#RRBC Spotlight Author, Gracie Bradford

Gracie’s tour continues today…

Life As I Know It

Hello, bloggers!

I am pleased to welcome this month’s RRBC Spotlight Author, Gracie Bradford


DO YOU LOVE WRITING BUT HATE SELLING?

Me too. Indie authors must be a jack of all trade. Like it or not, indie authors are entrepreneurs. Your book is a product. Your marketing is a service. Who has time to write and sell? Most authors prefer to write and leave the selling to someone else. Is it necessary to be hands-on in the selling process? As a businesswoman, I say absolutely.  It takes far less time to write than to sell. Once the book publishes, the most difficult challenge begins.

THREE WAYS TO GET PEOPLE TO BUY MORE FROM YOU

BUILD RELATIONSHIPS AND YOUR PLATFORM FIRST TO BRAND “YOU” NOT THE PRODUCT, “YOUR BOOK”

Increase your followers to get more honest and positive reviews – strive for more than 100 reviews the first month of…

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CONGRATULATIONS #RRBCSpotlightAuthor GRACIE BRADFORD!!! @IamXordinary

CONGRATULATONS SPOTLIGHT AUTHOR

Gracie Bradford!!

 

February is the month of Love; and it is also a time set aside to remember Historical Men and Women of Color who have achieved greatness during their lifetime.

Today is the first day of Rave Reviews Book Club’s Spotlight Author Tour. What a fitting time to host our featured author. Let’s see how she spends her day as a writer.

Gracie, I am pleased to host you and to share your post with my followers.

WELCOME!!!


Gracie’s Writing Process

You will get a kick out of how Gracie prepares to write every day. You may identify with her morning rituals. She tells me after a perfect eight hours of sleep; her body clock gives her a slight nudge. She turns over, stretches and ignores the internal clock.  After a few minutes, she hears the internal clock is saying, “get out of bed to take your morning walk.”

Quickly getting dressed, securing the front door and off she goes. Her mind goes into overdrive mode formulating a plot for her next writing session when she returns. She stops to talk with the ducks, turtles, and cranes. She goes by the elementary school to observe parents dropping off kids. She decides if she is going to stop by the corner store to pick up a lotto ticket.

 

After 1 ½ hours, she enters the back door, kicks off her shoes, makes a hot cup of herbal tea and peels two boil eggs. After enjoying her gourmet breakfast, she decides which room to write in for the day and which device she is going to use.

Before starting, she turns on some smooth music, dance for about fifteen minutes then she is ready to sit and dump everything she formulated in her head while walking.  A minimum of 200 words flows onto the paper. She leans back in her chair to admire her work. Nine out of ten times, she will re-write the plot several times. It is now time to take a shower and starts her day. She wonders which community service she will support today?

 

 

The Typing begins…….

Expect to see the 3rd book of the Lady Bird series late 2018 addressing Autism.

You can pick up a copy of Gracie’s book at:

http://amzn.to/2gfLCEJ

 

Like and follow this author through the social media platforms below:

Blog: www.free1592.wordpress.com

Website: www.authorgraciebradford.com

Instagram: www.instagram.com/authorgraciebradford/

Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/graciebradford5/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/iamxordinary

Facebook: www.facebook.com/gracie.bradford.58

LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/authorgraciebradford/


Thank you so much for stopping by and spending the day with Gracie. Please leave your comments and get a copy of her book(s). Be sure to follow her at each of her stops on the RRBC site this week.

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CONGRATULATIONS #RRBCSpotlightAuthor @VashtiQV #RRBC

WELCOME SPOTLIGHT AUTHOR VASHTI Q!

You have been such a supportive member since the first day you joined and so you deserve your time in the spotlight. I am delighted to host you.

 


Title: Do You Judge An Author By His Or Her Genre?

You’d be surprised how many people make assumptions about authors’ personalities based on their works’ genre. Horror writers have dark, twisted minds and are capable of committing the atrocities they write about. Erotica writers are perverts. Writers of romance tend to be like their heroines—beautiful women who are lavished with flowers, candy and romantic dinners by more lovers than they can handle (and who all resemble Ryan Reynolds, Zac Efron, Gerald Butler, or Idris Elba) And comedic writers––well, they’re all clowns who don’t take life seriously enough. Really? Come on, people!

