Tag Archives: aya walksfar

MEET #AUTHOR A.G. MOYE

Today, I have the pleasure to #interview a man whose storytelling style has been compared to Mark Twain’s.  A. G. Moye became a #novelist fairly late in life, and has produced a number of works that cross several genres.

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Interviewer: Writing is a solitary profession, in my opinion. How do you feel about it?

A.G.: #Writing may be solitary but every writer needs to gather with people to get ideas, character personalities and so forth. “No man/woman is an Island”. I go to the local taverns to gather with people and socialize while taking a break from writing so I can become refreshed in my thinking.

Interviewer: What has been the single most important thing to occur in your life? What changes did it bring?

A.G.: Besides my children, the biggest change in my life occurred when I married my current wife. Besides bringing me happiness and being my best friend, she read one of my books and encouraged me to publish. I had been writing my Lightning in the Tunnel series for twenty years along with other stories.

Interviewer: What genres do you write in and why did you pick those genres?

A.G.: I write in several genres, publishing first in Dystopian/apocalyptic genre first followed by my one mystery book. That was followed by my only time travel story. I write mostly Science fiction now but took a break to write my first fantasy, Sasha. When a story comes to my head, I write it not caring what genre it is in.

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Interviewer: What one person has had the greatest influence on your writing and in what way?

A.G.: Robert Heinlien comes to mind. As a teenager I was captivated by his books. Tunnel in the Sky being my favorite. Maybe the name of my first book was because this book was my favorite.  I took part of it for my series’ name. The first two books have Lightning in the Tunnel in the first of their names.

Interviewer: List four things that make your novels unique and tell us why/in what way?

A.G.: In my Lightning in the Tunnel series, I take the reader through the destruction of the world and governments. The heartache and heartbreak of all this.Then I add hope as the main character helps unite the world in peace–no countries and no fighting–supported by his wives that help develop this new world.

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Even after my character retires from public spot light he is called back into action, going into space. So this is different than most other writers that leave the reader in the black cruel world these type of books portray.

In my Chronicles of the Marauder, I take my main character that has everything in his life go wrong then he wins the lottery and can live his dreams of going into space. I give hope to even those that make mistakes in their lives that with a lot of hard work and a little luck, they can change the direction of their lives.

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Interviewer: How many books have you read this month? Can you name them?

A.G.: I have read and reviewed six books this month. The Harvest by Anne Ferretti , Life II by Scott Stopson, Troubles by Ian Miller, Arousing the Legacy by A.J. Raven, In the Beginning by Jane Dougherty, Angels and Aliens by Chryselle Brown. Since this was answered at the start of the month, I used those I read in February to answer this question. I am currently preparing to read Endless Sky by Stuart Land ( I think I have his name right)

Interviewer: Give us a three short sentence review of the LAST book you read.

A.G.: The Harvest. Very seldom does a book make me stay up most of the night to reach the ending like this one did. Normally, I only stay up late to write when the story is really flowing. All I can say right off is “WOW” Anne Ferretti’s The Harvest kept me locked into reading most of the night. It took hold of me and I had to even read while eating my dinner.

Interviewer: Do you live through your characters or do your characters live through you?

A.G.: I tend to live through my characters such as in the Lightning in the Tunnel series, I was Brad in my mind. In the Chronicles of the Marauder, I was Neil. In the Stranger Comes Crawling, I was Rip in my head. In some books where the female is the lead, obviously not; she lives through my head.

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Interviewer: What is the first element of a new novel that comes to you? (plot, character, etc.)

A.G.: The first thing that comes to my mind is the story beginning and then the characters create themselves as the story unfolds. Many times, I have no idea where the story is going or how it will end. I let the characters and their actions guide me through telling the story. Only in my mystery did I know the solution before I ever came to the end and that was the hardest part of writing the book. By the way, the mystery is called “Brandi’s Nightmare.

Interviewer: What value do your books give to readers? Otherwise, why should readers read your books?

A.G.: The first thing is escapism reading and to entertain the reader while reading the story. Each book shows problems the characters face and how they dealt with them. I know not all their solutions to problems can be dealt with in the same way, but they can see themselves facing the same problems in life.

