A Dragon Named Pedro

dontravis.com blog post #284

Another little piece of short, short fiction this week. I’m particularly interested in the readers’ reaction to this offering.

*****

Maria Fanning, Artist

A DRAGON NAMED PEDRO

          From his high perch, Pedro the Dragon’s lidless eyes seemed fixed on the man in swimming trunks lying on a poolside lounge. Good build, and probably handsome when viewed up close. He knew his owner watched the man as well. The brown nipple Pedro held in the talons of one clawed foot stiffened and puckered, a subtle but sure sign of interest.

          Paul sat in the tall lifeguard’s chair at the North Valley Country Club and watched the man basking in the early morning sun. At this hour, they were the only two individuals at the swimming pool. Even though Paul was new to the club, he knew the man had an interesting history. B. J. Vinson—no one could tell him what the initials stood for—had once been a US Marine and then an Albuquerque Police detective before becoming a private eye. Intriguing.

          But no more so than the man, himself. Strange colored hair… mocha he’d heard it called. Eyes as green as a polished Granny Smith apple. Chiseled features; handsome but not pretty. Lean and athletic. Good, tanned skin without blemish except for one scar on the inside of the left thigh. Scuttlebutt held that was from a gunshot wound Vinson got back when he was a policeman.

          Although aware they were alone, Paul involuntarily glanced around to see if anyone noticed he was taking too much notice of a nearly naked man. Where he came from—Albuquerque’s south valley—interest like that would earn a guy a beating or worse. The thought startled him. Interest like that? Well, he couldn’t deny it. He felt the small tattooed dragon on his left pec squeezing his nipple, making it stand up. And tingle. Pedro often set off so many nerve endings that it became embarrassing for Paul to stand up in polite society.

          To avoid that eventuality, he climbed down from his elevated chair and snared a floating candy wrapper with a telescoping aluminum pole equipped with a leaf net.

          “Kids,” he muttered softly with half an eye on the other man. The aroma of summer roses climbing the club's adobe wall battled the odor of chlorine from the pool, distracting him for a moment.

          Vinson reached for a glass beside the lounge and missed, spilling what appeared to be orange juice.

          Paul dropped the skimmer and picked up the glass, holding it out. “Can I get you another?” Pedro gave a yank on Paul’s nipple when he noticed those fascinating green eyes studying the tiny tattoo.

          “No, thanks. Nothing left but ice cubes, anyway.”

          Pedro about went crazy at the sound of the deep baritone.

          “But I appreciate your offer, uh….”

          “Paul. Paul Barton.”

          “Paul.”

          He noticed the slight hesitation but decided not to enlighten the man. Aware he was a mixture of Hispanic and Anglo blood, he often got that reaction to his last name. But his mother had been the Latina; his father the Anglo. “Anytime,” he muttered as his eyes wandered the man’s lanky form, halting without intention on the purple scar.

          “Bullet wound,” Vinson said.

          “Damn, I’ll bet that hurt.”

          “Like you wouldn’t believe. That’s why I swim early in the morning. Therapy.”

          “Swimming’s the best exercise in the world.” Paul felt his cheeks burn as he revealed himself as a dyed-in-the-wool water bug. He glanced down at his tight trunks. Well, dyed-in-spandex, anyway.

          His cell phone piped “Dixie” on a nearby table. He eyed the other man as he answered the call. Jill Hardwick asked what time he got off work and suggested they go to a movie that evening. He told her “five” and said he had plans. As he finished the call, Vinson tossed him a wave and disappeared into the locker room. Pedro gave a final squeeze to Paul’s nipple, making him wish he could follow the man to the showers.

          By five-thirty, Paul felt foolish hanging around outside the club’s Moorish gate. He’d misread the situation… badly. BJ Vinson, PI, probably hadn’t given him a second thought once he left the club. But Paul had sensed a strong connection with the attractive detective. Wrong.

          Just as he started walking to the employee’s parking lot, a white Impala swung to the curb and stopped. The hunky detective rolled down the window and leaned across the seat. Without exchanging a word, Paul hopped into the passenger’s seat as Pedro did his thing beneath the tight polo shirt. Feeling the need to say something, Paul went trite.

          “Hi, Mr. Vinson.”

          “Call me BJ or Vince. The Vince comes from Vinson.”

          “What do most people call you?”

          “BJ.”

          “Okay, then I’ll call you Vince. At least when nobody’s around.”

          “Where can I drop you?” Vince asked with a smile.

          Paul’s grin almost split his lips. “Wherever you’re going is okay by me.”

          Pedro must have approved because the inky claw squeezed Paul’s tit almost painfully.

*****

Readers of my BJ Vinson Mystery Series will recognize the opening and closing scenes from Chapter 3 of The Zozobra Incident when BJ first meets Paul Barton. But this time, it’s told from Paul’s and Pedro’s viewpoints. The change makes for interesting reading. Let me know what you think.

My mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. And keep on submitting your work to publishers and agents. You have something to say… so say it.

If you would like to drop me a line, my personal links follow:

Email: dontravis21@gmail.com.

Facebook: Don Travis

Twitter: @dontravis3

Here are some buy links to City of Rocks, my most recent book.

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/City-Rocks-Vinson-Mystery-Book-ebook/dp/B071Z9V7DT

DSPP: https://www.dsppublications.com/books/the-city-of-rocks-by-don-travis-393-b

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-city-of-rocks-don-travis/1126419974

Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-city-of-rocks/id1217068245

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-city-of-rocks

The next book in the BJ Vinson Mystery Series, The Lovely Pines is scheduled for release on August 28 of this year. Abaddon’s Locusts follows sometime in the first quarter of 2019.

See you next week.

Don

New Posts are published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.

dontravis.com blog post #283

The Never Forevermore

The post this week is less of a story than an essay on life. Those of you who read my work will recognize that I am a fish out of water… I do not write in the style of this piece. Because I am experimenting, I would appreciate any feedback you care to provide… positive or negative.

*****

Courtesy of Pixels

THE NEVER FOREVERMORE

          “You know I’ll love you forevermore, don’t you?”

          The words, uttered with all the fervor and sincerity of Robert Browning’s devotion to Elizabeth Barrett, rolled glibly off my lips on a broad Key West barchan attended by broad blue waters speckled with small sailing vessels that seemed as forevermore as my declaration but in reality, lapped distant shores and broke over rocky cliffs beyond my sight in green, frothy waves. Her proximity on the huge terrycloth towel spread on warm white quartz sands beaded by feldspar and garnet and littered with cockle and conch and angel wings provoked stirrings that seemed somehow inappropriate to the moment, although natural to the occasion. Feeling my desire, she snuggled closer as the endless swash struggled to reach us, always failing and retreating back into the ocean that spawned it.

          But a honeymoon was not eternal, neither in the moment nor in the abstract. It was the appetizer before the meal, the knish before the brisket, so to speak. Ours lasted well into the second year of our marriage, but a woman exhausted by nursing an infant daughter while simultaneously pursuing a professional career occasionally became waspish with a tongue that owned a sharp barb. Once stung, I grew more defensive and less understanding, fraying the delicate silken thread that held it all together. The second child, a son, proved frail and more demanding, denying us the little time we reserved to ourselves.

          Preferring to merely replace one another on this teeming planet, we dispensed with childbearing after that. A fortunate decision, as those two nearly taxed our patience, energy, and resources to the breaking point. Marcie was gifted, demanding special attention, while a fragile Abel sopped up what was left.

          Ruptures appeared when our daughter attached herself to a slothful, sullen youth, and was supported by my wife. I saw the lout for what he was, but the strain of that relationship for the brief time it lasted nearly rent us apart.

          In his teens, our son recovered his health and discovered his homosexuality, nearly driving his mother to distraction. She fought it, but I knew the inevitable end result and supported him for who he was. That wound required time to repair itself. His mother eventually held her waspish tongue on the subject, but I saw betrayal in her eyes for a long time.

          The years passed, and I forgot the eight words spoken in those halcyon days of youth. Many times, it would have been easier to cleave the marriage than to hold it together. But we somehow managed to darn the silken threads that bound us, at times mending gaping holes in our relationship, but never allowing the precious essence of our liaison to escape. Not too much of it, at any rate.

          Now, with our daughter safely married to a good man and pursuing her career as a concert pianist, and our son a graduated engineer testing his relationship with a new employer, as well as a new lover, we find ourselves face to face once again, as alone as when we started.

          Of late, some of those forgotten words have occasionally begun to reappear in our lexicon, although not as naively spoken as then. We have successfully maneuvered the shoals and now sail a following sea toward newly discovered ports, fully aware there was never the Forevermore we envisioned as a young couple. But perhaps we’ve discovered another sort… one designed specifically for those bearing the scars and bruises of a well-lived life, silver in their hair, and a shuffle in their gait.

*****

Covering someone’s life in something under 700 words seems a little abrupt. Yet, what more needs to be said? Would it strengthen the piece to involve the reader in the narrator’s career, hobbies, and the like? I think not. Let me know what you think.

Please: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. And keep on submitting your work to publishers and agents. You have something to say… so say it.

If you would like to drop me a line, my personal links follow:

Email: dontravis21@gmail.com.

Facebook: Don Travis

Twitter: @dontravis3

Here are some buy links to City of Rocks, my most recent book.

