When Bad Things Happen to Good Characters

I'm delighted to welcome Kate Collins to my site, and hope someday I'll be able to review her book here. To be sure, "Daughter of Hauk" is right up my genre--the paranormal, where the only limiting factor is the author's imagination. Kate provides some insight into the reasons bad things happen to her main character, and also comments on the blog I posted immediately below hers. Welcome, Kate, it's good to have you here.

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My name is KateMarie Collins, and I met James through our mutual publisher, Solstice.  While our writing styles and genres are different, he and I share something.  We both agree that bad things can happen to good characters.

In my book, “Daughter of Hauk”, the main character is executed on the first page.  Arwenna spends the first two chapters dead, stashed away in a personal hell constructed for her by her foster brother.

As to Bohrs, let’s just say he’s got more than a few unsavory appetites. 

I don’t get overly graphic with the descriptions of what happens while she’s there, but the reader knows what’s going on.  Why did I put my main character, one I relate to as an alter ego, through that?  Because bad things happen to good people.

Think about it.  Have you ever met anyone who has never had something bad happen to them?  They’ve never done poorly on a test, missed the bus, lost a job?  What about those who emerged from abusive relationships as a stronger person?  I’m not saying anyone deserves to be abused.  Not by any stretch of the imagination.  But, it happens.  The best we can hope for is to not become so bitter and jaded by the experience that we lose that part of our soul where our humanity sleeps.

So, bad stuff happens to Arwenna.  More than once.  Some of it wasn’t easy to write, but I wrote it anyway.  It was a form of therapy for me.  The character has to face her fears, overcome them, and grow without losing her humanity.  So did I.

Now, James has a slightly different take on it.  What happens when bad things happen to bad people!  I read the excerpt that was questioned, and loved it.  I don’t see how someone like Lucifer would draw the line at handing his daughter over to a creature of Hell as a reward after all the other things he’s done.  This is the DEVIL we’re talking about.  He’s about as sick and twisted as they come.  For him, there would be no limits.  Fatherly love?  What’s that?  I don’t think it exists for him.  The balance is in the words used to describe what’s going on, not in the actual act.

Kate Collins

Thanks for letting me stop by, James!  If anyone’s interested in my book, my blog, etc, there’s links below.  It’s been fun!

KateMarie Collins

Solstice:  http://www.solsticepublishing.com/default.aspx

Solstice – my book:http://www.solsticepublishing.com/downloads.aspx?categoryid=123

Amazon – Kindle:  http://www.amazon.com/Daughter-Hauk-Raven-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B007KDWYP4/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1335385261&sr=1-1

What the Hell? When is the Devil’s Torment Too Much?

I recently finished the third novel in my (dark) comedy series consisting of The Substitute, Oh, Heavens, Miss Havana! and The Training Bra. I have been through a few self-editing passes on The Training Bra—and received one disturbing comment from a female beta reader—but I have not sent the book to a publisher as yet. The disturbing comment troubles me, and I wish to pursue it in this blog. I need some opinions on the following question: if a novel is based in hell, can a writer go too far in describing the despicable conditions encountered there?

First a little background. All three novels are chock full of comedy/parody and they have no relationship to anything or anyone real. Heaven and hell, as presented in the books, are figments of my imagination and nothing else. The three books follow the lives and deaths of one main character, Miss Havana, through her spiritual growth from being absolutely evil to being somewhat tolerable. She makes lots of mistakes, but generally pulls out a redeeming quality when she needs one. The characters that surround my heroine are primarily the devil, Lucifer, the daughter of the devil and Miss Havana, Lilith, and a couple of brute-like shadow creatures named Waldo and Croco. Many less important characters populate the stories, but those just mentioned are the main ones.

Although comically presented, hell is described in the series as being a pretty nasty place. There is a long waiting line to get in that is only three-feet high where people wait in stooped position for eternity. Broken hot glass lines the walls and sulfur fumes choke the air. So does the smell of the person next in line. Croco manages the waiting line with an iron fist, branding anyone who dares violate his arbitrary rules with “line jumper”, “strike one” and other short messages.

Waldo’s job is less well defined because, as you might imagine, he’s hard to find. He shows up when Lucifer needs him, but stays hidden most of the time.

The other three characters can be ordered on a scale of evilness: Lilith (most evil), Lucifer (so-so evil) and Miss Havana (least evil). In the novels, the three characters jockey for power, fighting each other to determine which one will control the underworld. As the characters vie for prominence, they do despicable things to each other: electrocution, murder, hot coals over the head, mustard packs under the toilet seat bumpers … that sort of thing. And this is where the burning question comes in: how much is too much? After having his throne ripped away by his daughter, how much retribution can the devil heap on his daughter’s head before a (real) reader is offended?

My thinking is this: hell isn’t a nice place, so dirty tricks can be pretty seedy. The characters involved in the power struggle do a lot of scheming, plotting and bargaining, and the stakes are high—one slip and it could mean the end of existence for their soul (what little they have). Family means nothing—they all pretty much hate each other—there is no love lost between any of them. They are all users and abusers, but generally in a comical way.

Okay, here it is. At one point the devil cuts a deal with Waldo and Croco that could transfer control of Lilith to the two beasts for eternity, assuming Lilith can be unseated from the throne of power. She is the strong one; all the others are subservient to her, but everyone watches out for their own self-interested and no one can be trusted. Trying to gain a few important followers to overthrow his daughter, Lucifer “trades” his daughter (if she can be deposed) for the loyalty of the two shadow creatures. The word “rape” is never used, but it is clear that will happen if the two ever get their hands on her. The devil considers the deal a good one because Lilith has screwed him so often in the past and, besides, she has no soul to permanently scar. Furthermore, if the two are abusing Lilith, he won’t have to watch his back one hundred percent of the time.