 

I have lost count of how many times friends and acquaintances have been shocked when they find out that I write horror and dark fantasy. “But you don’t look like a horror writer,” they say. So what is a writer of horror and dark fantasy supposed to look like?

Is this what I'm supposed to look like?

Is this what I’m supposed to look like?

We writers are unusual creatures, no doubt. We’re in our heads a lot. We often like to sit apart from everyone and just observe. We have outsized imaginations and we can be inspired by almost anything: a picture, a movie, someone’s smile, a word, a laugh . . . anything! But––we are not what we write. Think of us as actors. A great actor can play the role of a psycho, chef, cyborg, monster or saint and be very believable doing it, but that doesn’t mean he or she is any of those things.

 

Check this out!

interview-with-ramsey-campbell-L-ZHIfmu

Ramsey Campbell. Look at this guy. Doesn’t he look like he can play Santa Clause in the next remake of ‘Miracle on 34th Street’?

Yet, he has written his share of nightmare inducing horror stories like: Demons by Daylight, Alone with the Horrors, and Told by the Dead. I’m getting goosebumps just thinking about them.

Meet these lovely ladies of Horror

mehitobel Wilson

Mehitobel Wilson

Read all about Mehitobel here.

Kathe Koja

Kathe Koja

Read more about Kathe here.

Angela Graham––Writer of erotica. Does she look like a perve to you?

erotic-writer-angela-graham

Nicholas Sparks is a Romance writer. Does he look like a romance writer?

Nicholas-Sparks

Nicholas Sparks

 

 

 

The comedy writer’s job is to make people laugh. That is serious business.

Read this article from WebMD: Give Your Body A Boost––With Laughter

Dr. Seuss-comedy-writer

Dr. Seuss

Learn more about Dr. Seuss here.

award-winning-comedic-writer

Diablo Cody Academy Award Winning Comedic Screenwriter

Read more about this comedy writer here.

There are many genres of writing and even more writers, and I’m not saying that some of us don’t have a few peculiar quirks and habits. What I am saying is that we are all individuals, and the genre we write has nothing to do with who we truly are. So don’t judge a writer by his or her genre. I guess you’ll just have to get to know us.

Check out these links:

Weird Writing Habits of Famous Authors

The Odd Habits and Curious Customs of Famous Writers

8 Strange Rituals of Productive Writers

Vashti-Quiroz-Vega-horror-writer

Vashti Quiroz-Vega writer of horror, suspense, thriller and dark fantasy

What are your thoughts on this? What’s your favorite genre? Have you learned anything new with this post?


AUTHOR BIO:

 

Vashti Quiroz-Vega is a writer of fantasy, horror, and suspense/thriller. When she isn’t creating extraordinary worlds or fleshing out powerful characters, she enjoys reading, traveling, kayaking, photography, and seeking adventures. She lives in Florida with her husband and fur baby, a Pomeranian named Scribbles (who’s also her writing buddy).

 

Twitter -@VashtiQV

Facebook – http://on.fb.me/1g0da7d

Website – http://vashtiqvega.wordpress.com


BOOK INFO:

 

In The Fall of Lilith, Vashti Quiroz-Vega crafts an irresistible new take on heaven and hell that boldly lays bare the passionate, conflicted natures of God’s first creations: the resplendent celestial beings known as angels. 

 

If you think you know their story, think again.

 

Endowed with every gift of mind, body, and spirit, the angels reside in a paradise bounded by divine laws, chief of which are obedience to God, and celibacy. In all other things, the angels possess free will, that they may add in their own unique ways to God’s unfolding plan.

 

Lilith, most exquisite of angels, finds the rules arbitrary and stifling. She yearns to follow no plan but her own: a plan that leads to the throne now occupied by God himself. With clever words and forbidden caresses, Lilith sows discontent among the angels. Soon the virus of rebellion has spread to the greatest of them all: Lucifer.

 

Now, as angel is pitted against angel, old loyalties are betrayed and friendships broken. Lust, envy, pride, and ambition arise to shake the foundations of heaven . . . and beyond. For what begins as a war in paradise invades God’s newest creation, a planet known as Earth. It is there, in the garden called Eden, that Lilith, Lucifer, and the other rebel angels will seek a final desperate victory—or a venomous revenge.