Why should anyone read my books? That is a good question, I think they should to escape from problems and concerns of everyday life since I write fiction about other worlds, other places and to see how these people (They are alive in my mind) deal with problems of living and with relationships.

I may never be the best writer in the world, but I feel I am a very good story teller. I had one person on GoodReads say that after reading my book “Brandi’s Nightmare” that I tell a story like “Mark Twain” style and for me not to let the editors change that. I find most editors want to change it to the acceptable format of writing. I balk at that.

A.G. Moye was born in the cotton fields of Arkansas. He is married with seven children, twenty-two grandchildren and three great grandchildren. A.G. starting writing seriously in 1987 when he got his first computer; long hand before that. Hayloft filled with old stories.

Published in 2011 after being prodded by his wife when she read the first of the Lightning in the Tunnel series.  There are ten books in the Lightning in the Tunnel series. A Stranger Comes Crawling was his first SiFi.  His time travel/love story, T.T. Gristman, followed. Brandi’s Nightmare came next. They were all followed by the highly successful series called “Chronicles of the Marauder”. Book three of the trilogy is due out some time in 2014.

To find A.G.’s books:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/323360 Chronicles

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/214021 Stranger

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/268840 Begins

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/302271 Gristman

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/306274 Bullet

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/312016 Brandi

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/327192 Need

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/341678 Rescue

His social media links:

google https://plus.google.com/112198287464668940516/

linkedin http://www.linkedin.com/pub/a-g-moye/53/850/628

goodreads http://w.w.w.goodreads.com/agmoye

Facebook http://www.facebook.com/Author.A.G.Moye

website: http://sites.google.com/site/booksbyagmoye

One of A.G.’s blogsites http://booksbyagmoye.blogspot.com

on Amazon http://www.amazon.com/author/agmoye

on Mars http://marsocial.com/groups/Lightning-Chronicles/

WordPress blog http://lightningbooksbyagmoye.wordpress.com

New WordPress blog http://booksbyagmoye.wordpress.com

email address is  agmoye.moye406@gmail.com

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Good Intentions reviews:

4.0 out of 5 stars review, March 6, 2014
This review is from: Good Intentions (Paperback)
This is an intriguing coming of age book with an element of mystery. The protagonist’s struggle is very relatable, whatever your background or age.
5.0 out of 5 stars Really strong female characters and real struggles, January 28, 2014
This review is from: Good Intentions (Kindle Edition)
A book that opens with a friend, trying to help a sexual assault survivor is one that will grip you if well written. Lucky for readers, this one is: “A sludge as thick as molasses on a cold day filled my head and slowed my mind” is an example of evocation description that draws you into the aftermath of crime for those who watch loved ones struggle with recovery.Love, loss, family and secrets: a complex tale for complex characters. Don’t want to say too much more to avoid spoilers!

I look forward to more books by this author.

5.0 out of 5 stars Great book on many levels, October 21, 2013
Amazon Verified Purchase(What’s this?)
This review is from: Good Intentions (Kindle Edition)

I enjoyed the writing style used for this novel. It was brilliant to write in the first person from many different points of view. I felt as though I knew and understood each character. Missing pieces of their personal stories were slowly filled in as the plot moved along. There were mysteries, because the reader knows there are things yet to be revealed. Too, it’s a coming-of-age story in many ways; a young woman discovers the truth about herself and about her family and comes to realize that the people who love her are her true family whether or not they share her blood.

I don’t want to spoil the plot for others, so I will just say I agree that love is love is love. Humans should love and support each other no matter what and no matter who we choose to love.

This was a great read by a talented author. Kudos to Aya Walksfar

Review of the 1st Edition of Good Intnetions
4.0 out of 5 stars A Nice Surprise, December 19, 2007
Amazon Verified Purchase(What’s this?)
This review is from: Good Intentions (Paperback)
This book was something of a surprise. The cover was a complete turn-off for me. The book itself was well written and edited and quite thought provoking. I found the main character appealing, although at times frustrating.
The other characters were well crafted.
It was an experience in self-discovery and acceptance of self, family and the life you are handed in general.
As I turned the last page, I was very glad I gave it a chance, despite the cover. And I’ve always known: you can’t judge……………..