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/City-Rocks-Vinson-Mystery-Book-ebook/dp/B071Z9V7DT

DSPP: https://www.dsppublications.com/books/the-city-of-rocks-by-don-travis-393-b

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-city-of-rocks-don-travis/1126419974

Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-city-of-rocks/id1217068245

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-city-of-rocks

The next book in the BJ Vinson Mystery Series, The Lovely Pines is scheduled for release on August 28 of this year. Abaddon’s Locusts follows sometime in the first quarter of 2019.

See you next week.

Don

New Posts are published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.

The Buddha in the Tree

dontravis.com blog post #282

Lots of page views last week, but not much comment on the story. Hope this flash fiction story gets a better reception.

*****

Courtesy of Max Pixel

THE BUDDHA IN THE TREE

          Herbert sat as still and quiet as a meditating Buddha on the topmost perch of his damaged cat tree, his yellow eyes moving back and forth between the two men standing over what had been his human. She now lay motionless on the floor, a halo of blood matting her splayed hair. Herbert blinked. She was no longer the human who tended and loved him, although he did not know how he came to that conclusion.

          “Damn, Sarge,” one of the men said. The shiny badge affixed to his belt caught lamplight and reflected it at Herbert. “Look at those tracks. Have rats been eating on her?”

          The other man, older than the speaker, motioned toward the cat tree. “Nah. That’s the cat’s paw prints. He came down to investigate. Name’s Herbert, according to the neighbor who found the vic.”

          Herbert’s ears twitched at the sound of his name.

          “Jesus!” the first man said. ‘It’s alive. I thought it was a stuffed toy.”

          “He’s real enough. Probably the only witness to the murder.”

          “You think so?”

          Sarge stroked his chin. “Way I figure it, that cat was sitting right up there on the tree while the perp killed the girl. Then the guy spotted the cat and took a swipe at him with the bat he used to murder the woman. See how the top of the tree’s broke off.”

          “But the cat got away, huh?”

          “Herbert’s sprier or luckier than his owner.”

          “Too bad he can’t talk.”

          Others came inside the apartment and tromped all over Dolly’s carpet. Dolly had been his best friend before she became that thing on the floor. One of the humans held an object to his eyes that clicked and made light flashes.

          Then Herbert heard a voice from outside the open door that make the hair on his back ruffle.

          “What’s going on here? I need to get inside.”

          A soft voice similar to his Dolly’s answered. “Sorry, sir. But I can’t let you in.”

          “This is my girlfriend’s place. I need to see her right now!”

          Herbert half rose and made a small sound.

          Sarge stared at him. “Well now, maybe the cat can talk.” He turned and stepped to the door and blocked the entrance. “I’m Sergeant Doyle. What’s your name, sir?”

          “William Peeler.”

          “And what is your relationship to Dolly Hardiman?”

          “Like I said, I’m her boyfriend. What’s going on here?”

          “There’s been an incident, and I’m afraid your friend is dead,” Sarge explained.

          “Dolly’s dead?”

          “We believe it’s Miss Hardiman, but she’s not been formally identified, as yet. Do you think you could identify her for us?”

          “Of course.”

          “Are you sure. There’s a body in there. Will that disturb you?”

          “Is it Dolly?’

          “Why don’t you step in and tell us.”

          Herbert watched as Sarge move aside and turned to stare at the cat tree as a man moved into the room. Immediately, Herbert stood on stiff legs, bowed his back, and hissed out a snarl.

          Sarge and his companion closed on the young man who had just entered.

          “Mr. Peeler, you need to come down to the station with us.”

          “What? Why?”

          “You’ve just been ID’d.”

          “By who?”

          “By the Buddha in the tree.” 

*****

I’m not a cat person, but I have a friend who is. And I totally believe her cat would spring into action in case disaster befell her.

Let me renew my plea: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. And keep on submitting your work to publishers and agents. You have something to say… so say it.

If you would like to drop me a line, my personal links follow:

Email: dontravis21@gmail.com.

Facebook: Don Travis

Twitter: @dontravis3

Here are some buy links to City of Rocks, my most recent book.

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/City-Rocks-Vinson-Mystery-Book-ebook/dp/B071Z9V7DT

DSPP: https://www.dsppublications.com/books/the-city-of-rocks-by-don-travis-393-b

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-city-of-rocks-don-travis/1126419974

Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-city-of-rocks/id1217068245

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-city-of-rocks

The next book in the BJ Vinson Mystery Series, The Lovely Pines is scheduled for release on August 28 of this year. Abaddon’s Locusts follows sometime in the first quarter of 2019.

See you next week.

Don

New Posts are published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.

On Becoming Invisible

dontravis.com blog post #281

Thanks for indulging me last week. That’s all the wallowing in self-pity until next year… I promise.

This week, let’s go back to flash fiction.