 

“[A] compelling narrative that . . . strays far from traditional biblical text . . . A well-written, descriptive, and dark creation story.”—Kirkus Reviews

THE FALL OF LILITH  (http://a.co/61rGKHL)

 


We appreciate you so much for stopping by today. Please be sure to pick up your copy of this exciting book. And don’t forget to stop by the rest of Vashti Q’s tour stops here.

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Sharing Slivers of Life on the #RRBC Holiday Train Book Trailer Block Party!

The Indie Spot!

With the 2017 RRBC Holiday Train Book Trailer Block Party in full swing, today is one of my stops. All you have to do is follow the link to the video, leave a comment on YouTube, and you’ll be entered to win a signed copy Slivers of Life and a $10 iTunes gift card.

And don’t forget to follow the tour each day for great trailers and more chances to win fantastic prizes. Just click HERE to follow the tour!

To see the video on YouTube, click HERE!

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LOVE – THE BEAT GOES ON – Lynda Filler #BookReview

This blog is worth sharing with my followers

Writing and Music

5 starIF I COULD GIVE THIS BOOK 10 STARS, I WOULD!!

Love The Beat Goes On

THE BLURB:

When your cardiologist tells you to “Get your affairs in order, your heart condition is incurable,” what do you do?
Lynda shares her personal story in the typical fast-paced, edgy, in-your-face style she’s known for in her writing. She will walk you through her journey to self-love sharing her belief in journals, love, prayer, soul, spirituality and positive mindset.
She’s hard-hitting but compassionate. She writes about romantic experiences that may shock you, but makes no apologies for her unconventional life style. Nor does she hold back taking responsibility for the things that she believes created her dis-ease.

You will definitely question a woman who walks around in denial; then makes a decision to drive, all alone, from Puerto Vallarta, Mexico to Whistler, Canada with undiagnosed Idiopathic Dilated Cardiomyopathy. Men and women are often self-care-challenged and Lynda was no…

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#RRBC @4WillsPub Laura Libricz answers 20 questions @lauralibricz

What inspires me to write?

Laura Libricz answers 20 questions

 

  1. What inspires you to write?

When I write, I am inspired by interesting characters, real people and fictional, and I love to analyze them because I want to find the truth. I love to listen to people talk and I wonder what’s behind their words, what they are really saying. Trying to figure out what motivates people to do what they do is a constant study of human nature. Having said that, I am also inspired by the area in Germany I live in. My novels take place here. I deal with my setting like another character. Setting has as much influence on the characters as the people they entangle with.

 

  1. What do you love most about writing?

The best part about writing is the inner peace it brings me. I need to put all these thoughts somewhere. My energies are better spent focused on a project than left on their own. Unsupervised, I tend to get up to no good.

 

  1. What’s the most challenging part?

The most challenging part of writing is trying to view the project objectively and give it a second opinion. I can’t do that and I won’t even try anymore. That’s why we work with professionals, like editors.

 

  1. How do you craft your story & characters?

I am a plotter. The Master and the Maid was at first written ‘by the seat of my pants.’ When I hit a wall and couldn’t write anymore, I outlined the story and built a framework. Inside the framework, I had more freedom to write. The next two novels in the series were both outlined and the first drafts written during NaNo November. Of course, I can still change major aspects of the framework if I need to, like I did with The Soldier’s Return, the second book in the series.

 

  1. How much research is involved?

Historical Fiction is a genre that is associated with tons of research. To build that historical world and make the reader part of it, I need to make the details tangible and help them understand the time period and the customs. (Much like SciFi or novels set in an unfamiliar culture.) If I use actual historical events, like I’ve done with the Thirty Years War in Germany, I need to build the story around those events.

 

  1. How long did it take from idea to finished book?

I’ve been working on this trilogy since 2009 and have released the first and second novel.

 

  1. Do you have any writing rituals or habits?

I sit down and turn on my computer. I write in Scrivener, a wonderful program that is worth the time it takes to learn it.

 

  1. Who influences you the most?

My writing is most influenced right now by Bathsheba Monk, my editor. And Jean-Luc Picard (ha, that’s a joke, sort of…)

 

  1. What is your favorite theme/genre to write?

Right now, I love writing Historical Fiction set in Germany. Yes, I know, a bit obscure. I would also like to write some SciFi in the future.