AFTERMATH OF #ADDICTION!

I write about #strongwomen, women who make tough decisions and strive to positively impact their world. Today I have the honor of an #interview with Sandra Shrewsbury, #author of Outside the Addiction and Aftermath of an Addiction. In these books, Ms. Shrewsbury captures the lives of strong women who survive the devastation that addiction brings to families.

In these two heartbreaking novels, Ms. Shrewsbury takes us from the depths of despair to the heights of triumph. In OUTSIDE THE ADDICTION, she leads us on a journey through a mother’s nightmare.

Susan Green is a single mother raising three children. She has had it rough… But, always managed… Until now.Susan’s daughter, Tina, has been acting strange. She has always been a very calm child, then one day she begins acting out.  Is it drugs?

As she delves into the strange behavior of her daughter, Susan discovers more than she ever wanted to know.

Susan’s life changes, and not for the better. Faced with a demon she can’t control, how can she fight for a life that’s not hers to control? Can Susan save her daughter?

Cover of Outside an Addiction

In Ms. Shrewsbury’s second book, Aftermath of an Addiction, she draws us into the world of Susan’s granddaughter, Kelly, and the pain of living with an addicted parent. Read how one child survived THE AFTERMATH OF AN ADDICTION

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AFTERMATH OF AN ADDICTION: TEASER: 

The words were enough to send a cold chill of terror down my spine. Our lives had been irrevocably destroyed; we would never see our angels again.   Tears pricked my eyes but I forced them back and shook my head. No. I never thought this day would come. The day when justice would not prevail, the day my daughter would destroy our lives once more. How do I tell them that she is fighting me for full custody of them? “Dammit,” I muttered, frustration beginning to peak. The real question is will she win? I had to look out for their best interests. And I am determined to do whatever it takes to make sure my grandchildren are happy, to keep them safe. She cannot win this battle. I don’t know why she bothered; she hadn’t shown any concern over these children for years now. My mind was racing and plagued by the fear of something terrible happening to them if she did get them back.

Ms. Shrewsbury has always loved reading from a wide range of genres, though her favorites have been romance, paranormal/supernatural and non-fiction. Over the years, she realized the power of the written world to bring hope to others. As a nurse with ten years experience, and through her many connections with others, she saw the heartbreak of addiction, the devastation to families, and realized she needed to tell those stories.
Sandra Shrewsbury brings to us two outstanding testimonies of the human spirit.

If you have ever had your life touched by addiction, you need to read these two books.

Sandra hails from West Virginia where she currently lives with her family.

Sandra runs a facebook page where she often posts interviews of authors, reviews of books and more information about her own work. Visit Sandra at  https://www.facebook.com/SandraShrewsbury.Author

OUTSIDE THE ADDICTION  BUY HERE

http://www.amazon.com/Outside-Addiction-A-Mothers-Story-ebook/dp/B00ERYQ5RM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1394149161&sr=8-1&keywords=sandra+shrewsbu

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Book Release Daily #Censorship of Street Harvest!

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Book Release Daily, a site that features new releases, refuses to feature a book that exposes the plight of #missing #children! In Street Harvest, Book 2, Special #Crimes Team series, I wrote about street kids kidnapped by human traffickers. Book Release Daily feels that my book exploits children.

Here are some examples of what is objectionable:

Chapter 4

“Floater down on the waterfront at Ivar’s.” He rubbed a hand back and forth across his short-cropped, kinky hair, a habitual gesture whenever he was frustrated or worried.

As she waited to hear the rest of what brought him to her office door, she wondered if he was even aware of the gesture.

“A boy. Dr. Hutchinson thinks he’s around eleven, maybe twelve.” His lips thinned to a slash.

She knew it was more than a dead kid. The Special Crimes Team might feel bad about a dead kid, but they wouldn’t be involved in the investigation unless it was like little Jane Doe, an obvious victim of a sicker-than-usual pervert. Whatever it was had to be nasty. That was the only type of crimes with which they dealt. The crimes that made veteran cops question their choice of career. Hell, being in SCaT even had her sometimes questioning her career choice, though she didn’t know what she would be if she wasn’t a cop.

