READING THE HEART

Bob van Laerhoven is a fulltime professional Belgian/Flemish author. His novel “Baudelaire’s Revenge”  - winner of the Hercule Poirot Prize and the USA Best Book Award 2014 in the category “mystery/suspense” - was published in hardcover by Pegasus Books in April 2014. The paperback version will be released in April this year.

This is the first episode of a blog I'm going to start: "Conversations with Archimeda:

"Hiiiiih….Hey boss, a small question, if you please…
Archimeda, how many times do I have to tell you? Don’t call me boss, you devious female. I’m your two-legged best friend.
Yes boss, sure boss….Why do you like to read on my back?
Because it makes me sensitive like you are, my beauty. Reading has to be done in a refined mode of the mind. That mindset is natural for horses, not for humans.
Okay, got it… But why are you now sitting in reverse position?
Because I don’t want to upset your delicate nature, my darling…
Oh? Pray, enlighten me, b-
Only when you drop the “boss”.
Well….Pray, enlighten me, Bobbbb….
I’m reading about war, destruction and tragic suffering, my treasure. Mary Borden wrote The Forbidden Zone when she was a nurse in World War One.
War?
Humans killing humans for incomprehensible reasons, Archimeda.
Mmmm….Why you want to read about things that make me shudder?
It is research for my new novel, you graceful creature. The Shadow of the Mole has WW1 as a backdrop but its main theme is the exploration of our damaged souls…
Souls? Are they edible? Like apples?
I don’t think so, sweetie.
A shame. They should be.
You have a soul too, tender one, and often I think it’s better than mine. But I don’t see you eating it, although you devour a lot of hay, you glutton.
Bo….
Mmmm?
Now that I know what it is, a soul, I think I’ve seen you doing it. But it was the other way around.
What do you mean?
I’ve seen that your soul was eating you…
Explain, my beauty.
When you wrote the book Baudelaire’s Revenge you were surrounded by a black cloud.
You saw that?
We horses see things that humans don’t.
And what did that black cloud do?
It tried to eat your heart and it succeeded partly. Each time when you came in our corral you didn’t see me. You just saw a beast. You were elsewhere. It went on for months. It saddened me very much.
I’m so sorry, Archimeda. I…
Before you bought me, I was used to being treated harshly. Shouts, whips, bits that cut in my mouth, curses. You were different. You groomed me, you told me over and over again that you loved me. You calmed me down when I was nervous and afraid. You kissed me a thousand times on my nose. And then it stopped.
I apologize, Archimmeke. Baudelaire’s Revenge was such a dark book to write, so hopeless, so violent, so gruesome. And yet, the man I was writing about, the poet Charles Baudelaire, was someone who sought beauty and love and light, just like I do. But for humans, each thing has its opposite and Baudelaire got lost in the darkness. I realize now I did too.
Humans are strange beings. I am beauty. I am love. I have no opposite.
I know, Archimeda.
You know it with what you call a brain. You still have to learn to know it with your heart. I’m afraid that when you’re writing The Shadow Of The Mole you will be eaten again, this time completely.
You’re an equine philosopher, my treasure. I’m going to dismount now and give you thousand kisses on your nose. I promise you, this time, I will not be eaten.
Bobbbbbb….
Yes, my darling?
I’m glad I can’t read your books.
But you can read my heart, my lovely, you can read my heart…."

Bob van Laerhoven        

FB-link :

(I don’t have an author page…I don’t believe in that: I’m not just an author, I’m a human being with many interests)

Twitter

www.youtube.com/bobvanlaerhoven.be

Why do you write?

By KD Rush

What do you need in order to make your life seem complete? Is there a single goal to accomplish, perhaps a lifelong dream that you need to achieve? If fame and fortune are on your bucket list, then I wish you luck. You’re going to need it, especially if you plan to accomplish this as a writer.

I know. You’ve heard it all before. Being a writer is hard work and the pay sucks. Why do it then? Do you think you’re different, that your stories are better than some of those on the bestseller lists? Have you already picked out the Ferrari that will whisk you from one book signing to another? In the immortal words of Aerosmith, dream on.