 

  1. Which character you’ve created is your favorite? Why?

I love all my characters because, like in real life, every one of them is important and plays a crucial role in my stories. If they aren’t important, they have no business being there.

 

  1. Do any of your life experiences worm their way into your books?

All my life experiences show up in my books in some adulterated form or another.

 

  1. How do you like to connect with readers?

I like to connect with readers in person and in the internet. Right now, I like Twitter, Facebook, Goodreads, and the RRBC the best.

 

  1. What do you hope readers take away from your books?

Because I like to analyze character and human motivation, I hope my characters and their behaviors evoke emotions in the reader. I also hope to teach the readers about this crucial period in European history and hope they feel they learned something without having it crammed down their throats.

 

  1. Who helps you with the critique and editing process?

Bathsheba Monk is the voice in my head when I write. She is my critic and editor.

 

  1. Do you ever hate something you’ve written?

Sometimes I hate everything I’ve ever written.

 

  1. How do you overcome any nagging self-doubt that inevitably creeps in?
    There are days that I wonder why I put myself through all this work. Then I remind myself that I would be writing no matter what. I would be reading all these history books anyway. If I need a break from the project, I like to write flash fiction, a great exercise to focus and write short, sharp scenes. If nothing else helps, then something physical will, like walking, biking or my passion right now, Pilates (like real, classic-traditional Pilates).

 

  1. Do you read all reviews?

Yes, I read all my reviews.

 

  1. Why are reviews important?

Reviews help other readers find our work. They are important for rankings. Having said that, I’d rather choose the books I read based on other criteria, like the blurb, author blog, and friends’ recommendations.

 

  1. What advice would you give aspiring writers?

I would advise an aspiring writer to read all they can about writing and then forget half of what they just read. Don’t kill the darlings until consulting with a professional editor. I would suggest reading books on psychological development and disorders. I would suggest taking some writing courses and keeping a journal. That journal should be a secured document or under lock and key so the aspiring writer can be painfully honest. And the Oxford comma is a stylistic choice, not the law.

 

  1. What can you tell us about what we’ll see from you next?

We’ve just released The Soldier’s Return, the second novel in the Heaven’s Pond trilogy. The year is 1626 and war has come to southern Germany. This novel takes place ten years after the first and ten years will radically change a person. There is a 50,000 word zero draft for the third book, Ash and Rubble, and I’m going to start working on that in November 2017.

Laura Libricz’s Media Kit: Pictures, Book Covers, Links, Bios, Book Blurbs:

https://lauralibriczblog.wordpress.com/about/

 

Long Bio:

Laura Libricz was born and raised in Bethlehem PA and moved to Upstate New York when she was 22. After working a few years building Steinberger guitars, she received a scholarship to go to college. She tried to ‘do the right thing’ and study something useful, but spent all her time reading German literature.

She earned a BA in German at The College of New Paltz, NY in 1991 and moved to Germany, where she resides today. When she isn’t writing she can be found sifting through city archives, picking through castle ruins or aiding the steady flood of musical instruments into the world market.

Her first novel, The Master and the Maid, is the first book of the Heaven’s Pond Trilogy. The Soldier’s Return and Ash and Rubble are the second and third books in the series.

WHERE TO FIND ME ON THE WEB:

Website: http://www.lauralibricz.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/LauraLibricz

Google+ private page: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+LauraLibricz

Google+ brand page: https://plus.google.com/u/0/b/111626375322992289353/111626375322992289353

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC3c-yIyoN-UprxB15L5l8zA

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LauraLibriczAuthoress/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/lauralibricz/

Blog: https://lauralibriczblog.wordpress.com

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.de/lauralibricz/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6526953.Laura_Libricz

LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/laura-libricz-8980a43a/

 

“This tour sponsored by 4WillsPublishing.wordpress.com.”

 

 

 

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#RRBC #RRBCPIF A. M. MANAY YOU ARE CHOSEN!

It is my pleasure to host A.M. Manay on #PIF DAY!

I am a huge fan of her work.

An admirer of her very interesting life.

She does it all while battling a debilitating illness!

 

CONGRATULATIONS ON PAY IT FORWARD DAY!

A. M. Manay

 

Award-winning indie author, editor, designer. Lover of fantasy. Mother to a Black son.