This is where my beta reader got concerned. All the killing and maiming didn’t bother her (souls heal quickly in the books, so most of the time a supplicant can be returned to service, and further pain, rather quickly), but the thought of Lilith being violated by two monsters pushed her over the edge. Just for background, my beta reader is eighty-four-years-old and quite brilliant. I generally listen to her with rapt attention, but this time I’m not so sure. So I thought I’d ask those of you who might read this blog: can a writer go too far in describing the evil conditions in hell? Is bargaining with his daughter’s fate—literally promising sexual servitude—too despicable for Lucifer?

I would appreciate hearing from some of you, but you don’t have to answer the question in a vacuum. Below is the excerpt where it happens. At the time of the excerpt, Lucifer is haunting one of Shelly’s classmates, a boy named Dick, and Miss Havana is haunting Shelly. Lucifer does not know Miss Havana’s spirit exists within Shelly, or he’d kill Shelly outright, and Miss Havana doesn’t know Lucifer’s spirit inhabits Dick’s body, or she would kill Dick outright (like I said, no love lost between the main characters). The excerpt is from Lucifer’s point of view.

*****

My thoughts of deep revenge are interrupted by the musings of my host. He is seated on a bench on campus ogling young girls who pass in review. The idiot actually believes he can see through clothing without my help. What a fool. Without me, all he will get is eye strain to add to his headache. This is my game, not his.

Shelly said she could see through clothing, too. I wonder if that was a lie, or if there really is something going on within her. If she can see past solid objects like she claimed, then she could have a spirit within her, like Dick has me, perhaps one Lilith sent to ensure I don’t sample the merchandise.

My mind is muddled on this point because I did not initiate the attempted sexual encounter with Shelly. No, she came on to Dick and kept fanning the flame. If Lilith ordered a spirit to spy on me from within Shelly’s mind, like she ordered me to observe Shelly from my Dick host, then what’s really going on? Surely a spirit from within Lilith’s camp would not attempt to offer me pleasure.

I find it equally hard to accept Shelly could be infected by a spirit from the other side because the other side would not have initiated anything like that. No, if there is a spirit in her, it must be one of ours. Either that, or Shelly is the first surface dweller to develop the ability to see through solids. Maybe that’s the real reason Lilith wants me to watch the kid; maybe Shelly really is different.

All I know for sure is that multiple personalities are running around in Shelly’s mind. Her accident could have caused that, or Lilith could be involved. As I contemplate the possibilities, deep in thought, I accidentally press the button on my collar while mindlessly rubbing the back of my neck with my hand. The 100,000-volt Tazer embedded in the collar immediately reminds me of my mistake. The smell of ozone follows the crackling sound of current surging over my skin, and … UNHOLY ALIANCE OF LILITH AND WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION! A burley shadow creature must have come through the side door, picked me up and savagely body slammed us both to the floor, over and over and over again.

I wake in the fetal position with dry tears irritating my eyes. My body is soaking wet, both nipples are on fire and my testicles are either missing or tucked up deep inside my body. My left arm is twisted under my body in an odd position and there is tingling in my legs. I hear unusual dog whining sounds in the distance, lots of them, like the restrained half-laugh of hyenas holding back because laughing of any ilk is forbidden in Lilith’s realm. Her dog things must be hovering in the blackness just out of range to avoid being slammed by my body flopping all over the slimy floor.

My triceps, right thigh and both nipples continue twitching as my body comes to rest. My face feels like it has been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighs eighty pounds. Drool runs down my chin. I think I’ve crapped myself, but I’m too numb to know for sure and my sense of smell is missing.

I take a deep breath, trying to see anything in the darkness. That’s when the dogs attack. Now those bastards are laughing! Their onslaught is vicious, and I hear Lilith’s stern voice mock amid the high-pitched whine of the dogs gagging on flesh ripped from my arms and legs, “You’ve picked a bad location for a vacation, Father. You had better have a damned good reason for being here, besides stupidity.”

I shake my head as the dogs fall back and my eyes adjust to the dim orange glow of molten sulfur and flickering torchlight. Lilith glares down at me, waiting for my reply. I hear distant whispering from the gallery, “Hen pecked, hell, he’s buzzard fodder.”

I stand with great effort; my knees are weak. Regaining as much dignity as possible under the circumstance, I brush off some of the mess the dogs deposited on me and respond, “This shock thing sucks—did you really need a new pan to burn things in?”

Her glare deepens. “Don’t make me smite you, Father. You know the rules. All trespassers will be maimed; survivors will wish they were dead.”

What a haughty bitch. I look at her with disgust, realizing full well the old saw, “childbirth is not for the meek, but it does seem to be for the stupid,” applies to both males and females equally. I glare back with all the hatred I feel at that moment, which is considerable, and my body lurches forward on automatic pilot.

Before I can reach out to grab her by the neck, a huge canine creature bites down on my shoulder, stopping me dead in my tracks. With a smirk that seems to further disfigure her face, Lilith mocks, “Tut, tut, Father, don’t do something permanently stupid because you are temporarily upset. Maiming you isn’t the last thing on my list, but it is on my list.” She motions to her dog to release me, and jams her index finger toward the slimy cavern floor. “Subservience is a virtue. Learn it well.”

I don’t have an opportunity to protest. Croco’s huge fist smashes against the back of my neck, and I wither in screams of pain as the shock collar administers another of Lilith’s gifts. The demons and shadow creatures in the gallery hoot and jeer while throwing feces and vomit to demonstrate their delighted approval. In all eternity, I never considered my afterlife could suck this much.