You probably have a better chance of being struck by lightning than writing a bestselling novel that will generate the type of income to buy a luxury sports car. So, I ask again, why even bother?

That’s always been an easy question for me to answer. I write because it’s a dream of mine to publish a novel. It’s my dream, and it’s not dependent upon anyone other than myself. Even if my book(s) don’t sell, then I will still have succeeded in accomplishing a lifelong goal.

If you write for a different reason, or hope to make an income out of it, that’s fine; but you should at least know why you write.

A relative of mine, at a recent family gathering out of state, asked what I had been up to since we last saw each other. It’s a typical question tossed about between people separated by time and distance, and I should have been prepared for it. I wasn’t. Without even thinking about it, I began to describe my dream of writing a novel, even going so far as to give a synopsis of some of the stories I’m working on.

It was great being able to share my adventure with someone that is an avid reader. What I didn’t expect though, after ten minutes of describing what the stories were about, was a puzzled look followed by, “Yeah, but why do you want to write?”

I thought I had mentioned the reason first before launching into my book report. Thinking they must not have heard me, I told them again, “Because it’s always been a dream of mine to publish a novel.”

No, they heard me the first time. They understood that it was a goal, but they wanted to know why. “Why is writing and publishing a novel your dream?”
I was stunned. That’s the first time someone has ever asked me to detail the reason for writing on a subconscious level. And it really was subconscious, as I can’t remember giving it a passing thought. Yes, it’s a dream, but why? I didn’t have an answer at the time, so, I told them I would get back to them on it. It’s not often that someone leaves me speechless. I didn’t bother telling anyone else at our family gathering what I’ve been doing for the past year.
The question was on my mind the rest of the day, and the next. With an eight hour car trip home I figured I would eventually come to a conclusion with that much time to think. I didn’t.

It wasn’t until later in the evening when I crawled into bed and opened the iPad to the current book I was reading that the answer finally came to me. The book, Death of a Kingdom, by M. Edward McNally, is the second in The Norothian Cycle series. About three quarters of the way through the story it suddenly occurred to me why I’ve always wanted to write a book. Not for fame or fortune, but for the emotion. That feeling you get when you’re reading a really good book, can’t put it down, need to tell someone about it, the wow factor.

The reason I write is to give that feeling to others. I want to take them on an adventure they will never forget. So, I ask you again. Why do you write?

KD Rush is a "writer on a journey of self discovery, chasing a dream. WIP: The Guild Inc., a supernatural thriller."

This post was originally published on KD Rush's blog, The Rush Room. Visit the blog, and follow him on Twitter @KD_Rush.

Introducing "Ontario"

For today’s post I wanted to show you a bit of Ontario’s world – her art class. One of Ontario’s favorite things to do is draw or paint. Art is her emotional outlet and it means a lot to her. Here’s part of a scene when Ontario is in her art class at school. Her teacher has just introduced a new exercise where the students hear short bits of music and in a small amount of time each person tries to depict what the song is saying to them:

We waited in anticipation for the music to start, and when it did we all laughed, including Mrs. Wheeler. It was the theme song from American Idol.

      “Well, get to it!” Mrs. Wheeler said, and we all began. Most of didn’t get very far since the opening song was only about thirty seconds long, but we all obediently got to work. The next song was Poker Face by Lady Gaga, which again brought some laughs and also some moans. Next was the school fight song, Stairway to Heaven, and the National Anthem.

      Silently we painted away, song after song. I enjoyed the activity very much and I really tried hard to paint what my own emotions were telling me, not what the words were saying. The last song that played was Blue Suede Shoes, by Elvis Presley.

      “Really?” I said, out loud accidentally. I got several weird looks from people and hurriedly turned back to my work. I tried hard to think of something other than Austin, but that was definitely where my emotions were taking me so I gave in and started painting, trying to depict the way that he danced. This time I really got lost in the music and just let it guide my hand.

      “Alright!” Mrs. Wheeler said as the song ended. She stood up and turned off the CD player. “What did you come up with?” She looked around excitedly.  “Who wants to share what they drew for the first song? Is there anyone who drew something other than a singer?” she asked with a laugh.