In addition to her work as an award-winning indie author of supernatural new adult fantasy, A.M. Manay is a former inner-city chemistry teacher, a singer, a yoga enthusiast, and a mother through domestic open adoption. She has a passion for increasing diversity in popular culture and for strong heroines who stand up for themselves, make their own decisions, and don’t depend on romance as their reason for being.

Oh, and one more thing, she is a new member of #RWISA!!


SHE MARCHES THROUGH FIRE
is just out in Paperback!

 

Follow her on Facebook

Follow her on Twitter

Sign up to get news on releases

Follow her on Amazon

WEBSITE: ammanay.net

 

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#RRBC IN THE “SPOTLIGHT” AUTHOR, NATALIE DUCEY!! @NatalieDucey

It is my pleasure to welcome NATALIE DUCEY to my website!

CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR SPOTLIGHT TOUR!

 

Thanks so much for joining me today on this fifth stop of the “Spotlight” tour.

Another big cheers to all!

I love creating things. A passion I discovered later in life and embraced without self-imposed judgement. Perhaps it’s because I chose to live more in the present, detached from the fear of exploiting time.  We tend to be our worst critics sometimes.

This passion fuels my soul. There is so much beauty in the process.

I love creating promotional pieces for my poetry. I study digital design and continue to learn new techniques and tips every day. For my promotional pieces, I select a line or verse from each poem and present it in a frame so it looks much like the book cover and offers a glimpse of the poem’s message.

Below are promotional pieces for The Heart’s Journey Home. This verse is from the poem titled – Surrender.

 

This verse is from the poem titled – Memories Linger.

 

Many of you know I recently published my second book of poetry, The Heart’s Lullaby.

These are promotional pieces for The Heart’s Lullaby. This verse is from the poem titled – Confessions of the Heart.

 

This verse is from the poem titled – Splendid Years.

 

It’s a joy to create these images and a privilege to share them with you today.

In celebration of my “Spotlight” tour, I’m delighted to say The Heart’s Lullaby is currently available for .99 cents!

 

 

 

About Natalie

With a BA in Psychology, Natalie has worked in the Counseling field for 15 years. Through her work and personal journey, she has witnessed the remarkable power of the human spirit. Now, as an author and poet, she is passionate about stories that touch the heart and awaken the soul. Through words, she aspires to offer solace and hope, love and understanding. Natalie is the Co-owner and Writer of Peace by Piece Puzzles. She is the Owner/Writer/Designer of Whispers of the Heart (printable art/poetry/verse). She was born and raised in beautiful Newfoundland, Canada, with her two brothers and twin sister. She now resides in Ontario, Canada, with her husband, a Soldier in the Canadian Armed Forces, and their little dog, Bella. She loves kayaking and the freedom and serenity of being one with water. She is an avid reader, passionate writer, and seeker of tranquility along life’s mystifying journey.

 


You can connect with Natalie on:

Website/Blog – https://natalieducey.com

Facebook – Whispers of the Heart

Twitter – @NatalieDucey

Pinterest – Natalie Ducey

Author Page – Natalie Ducey

Google +1 – Natalie Ducey

GoodReads Author Page – Natalie Ducey

LinkedIn – Natalie Ducey

 

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#RRBC DAY 22 @RRBC_RWISA MEET @fredsdiary1981 Robert Fear – “THE FIGHT”

TODAY is the 22nd day of WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour!
Please take the time to read
Robert Fear’s works, share comments, like this page and check out his books in the #RWISA catalog.

CONGRATULATIONS ROBERT FEAR!!

 

 

The Fight by Robert Fear

Es Cana, Ibiza, Spain – August 1977

Jose took an immediate dislike to me.

He worked as a waiter at the Panorama hotel near the seafront. I had been there to see Diane, an English girl I met while at work in Grannies Bar. Petite and with short blond hair, she had a delightful personality. She was also a real head-turner.

Diane came to Ibiza on a two-week holiday with her friend, Elaine. It felt fantastic she wanted to spend time with me, but Jose thought his role was to be her protector. He glared at me every time he saw us together

Towards the end of her holiday, Diane spent a night with me and I didn’t get her back to the hotel until breakfast time. Jose was on duty and spotted us outside as we kissed. That just made things worse.