A bone-deep sadness shadowed Mike’s black-brown eyes. “He was naked. There were several rings of bruises around the boy’s neck. Bite marks on the backs of his shoulders.”

Her insides twisted into knots. Another one. She shut down her laptop, stuffed it in the middle desk drawer, and locked it. With her cane in hand, she pushed to her feet, grabbed her jacket, and headed for the door. “Damn it! I was hoping little Jane Doe was just the random victim of some perv gone too far.”

Without replying, Mike stepped into the hallway and waited for her to lock up. As they headed to the elevator at the end of the corridor she noticed how heavily he moved, like an old man

God, he’s not that old, probably around my dad’s age. Quickly she shut down that line of thought. She refused to give a moment’s consideration to the man who had deserted her when she was just eleven, and right after Chelsea’s death. There had been a time when she wondered if her father had left because of Chelsea’s death, if he blamed her as much as she blamed herself.

Forcefully, she returned her mind to the present.

No, Mike wasn’t that old, but the day little Jane Doe’s body had shown up, the years had gathered on his face. Focused on the autopsy, he hadn’t noticed her watching as his body had clenched, and his shoulders had hunched up around his ears as if he expected a sudden blow from somewhere. A suspicious sheen had gathered in his eyes. He had glanced around, but she’d pretended to be intent on the small body on the stainless steel table. From the corner of her eye, she’d seen him swipe at his eyes then settle his face into an impassive mask.

Chapter 5

“Are we assuming that all of the children, both missing and dead, are ultimately victims of a #sexual #predator?” Frederick crossed his forearms on the table and leaned on them. His eyes swept around the group until they finally settled on Mike.

Detective O’Hara squirmed in her seat. Her lips twisted like she’d taken a big drink of soured milk. “We know the dead kids are. Jane Doe was raped, sodomized, and tortured. There’s evidence that the rapist used a condom. Prelim report says the boy’s injuries were similar, if not identical. This time the rapist used dropping the body in Puget Sound to get rid of the evidence.” She bit her lip and frowned like she just couldn’t understand the monster they were hunting. “According to Dr. Hutchinson’s report, both children died from asphyxiation after being manually strangled multiple times. There was so much bruising he couldn’t even get a clear size on the handprints. Why would anyone strangle a child one time, much less multiple times?”

“Sexual arousal.” Nita grimaced. “Choke your partner until he, or she, blacks out. Supposedly enhances the sexual high for both parties.”

Mike was glad no one cracked any jokes about the asphyxiation angle. Even cop humor couldn’t dull the anger over what had happened to those two kids. Damn! I’m going to have to get past this or I’m not going to be able to do anyone any good.

Chapter 13

“How did you know it was a police van?” Dr. Nelson asked gently.

“It was black, like they are sometimes, and on the side it had the logo for the Seattle police, and when they threw me inside, there was…there was a heavy wire mesh between the back and the front, like the cages in cop cars.”

“Were there seats?”

He shook his head, and blinked rapidly several times. A tear leaked from one eye and his chin quivered. He pulled in a shaky breath. “They…they took me way out in the woods, to this house. I was…locked…in a room and…” Arms tight around his bent legs, he rocked back and forth.

Grease recounted a string of sexual attacks by men who hid behind Halloween masks. At the end, he sniffed and rubbed his red nose on his jean-clad knee. Forehead dropped to his knees, he sat stiffly, as if he might shatter into jagged shards if he breathed too hard.

“Grease,” Irene waited until the boy raised his red-rimmed eyes to her. “I realize your ordeal has been very painful, but there are a few things we need you to do.”

“Yeah, I know. You wanna poke at me and take pictures and do one of them rape kits, doncha?” Belligerence born of hurt and helplessness and anger ripped the bitter words from the thirteen-year-old’s mouth.

In a soft voice, Irene said, “I would like to examine you to be sure you don’t have unmet medical needs. And, yes, it would be good to have photos, if you can tolerate the invasion of your privacy. If you can’t, we can forgo the photos. A rape kit wouldn’t do us any good. It’s been too long since the last attack on you.”