      To our surprise a hand shot up in the back. It was Chad, a tall and gangly guy.

      “Okay Chad, what did American Idol say to you?” Mrs. Wheeler asked with a smile. Chad held up his picture and we laughed. He had painted stick figures of a man and a young girl fighting over a remote.

      “Would you care to explain?” Mrs. Wheeler asked.

      “It’s my Dad and little sister,” Chad said. “Every time it comes on my Dad tries to change it and my sister throws a royal fit.”

      “Very nice,” said Mrs. Wheeler and we clapped.

      “Alright, what about Lady Gaga?”

      This time several hands shot into the air so Mrs. Wheeler let them all share. We laughed at the various pictures we saw, including one that showed Lady Gaga holding I sign that said “I’m insane and I know it” and another that showed the creator at a concert freaking out.

To learn more about Ontario and her story, buy the book today, now available on Amazon in Paperback and Kindle formats!

Author Bio

Heidi Nicole Bird has been writing for as long as she can remember and it is her favorite thing in the world. Heidi is a regular NaNoWriMo participant and is mostly a young adult fantasy writer, but also likes to write juvenile fiction and other genres. She holds a Bachelor of Arts degree in History from Brigham Young University and she looks forward to exploring the genre of historical fiction. Heidi lives in Utah with her family and three dogs, and loves working from home as a full time writer.

Also by Heidi Nicole Bird, Through the Paper Wall

http://www.amazon.com/Through-the-Paper-Wall-ebook/dp/B00BF1MNT4

Links:                

www.facebook.com/HeidiNicoleBird

www.twitter.com/HeidiNicoleBird             

http://heidinicolebird.blogspot.com/

Links to Ontario:                                                                      

Paperback                                       Kindle Store

Ontario on Goodreads

Say It, Write It, Love It

So many people begin with the words, "I've always wanted to write a book but... ". They stop themselves before they have even get started. How do you know you can't write, if you've never sat down to do it? Fear is a powerful feeling but what is an even more powerful feeling is the pride you experience when you finally do sit down and write that first full page.

The first words are the hardest, making you question every letter you use, but they will become more fluid as you relax. Writing is a seductress, luring you into her bed, drawing you in with the freedom to create beautiful worlds, driving ambitions, moving emotions and before you know it, you'll be in love before you even hit the sheets.

Time is the biggest commitment you need to start, time and the will to try. Don't think of writing a whole book, if that's too overwhelming. When the great pyramids were built, it took twenty years. Few workers were there from start to finish so for them it became a job of moving one stone at a time.The job was cut down to size. So, start with your one stone. One page at a time.

You may then say, "Oh, I wouldn't know where to begin." Okay, fair enough, so ask yourself this, where do you like to start a good movie? Do you want to sit in a dark theatre, munching on your popcorn, looking forward to a drawn out introduction of a character's entire life leading up to the action that finally comes his way? You'd need more than a couple of hours and some extra soft seat cushions for your butt if this is the case.

You start where the real story begins when the character's life takes its dramatic turn. In the "Wizard of Oz", we don't start the story when Dorothy is born, or when she's growing up, no the story starts when she's facing the threat of losing her dog. The drama in her life has taken a quick step forward taking the viewer with it. Still, if the story lingers there too long, the viewer will become more interested in the box of Milk Duds in his hands then with the story so the pace has to keep picking up speed.

Once you find your start, trust your instinct to keep the momentum going. You may find after a few pages that you won't want to stop, and even with one page a day you'll have a full novel by the end of the year. Writing is an amazing process begging to carry you along if only you just let it. Don't go putting unnecessary pressure on yourself, you can write for just your eyes only, if it helps, or let someone you trust read it but you won't know how it feels until you try. I promise there is no greater gift you can give yourself.
Doreen McNicol
http://www.rachelwicks.com
Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/7355705

The Book Nobody Wanted

Tonight I closed the pages on a book that people said they were looking forward to reading.

After seven months and only three US sales and none in the UK, I bought the book. So that at least it had one sale when the pages shut.

It was a part of the Pat Canella series that started with Dockland murders and was to go on after this book, but there is no point now.