Still jerking with violent spastic muscle ticks, Croco hauls me off to his waiting line. Talk about irony. I helped the oaf set up that tunnel of horror an eternity ago, but I never thought I’d be hauled to the woodshed there myself. Croco slams me against the fire-hot broken glass that lines the wall and growls, “When you stop twitching and can show proper respect, she will see you.”

The brute turns to leave, but I stop him with an observation. “Croco, my old friend, I couldn’t help but notice the huge bulge in your pants that crops up on its own when you’re near the Princess. Was her delightful body, perhaps, a gift to you from my ex-mate while I trained Lilith on the surface?”

He pivots into a war-like crouch and his beady eyes seem to recess even farther back into his sloped skull. “There are worse things than death, my former tormenter.”

I smile and begin with a bit of useless conversation before re-engaging with meat. “Lilith has also alluded to that. I wonder what it could be. I’ve been thinking, old friend, about the time you saved Miss Havana from certain death. I would have killed her without your intervention. Why, Croco? Why did you intervene on her behalf?”

The brute glares and drools but remains silent. I interrupt his lack of discourse, lying like I already know the answer. “There is only one reason, old friend, and I have confirmed it with Miss Havana. You had Lilith. Her body was your sex toy while I trained her spirit on the surface. I can also see in Lilith’s reaction to you that she doesn’t know about the arrangement between you and my ex. Imagine Lilith’s fury when I mention that arrangement to her. Imagine that. The halls of hell will shake to the ground, and you, old friend, will be at the bottom of that particular heap of rubble.”

Of course, Miss Havana never shared anything with me. However, in the eternity I ruled the underworld, I grew proficient at reading the slightest nuance of body language that reveals the truth behind the torrent of lies my victims spewed. I watch Croco now as he considers what I might or might not know. A huge fart gives him away. I have touched a nerve; his bowels must be in turmoil. My incredible powers of observation have again served me well. Before I can pat myself on the back, Croco turns to lumber down the corridor, leaving me with only two last words, “Fuck you!”

Okay, that’s not acceptable at all, and I call out, “Croco, my dear friend, Lilith will call for me soon. Are you entirely certain you want our little secret exposed?”

Croco stops with a halting jerk, and then slowly turns as his eyes flash red from his deeply recessed sockets. “If you are issuing a challenge, Lucifer, remember where you stoop. This is my waiting line; it is no longer yours. I can do what I want here … to whoever I want.”

I believe the walls of the narrow passageway vibrate under the footfalls of the giant as he marches within inches of my face, never taking his threatening glare from my eyes. I ignore his stinky bad breath and smile. “Now Croco, let’s not get too excited. There could be a huge benefit in this for you if you take a moment to consider your options.”

His throat rumbles with anger, but he doesn’t attack. “Go on.”

“You see, dear friend, I have a plan … a way to restore things to the way they were in the good old days. Remember when we tormented souls together? Don’t you sometimes miss those times of anguish? Now you are relegated to this long and narrow little passageway and never get to come out to play with Waldo and me. How very sad, so very sad indeed.”

His glare softens a tiny bit. He does remember some of the good times, when he and Waldo ripped the arms and legs off supplicants who came before me. The gallery especially enjoyed those little tug-o-war games he and Waldo played. “Wouldn’t it be fun, my friend, to re-live those good times, and I could throw in a special bonus for you. How about I give you Lilith to do whatever you want with, say every other day? Wouldn’t that be fun? Think back, old friend, think back to the way it was while I trained her spirit on the surface … when Miss Havana offered you her body for your loyalty. Lilith is still suspicious of that, you know. She still doesn’t understand why she had such a terrible yeast infection when she returned from the surface.”

Of course, I strongly suspect Lilith didn’t have a real yeast infection. That was just a lie Miss Havana told Lilith, and it worked to a limited degree. At least Lilith didn’t kill Miss Havana outright when she had the opportunity. If Lilith knew for sure what happened, I suspect things might have been different. In fact, perhaps I can work that to my advantage. I wink and pat Croco on the forearm. “We both know it wasn’t yeast at all, don’t we dear friend, you nasty oversized bull?”

The longer Croco remains silent, the more convinced I am that I have guessed right. No wonder my faithful servant betrayed me when I returned from training Lilith. Miss Havana bribed him with Lilith’s body. The brute is still a lecher, and he knows he will never again have the opportunity to violate Lilith without my help.

Yes, yes, I know. Some might think it a tad shady of me to offer my beautiful daughter up in such a brazen swap for loyalty, even if the loyalty is only temporary, but hey, it’s not like violating her will permanently scar her soul or anything like that. That would require her to have a soul and, let’s face it, she doesn’t. I see a bead of drool slip from the edge of Croco’s mouth. He’s thinking my proposal over. He knows Lilith mistreats me constantly, so he’s not suspicious of my motives. In a few moments he grunts, “What’s your plan?”

Of course, I don’t really have one, so I offer, “All in good time, Croco, all in good time. For now, old friend, bide your time. Let the creatures of the cavern and all others below know I will soon return. Let them know … and let them fear. But if a single creature should breathe even the slightest hint of my impending return to Lilith, I will rain pain down on it the likes of which it cannot imagine. Let all creatures know—be watchful—the time of my arrival will be crystal clear to them.

“Tell them I will send ahead a sign of evil they cannot misunderstand, a sign for all to see, a harbinger of my imminent arrival. And when I take the Throne of Judgment that is rightfully mine, any of my creatures that do not support my return to glory will suffer a fate far worth than spiritual death … far worse than eternal pain. Tell them, when I sit upon the Throne of Judgment once again, that their loyalty will be tested individually. If I detect even the slightest hint of wavering or disloyalty, I will entertain the gallery with the sound of their crushing bones and the wailing torment of their souls.”

