True Story novel – end excerpt

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Okay, so maybe I have more to write before I actually reach the end. About fifteen pages more, to be exact.

But today I couldn’t help myself. After I finished the pages I intended to adapt I skipped ahead and worked on the very last page.

I figured it wouldn’t hurt since endings are important, just like beginnings. They need to leave the right impression, so need to have a lot of time spent on them. And since it doesn’t give anything away…

^ ^ ^

As the soft, yellow rose petals float slowly to the ground they morph into flakes of falling snow.

But this isn’t just any snow. It’s the snow every child hopes for on Christmas morning. The snow that hides chores left undone, covers toys not put away, and transforms the world into a magical land perfect for snowball fights and an entire village of snow people.

“History,” Vanessa’s voice shatters the calm.

A bright white light obscures everything as a train blasts out of a tunnel, followed by the blare of a train whistle. Any semblance of calm is now gone.

“Set in stone,” Vanessa continues, all the world as if she’s telling a story to one of her children. The train chugs purposefully on a long, straight track.

“Boring. Unchangeable.”

Without warning the train whips around a sharp curve and out of sight.

“You can believe that if you want to—”

In the distance the train reappears and begins a long journey over a high bridge. The kind of bridge that turns dreams into nightmares in the squeamish and faint of heart.

“—But that’s not the real story.”

As the last echo of Vanessa’s voice fades, the train completes its journey over the bridge and disappears into a dense forest. Only its smoke remains visible as it clears the trees and winds its way through the lonely countryside.

Far away, so far away it’s more a memory than an actual sound, a train whistle blows.

Scaredy-cat!

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Guest Post by Pepper Curious: 

When I took my person for a walk this morning I ran into that cat. Or at least I tried to.

That cat will never come over when I call, but always hides behind a fence. He is such a scaredy cat.

I probably could have caught him before he jumped over the fence but I had my person with me and I couldn’t leave her alone.

You see my person is a silly human who thinks cats are cute. She doesn’t realize that they are evil creatures just waiting for the opportunity to pounce.

I shiver when I think what would happen if my person ever met that cat and I wasn’t around to protect her. Ugh!

Snowpocalypse 2019

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7 am. Awoke to a winter wonderland.

Frankly, by 3:30 in the afternoon I’m ready for it all to melt. Doesn’t look all that likely.

Today is the 12th. Snowpocalypse continues.

We tried to drive yesterday but the car got stuck in the snow, and last night we lost power for several hours.

The lost power bit was actually kinda fun. We lit a few candles, listened to a windup radio, drank wine, and talked. It was a reminder that technology gives us a lot, but it often takes away even more. Like those moments when you need to entertain yourself.

I’d post another pic but everything looks just the same.

True Story novel excerpt

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I’ve rewritten these same paragraphs multiple times already. Hopefully this time I have them right!

# # #

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

The Rossi family was still the Rossi family, sure enough, but…different. Everything was different.

It was as if the world was a giant snow globe that had been given it a good shake, then left on a tilted shelf to settle. Same snow globe, but when the flakes settled they landed all wonky. Nothing looked quite right.

Take for example the Rossi living room, where the Rossi family had gathered. Instead of being the twenty-first century living room of a normal family, it looked oddly appropriate to be used for a movie set in the 1920s. No television, no vacuum, no central heating. Just an oversized radio, a broom, and a woodstove for cold days.

Most odd of all—for a family of students at least—was the complete and utter lack of computers and cell phones. It was as if those gadgets had never been invented.

# # #

Who am I kidding? I’m sure I’ll rewrite these paragraphs several more times before I’m satisfied enough to leave them alone.

But not today! Today I need to move on to the rest of the story.

Grocery store snobbery

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We’re all the same at the grocery store, aren’t we? I always thought so, until…

I gathered a week’s worth of groceries in my shopping cart and headed for the only line that was open in my neighborhood store. Oh, sure, there was the 10-items-or-less line off to my left, but my cart was full.

A tall woman in her fifties was in line ahead of me, and one other person was ahead of her. The cashier appeared to know what he was doing so the wait wouldn’t be too awfully long. When I got home I could-

“You can go to that line,” the tall woman in front of me said, interrupting my thought. I looked to the left where she pointed but could only see the crowded 10-items-or-less line.

“I’m fine here, thank you,” I said.

I got out my list to double-check I hadn’t forgotten any items. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the woman studying me, so I did what any normal human would do. I looked up at her.

“You should move to that line,” she said firmly, again pointing to the 10-items-or-less line.
“Can’t,” I replied, pointing to my cart. “I have too many items.”
“Do it anyway,” she insisted, “it’ll be fine. I know the manager.”
“I wouldn’t be comfortable.”
“You should go!”
“I’m staying here. You go if you want.”

The tall woman turned away from me for several seconds, moved her cart a few inches further in line, then, her voice dripping with disgust and frustration, turned back to me to say, “This line is for housewives only!”

From that moment on her back was a wall, straight and stiff. But unlike most walls this one radiated a deep and disturbing disapproval.

I have no clue who or what she thought I was, except that she had decided it was her responsibility to let me know how unwelcome I was.

People can be very strange, can’t they?

To rewrite True Story

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I got coverage notes back for True Story of the Perfect 36 and now it’s time to do the rewrite.

The first thing I did, even though I didn’t really want to, was read the notes. They were thorough, thoughtful…and slightly painful.

But a writer has to have tough skin, so I read the notes a second time and let the words battle it out in my brain for several days.

Those words! They’re not always nice to each other. The battle got rather vicious at times. I  put up with it as long as I could, but I finally had to slam the door closed. I couldn’t focus with all that noise!

Not that one flimsy little door blocks out everything. I had a rough weekend, with all those crashes and booms that let me know the war of the words was still alive and well.

Then this morning, all was calm on the battle front. So I took a deep breath, opened the door, and read the notes a third time.

Now, I have a plan. If all goes well, I’ll soon have a shiny new screenplay that can bring a sparkle to any eye.

All I need to do is write a new beginning, tighten up the middle, chop off the end, and revisit the dialogue.

No biggie.

Hmm.

I’m sure my plan will work, I really am.

But why does this rewrite feel like an avalanche waiting to happen?

Amazon special forces

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Several years ago Amazon discovered a few authors who had posted, or paid people to post, fake reviews about their books. Glowing reviews, meant to entice readers to buy said books.

Amazon ruled it dishonest and did a thorough house cleaning. Thousands upon thousands of fake reviews disappeared practically overnight.

Great! Without all that clutter honest people, like me, have a chance of getting our books noticed.

Or so I thought. Until I realized Amazon had never heard the saying about not throwing the baby out with the bathwater.

‘Cause it didn’t take long for the raids to begin. Amazon special forces, probably dressed all in black, swoop in overnight, dig through my reviews, and snatch away any they deem not ‘honest’ enough.

They repeat this process every few months and have been doing this for years. I’ve lost count of how many reviews have been seized and destroyed. It’s a lot. The number of my books’ reviews that have mysteriously disappeared far outweigh those that have survived.

I’m a small player in the publishing world. My books are published by a boutique publisher with a small marketing budget, which means that I buy books to send to potential reviewers with the request that they write an honest review.

Sigh.

As a business model, it simply doesn’t make sense.
Why would Amazon want to make it difficult to sell books on their site?