A sad farewell as she sank below the waves.Al           

Chronicles of Mark Johnson Alan Place, Seal No. 10012208 Mark Johnson one time golden boy of the glamour scene, gets tired of the shallow life. Longing for the real people and photographs he turns his back on the world, his only contact being his long time friend and agent Phil Moore. Like all good photographers it isn't long before the real side of photography leads Mark to start taking a new look at his life, one day he sees a girl at the window of an a derelict house. This leads to the first of many mysteries.

http://hereiamattheedge.blogspot.co.uk/

http://yezallstrongheart.weebly.com/2/category/al%20place/1.html

http://indiependents.org/indie-seal-books.html

http://www.amazon.com/Al-Place/e/B0076M5BNG/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Al-Place/e/B0076M5BNG/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

http://indieauthornetwork.weebly.com/alan-w-place.html#.UIvQO2_Ac6M

TTC Virtual Blog Tour

As a member of MasterKoda and the Virtual Blog Tour they kicked off yesterday, I'm hosting my first guest today: Tara Chevrestt aka Sonia Hightower (Siggy Buckley)
 

What inspired me to write? Well, I've always loved writing. My favorite assignments in school were always book reports (I think this funny now as I review books constantly!) and essays. So I loved writing even way back then. But I didn't finally sit down and write a novel until I hit thirty. How it came about is pretty cool.

My husband and I were on vacation in South Dakota. I wanted to tour this lovely Victorian house in Deadwood, but we only had a few hours left to hit the Sturgis Motorcycle Museum. The next day, we were driving home to Utah. Well the house wouldn't let us just tour it on our own. My husband got in a funk. "I want to visit the motorcycle museum!" I finally acquiesced though pouted all the way and watched that lovely Victorian house disappear in our rear view mirror.

Funny how life works out. While my husband was drooling over bikes, I walked around the museum in a state of semi boredom. I love bikes, but I don't need to read every bit of detail about them or their engines. Well, I came across the women's section and there was a poster board type thing about Augusta and Adelina Van Buren, two sisters who rode their motorbikes across the United States in 1916 in hopes of proving they could be motorcycle dispatch riders.

Being a fan of historical fiction and wanting to know more, I told my husband, "Soon as we leave here, I'm gonna check Amazon and see if someone's wrote a historical novel about these chicks." (I don't like biographies. They put me to sleep.)

I couldn't find a novel about or based on them anywhere....so I wrote one myself.

Ride for Rights was released in February.

In the summer of 1916 women do not have the right to vote, let alone be motorcycle dispatch riders. Two sisters, Angeline and Adelaide Hanson are determined to prove to the world that not only are women capable of riding motorbikes, but they can ride motorbikes across the United States. Alone.

From a dance hall in Chicago to a jail cell in Dodge City, love and trouble both follow Angeline and Adelaide on the dirt roads across the United States. The sisters shout their triumph from Pike’s Peak only to end up lost in the Salt Lake desert.

Will they make it to their goal of Los Angeles or will too many mishaps prevent them from reaching their destination and thus, hinder their desire to prove that women can do it?

It's available on MuseItUp Publishing, Amazon, and Smashwords in ebook format.

Tara Chevrestt is a deaf woman, former aviation mechanic, writer, and an editor.  She is most passionate about planes, motorcycles, dogs, and above all, reading. That led to her love of writing.  Between her writing and her editing, which allow her to be home with her little canine kids, she believes she has the greatest job in the world. She is also very happily married.

She also writes as Sonia Hightower.  Sonia writes the racy stuff and argues that she was here first. She just wasn't allowed to be unleashed until the last year.

While Tara and Sonia continue to fight over the laptop and debate who writes the next book, you can find buy links, blurbs, and other fun bits on their website: http://tarachevrestt.weebly.com/index.html or their Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Tara-Chevrestt-Sonia-Hightower/218383211513877.