Croco bares his broken teeth in what could be interpreted as a smile. “Sometimes I do miss … the old days, but why every other day? Why wouldn’t I have her every day?”

I grin internally; he’s hooked. I pat him on his huge forearm again. “My dear Croco, we can’t be too greedy. After all, Waldo will want a piece of her as well, now won’t he? The important thing is that you will be first.”

*****

Okay, so that’s it. Take your best shot. Were you offended?

Thanks for reading,

James L. Hatch

http://cookinwithmisshavana.blogspot.com/

Author for Solstice Publishing, Eternal Press and xoxopublishing.com

Getting Published

You’ve written your masterpiece and you’re ready to show it to a publisher … or are you? Having a good story is not enough. In fact, no matter how good your story might be, it will probably be rejected unless it is properly self-edited. The purpose of this blog is to show some common errors missed during the self-editing process. The items below are examples only. The list is not complete; there are dozens more. Your manuscript must be squeaky clean or will most likely be rejected; the editor will not fix your mistakes. In the examples below, an arrow (=>) is used to show a better way.

1. Eliminate filler words and weak verbs, such as: was, were, that, had, just, very, as, went, put, and many more.

As the door swung open, the heated air struck Peter in the face. => The door swung open. The heated air struck Peter’s face like a sledge.

I went to the fridge. => I walked/stalked/stomped to the fridge.

I put my cup on the worktop => I placed my cup on the worktop with delicate finesse … or … I flung my cup down on the worktop. It shattered, adding a definitive exclamation point to my outburst before I ran out of the room.

2. Remove repeated words, phrases, thoughts and actions. Say it once; say it well.

Redundancy includes repeated words/character movements, similar scene venues and secondary characters or names with same beginning letter.

Beware of unintentional redundancy: gathered together, sank down, climbed up, widow woman, ask a question, brief synopsis, in close proximity, cluster together, suffocate to death, exact replica, frozen solid, old adage, over-exaggerate, same identical, separate out, trail behind and countless others.

She was so scared her heart hammered in her chest, and she felt her knees go weak. Question: Where else would her heart hammer? => Her heart hammered. Her knees weakened.
3. Handle dialog with finesse.

Minimize attribution of speech (tagging) => infer the character who is speaking.

Eliminate long sets of discourse without some action to break it up.

Remove unnecessary chit-chat; if it isn’t necessary, don’t say it.

People cannot snort, laugh sigh or grimace words. “I’ll get the water hose,” he laughed. => “I'll get the water hose,” he said, laughing.

Too much introspection or narrative with no breaks for dialogue or adequate paragraphing makes a reader skip ahead for some excitement.

4. Use active voice vs. passive voice.

They were discussing => they discussed

I was thinking => I thought

The lump in my throat nearly choked me => I almost choked on the lump in my throat.

5. Use a thesaurus to get vivid verbs and adjectives (better, stronger, fewer).

6. Avoid impossibilities (“and” is for parallel action).

She walked across the room and sat down. => She walked across the room and then sat down.

Disappearing into my tent, I put on jeans. => This is impossible. 'Ing' or 'as' clauses indicate parallel action.

Note: “Then” is a conjunctive adverb, not a conjunction. Although there are different opinions on the use of "then" as a conjunction, I believe “then” must be coupled with "and” to join independent clauses, or punctuated like "however" if the "and" is left out. For example:

He walked to the refrigerator, and turned back to glare at her.

He walked to the refrigerator, and then turned back to glare at her.

He walked to the refrigerator; then, turned back to glare at her.

He walked to the refrigerator, then turned back to glare at her.

The first sentence is incorrect because "and" defines parallel actions (he can't walk to the refrigerator and turn back to glare at the same time). The middle two sentences are correct. The last sentence is not correct because "then" isn't a conjunction.

7. Use “but” correctly (do not use “but” when you really mean “and”).

=> To suggest a contrast that is unexpected in light of the first clause: "Joey lost a fortune in the stock market, but he still seems able to live quite comfortably."

=> To suggest in an affirmative sense what the first part of the sentence implied in a negative way (sometimes replaced by on the contrary): "The club never invested foolishly, but used the services of a sage investment counselor."

=> To connect two ideas with the meaning of “with the exception of” (and then the second word takes over as subject): "Everybody but Goldenbreath is trying out for the team."

8. Minimize italics for emphasis. Never use capital letters for emphasis.

9. “Show vs. tell” is a real killer, perhaps the major reason for rejection. Delve into the character's emotions and bring out all five senses (touch, hearing, sight, smell, taste).

Hales thought she smelled smoke, and it scared her. She looked all around the yard. => Hales clasped her hands together to still the shakes. A tremble chased up her spine. Smoke curled outward from the edge of the forest and filled her nostrils. Oh God. If the fire got out of control, the crops would be destroyed and she would lose the farm. Where would she and her children go? How would they live?

It was cold. => Katarina shivered from the cold drifting in under the door. She looked out the window and saw large fluffy flakes of snow fall to the ground.

Joanna was very, very angry. => Joanna slammed her palm onto the table. The china cup fell off the edge and shattered. She didn't notice.

10. Don’t tell and then show. Telling what’s about to happen, and then showing it, destroys dramatic effect.

Excerpt from Lonesome Dove: “He found them an hour later, already stiff in death. He had raced as fast as he could over the rough country, not wanting to take the time to follow the river itself but too unsure of his position to go very far from it. From time to time he stopped, listening for shots, but the dark plains were quiet and peaceful, though it was on them that he had just seen the most violent and terrible things he had ever witnessed in his life…

(And then, three paragraphs later…) He could see the three forms on the ground as if asleep…”

So there’s half a page of dramatic, suspenseful writing, but it’s wasted because we already know the outcome.