Well, what do you, the reader, think? Do these examples titillate or in other ways exploit the plight of children? Or do these examples simply make the plight of children real? Leave a comment. I would love to hear!

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DOG ON DEATH ROW!

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DOG ON DEATH ROW

Gertrude, a beautiful five-year-old German Shepherd housed in Kennel Run 10, was scheduled to die in the morning.

I had worked at whatever odd jobs I could find all summer long.  Dusting furniture when it was so hot sweat dripped from the tip of my nose.  Slashing at bramble vines until my arms and even my face looked like I’d had an argument with someone welding a horse whip.  But I was nine that summer and Mom told me if I earned the ten dollars required, she would let me choose a puppy from the local shelter.

We had several dogs at home.  Dogs my mother and I had scraped up off the highways, crushed by speeding cars, patched back together by a vet mom knew who didn’t charge us much.  I’d helped those dogs to survive, getting up every two hours around the clock to feed them gruel and to change the newspapers when they got wet and nasty.

But this dog would be mine.  One I had chosen.

The puppies at the shelter were housed in two kennel runs at the end of the aisle back near the right corner of the huge concrete room.

The older black man who led us through the heavy door and into the back, cautioned as we neared Kennel 10,  “Ya’ll want to stay way away from that fence now,”  he said in his deep, kind voice.  “That thar dog wuz brought in ‘cause she mean.  Cain’t noone git nowheres near her.  Cain’t hardly feed her even; not without a catch pole.”

Just as we came even with the kennel run, the German Shepherd flew from the back of the short run, slamming herself into the cyclone fencing so hard it shook and rattled.  Teeth bared, hackles up, she snarled.  Clawing the fence, she seemed determined to reach us.  I could feel my heart pounding as I scooted so quickly behind our guide that I stepped on the heel of his shoes.  We were three runs away before I realized Mom had stayed behind.

I stopped and turned.  The old gentleman did too.  We both stared.  He amazed; me in resignation.  Fingers through the wire diamonds of the fence,  I could see Mom’s lips moving. The German Shepherd stood, pressed against the wire, gazing up into my mother’s face.

“I be dogged,” the old man breathed.  “I ain’t never seen the like.”

I shrugged.  “My mom has a way with dogs.”

We proceeded to the back corner where Black Lab-mix puppies tumbled around each other as they all struggled to get closer to the fence.  I stuck my fingers through and their tiny tongues slurped as if I had dipped my fingertips in cream.

“I’ll let you in to sit awhile.” The old man took a ring of keys from his belt loop.  “You jest holler when ya want out, okay?”

Happily plopped on the cool concrete, puppies crowding in my lap, I nodded.

What seemed like a long time later, the old man returned.  “Ya’ll ready to come outta thar?”

I carefully stood up, gently dislodging several sleeping pups. “I guess so.”

He walked me back up the aisle until we arrived at where my mother still stood in communion with the German Shepherd from Hell.  The old man kept walking.  I stopped a few feet away, but Mom whispered, “You can come on over, Sis.  She won’t hurt you.”

I edged forward, only partially reassured by my mother’s words.  Mom sometimes forgot that dogs who wouldn’t hurt her would gladly eat the rest of us.  The big black-and-tan female glanced at me, but quickly returned her loving gaze to my mother’s face.

I could hear the tears in my mother’s voice when she said, “They’re gonna kill her tomorrow morning.  No one wants to take her.  They’re all afraid.”

Clearing my throat I asked quietly, “Why don’t you get her, Mom?”

My mother shook her head.  “Money’s tight, Sis.  I need what I got for groceries tonight.  And I won’t get paid till Friday.”

Desperately, I said, “Maybe they’ll hold ‘er for you.  It’s just a coupla days.”

“I asked.”  Mom sighed.  “They’re afraid of her, too.”

As I stood there behind my mother’s squatted form, I saw a tear trace silently down her cheek.  My mother never cried.  Not when our house burned nearly to the ground.  Not when she got into a bar room fight that left her needing stitches from the slash of a knife.  My mother never cried.

Taking a deep breath, I whispered, “I found my dog, Mom.”

