

My name’s Dee Dee Watson and I’m a Private Eye. Yeah, a private detective. My mother doesn’t like it and my older brother gives me hell about it every time we see each other. I love what I do. I would say it pays the bills, but it doesn’t. Continue reading

It’s Official… I Did It!

Some FABULOUS news from Sue Coletta! I know you all join me in congratulating her, and wishing her the very best of luck on her new journey. Hopefully, she’ll share some insights with us now and then. See, Sue…I TOLD you YOU ROCK! 🙂

Sue Coletta's avatarCrime Fiction Writer Sue Coletta

The last couple of weeks have been a whirlwind of excitement, fear, anxiety, angst, and overwhelming joy all rolled into one enormous feeling of upheaval. Why? Because I landed a publishing deal for my novel MARRED!!!

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Now that the legal issues are out-of-the-way, the contract signed and sent back, I can finally share the news. MARRED will be released this fall.

And it terrifies me.

The world will see my words, experience my story.

What if no one likes it? What if readers shred me in reviews? What if it doesn’t sell?

These are real fears, albeit probably foolish ones. I have to wonder if other authors feel this way, too. Not many talk about this aspect of publishing. Perhaps it’s because they don’t want potential readers to know. Whatever the reason, I believe admitting that I’m human with real fears about failure is just being honest. How can that be…

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#Excerpt from THE PRINCE’S MAN by Deborah Jay #EpicFantasy

Excerpt from THE PRINCE’S MAN – prologue

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Risada tiptoed across the darkened bedchamber and felt behind the tapestry for the hidden niche. Her tiny fingers located it and she grinned as the lock tripped with a faint click.

She heard voices in the outer chamber and light flickered around the doorframe.  Heart thudding against her ribs, she dropped to her knees and scuttled forward through the swinging panel into the secret room. This was such fun!

Careful to close the panel behind her—Daddy said you must always lock doors when you were going to have your back to them—Risada wasted no time clambering onto the chair she had positioned beneath the spy hole. Her nose wrinkled at the smell of dust. It seemed like ages since Daddy had shown her how to work the hidden catch. Certainly it had been before that woman had arrived.

At thought of Mistress Chalice, Risada scrunched her face up into a ferocious scowl. How she hated her dancing tutor. Oh, the woman was very polite, and she was very beautiful—all the servants said so—but Mummy didn’t like her so Risada didn’t either. And the maids were saying such wicked things about Mistress Chalice and Daddy. Well, tonight Risada was going to see for herself.

Continue reading

#ExcerptWeek #ABoyNamedRabbit by #MarciaMeara

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Excerpt From Chapter 14:

MAC AND I raced up the stairs to find Rabbit sitting up in bed, screaming hysterically. Rosheen was beside him, covering his face in frantic licks, whining in distress—a pretty good sign there was no real danger in the room.

I sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled him into my arms, holding him as close as possible, and making shushing noises as I rocked him back and forth. Mac checked the windows and closets to be sure we were alone, then stood beside us, face pale and distressed.

“It’s all right, Rabbit. Everything’s all right. Mac and I are here. You’re safe with us now.”

His arms twined around me, but gasping sobs continued to wrack his thin shoulders for several more minutes, before they slowed down, fading into sad, little whimpers.

“Open your eyes, Rabbit. We’re here. See? Tell me what happened. Did you have a bad dream?”

His whimper turned into a moan. “He’s comin’.” Continue reading

Good News!

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For those like myself, who have been railing against some of the changes in format here on WordPress, you might be very happy to learn you do NOT (yet) have to switch to the “improved posting experience.” There is a quick and easy way around it that doesn’t involve trying to find things online that will let you code it differently. Thanks from the bottom of my heart to Sue Vincent who said in an earlier conversation that you can still find the “classic”  form for posting via the  Dashboard. All you do is Click on WP Admin in your drop down menu, which will bring up your Dashboard. Click on Post/Add New from THERE, instead of from that first menu, and you will get your old favorite format again! I’ve tried it like 100 times tonight, to be sure I wasn’t dreaming. If I click on Posts/Add New from the first drop down, I get the “new” and “totally screwed up” format. If I click on  WP Admin first, and then click on Post/Add New from that Dashboard menu, I get the old one! VOILA! Problem solved, for now at least, and I am one happy camper!

Thank you a million times over, Sue. I had been growing increasingly angry at that stupid new format. It reminds me of a poem I wrote a couple of years ago:

Things I Have Learned #1

TV ads we all endure
Proclaim loudly “We have the cure!”
You try it out, and find it’s good,
Why can’t they leave it as they should?
Beware the label “New and Improved,”
It really means you’ve just been scrooved.