After Diane left for home, things deteriorated. The next Friday evening, as I walked to work, Jose headed towards me with a group of Spanish lads. Their intentions were obvious as they stared, raised their fists and shouted at me across the street.

Before they could catch me I escaped down the steps and into Grannies Bar. Their taunts still rang in my ears as I headed for safety.

Friday nights were always manic. Eager drinkers packed the outside terrace after a day in the sun. A queue of customers had already formed as I dived behind the bar to help serve them.

Four of us; Mick, Pat, Graham and myself, worked that evening shift. Pat was half cut and spent most of the evening with her friends. Mick’s mood was not good as a result, but the three of us got stuck in and served the eager punters.

After six weeks at Grannies, I knew the routine. We served drinks and collected pesetas in quick succession. Spirits were easier to serve than at home. Two ice cubes got thrown into a glass and the vodka, gin or brandy poured until the ice floated. Then the mixer was added.

We could drink behind the bar, provided we remained sober enough to serve. Pat loved her gin and tonics and often wasn’t! Mick, Graham and I had regular supplies of vodka and orange but remained level headed as we rushed around serving eager customers.

Willing female hands often helped out. They collected glasses and washed them up in the sink at the end of the bar. As a reward, they had drinks bought for them and got the chance to pull Graham, myself or even Mick on occasions.

Work finished at 3 am. We headed to El Cortijo for another drink and a dance. A group of Spanish lads hung around near the entrance, but I thought nothing of it. Only later did I found out they were Jose’s friends.

The disco pulsed and the dance floor heaved. Lights from the ‘disco ball’ flashed around scantily clad bodies as they cavorted to the sounds of Abba, Rod Stewart and Status Quo. We caught John’s attention, and he passed us a bottle of San Miguel each.

Graham and Mick met up with two girls they had chatted up in Grannies earlier. Pat had gone back to their villa with her friends so Mick was free for the night. Propped at the bar I sipped my beer and relaxed after a hard night’s work.

By instinct, I spun round to find Jose stood behind me. He glared at me and mouthed something. The music drowned out his words. Jose beckoned for me to come with him. Even though it was obvious he wanted a fight, I went. By the time I got outside it was too late.

My fighting skills were minimal. I had been the object of bullying at school. One lad taunted me with the repeated chant, ‘Freddy’s got a rudimentary organ’, while in the showers. This hurt me and screwed with my teenage sensibilities. I tried to avoid the shower room when he was there.

Two other lads pushed me around and sometimes thumped me. They wanted money, but I had none to give them. One time I gave in to their pressure and stole books for them from a sales exhibition held in the school hall. I never thought of fighting back. I did not know how!

Now I stood on the dusty wasteland twenty yards away from the front entrance of El Cortijo. Jose faced me, surrounded by his group of friends. The atmosphere was menacing and none of my friends were even aware what had happened.

‘So, you silly man, what you say?’ screamed Jose in broken English as he edged towards me.

‘What did I do wrong?’ I retorted.

I sweated in the heat of the August night and he must have sensed my fear.

‘You took girlfriend, English scum.’

‘No I didn’t. Diane wanted to be with me you arrogant pig.’

I amazed myself with that response. The drink from earlier in the evening gave me a false sense of courage. Things were dire and soon became worse.

Jose swung his right fist toward my head. I ducked and there was a whoosh of air as he missed.

He turned round and aimed another punch at me. This time he connected and his fist crunched into my jaw. I reeled backwards. Maybe I should have just gone to ground and admitted defeat. This time I fought back.

Well, fought might be too strong a word for it! I stumbled forward and made a dive for his midriff. Jose grabbed me by my shoulders and flung me to the ground.

I spat out a mouthful of dust before I tried to get back up. Then I saw the flying feet of Jose and his mates. It became obvious they wanted to give me a severe beating.

In defence I rolled into as tight a ball as possible with my hands wrapped around my head. The kicks and punches continued and my senses faded as protection against the pain.

Then it stopped. Shouts came from the front door of the disco and the Spanish lads scattered. John, Alan and two others screamed at the top of their voices to get them away from me. A German girl on her way to the disco had seen the scuffle and dived into El Cortijo to get help.

Worried faces peered at me as I uncurled myself. Although bruised and battered there were no broken bones. I hauled myself to my feet. With support from my rescuers, I struggled back to the disco for another drink.