Mom took a deep breath and I could see her pulling herself together. With a sad look she gave the dog a last cheek stroke then pushed up and turned to face me.  The smile she forced on her lips wavered.  “Well, what’re we standin’ here for?  You better show me this wonderful animal.”

Closing my eyes for a moment, I slowly opened them and looked up at my mother.  “Don’t need to go nowhere.  I want to buy her.”  I pointed at the German Shepherd who’s eyes had never left my mother’s face.

“Oh no, Sis,” Mom replied.  “You don’t want her.  She’d never really be your dog.”

I shrugged.  “Don’t matter.  Laddie’d be hurt if I brought home ‘nother dog.  I wanna buy her for you.”  Seeing my mother getting ready to argue, I hurriedly added, “For your birthday.  An early birthday present.”

“Oh, Sis, you don’t have to do this.  You’ve been waiting a long time to get a dog for yourself.”

“It’s okay, Mom.  I can wait a little while longer.  She can’t.”

The old man handed a leash to my mom.  After he unlocked the cage, he scrambled away down the aisle.  Everyone moved away as Mom led Gertie out of the front door.

Gertrude went home that day. As she heeled beside my mother, out of that cold concrete building and into the midsummer sunshine, Gertie never realized any other human was close by. Her eyes never left my mother’s face.

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I hope you enjoyed this true story of Gertrude the German Shepherd dog and my mother, a complicated woman with a great love for animals.

I wrote the original story, Dog on Death Row, long ago as a high school English assignment.

The dog pictured in this post is the spitting image of Gertrude from those many years ago though her name is Niki. Like Gertrude, Niki is a proper German Shepherd who would fight and die for her family.

Unlike Gertrude, Niki has never seen the inside of the Death Row for Dogs.  Handled properly, Niki’s protective instincts have garnered her admiration instead of the fear with which Gertrude was viewed.

For more adorable pictures of German Shepherd dogs, German Shepherd puppies and other fun things, visit my Pinterest page:  http://www.pinterest.com/ayawalksfar

Do leave a comment. Tell me about the special dog you remember.

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STREET HARVEST, Book 2, Special #Crimes Team

ayastreet harvest

What do the bodies of two young #children have in common with the #murders of two adult men?

Eleanor Hasting, a black bookstore owner and child advocate, knows these killings are linked. How can she convince Lieutenant Michael Williams, head of the Special Crimes Team? Someone is abducting street children and their bodies are showing up sexually abused and manually strangled.

#Psychic and member of Missing Children’s Rescue, Jaimie Wolfwalker, is prepared to do whatever it takes to locate and rescue the missing street children. The law be damned. Jaimie’s attitude and methods place her on a collision course with Sergeant Nita Slowater, second-in-command of the Special Crimes Team.

Four dedicated people struggle to come to terms with each other in their desperate search for clues. Every day brings more #missingchildren, more young bodies. Can they stop the monsters before another child disappears?

AVAILABLE FEBRUARY 22 ON AMAZON! http://www.amazon.com/author/ayawalksfar

 GET YOUR E-COPY NOW! AVAILABLE ON SMASHWORDS! http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/AWalksfar

HE SAID WHAT??!!

In order to support my addiction to writing novels, I work outside as a wildlife habitat designer/manager. Today was a long one battling invasive plant species while trying to preserve the indigenous plants, ones that wildlife and wild birds so desperately need. Back screaming, hip throbbing, wrists aching from bending and whacking; pulling and carrying, I finally stumbled home.

But, there’s no time to rest just yet. I have four German Shepherd dogs and two Papillons. They all have needs, and wants. So, it wasn’t until close to 11 PM that I at last sat down at my computer and opened up my social media to….

Gunnar Lawrence, author of A Perfect Day, posted his review of my book, Sketch of a Murder.

To see just what Mr. Lawrence thought of my book, go to http://gunnarangellawrence.blogspot.com 

You might be surprised. I was.

Plotter or Panster? Which style of #author/#detective are you?

Today, as part of the #MSH #Blog #Tour, I have the honor of #interviewing Lieutenant Michael Williams from the Special Crimes Team in Seattle, Washington. Thank you, Lieutenant Williams, for taking the time to come and talk with us.The subject of today’s #interview is: are you a plotter or a pantser?