#ExcerptWeek #SueVincent George and the Dragon from #LaughterLines

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NOTE: My apology for how long it took me to get this to show up properly on WordPress. Poetry spacing can be really tricky, and I can’t use the “Continue Reading” spacer, either, because it messed it all up, and I had to start over. GAH! But at least you can read it now, in proper verses. I think. 😀

Sue has recently started following us here at The Write Stuff, and has asked me to share one of her poems with you, as part of excerpt week. I’m very happy to do so, as it made me laugh out loud several times. It’s longer than some of you might be used to, but I promise you, it’s well worth taking the time to read. VERY amusing, indeed. Thank you for sharing, Sue, and I’ll be tweeting and sharing this one. You guys, hope you’ll remember to do so as well. The book and buying info is included at the end of the poem. Check it out!

~~~

George and the Dragon

“Nah, sithee,” said Granny, “Just set thee dahn ‘ere,
An’ I’ll tell the a tale old and true,
Of ‘ow good Saint George slew a dragon one day
An’ all dressed in a metal suit too.
 
It were like this…” she said as she warmed to her tale
With her listeners huddled around,
“The beast ‘ad moved in and set up ‘is abode
In a cave on the best ‘unting ground.    
   
The king weren’t too pleased, it ‘ad etten his ‘oss
And the best of the royal deer too.
‘To be fair,’ said the mage, his opinion asked,
‘What else would you expect it to do?’                
   
‘I’ve heard they like maidens,’ his Majesty said,
‘Give it one, then we’ll be in the clear.’
‘A maiden, my liege?’ said the mage in surprise,
‘Tha’ll be lucky to find one round ‘ere!’    
     
The King scratched ‘is head, there was something in that
‘Cause for maidens… ‘e’d known a fair few,
‘We’ll send out a search party over the land…
It’ll give the lads something to do.’

The very next morning the lads all set off
All caparisoned, armoured and gay,
Trouble was, they were ‘unting for pretty young maids
And wherever they found one, they’d stay.

Now the dragon had ‘etten the rest of the deer
And had now set to work on the cows,
His Majesty went to his daughter and said,
‘Hast thou kept all thy maidenly vows?’

‘But of course, Dad!’ she cried, ‘I’ve had chance for nowt else
When I’m shut in this castle all day!’
‘Just as well,’ said the King, ‘ ‘Cause we’re in a reyt mess.
Get your coat and we’ll be on our way.’

The princess was pretty with long golden hair,
The king thought he was onto a winner;
‘Now just you ‘ang on,’ she said raising her chin,
‘I can tell thee, I’m no dragon’s dinner!’

Now t’lass were fed up being shut up inside
And was ‘atching a plot of ‘er own.
‘I’ve got some conditions before we set off…
Get a pen, write it down… make it known’

Her Dad ‘ad to do as his daughter prescribed
Though her orders were not what he’d like…
‘Full half of my realm to your rescuer, lass?’
‘Write it down, Dad, or just take a hike.’

He did as she said, then she patted his hand,
‘Look, the rest of the plan’s none so bad…
I’ll marry him too, then you lose bugger all;
He can be the heir you never ‘ad.’

She had a good point and the orders were read
Through the length and the breadth of the city.
But no-one stepped up, ‘cause the dragon was big,
Even if the lass was rich and pretty.

There was only young George, at the tavern one night;
It were after bevy or seven,
His mates egged ‘im on and he drunkenly said,
‘Well, it sounds like a deal made in heaven.’

His pal were a blacksmith and all through the night
With the hammer and metal they clattered,
And made him a suit; though it rattled a bit,
That protected the assets that mattered.

He went to the king and his offer was met
With a fair bit of mocking and laughter;
‘Is there anyone else ‘ere who fancies the job?’
Asked the king… there was silence thereafter.

Now morning had come and poor George sobered up
And berated himself at ‘is folly.
‘Tha’s no gumption, lad,’ said his hungover head,
‘And in fact, tha’s an absolute wally.’

Too late to back out with the town at his feet
And the princess out there with the dragon,
‘Now if tha survives,’ the lad thought to himself,
‘Georgie boy, tha must go on the wagon.’

The cave mouth looked dark as ‘e rattled in close
And ‘e knew that ‘is chances were slim,
But with the town watching ‘e had little choice
As ‘e crept where the shadows were dim.

The suit was a pain and it chafed all the time
In some places ‘e’d rather not mention,
George swore as he crept in the cavern’s dark door
That from now on ‘e’d stick to abstention.

The townsfolk looked on and the king wrung ‘is hands
As the lad disappeared in the gloom.
They wondered how long they’d be waiting to see
If the lad really ‘ad met his doom.

Strange noises were issuing out from the cave,
And the crowd winced and cringed as they listened,
Then out came the princess with George by her side
They were carrying something that glistened.

The folk never learned just what George found inside
And poor George was the only one knowing;
The princess was cooking a nice dragon stew
Over dragon-lit embers a-glowing.