Sun, Sand and Sex

It’s hard to resist the allure of the sun.  In the early morning its rays beckon me to come to the beach, following my Adonis just as dawn announced itself, first with pink, then buttery orange colors.  The slim sickle of the moon is disappearing, giving way to another hot day.
The air is full of smells, more pungent in the early hours of the day, of seaweed and little critters that lay scattered on the silvery sand, stranded over night by the receding tide.  Sea gulls start their morning feed, parading down the beach in search of fish bits and sand fleas.
The chosen spot on the sand, flattened by our bodies, now feels smooth and warm under us.  I stretch my exhausted limbs and reach for the tanned man beside me.  His hands run the length of my body, caressing my curves, and placing one on my breast.  His fingers feel the line of my lips, nose, and eyes.  He places two featherweight kisses on my eyelids.
I open one lid, blinking against the sunlight.  Waves are crashing on shore.  Content with the world, I close my eye again.  I don’t want to come back.
But it wasn’t the ocean; it was the rain outside that was banging on the windowpane.  Drops splattered from the roof onto the windowsill.  The room felt chilly and the only aromas permeating were those of Patrick frying bacon and eggs in the kitchen.  I crawled out from my duvet.
The actual coastline was sunken in autumn fog.  The seagulls had taken cover out of sight.  Below my window, people in the little estate got in their cars to go to work.  Reality was waking up.
(Excerpt from : Next Time Lucky) 

Siggy Buckley

http://www.junipergrove.net/featured-author-siggy-buckley-giveaway/

ran an author interview with me plus a book giveaway yesterday. If you want to win a copy or read up on me.

The Chainsaw Method of Writing a Novel

Have a clear fall path:  You may not know all that will happen in the novel, but you should know where it will end up, or have a fairly good idea.  The fall path for a novel should target a tight space, say, between an orphanage and a basket of kittens.  In other words, the massive hulking whole must nearly crush but not destroy the story or its characters, and result in near-miss.  At first, the fall path may appear clear, but as the chapters unfold, items begin to gather underneath the drop-zone and thus rising action takes place.
Begin Cutting by Creating the Notch or Face Cut:  The opening chapters should mark the basic direction of your fall path, or where you are going.  These quick cuts must be remarkable enough that reader knows the shape of the characters before you notched them with face cuts.  Also, the initial chapters require action, not pondering souls.  The face cuts of a novel should be action scenes for several reasons: to show your characters in action, to resist digression, and to hook readers.  Actually, these three reasons are based on the same objective: to get the novel moving and the pages turning.  (Does not apply if you happen to be the next Proust or Dostoyevsky.)   The face cuts should also introduce plots from their starting points, which will start to converge when…

The Top Cut and the Bottom Cut Makes the Notch:  A large bite out of the tree forms a notch.  Suspense begins here.  This may be the end of Act I in a sense, because the novel has a large gaping wound in the side, and readers by now can see the branches moving and start to wonder when gravity will cave the trunk on itself.  But this is an illusion, as our lumberjack shows us – many cuts are still to come to bring this great plant to ground.  Once the notch reveals itself to the reader, the main characters or the main plots should have a nice conflict going.  Moreover, these two converging characters or plots (the “Top Cut” and the “Bottom Cut”) should extend from two radically opposed worldviews, such that the conflict is natural and opposing, if not altogether spiteful and nasty.

Try for a One Piece Slice: Make the meeting between the plots fit together.  There should be a silence in the air, and the tree should wobble.  Now is a good time to have some interesting minor characters lean against the tree, provoke the main characters, steal a few scenes, stoke the wind, and otherwise clutter the fall path with risk.  Perhaps a baby carriage is now sitting directly in the fall path, or a bulldozer is unloading from a flatbed trailer and crawling toward the tree with its pusher.

Making a Back Cut, the Third and Final Cut:  While the reader still observes the face cut, return to the story from the opposite side, and begin to notify them that the cause of the collapse is not coming from the expected angle, but from the rear.

The Falling Tree and a Felling Retreat:  The growing slice on the backside of the tree should produce creaks and groans from the trunk as the inevitable collapse begins.  However, the falling, like a tree, should start and stop, and start again, until it reaches a tipping point from which there is no return.  The final process of falling should be swift and devastating, a near-miss of the orphanage and the kittens.

The ending should be nothing more than the settling of leaves and then silence in the woods. 
Peter Anthony