Lieutenant Williams: I appreciate being invited.It would be helpful if you would define those terms again.

Actually the term pantser comes from NaNoWriMo, National Novel #Writer’s Month. It describes an #author who ‘flys by the seat of the pants’. The #author doesn’t have an outline, a summary, nothing except the basic idea for a #novel.Plotter is pretty self-explanatory.This type of #author plots the entire novel or a large portion of it,has an outline or a summary,often has biographies of the various characters, especially the main characters and protagonist.

My theory is that there are divisions within #detectives that correspond to the divisions of types of #authors. So tell me, are there #detectives who are plotters versus #detectives who are pantsers?

Lieutenant Williams: (a smile that reaches up and causes his eyes to sparkle with good humor) I am afraid I have to confirm your theory. Of course, we have certain non-negotiable procedures, protocols that must be followed as we solve #crimes. (He gets a devilish gleam in his eye) And, we do our best to adhere to those.

(Interviewer raises eyebrows in gentle disbelief) Not what I’ve heard about the #Special #Crimes #Team.

Lieutenant Williams: (clears throat) Hmm. Don’t believe everything you’ve heard about us, (big smile) even if most of it is true. However, we digress. As I was saying, there are plotters and pantsers within the ranks of #detectives. A good example of that is Sergeant Slowater–I believe you attempted an interview with her not too many weeks ago–and myself.

Sergeant Slowater would be considered a plotter. She believes absolutely in logic, in following leads in a methodical manner, in carefully constructing a case, step-by-step. She is very intent on weighing the possible outcomes against the risks, and having backup plans in place. She does not give much credence to what she terms “woo-woo stuff”. This includes non-traditional methods such as using the press, giving weight to anything that cannot be perceived by the five ordinary senses, that type of thing. Sergeant Slowater gets uncomfortable with, as my granny used to say ‘coloring outside the lines’.

I am more of a pantser. Once I have done all that I can within the ordinary methods of solving a case, I am inclined to follow my instincts, to perhaps follow unconventional leads, and give credence to information that comes from sources that don’t necessarily use the five ordinary senses. I guess you could say that I am a bit too comfortable ‘coloring outside the lines’. (He smiles.)
(He cocks his head and looks at me) May I ask you a question?

Of course. (Interviewer gives Lieutenant big smile and a firm nod) I had hoped this would be more a dialogue than simply a question and answer period.

Lieutenant Williams: How do you see your style of #writing?

(Interviewer frowns in concentration) Well, I believe I fit the pantser style, like you. I don’t use outlines, summaries, bullets, or any biographies of my characters. I simply am (smile) ‘attacked by an idea’ that won’t leave my mind until I write it down. (a shrug) After that, I just follow where it leads me.

Lieutenant Williams: Why do you use that style? Why not use the plotter style?

(Interviewer taps a finger against her lips as she thinks) I suppose it’s because my characters, like real people, like the criminals you go after, don’t always follow a script, a plot, an outline. They can sometimes dart off in unpredictable directions. I guess, for me, it’s important to study why they act, and react, as they do. What causes them to go in a certain direction, act in a certain manner, say what they do, believe as they do? People can’t be put on a graph like a mathematical equation. Does that make sense?

Lieutenant Williams: (a slow thoughtful nod) Yes, it does. That is exactly why I use the pantser style in solving crimes. It is more about understanding the perpetrator, looking at life from his perspective. If I can understand the perpetrator, then I can predict the next action to be taken.

You said you are open to using non-traditional methods. Are you talking about psychics? And what do you mean by ‘coloring outside the lines’?

Lieutenant Williams: (Purses his lips as he thinks) Let’s just say that I believe there are things outside of our normal senses that can be utilized in solving #crimes, or #writing books. As for ‘coloring outside the lines’, there are situations that force a #detective to make hard decisions. Sometimes those decisions don’t follow absolutely along the lines of procedure. That’s all I will say on that subject.

(Interviewer glances at her watch) Oh, my! We have run overtime! I am so sorry to have kept you beyond the time I requested.