11. Eliminate most adverbs, or consider them a call to “Show vs. Tell.” At a minimum, think it through whenever you use one.

Absolutely certain => certain

Excitedly wailing => wailing with such fervor that a silent tear slipped down my leg.

I stop abruptly => I slam on the breaks

I bat my lashes slowly => I bat my lashes with suggestive wile while moistening one side of my upper lip with my tongue.

I answer sarcastically => I smile, ignore her tone and let her know I speak sarcasm as a second language.

He walked casually into the barn. => He dusted off his hat before putting it back on, cocked to one side and tilted toward the back of his neck. He shrugged and sighed, and then ambled into the barn like he didn’t have a care in the world.

12. Adjectives can also be a call to “Show vs. Tell:” Adjectives like handsome, beautiful and good-looking – anything that describes a concept – should be expanded to show what you mean.

13. Keep a consistent and clear point of view (POV).

The man smiled at me and my face turned beet red. => Note that, in her POV, she can't know her face turned red because she can't see it. She can, however, feel her face heat up and therefore assume she's blushing.

Avoid “Head Hopping” at all cost. Stay in the chosen POV throughout the scene. When changing scenes, the POV must be clear.

14. Eliminate vague words like somewhat, perhaps, maybe, sometimes, etc.

15. “Maybe” and “perhaps” do not imply a question.

Maybe I will? => Maybe I will.

16. Don’t be trite; avoid clichés. Make up analogies that match the situation.

His hand is rough as a scouring pad.

His hand is huge and powerful. He’ll crush mine like a Tyrannosaurus biting a goat if I take it.

She dismisses me with a flip of her hand and drops off to sleep faster than a drunk on Demerol, snoring like a damn chainsaw.

“Push hard with my stomach muscles” => “bear down like I’m giving birth.”

As any God-bothering hypocrite would, Father Wally loudly proclaims his innocence and exclaims his outrage at being treated like a common criminal.

17. Punctuation, punctuation, punctuation! There are entire books on this. Just be sure it’s correct.

Be certain ellipses, hyphens and dashes are properly used

Commas (be consistent with series commas)

Quotations (punctuate outside except at the end of a sentence). Example: “My name is ‘The Brazilian’, not ‘you idiot!’”

Minimize exclamation marks and make sure they are warranted. The text must show the need for them.

A run on sentences, comma splice and fused sentence are the same thing. All these terms refer to two independent clauses connected only by a comma. Eliminate all run on sentences. Even short sentences can run on: It’s hot, use sunscreen. => It’s hot; use sunscreen.

18. Use the right word.

Further vs. farther. (If we push him further, he’s bound to break). Farther is for distance.

If you mean 'famous' or 'superior', you want eminent; if you mean 'impending, about to happen' that is imminent; and if you mean 'present, inherent', your word is immanent. Imminent is 'about to happen' and immanent is 'inherent' or 'pervading the material world.’

Use blond when talking about male hair, and blonde when talking about female hair.

It’s vs. its. “It’s” means “it is” while “its” implies belonging, as in “its toenails.”

Don’t use “may” when you mean “might.” If you used dandruff shampoo and developed dandruff, you may be entitled to a claim. => If you used dandruff shampoo and developed dandruff, you might be entitled to a claim.

May (asking permission) vs. Can (do you have the ability?)

Use “affect” when there is a change in emotions. Use “effect” when a physical change has occurred. (Psychological—Affect; Physical—Effect)

19. Resist the Urge to Explain (RUE). If the reader doesn't need to know, don't tell.

20. Don’t begin sentences with “there” (unless you are writing a limerick).

There was a man with one blue shoe and one brown shoe standing at my front door. => The man standing at my front door wore one blue shoe and one brown shoe.

21. Follow Publisher’s rules for submittals. All are different.

Double vs. single spacing. Blank line between paragraphs vs. none. Font type and size. Indented first line of paragraph. One space after each period. Etc.

22. Re-read. Don’t trust your spelling checker. Spelling checkers can’t help with: than/then, think/thing, he/her, can/can’t, mail/male, her/his, his/this, pound/pond, noise/nose, dose/does and many more.

23. Input from an editor: When I'm reading a submission this is my #1 pet peeve and will get the book rejected by me. I absolutely hate when an author feels the need to tell the reader step by step every little thing they do as if we the reader are too stupid to know or imagine the events. For Example:

She looked at Brad and said, "I'm going to go take a shower."
Kim walked up the stairs and went into her bedroom. She got a change of clothes and then walked down the hall to the bathroom. As she turned the water on and filled her bath, she added some bubble bath. When the tub was finished filling up she sank down in the steamy hot water.

All the above paragraph did was increase the word count. If she is taking a bath, we already know she would need to fill the tub with water. Step by step sentences do not add important detail.

Interview with V. Mark Covington

I have reviewed several of V. Mark Covington's books on this site in the past, and today I am delighted to welcome him here for an interview. From his snappy answers to the questions presented below, you will see why I consider him one of today's leading humorists. I also encourage you to read the review of his books posted on this site. With that introduction, let's welcome Mark Covington.

1. When did you first realize you wanted to become a writer?

As far back as I can remember I’ve written stories, my parents were big believers in bed time stories and I had loads of children’s books and I would make up new endings or completely new stories for the characters in the books. But wanting to write as a sole means of financial support - that came much later. When I finished my first book, about ten years ago, I had an editor/friend from Penguin read it and he pronounced it publishable. That’s when I first realized that I had a shot at writing for a living. I’ve been working toward that goal ever since.