‘I skinned it,’ she said, ‘as the scales are quite tough,’
And George looked at the princess in horror.
‘You might as well eat just to keep up your strength,’
She continued, ‘You’ll need it tomorrow.’

‘Just do as I tell you and make no mistake
I will make sure they treat you right well,
But cross me just once,’ she said waving her spear,
‘Georgie boy, and I’ll make your life hell.’

So they married next day amid feasting and joy
And the wine and the mead that flowed free,
But George just sat quiet and did as she bid,
Drinking naught but a nice cup of tea.

Not a drop touched his lips of the hard stuff that day,
And his manner seemed quiet and charming,
Yet under his breath he could be heard to pray
Which the courtiers found quite disarming.

‘The man is reformed, hallelujah,’ they said,
And they found his reserve to be quaint,
But the princess just smiled, knowing better than they
Just which dragon had made George a saint.”

“Don’t be daft, Granny, please,” a dissenting voice said,
“That is not how they tell it at all.”
“Oh no?” she replied, and they followed her gaze
To the dragonskin pinned on the wall.

Laughter Lines (Amazon.com)
Laughter Lines (Amazon.uk)

#ExcerptWeek #FindingHunter WIP by #MarciaMeara

It’s good to see these wonderful excerpts popping up. I’ve got another to post for a new member shortly, but first, here’s a little surprise. This is the “prologue” though it isn’t called that, from my current WIP, Finding Hunter. This is Book 2 of the Riverbend series, and those who have read Book 1, Swamp Ghosts, will know who the Hunter in question is. The book is in edit, currently, and we are working toward a September release date. So, without further ado, you can be the first to read the opening lines of Finding Hunter.

The Traveling Man
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Dawn, August 1, 2013 

EVERYTHING WAS PAIN. Everything he felt, everything he remembered. Pain, and pain, and pain. His dreams echoed with sounds of agony, screams ricocheting through his head. Pain—and blood. Rivers of blood. Scarlet, coppery-scented puddles spreading in front of him.

He woke on his knees, vomiting in the grass. Afterward, he crawled back up onto the park bench, mouth sour, and head throbbing. Shivering, he tried to push the dreams away, but they weren’t ready to let him go.

He had done something bad. That was the problem. Worse than bad—something unthinkable. This crime was the root of all his dreams, and if only he could remember, he’d know what he needed to do next. But every time he tried to get it straight in his head, the screams would start again, followed by that God-awful, unrelenting pain.

As the day woke up around him, he huddled on the bench, with the smell of rotgut whiskey on his breath, and sledgehammers pounding inside his skull. He scrubbed at his eyes, as if that would wipe away the images of all that blood, and make the last echoes of those tortured screams disappear. It didn’t work.

There had to be a way to make it all end. When it came to him, he was surprised at the simplicity of the solution. Something—someone—needed to die. Fight fire with fire, blood with blood, pain with pain. Oh, yes. That was the answer.

Shuffling to his unsteady feet, he stumbled through the morning mist. He had no idea where he was—not even which state he was in, let alone the name of this little town—but he heard the unmistakable whoosh of cars speeding down a highway. In five minutes, he stood by the edge of the southbound lane, holding out his thumb. Instinct told him the direction to travel, and desperation kept him upright, as he waited for the ride that would take him where he needed to go.

His plan was simple. If death would bring an end to this pain, then someone was going to die.

 

Two Weeks and Other Periods of Decay #Excerpt

From the short story Archangel

No one was coming for them.

Lola realized that hard truth right about the time she carved the thirty-sixth notch into the metal plating of her left boot. One hundred and twenty-four days passed. 17.7142857143 weeks. She never liked math, but she didn’t need to be a statistician to know a rescue effort would have found them at least twelve weeks ago.

She smoothed her finger over the ding in the metal, a small burr digging into the skin and drawing blood. She watched the bright red bead drip into the sand, soaking it up until nothing remained but a small spot that would bake in the morning sun and blow away with the next swift wind.

“We’ve been here almost eighteen weeks.”

“Yes,” the assassin said.

Not looking up from the edge of her boot, the pilled metal would wear away on its own. Twenty-six days earlier, she dinged it much the same, though she hadn’t cut herself that time. Twenty-six days of walking, and mark number ninety-eight was little more than a thin, dust-encrusted notch. Most of the others weren’t even visible anymore. They were the thinnest of lines detailing unexpected survival, and sometimes she let herself believe she would expire when she could no longer see them.

“Eighteen weeks,” she sighed.

“And your point?”

“No one is coming.” Continue reading