An uneasy truce existed between Jose and me for the rest of the summer.


Thank you for supporting this member along the WATCH RWISAWRITE Showcase Tour today!  We ask that if you have enjoyed this member’s writing, to please visit their Author Page on the RWISA site, where you can find more of their writing, along with their contact and social media links, if they’ve turned you into a fan.  WE ask that you also check out their books in the RWISA or RRBC catalogs.  Thanks, again for your support and we hope that you will follow each member along this amazing tour of talent!  Don’t forget to click the link below to learn more about this author:

 

Robert Fear RWISA Author Page

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#RRBC DAY 21 @RRBC_RWISA MEET Marcha Fox – “YOUR WILDEST DREAMS”

AUGUST IS WATCH “RWISA” WRITE MONTH SHOWCASE TOUR

TODAY WE SHOWCASE MARCHA FOX!

Your Wildest Dreams

I inhaled sharply when I recognized the introductory riff wafting from my favorite 80s station as Your Wildest Dreams by the Moody Blues. Even though I had the original 45 RPM record, the album on cassette tape, and more recently, the CD, I kept them safely locked away so I wouldn’t binge on it. Nonetheless, when KPLV, 93.1 FM in Vegas, got around to playing it every few weeks or so, I’d indulge in a break, a delicious reminder of why I was here.

Consumed by ethereal and intimately familiar soundwaves, I got up, closed the blinds, and even though it was unlikely the song’s strains would penetrate my office’s cinder block walls, plugged in my headset so I could crank it up—I mean really up. I melted back into my chair, eyes closed, with what was probably an idiotic smile on my face, savoring each note as the song segued into its lively, 142 BPM tempo. The next three minutes and forty-one seconds, I’d be in heaven.

Even though this song came out eight years after she left, the first time I heard it, back when I was still in college in ’86, I knew two things: One, it would always be “our song”; and Two, I had to find her.

My heart leapt with visions of galaxies beyond, of what might be out there, where she might be. I plunged headlong through space and time, besieged by memories burned into my heart as permanently and painfully as branding was to a newborn calf. Did she remember? Feel the same thing I did? Sense the enchantment of fate-entangled lives?

I memorize pretty easily, which comes in handy, especially with things like the Periodic Table or Maxwell’s equations. And of course, favorite songs. These particular lyrics struck me, hard and personal, from day one, certain it’d been written exclusively for me.

As my eyes teared up, logic intervened and yanked me back to planet Earth.

Grow up, Benson! What are you, a total schmaltz or what?

We were kids, for heaven sakes. A teenage crush. I should’ve gotten over it, but never did. No wonder. Girls like her are rare. One of a kind. She’d already experienced things I never would. Things that were part of my wildest dreams.

The admonition failed, pushed aside by that part of me that felt alive again, jammin’ like a total jerk, mouthing the words as I sang along in my head. It’s not like I’m a teenager anymore, though at the moment I felt like one. No, memories of the heart never die—can’t die, evereven if you try to kill them.

I’d give anything to talk to her. Which of course I have, numerous times over the years, if only in my head. Okay, aloud more often than I care to admit. I could swear it even felt as if she answered a time or two. I suppose that’s how it is with your first love. Or your first kiss, even if it was only a peck on the cheek. It penetrates your soul and stays there forever.

That mid-summer day in ’78 hauling hay was as vivid as yesterday in my mind’s eye. The cloudless sky, sun hot on my neck, the aroma of first-crop alfalfa sweetening the mountain air. I scratched my shoulder, a reflex memory of itchy, stray leaves sticking through my T-shirt. My chest ached as I remembered tear tracks streaking her dust-covered face at something I’d said. Then, days later, that withering look when we lied about her ship.

The one we still have. What’s left of it quietly abandoned beneath a tarp in Building 15, here at Area 51.

How she knew we weren’t telling the truth, I’ll never know. Pretty funny it’s still sitting there. And I’m sure she’d think so, too. I can just hear her saying, “Stupid snurks, I knew they’d never figure it out.” Though actually they did, just didn’t find technology worth pursuing. Even contractors didn’t want it.

I had to admit it was pretty crazy, but she was my motivation to get where I was today: just short of a decade of college linked with serendipity that put me in the right place at the right time, hoping someday I’d find her. My life had changed a lot since then. How much had hers changed? Did she make it home? Was she still alive? With the effects of relativistic travel, which I understood only too well, she could still be a teenager, while I was easing into the infamous dirty thirties.