2. When did you write your first book and how old were you?

My first book was “Church of the Path of Least Resistance” this is the book I just mentioned that the Penguin editor liked. I started it in my late twenties and it took me ten years to finish it because I was working full time and I only took it out and played with it once a month or so. This is before I learned you could work full time and write full time, all you had to give up was a life.

3. How many books have you written? Which one is your favorite?

Four and counting. My books are: Church of the Path of Least Resistance (still unpublished) Bullfish, Heavenly Pleasure, Homemade Sin and 2012 Montezuma’s Revenge, and I’m halfway through Khamel Towing. And one play- Shakespeare in the Trailer Park. I guess my favorite is Bullfish, it’s the most creative but the worst edited because I used a friend as editor instead of a professional- never, never do that.

4. What is your work schedule like when you’re writing?

Well, first of all I’m only “not writing” when I’m sleeping. I always carry around a note pad and I’m constantly looking for things that are book-worthy. If I could make my perfect schedule I’d roll out of bed around 10, transcribe the notes I made the night before around 2:00 a.m. Head to the gym around noon for an hour. Then lunch, and writing until about 3:00, take a walk, maybe take the dogs to the park, then home and writing until 6:00 or 7:00.

But, as it is, I roll out of bed around 7:00, drive to the office downtown, work the day job doing technical reports and project management. I clandestinely take notes on whatever book I am writing at meetings, hit the gym, head home about 6:30, dinner and then write until I pass out.

5. What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?

I tend to get into “the zone” when I write, step into the story and become oblivious to everything else. I remember once I was writing a scene where a young boy sticks his hand into a basket full of rattlesnakes and at that second my phone, set on vibrate in my pocket went off, I jumped up and ran out of the room, thinking there was a rattlesnake in my pants. I can lose hours writing, I can set up my laptop on the front porch at ten in the morning and before I know it, it’s getting dark outside.

6. Where do you get your information or ideas for your books?

Everywhere. I was looking for a place to vacation once and found the Atlantis resort and thought, “wouldn’t it be interesting if this resort went back in time and was actually the original Atlantis,” and Bullfish was born. I drove through a little town in central Florida called Cassadaga, and it’s full of psychics, spiritualists and mystics from all different “metaphysical disciplines. I wondered if they had a voodoorine who made zombies, shortly afterward I was at a swimming pool in a retirement community and watched these folks floating around the pool on their ‘noodles’ moving slow with blank expressions, and thought, well here are the zombies - and Homemade Sin was born. And, of course2012 Montezuma’s Revenge came from the upcoming end of the world.

7. What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

I’m a beach person, love to scuba dive, love the Caribbean, and here in Richmond we are an hour and a half to the beach and an hour and a half to the mountains and I try to ski a couple of times a year. I’m a pretty good cook so I do all the cooking at our house; it’s one of the few things that take my mind off everything else. When you have four burners going and the oven it’s hard to think about anything else. We have two Aussie shepherds (the male is my sou chef and official food taster) so they need to be active and we take them hiking in the mountains.. We also go occasional polo matches or the frequent wine tasting.

8. What was one of the most surprising things you learned in creating your books?

I do a lot of research so I’m always learning something interesting. Writing Bullfish I learned a lot about Atlantis, the Marie Celeste, and genetic engineering. In Heavenly Pleasure I learned all about living vampires and ice cream. InHomemade Sin I learned all about voodoo, restaurant reviews and cats. In 2012 Montezuma’s Revenge I learned Mayan astronomy (from an old Mayan at the base of a Mayan pyramid in Cozumel), nanobot technology, Martian politics, and high tech surveillance. I also got to give Martian cities names like Bradbury and Asimov, which was fun.

9. What do you think makes a good story?

The story itself. Some readers like character driven books but for me it’s all about the story. Of course the characters have to be multi-dimensional and quirky, but I want an intricate story with more twists and turns than a roller coaster. I don’t think the first coherent sentence used by a caveman was about food, or sex or shelter, I think the first sentence primitive man uttered was “tell me a story.”

10. Where can readers find you Mark?

Sometimes at the bar at Café Guttenberg, or the bar at Can Can French Bistro, or the bar at the Conch Republic…(I think there’s a theme here).. I do hang out at bars but only to watch people and get ideas for character development, (that’s my story and I’m sticking to it). When I’m not at a bar you can find me at:

My web page - vmarkcovington.com

My facebook - markcovington

My Blog- vmarkcovington blog

How long must I go on doing God’s job?

The interview below was featured at http://sweetnsexydivas.blogspot.com/ on January 11, 2012. It is offered here to provide humor for those who follow this blog.

*****

Welcome to an interview by Sweet And Sexy Divas (SASD). Today we welcome a celebrity of dubious fame and character, Miss Havana (MH).

SASD: Thank you for joining us today Miss Havana.

MH: Why, thank you SASD, I’m sure we’ll give your readers something to talk about. By the way, do you pronounce SASD like “sadist”, or do I have that confused with another acronym?

SASD: You can just call us “Sweet”, as in Sweet Jesus. And speaking of the Man, we understand you have a few complaints. We are fairly open here, as long as you don’t invite retribution. Feel free to get a few things off your chest … maybe even your blouse. We think the words “attention whore” embossed across the front is a bit much.

MH: What don’t you like, the lettering or the attitude? Being an unstable bitch is part of my mystique.

SASD (rolling eyes upward): Can we just move on? All we ask is that you keep it relatively clean.