Lieutenant Williams: (good-natured grin) In that case, I guess you’ll have to buy me a venti mocha with two-percent milk and no foam, but lots of whipped cream. Sergeant Slowater got me hooked on those fancy coffees.

You got it! There’s a Starbucks I like.

For my blog followers, if you would like to know more about Lieutenant Williams and the Special Crimes Team be sure to stay tuned for the announcement of the release of #Sketch #of #a #Murder, Book 1 of the Special Crimes Team series.

For more information about me and about my books:
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#Interview with Bev Ransom

This week the subject for the #MSH sponsored #blog tour is to interview the main character of our novel. So, today I have asked Bev Ransom whose biography, #Good Intentions, is due out later this month to speak with me.
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Good Intentions

Bev, thank you for taking time to talk with me.

(Bev)Oh, sure. When Mom gave me the message I thought it would be interesting.

What are some of the reasons you participated in having a biography of your life written?

(Bev)Well, (she leans forward, arms propped on her thighs, face earnest) there are some things people should think about. I’m not that old, and I don’t have all the answers (she chuckles), but I know how I felt when everything came out in the open like it did.

Yes, that was quite the surprise, wasn’t it? What was the most important thing that occurred during the time sequence covered in your biography?

(Bev) My dad dying.(She glances away and blinks her eyes several times before turning back to face me)

I know how painful this must be for you. Are you okay talking about it?

(Bev gives a brisk nod)Yeah.(Taking a deep breath, she huffs it out and speaks in a stronger voice)Yeah, I’m okay. See my dad was always the one I talked to. Mom got so emotional about everything. But, Dad he was cool. I could discuss stuff with him. Where Mom cried about stuff, Dad would tell me to stop wasting time crying, and use that time to think about what I could do to change whatever it was.

That sounds like good advice.

(Bev)(She shifts around on her chair like she’s uncomfortable with what she needs to say)Well, yeah.Mostly.

What do you mean “mostly”?

(Bev)(Her brows scrunch down and she stares for a moment at her hands, clasped together in her lap) It wasn’t until quite some time after Rene died, and you know, everything else started happening, that I finally realized: with Dad it was all about logic and action, but it was Mom who let me feel.

Sounds like a person needs to do both of those things—think and feel.

(Bev smiles) Yeah, that’s what I learned. Eventually.

What was the second most important thing you learned during that time?

(Bev’s face falls into serious lines)I learned that #family shouldn’t keep #secrets from each other, especially not from their kids.

But aren’t there good reasons to keep things from #children?

(Bev firmly shakes her head) No. If a kid knows what’s going on in the family, we can find a way to cope. It’s when we’re kept ignorant of what is really happening that we get confused by conflicting messages that our parents don’t even realize they are sending out.

(Bev tilts her head and gives me a considering look) Do you know why I wanted my biography to be titled Good Intentions?

(I shake my head)No, I don’t know why you insisted on that title.

(Bev bites her lower lip then speaks) A friend of mine—and I don’t know where the quote came from—but she said, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” That’s what happened to my family. Everyone had good intentions when they made their decisions, especially the decision to keep me in the dark. Those good intentions were like cobblestones set in the street that we were traveling down. And that street led straight to the hell that our lives became.

Wow. That’s a heavy message. (We both take a sip of cold coffee from the mugs we’d forgotten were even there.) There you have it folks. Family secrets, even when they are kept with the best of intentions, can really bring a lot of sorrow to your loved ones. So, whenever you’re tempted to tell your children something less than the truth, please remember how much pain you might eventually cause.

Thank you, Bev, for coming today, and for sharing what has been a painful journey of self-discovery in your biography, Good Intentions.

GoodIntentions

Mountain Springs House Publishing, #MSH, will release the second edition of Good Intentions later this month of July. Please stay tuned to this blog for the final release date.

You can contact #Aya Walksfar, the author of Good Intentions, at:
http://www.facebook.com/ayawalksfar

Aya Walksfar

Aya Walksfar

Or tweet to her on Twitter Aya Walksfar@ayawalksfar
Check out other books by this author on her author page at Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/ayawalksfar
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