*****

Courtesy of Pixabay

ON BECOMING INVISIBLE

For eight years, it was just Mar and Bar, or Mars Bar to some. Blond-headed, green-eyed Barkley was Bar, and black-haired, brown-eyed me was Mario. Thick as thieves, we hung out, backed one another’s plays, made a great horseshoe tossing team, and occasionally got on one another’s nerves.

During one of those latter times, Bar invited Wanda in. She was an all-right girl… so far as girls went. She could bat better than I could, but I was a way better pitcher. Before long, Wanda and I began to grate. Bar was the oil that kept us from flaying one another.

By senior year, she’d managed to wedge her way so firmly between us, I wasn’t even certain if Bar knew I was around any longer. I was flipping invisible to my best friend. We’d be doing something together, and things would be almost like old times when she’d show up and claim his attention. Pow. Just like that, I was invisible, man. Invisible.

A couple of months ago, I figured it had become physical between them. Bar never said as much, but he dropped hints. And Wanda became more defensive. I felt like a fifth-wheel and tried pulling away, but Bar wouldn’t let me. I didn’t understand it any better than Wanda did, but when the best friend I’d ever had wouldn’t let go, no way could I stand on my own two legs and do it myself.

Wanda and Bar enrolled in a local college while I was going out of state, so the summer after graduation was heaven with a lot of torture thrown in. After the break was over, I’d be forcibly parted from my best-buddy-for-life. The thought hurt, but at least the invisibility factor would be ended. I’d be on my own forming new friendships. Midway through the summer break, I realized that same concept had finally struck Bar.

I have no idea if his awakening was a factor or not, but shortly after that, things changed. We went to a baseball game together—without Wanda. She was helping her mother shop. Then a friend’s birthday bash rolled around with Wanda nowhere in sight. Not feeling good, apparently. Then came the Friday night Bar stood outside my window and yelled my name until my father woke me and told me to go shut him up.

He was soused. Broken up like I’d never seen him before. I no sooner settled in the passenger’s seat in his car than he stifled a sob.

“It’s over man. She’s gone.”

“What happened?”

“Richard asked her out. When I called her on it, she said she was free to talk to anybody she wanted.”

For two years now, she hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone but Bar. Hell, she didn’t even talk to me, and I was there practically all the time. Of course, Richard was a good-looking fellow and the captain of the baseball team.

“Did she say yes?”

“She did after I let loose on her. They went on a date tonight.” Bar hickuped. “Why did she have to get in between us. We were just two happy-go-lucky guys until she showed up.”

That was something I did have an opinion on. “As I recall, you—”

I almost bit my tongue when he threw his arms around me and buried his head in my shoulder, sobbing as if he’d just received a death sentence.

My heart raced as I clapped a hand to the back of his head and made shushing noises. Secretly, I was elated. Something went wrong, and he turned to me for consolation. “Hey, man. It’ll be okay. She’ll come crying back tomorrow. You’ll see.”

He lifted his head, and his eyes stabbed me through the darkness. “Maybe… maybe I don’t want her back. Maybe I’d like things to be like they were.”

Hope danced through me, prickling my insides. Did he mean it? Maybe he needed me now more than he needed her. Maybe we’d….

Whoa there, Mario Quincy Jones! Where was this going? A couple of years back I’d have liked to… To what? Get it on with Barkley Jelson? Yeah, I would have. Back then we were a couple of curious kids. That would have been innocent experimentation. But now? Now it would carry more meaning. Maybe more than I wanted. He shifted in the seat, tightening his grip on me.

Oh, Lord! What would I do if he made a move on me? Did I want him to? Yes. No. Maybe. From the way my nerve ends tingled and my mouth went dry, I likely hoped he would. But he must have come to his senses. He released me and leaned back in his own seat.

“What am I?” he demanded. “Some blubbering kid. Take it like a man, Barkley. Won’t be the last time you’ll get dumped.”

He turned in his seat and unleashed a smile that picked up the light from the lamppost in the yard. “But I still got my best bud, don’t I? We’re still Mar and Bar, right? The Mars Bar. For the rest of the summer, it’s just you and me. Okay?”

“The way it was meant to be.”

“Amen, bro.”

After planning a trip to the local swimming pool tomorrow, I got out of the car and stood brimming with happiness at having my best friend back, at no longer being invisible. Then as I watched him pull off down the street, I frowned into the night as something else tugged at me. Could it be regret at not taking advantage of a moment that would never come again?

*****

We all have moments like this in our past, don’t we? Moments we let pass and later regret or feel relieved over. Mario told me later that he heard Bar and Wanda got back together during the next semester. That was okay with him. He was forging new friendships and standing on his own two feet.

Please: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. And keep on submitting your work to publishers and agents. You have something to say… so say it.

If you feel like dropping me a line, my personal links follow:

Email: dontravis21@gmail.com.