MH: Great, I love an open forum, and you needn’t worry—I always keep my words soft in case I have to eat them. Let me get my list. Ah, yes. Let’s start with this. I hate to bitch about the weather, but it’s just too damn dry in Texas. People are killing mosquitos just to see if they’re carrying canteens. Hell, they’re catching catfish with ticks … and fire hydrants are bribing dogs.

SASD: So, is the Texas weather you only complaint for God?

MH: I’m not finished. The weather is beginning to impact Texas churches. Baptists are baptizing by sprinkling, Methodists are using wet-wipes and Catholics are praying for wine to turn back into water. But no, weather isn’t my only complaint. Too many people are escaping the heat at the beach, and some of that beach wear just grosses me out. Why don’t males realize that men who wear Speedos force women to wear blindfolds?

SASD: That’s a good question. Is that something you want God to address?

MH: Maybe. I hate groping around on the beach blindfolded, but Speedos are just the beginning of things I’m angsty about. I mean, why does my non-buttered bread land butter side down? And don’t get me started on disease … especially that one … ah, you know … the one where you forget everything.

SASD: You mean Alzheimer’s?

MH: Yeah, that one. I’m pretty sure I don’t have it because I still remember what sex was like, but I’m sure a lot of people I run into do have it, not that I’m judging. I mean that disease … what you just called it … is so debilitating God should do something. The only reason people with it exist is to be a warning for others, like they believe mistakes are too much fun to make only once. Karma used to come in the form of your children; now it comes in the form of your parents.

SASD: Not that we’re judging, but don’t you think railing at God for a disease is, well, kind of a “blond thing.” You know, we just don’t think He’s going to drop down here to fix that … or Speedos for that matter.

MH: Blond thing? Really. Everyone wants to be blond like me, even brunettes. That’s something I just don’t get. Why will brunettes ruin their hair trying to be blonde? I would rather have brown hair that looks like silk than blonde hair that looks like hay.

SASD: So you think God should do something about hair color?

MH: Oh, no, I’m not that shallow, although I do sometimes feel bad for brunettes. They just have to accept the fact that they are the statue and not the pigeon. Life is full of disappointments.

SASD: Okay, we are delighted for you … really … but can we get back to your issues with God.

MH: Ah, yes. I think my big issue is injustice. Everywhere I look, I find it. That’s the reason I took on so much of that crap in Oh, Heavens, Miss Havana! The novel is another wonderful story about my continuing adventures. In that one, I get to be The Angel of Death … in the Old Testament sense. Unfortunately, I also answered my own question about how long I could go on doing God’s job. He’s rather sensitive, you know, and He won’t turn a blind eye forever. I thought he was supposed to have infinite patience, but I apparently pushed His envelope. Either that, or there could have been some jealousy up there … not that I’m judging.

SASD: Jealousy? We’re not following?

MH: Well, you know, I’m quite fetching, and I did notice that God only took action after I checked on the status of Mrs. God. I think she might have taken offense and put pressure on Him. I mean, certainly I could not have done anything so extreme to get in that much trouble, could I?

SASD: Ah, we’re not so sure. Do you have anything else you’d like to say?

MH: Well, I’d like to thank SASD for having me here. And for all of you readers who didn’t stop by, I’d just like to leave you with one thought: If you don't go to other people's funerals, they won't go to yours. So there!

SADS: You do realize readers that didn’t stop by will not get your message, right? However, for those who did stop by, we’d like to thank you for being here. We have included a tag line, blurb and short excerpt from Oh, Heavens, Miss Havana! below. The paranormal comedy is the sequel to The Substitute. The novel was released December 30, 2011, and is available for sale at Solstice Publishing, Amazon.com and other e-book outlets. It will be offered in print soon.

*****

Oh, Heavens, Miss Havana! Tag Line. Advice columnist by day, assassin by night, Miss Havana’s spirit wrongly considers itself the Angel of Death, but is brought to task by God.

Oh, Heavens, Miss Havana! Blurb: Having performed a single selfless act, Miss Havana finds herself on probation in heaven. After many missteps, she discovers she still retains the powers she had as The Queen of Darkness, and realizes she’s on probation as much to keep her from joining forces with her daughter, The Princess of Darkness, as anything else. The Brazilian, a large black man with a dreadlocks beard who waxes regularly, is her “guide”, but she ignores his advice until he’s taken off her case. Guideless and in a foreign environment, she consorts with evil spirits from her former realm, especially Waldo, a shadow creature so named because he’s so hard to find. She acquires a copy of “The Angels Guide to Earth”, comes to believe she is the Angel of Death, and returns to the surface as an advice columnist and assassin. She wreaks havoc before God intervenes for a final showdown...which, as it turns out, isn’t as final as most would hope.

Oh, Heavens, Miss Havana! Excerpt: Tiny light creatures scurry over my shoulders like tailless white rats, their combs in constant motion until tangles halt progress. I grit my teeth with each painful yank, knowing the bastards will inflict as much discomfort as they can in the time they’ve got. One multi-colored weasel bites out a knot, leaving flared split-ends, shakes something like snot off its paws and spews vile commentary with the inflection of a put-out teenaged girl. “Yew! It’s such a tangled mess, just like your attitude.” It farts near my nose, looks up with an evil grin and belches a rancid stink before slurring, “They’ll work on your crappy disposition when you get where you’re going.”

Extreme insincerity permeates the degenerate’s voice. It must know I attach light creatures to the business end of a toilet brush in Lucifer’s den whenever I can catch the little shits. I enjoy a brief thought of one gasping for breath in Lucifer’s toilet before being jarred back to reality by an enveloping fog of hairspray. It sticks to my nose hairs and penetrates my lungs, but I refuse to cough or wheeze. These bastards are pissed I’ve been promoted, and are trying to make me miserable. I won’t give them the satisfaction of showing it.