Not good. If I ever did find her, she’d probably think I was some lecherous old fart. Either that, or, with my luck, she’d be married with a bunch of kids. I winced with the thought.

My sentimental reverie vanished when my office door slammed open and Hector Buckhorn rolled in. Literally. Hec’s been stuck in a wheelchair ever since he crashed his hang glider into a New Mexico mountainside during spring break his last semester of college. He ridge soared a lot, particularly around Dulce, over restricted areas where he wasn’t supposed to be. Got caught a couple times, but being Native American, never got in trouble, even though it wasn’t his home reservation. He’s amazingly good at playing dumb, in spite of—or possibly because of—his 150ish IQ. He never talked about his accident, said he couldn’t remember. Makes sense, actually, given he suffered a massive concussion. The only time I ever saw him pissed him off was when he woke up in the hospital and discovered they’d shaved off his hair, since grown back beyond shoulder length.

I dropped the headset around my neck and faked a frown. “Don’t you ever knock, butthead?”

“Hey, man, wazzup?” he said, giving me a funny look. “You okay?”

I laughed. “Of course. Just thinking. Remembering. You know.”

Ahhh. They played that song again, didn’t they?”

“Can’t hide anything from you, can I, Chief?”

“Nope. I figured you were up to somethin’ with your blinds closed.”

He wheeled over to the grey metal, government-issue table on the other side of the room and helped himself to a handful of peanut M&Ms. Once I’d realized during my PhD days at Cal Tech that, in a pinch, they made a pretty decent meal, I’d kept that old, wide-mouth canning jar full. He dumped them in his mouth, perusing me with knowing, dark eyes.

“You were sure enjoyin’ that song of yours,” he said, not even trying to stifle his crooked grin as he munched away.

“Yeah,” I replied, uncomfortable with the conversation’s direction.

“We’ve known each other a long time, Allen,” he said. “Don’t you think it’s time you told me about her?”

“Not much to tell.”

He let fly with a popular expletive related to bovine excrement. “C’mon! What’s her name?” he persisted.

I blew out my cheeks and sighed, knowing resistance was futile. “Creena,” I answered, surprising myself when, again, I got a little choked up. I avoided his eyes by likewise heading for the M&Ms.

“So find her,” he said.

“It’s not that simple,” I replied, pouring myself a handful. “I don’t know where she is.” A statement that was truer than he could possibly imagine.

“I have some resources who could help,” he offered with a conspiratorial wink.

I shook my head, then stalled by popping a few colorful orbs in my mouth.

“Why not? If she’s anywhere on this planet, these guys’ll find her.”

I swallowed hard and paused; met his gaze. “She’s not.”

He scowled, making him look a lot like those old pictures of Cochise. “Say again?”

“She’s. Not.”

“Oh! I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I assumed she’s dead. She must’ve been quite a girl.”

“She was. Is. She’s not dead. At least as far as I know.”

His jaw dropped, shocked expression broadcasting the fact he’d caught the implications. “You’re not kidding, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Abductee?” he whispered.

“Nope,” I answered, raiding the candy jar again. “Immigrant.”

His eyes widened as he spewed an expletive that elevated excrement to sanctified status. “Don’t tell me she’s an EBE!”

I nearly spewed partially chewed M&Ms across the room. Extraterrestrial biological entity, indeed! Yet by definition, actually, she was.

I chuckled at his expression and shook my head. “No. Quite human. At least as far as I know.”

“Are you?” he added, chocolate-colored irises rimmed with white. His reaction surprised me—UFOs, even aliens, were no big deal in his culture, just business as usual with the Star People.

“C’mon, Chief! You’ve known me since tenth grade, running high school track!”

He leaned back, searching my face with more solemnity than I’d seen since I told him how Dad died. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, bro,” he said finally, shaking his head.

“You have no idea,” I said, throat constricting as scratchy lyrics from the headset, audible only to me, issued another reminder of why I was here.

 

Copyright © 2017 by Marcha Fox

 

[NOTE:–This is an excerpt from my upcoming novel, Dark Circles, a slightly dark, hard sci-fi love story. No release date has been set.]


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