Facebook: Don Travis

Twitter: @dontravis3

Here are some buy links to City of Rocks, my most recent book.

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/City-Rocks-Vinson-Mystery-Book-ebook/dp/B071Z9V7DT

DSPP: https://www.dsppublications.com/books/the-city-of-rocks-by-don-travis-393-b

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-city-of-rocks-don-travis/1126419974

Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-city-of-rocks/id1217068245

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-city-of-rocks

The next book in the BJ Vinson Mystery Series, The Lovely Pines is scheduled for release on August 28 of this year. Abaddon’s Locusts follows sometime in the first quarter of 2019.

See you next week.

Don

New Posts are published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.

Personal Indulgence: My Blue Period Revisited

dontravis.com blog post #280

Courtesy of Wikipedia Commons

Regular readers of this blog know that I proclaim three months of the year as my “Blue Period:” February 12, the date of my wife’s death; March 13, her birthday; and April 8, our wedding anniversary. I have just passed through this time of mourning and remembrance for the ninth time. Each year, I find these three months get a bit easier.

But once in a while, something comes out of the blue and whacks me in the head… usually all out of proportion to the occurrence. My wife executed one oil painting in her lifetime, and I proudly had it framed and hung it on the wall. It is a still-life of a brown teapot, an orange, and two pears on a table done in the primitive style. There is nothing exceptional about it, except that she is the one who painted it.

Yesterday as I walked past the painting, it reached out and caught my eye, demanded attention. I stopped and examined it—really examined it—for the first time in quite a while. For a moment, it was as if I suffered my loss anew after all this time. It became fresh and pressing and depressing all out of proportion to the time. And I mourned her again.

I have no idea why that happened at that particular time for that specific reason, but perhaps the loss of my younger brother to lung cancer in December had something to do with it. He and his wife had a particularly close and loving relationship, so his widow is having a difficult time coping with her loss. I text her regularly to share my walk down this path with her and to try to assure her it becomes more manageable as time goes by. Perhaps that’s why I got pole-axed by a painting from the past.

Thanks for indulging me.

*****

Please: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. And keep on submitting your work to publishers and agents. You have something to say… so say it.

If you feel like dropping me a line, my personal links follow:

Email: dontravis21@gmail.com.

Facebook: Don Travis

Twitter: @dontravis3

Here are some buy links to City of Rocks, my most recent book.

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/City-Rocks-Vinson-Mystery-Book-ebook/dp/B071Z9V7DT

DSPP: https://www.dsppublications.com/books/the-city-of-rocks-by-don-travis-393-b

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-city-of-rocks-don-travis/1126419974

Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-city-of-rocks/id1217068245

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-city-of-rocks

The next book in the BJ Vinson Mystery Series, The Lovely Pines is scheduled for release on August 28 of this year.

See you next week.

Don

New Posts are published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.

The Voxlightner Scandal, the 6th Book in the BJ Vinson Mystery Series

dontravis.com blog post #279

Last week, I told you I have started the sixth book in the BJ Vinson Mystery series. Today, I’d like you to take a look at the Prologue and let me know if it sparks any interest.

*****

Courtesy of Pixabay

THE VOXLIGHTNER SCANDAL

           Prologue

          Relaxing in the den of his comfortable home at 4818 Post Oak Drive NW, Pierce picked up a book from the lamp table beside his recliner and inspected it closely. His latest novel—his third—just delivered from his publisher in this morning’s mail. In a rare moment of brutal honesty, he admitted the most impressive thing on the cover was his name: John Pierce Belhaven. A good name for an author, it rolled off the tongue and lent gravitas to the trite title, Macabre Desserts. Although too egotistical to admit being a hack, in moments such as this, he silently acknowledged he was no James Lee Burke. Whenever he attempted some of the Louisiana writer’s soaring, poetic passages, they always ended up as muddied puddles of worthless ink that contributed nothing to the plot. What was Elmore Leonard’s rule number ten? Leave out the parts that nobody wanted to read.

          His next book would be a game changer. Just as the others, it would be a mystery, but this time he’d solve a real puzzle. One that had plagued Albuquerque for a generation. One involving the theft of millions and the death of a respected attorney. A mystery that only he could solve. He stumbled on the crucial clue years ago in his capacity as a utility company executive but hadn’t understood its significance until he researched his new book. It was a work that would carry him from humdrum to bestseller. And the interview with Wilma Hardesty on KALB-TV that aired that very afternoon had put the world on notice he was reopening the moribund Voxlightner case

          This would set them on their ears down at SouthWest Writers, make them sit up and take notice of him… not as a writer, but as an author. He quelled an urge to rush to his office on the other side of the house to assure himself the growing file of research on his desk was safe.