Thousands surround me, standing on each other to reach my height while working at fever pitch to primp me for my destination. I glare at the one who left his stench and ask a cheery question. “I thought you eunuchs were genderless, but your voice sounds male. Are you ‘proud cut?’”

They all stop moving. Dead silence reigns. They don’t like being referred to as animals, especially fixed dogs.

A rotund fuzzy demon waddles forward, stops near my feet, places its tiny paws on its hips and rebukes in baritone, “We can only clean the outside, Miss Havana. Cleaning the inside would take an eternity.”

I kick at it, but it darts out of the way. As if by reflex, the others fall in on me. I can’t move anything but my mouth, and muffle out a protest while spitting fur off my tongue, “Give me some space, assholes!” I gather my strength and, with a vigorous shake of my body against their collective grip, feel extreme delight as dozens tumble to the floor.

They relax their hold and pass gas in unison. I gag for breath. It stinks like Lucifer’s Home, like kicking a skunk. Knowing they’ve silenced me for the moment, the combing resumes until the baritone somewhere in the horde mocks, “You have no idea where you’re going, do you?”

Come to think of it, I don’t. I was the Queen of Darkness before arriving in purgatory. Family ties speak volumes about a person, and in my case they are shouting, “She shouldn’t be here!” Lilith, The Princess of Darkness and absolute ruler of hell, is my daughter. The shithead Lucifer is my ex. Is it any surprise I never expected to arrive here? I probably shouldn’t admit it. Where I come from, we lie about everything. I should probably lie about this too, and answer with an insult instead. “To a place you’ll never go, twerp, unless toilets here flush up.”

I hear snickering, something forbidden below, but the primping continues until one of the little perverts shinnies up my leg. My body shudders with disgust. The deviant is taking advantage of the situation to sneak a peek. I swat at it when I hear its muffled prayer, “God help me, the devil’s pit reeks!”

I snort. It could be right. Hygiene isn’t high on the list of important items below, but things could be different above. I grit my teeth, ignore the humiliating “Whistle While You Work” ditty it’s warbling, and bear down like I’m giving birth. Phassttlatt! It’s a good one; makes my eyes water. I wonder if light creatures can whistle through a gas mask. The stunned swine drops from beneath my scoop-necked robe like a wounded fly, and I offer a comment dripping with sarcasm, “Not very good at your job, are you?”

On second thought, perhaps I should have held my tongue. After it catches its breath, it glares at me, grabs some tools, slips on a filtered mask and rushes back up my leg. It isn’t long before the plucking begins, one hair at a time. I won’t pleasure any of them by yielding to the pain, even though it hurts like Lilith’s Home. Instead, I reach out and grab two random creatures from the pile and squeeze hard with each pluck, being certain to dig my nails into their disgusting furry backs. Their tiny screeches make my pain bearable. I believe I could make music with their wailing if I could catch the baritone.

The plucking stops when one of my squeeze toys screams, “Uncle! Uncle! You were supposed to leave sadism below.”

I glare at them both. “If your pal so much as touches one more pube, I will damn well wax you both, and I won’t be gentle!” Just the thought of ripping off their fur with a hot wax strip makes me feel warm all over.

*****

The author would also like to thank you for being here. Please stop by my web site at http://cookinwithmisshavana.blogspot.com/ for additional excerpts, book reviews and more. There are two free cookbooks and one award winning short story there … you just need to ask.

Thanks for reading,

James L. Hatch

Author for Solstice Publishing, xoxopublishing.com and Eternal Press

The Prophet, The New Brotherhood by K. J. Dahlen

A fundamental truth tumbles out of this mystery/thriller, although not a truth people consider on a daily basis. Perhaps they should. The basic question is: just how far will a group of believers go to protect and follow their leader, false prophet or not? If requested to do so, will they willingly walk into the valley of death with trusting hearts? I liked the underlying theme of this book, knowing in advance that those with the mentality of sheep are at the mercy of the wolf. The good vs. evil theme takes the reader on a terrifying ride through years of serial killings, and brings many impacted by the quiet rampage of a charismatic prophet to the brink of death. Beginning with a simple gathering of believers, the plot grows into a larger conspiracy with each page as the heroes attempt to put an end to the trail of destruction and ruined lives the Brotherhood leaves across the nation. At one point, I even found myself mentally encouraging the main character, “Shoot him! Shoot him while you can!” as the Prophet slips away yet again. In short, I liked the story. It was compelling, if not a little frightening. I was surprised by the ending. I won’t spoil it for anyone, but I still wonder if women across the country will continue to be murdered by straggler followers. They have their instructions, but will they follow them? Something to ponder: What would happen in real life?

While The Prophet, The New Brotherhood was a fun read, I would have appreciated more thorough editing. The story held together well, but would have had much greater impact with a severe scrub. Some of my heartburn is with technical issues few will recognize, such as the use of “blonde” for a male’s hair color (“blond” for males). Some sentences didn’t make sense, like “Jeff called his surveillance term in watch the St Clair house.” Yes, I understood Jeff called his team in to watch the house, but the mental gyration on my part should not have been required. I just wanted to read the story, not fix it. In one instance, names are confused; in another a car and truck are interchanged. Incorrect words and tense appeared often enough to be distracting, but repetition was my greatest problem. Overuse of variations of the word “look” and inadvertent repetition filled the pages (heart beat in his chest, thought in my mind, etc.).

My views on editing aside, I would still rank this book as a four-star read. The plot and theme were interesting, and the story held my attention from beginning to end.