          A noise from the front of the house brought him out of his chair. He glanced at the clock on the mantel. Ten-thirty-four. Who could that be at this time of night? Melanie? He shook his head. His daughter hadn’t indicated she was driving in from Grants where she lived with that odious husband of hers. Harrison wouldn’t deign to show up at his door, probably not even to pick up his inheritance, should Pierce decide to leave his estranged son one.

          He smiled and then faltered. It wasn’t sweet Sarah. She was in Arizona visiting her family. His heartbeat quickened. It must be Spencer, although the lad didn’t usually show up on Wednesdays. Before walking to the garage door, he adjusted the book on the coffee table in such a way that Spence could hardly miss it. As he reached for the brass doorknob, he heard the gas-fired lawn mower roar to life.

          What the hell? John Pierce Bellhaven opened the door and entered the darkened garage.

*****

In the words of my last three posts—the book has been inseminated and is now gestating. Please let me know if you find the prologue interesting.

In the meantime: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. And keep on submitting your work to publishers and agents. You have something to say… so say it.

If you feel like dropping me a line, my personal links follow:

Email: dontravis21@gmail.com.

Facebook: Don Travis

Twitter: @dontravis3

Here are some buy links to City of Rocks, my most recent book.

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/City-Rocks-Vinson-Mystery-Book-ebook/dp/B071Z9V7DT

DSPP: https://www.dsppublications.com/books/the-city-of-rocks-by-don-travis-393-b

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-city-of-rocks-don-travis/1126419974

Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-city-of-rocks/id1217068245

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-city-of-rocks

See you next week.

Don

New Posts are published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.

Birthing a Book (Part 3)

dontravis.com blog post #278

In the last two posts, we gave birth to our literary baby, began raising it (sometimes a him and sometimes a her, depending upon my whim) in the proper way and found either an agent (a babysitter) or a publisher (a kindergarten). This week, I’d like to expose you to the most exacting and satisfying treatment by a publisher I’ve ever experienced. Dreamspinner Press and its imprint DSP Publications have both published some of my work. I’m so impressed, I want to share their procedure for bringing my books to market. By the way, they are interested in BLGT work only.

*****

Our Baby Book All Grown Up
Photo Courtesy of Pixabay

Okay, now we've gone through the labor process, given birth to our book, and had her take baby steps by locating a literary agent and/or a publisher. Big sigh of relief, right? It’s over.

No, my friend, it’s just started. As noted earlier, I’ve had four publishers in my career, but none of them approach the professionalism of my present publisher, Dreamspinner Press. I’d like to take you through the way they handle their authors.

Once my work has been accepted by Dreamspinner or it’s imprint, DSPPublications, an online contract is offered. To accept, I execute it electronically, and then the dance begins.

In rapid order, I receive a Production Data Collection (PDC) form, a Cover Specifications Request, a Blurb Composition Questionnaire, and a Bio Request.

The Data Collection form provides the publisher with my legal name, pen name, gives contact information, advises of the Word Processing program I used, informs DSP if I have “fair use” (copyrighted) material in the book, and establishes if this is a part of a series (standalone? Read first to last, etc), is a first edition or a reprint, and determines the book’s genre. It also sets out any optional front matter (acknowledgments, author’s note, dedication, etc.).

The Cover Specifications allows me to give any suggestions for the cover art. In order to do this, I give the artist the primary plot points, describe the lead characters, and picture the cover of my dreams. The publisher sends cover art samples as a PDF to give me a feel for the types of covers available. I pick one or two that appeal to me, and from that, Dreamspinner assigns me an artist to work with. Maria Fanning has done all of my covers, which is a great help. We know one another now, so it doesn’t take much time to settle on an approach. She will give me three suggested covers, from which I can select one with which to work. Then we will email one another and discuss ideas until the final cover emerges.

Dreamspinner’s staff is far more skilled at doing a blurb for the book than I am. The Blurb composition questionnaire lets me summarize the story for the blurb editors, describe the main characters, and set the tone of the book (wistful, sweet, funny, dark, typical plot mystery, etc.). Finally, I take a stab at a sample blurb before they set to work performing their magic.

The bio report asks me to create a micro bio (short, pithy) and an author’s bio for the publication. I put the usual dry history down, and they turn me into a human, not a robot.

Then comes the edit… or more accurately, the edits. My head editor is Anne Regan, who lives in the Dallas area. She selects three different editors for three successive edits of the book, each looking for something different. The first edit is accompanied by Global Notes that gives Anne’s overall view of the book, pointing out faults as well as highlighting strong points. These may or may not be noted on the Track Changes accompanying the first edit. They are for me to address on my own, not by prompts in specific places.

Editor #1 then goes through the manuscript word by word and uses the track changes program to give comments. I address each one, accepting or rejecting as I see fit… giving a reason when I reject. Upon review by the head editor, the reworked manuscript is given to Editor #2, who generally has a different skill set. For my first two books, my second editor was David, a 29-year Phoenix police officer and karate black belt, who kept me straight on police procedures and machismo issues with my hero, BJ Vinson. Sadly, he developed health issues, and I lost his invaluable services. The third edit is generally mostly for style and grammar. Please note, at least one of these three editors will fact-check historical or current event details in the book. If I tie the reader to a particular time-period with music, movies, newspaper reports, etc., they’ll tell me when I get it wrong and why.

After the final edit, I receive a Galley Proof to review. They will only change this one if I find typos, omitted words, and the like.

Once the book is put to bed and a release date settled, DSP contacts some professional literary sites and arranges for me to guest post a blog about the book. There are usually four or five of these, and most will do a review of the book upon its release.

Then it’s up to me to self-promote and try to sell books… something at which I suck!

*****

Well, that’s it. I hope I was able to enlighten you on this birth and maturation process. By the way, I have started the sixth book in the BJ Vinson process. Next week, I hope to give you a sample of The Voxlightner Scandal.

In the meantime: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. And keep on submitting your work to publishers and agents. You have something to say… so say it.

If you feel like dropping me a line, my personal links follow:

Email: dontravis21@gmail.com.

Facebook: Don Travis

Twitter: @dontravis3

Here are some buy links to City of Rocks, my most recent book.

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/City-Rocks-Vinson-Mystery-Book-ebook/dp/B071Z9V7DT

DSPP: https://www.dsppublications.com/books/the-city-of-rocks-by-don-travis-393-b

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-city-of-rocks-don-travis/1126419974

Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-city-of-rocks/id1217068245

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-city-of-rocks

See you next week.

Don

New Posts are published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.

Birthing a Book (Part 2)

dontravis.com blog post #277

 I hope my analogy of writing a book as being similar to human birthing resonated last week. For this post, we take the next step. The infant becomes a toddler, and you need help. What do we do? We search for an agent or publisher, that's what.

*****

Courtesy of Flickr

As of last week, you—our struggling writer—completed the actual writing of the book. It’s been edited up the gazoo, read by a brother-in-law who doesn’t really like you, and checked through every grammar and style program you can locate. In fact, your progeny has reached the age where many parents temporarily find themselves. You can’t stand the damned kid. It’s time to find a babysitter to provide you some relief. So you set about trying to do just that by locating an agent (who will handle him) or a publisher (who’ll take him off your hands).

There are decisions to be made in order to plan for your child’s future. Do you self-publish or traditional-publish? I started writing when the thing was to be accepted by a professional publisher, and that still infects my thinking. I’ve been asked why I don’t self-publish many times, and I always give an honest answer. I want a professional to tell me my writing’s good enough to be put out there for readers. That’s still my preference. Yours might be different.

But for this post, let’s assume you wish to be published by others. So do you search for a literary agent or for a publisher? An agent likely has contacts you do not have that will increase your odds of being published—provided you can find an agent willing to handle your writing. If you wish to be published by one of the big five publishers, an agent is mandatory. Most (if not all) will not accept “over the transom” (meaning unsolicited) submissions. You must submit to them through an agent.  Agents also will have a better idea of where your work best fits… meaning which houses are looking for what. If you are willing to be published by a small or regional house, you might not need an agent.

I write for niche markets, so I have never had an agent. I’ve dealt directly with four different publishers over my career and made some mistakes along the line. The first went out of business shortly after he bought twelve of my stories (I’m sure one event had nothing to do with the other). A second, the largest in this particular market, lost its steam when the founder died, and a son took over. The third did not really understand the GLBT market, causing us to part company. The final one, Dreamspinner Press, has been a pleasure to work with.

How do you find an agent? A publisher? By a process that is every bit as onerous as writing your book. Research, research, research. aaronline provides names, addresses, and druthers of accredited agents. Writers Beware warns you of some of the crooks in the game (both agents and publishers). There are a number of good resources available on the internet. Writer’s Market annually publishes lists of both agents and publishers together with contact information, the genres they handle, and instructions for submission. Most prefer their queries and submissions by email, rather than snail mail. Let me assure you of one thing: You’re going to submit to a number of them before you receive any positive or encouraging responses. Most will not reply to your query, merely indicate that if you haven’t heard from them within a certain period of time, you can assume they’re not interested. In view of that cavalier treatment, I suggest you ignore any proscriptions against “simultaneous submissions.” Simply do not inform them you are doing so.

Although each agent or publisher has his own requirements for submissions, in general, you’re going to need a query letter (do your research on that little item, as well), a short synopsis of one or two pages (single-spaced), and up to three chapters or fifty pages of your completed, edited, and re-edited manuscript.

That’s a very loose treatment of this difficult process. But as SouthWest Writers is always saying, rejection notices are successes because it means you’re out there pitching. It is also worth noting at this point that organizations like SWW and the University of New Mexico hold workshops periodically, during which they bring in both literary agents and editors for publishers to speak and react with participants. You can generally sign up for a pitch session with one of them for a one-on-one discussion of your work. Such sessions generally last no more than ten or so minutes; therefore, you must be prepared and organized.

Next week, we’ll cover my writing experience with Dreamspinner Press and its imprint, DSP Publications.

*****

Keep on reading. Keep on writing. And keep on submitting your work to publishers and agents. You have something to say… so say it.

If you feel like dropping me a line, my personal links follow:

Email: dontravis21@gmail.com.

Facebook: Don Travis

Twitter: @dontravis3

Here are some buy links to City of Rocks, my most recent book.

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/City-Rocks-Vinson-Mystery-Book-ebook/dp/B071Z9V7DT

DSPP: https://www.dsppublications.com/books/the-city-of-rocks-by-don-travis-393-b

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-city-of-rocks-don-travis/1126419974

Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-city-of-rocks/id1217068245

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-city-of-rocks

See you next week.

Don

New Posts are published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.

dontravis.com blog post #276

Birthing a Book

Thanks again to Mark Wildyr for allowing me to guest post his two-part story, “Antony.” Don’t know what kind of reception he got, but I had a few comments. As usual, they liked Mark’s story.

*****

The fourth book in my BJ Vinson series, The Lovely Pines, is due out on or about August 28, so that manuscript is cast in stone (or in black ink, if you prefer), but we are about to enter an interesting phase on the fifth, Abaddon’s Locusts, which is scheduled for the first quarter of next year. This got me to thinking about what all a writer endures to get a book to publication, at least, as practiced by my publisher, DSP Publications. To many authors, this entire process is akin to giving birth to a child and raising her to a certain age before turning her out into the cold, cruel world. We’ll consider this in three parts:

Courtesy of Wikipedia

          ·       Insemination, gestation, and birth (writing the thing)

          ·       Becoming a debutante (searching for an agent or publisher)

          ·       Coming of Age (the publishing process)

Today, we will look at the first phase, insemination, gestation, and birth.

Insemination is, of course, the germ of an idea that suddenly infects your mind and worries your brain until you know it will one day need to appear as a finished work: a novel, a novelette, a short story, an essay… something. For this posting, we’ll consider it will emerge as a book.

This is followed by gestation, the long and difficult birthing of your baby: the writing of the book. For some of us this takes something like the human gestation period, and for others more like that of an elephant. (If you don’t know the difference, look it up.) Once that’s done (call it Draft #1), you sit down with the infant manuscript and begin the process of raising it. Getting it to take first steps and speak primitive words. This, for me, is more fun than writing the blessed thing, as this is when the story truly comes alive. You recast broken bones (places where you’ve gone off in left field when it should have been right field), clear out clogged veins and arteries (making sure flowers smell and birds twitter, instead of the other way around), and smooth out the wrinkles by choosing better nouns, stronger verbs, eliminating unnecessary “hads” and “thats” and the like, finding and ruthlessly squashing those useless “ly” words (damn! I just used one) infesting your child’s precious flesh.

Then, guess what? You probably do it all over again at least once more. The very same process. Call it Draft #2 (and possibly 3, 4… you get the idea).

Next, you spruce up your baby by running her through the wash. Spelling and Grammar, for sure. Maybe Grammarly, as well. Then you cradle her to your bosom and sing to her. By that, I mean, you read aloud. Every! Single! Word! Of late, I’ve discovered the value of the Read Aloud function on Word. When I read my work, I know what it’s supposed to say and read it that way regardless of what it actually says. Read Aloud repeats what’s on the document, and I find all sorts of mistakes that I’d been blind to.

When all of that is done, find somebody you trust to read the manuscript. Not a mother or father who’ll say, “That’s great! Wonderful job” but some crusty old bastard who’ll say “What the hell were you trying to say when you wrote…?”

Maybe… just maybe you’re now ready to consider sending your child out into the world by submitting her to a publisher or an agent.

Let’s cover that next week.

*****

Remember, folks: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. And keep on submitting your work to publishers and agents. You have something to say… so say it.

If you feel like dropping me a line, my personal links follow:

Email: dontravis21@gmail.com.

Facebook: Don Travis

Twitter: @dontravis3

Here are some buy links to City of Rocks, my most recent book.

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/City-Rocks-Vinson-Mystery-Book-ebook/dp/B071Z9V7DT

DSPP: https://www.dsppublications.com/books/the-city-of-rocks-by-don-travis-393-b

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-city-of-rocks-don-travis/1126419974

Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-city-of-rocks/id1217068245

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-city-of-rocks

See you next week.

Don

New Posts are published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.