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Tag Archives: historical fiction
“What are you doing, Frankie?”
“Digging for plot holes in my new novel,” she tells me.
“Any luck?”
“Found some.”
“But there are always more,” I tell her. “It’s best to find a good editor.”
I’m so grateful for the time and attention River Grove/Greenleaf Books Publishing gave to my upcoming novel. After going through it a gazillion times, they still found plot holes, word issues, etc. Unlike Frankie, my new and mischievous puppy, Distilling Lies is clean and about to hit the shelves on May 9th. Of course, I’ll send you a reminder! đ
And, ain’t she cute?!
Shameless, Underhanded Self-Promotion
Case in point – As a teenager, I got my first job as a telephone solicitor. I sat at a table with a phone and a script of what to say to random strangers. The script included a section for “what to say if they resist your sales pitch and could care less about buying a subscription of the Austin Citizen Newspaper. ” I never got that far. If they said “no,” that was that. I had bothered them enough and wanted no part in wasting their time any further. Needless to say, I was fired after three days. As the saying goes, I couldn’t sell a Bible to a Baptist preacher. And now, many, many year later, still can’t.
So, I have a new book coming out this May. “They” say I need to promote it. Ha! And, oh no.
Now, to change the subject without changing the subject.
Who doesn’t like cute animals? So, without further ado, here are a few to ooh and ahh over.
Aren’t they adorable?
Shameless!
Disclaimer: No child or pet were harmed during the making of this photo. All are available on Amazon, well, not the kids or the dog. đ
One of “my” kids, who just turned three, had NO desire to be part of my shenanigans (smart fella). So “Cole,” my 13 year-old mini Aussie stepped in on the fly. He might be licking his chops but no, he didn’t eat Ten.
FRank’s Blues Song
Frank Sanders is a character in my newest novel. Since he’s the blue’s harp player and songwriter, he wrote this for me. đ
Too Crowded
This is not to take anything away from Mother’s Day! Serendipitously, it is a quote from my latest novel.
Happy Mother’s Day to all eligible – including pet owners!
The Truth Bites Like a Ratt’ler
Dadâs ignoring me as usual, but I guess thatâs better than a slap on my face. Mother dries off the breakfast skillet, picks up a fussy Delma, and says, âCono, yer goinâ te town this weekend te sleep over at Mamawâs.â
âHow come?â I ask.
âAunt Marguerite and Aunt Eva are there. They wanna see ye.â
Well, I can see all the way down to the truth, and it feels like Iâve swallered a rattâler. Dadâs still mad that Iâd bitten that toothbrush in two and doesnât want me around. I donât want to be around him either.
Still, I donât want to go. I like Dadâs sisters well enough, but I want to stay here with baby Delma.
Mamaw, Dadâs mother, is the toughest grandma I know. It would be a whole lot easier if I just ran away and caught a train to somewhere else. As I sit on that idea like a chicken warming her eggs. I decide against it. Everybody says that the trains are filled with starving hobos on their way to California. They say they like to eat children under the age of twelve. Iâm afraid theyâd eat me too even though Iâm little and skinny.
I guess I have to go.
Excerpt from No Hill for a Stepper
via Age
photo credit
UNHINGED
There she was, the unbuttoned girl who didnât know right from wrong, who always took the path over thorny ground. Demented in heart and void of conscious. Squeezing the life out of my bordello one person at a time until she did it to herself.
And I never saw it coming. Never saw her falling into the depths of insanity. I did what needed doing. I protected my business. I had her transported to Southwestern Insane Asylum and never told a soul except Reba. And not once did I visit her.
I made a pact with myself. No regrets for what I was about to do.
Excerpt from The Last Bordello
Daily word prompt: Thorny
photo credit
Flawed or Innocent?
Why couldnât wives see the similarities between themselves and a whore?
âHeâs a client,â Sofie continued. âBut watch, when he sees me, heâll turn away. So will his wife.â
The man looked away, just as she thought.
âYou canât speak to him?â
Innocent Meta. âNever.â âSpeaking to them in public would only break Miss Fannieâs Code of Silence. It goes with the territory. Besides, if we broke Fannieâs trust? Weâd be out on the street nothing flat. Folks have tried to buy her black book of customer names but nothing doing. When the Wild Bunch stayed with us, she wouldnât even give them up to the great Mr. Pinkerton.â
âIâm sorry, what does she call it again? A code ofâŚâ
âSilence. A code of silence.â Curious how Meta seemed more fascinated by Miss Fannieâs code than with the Wild Bunch. The bank robbers were the guests of honor at the going-away party Miss Fannie gave them two years after she arrived. The wrongdoers, pleasant and entertaining, the lavish event stood out in her memory with fondness. Perhaps she had a penchant for those who could smile at their criminal endeavors when they never  get caught.
Excerpt from Naked, She Lies by C. Dennis-Willingham
Daily word prompt: Penchant
photo credit
A loving parable
Painting by  C. Dennis-Willingham
In the past when Papa was healthy,  I learned of this parable in the Bible. I was so Enamored by that kind of love that I would ask if he or Mama would like for me to wash their feet. Only a few times did Mama succumb to my request. Even at night, her feet were  too busy moving, rarely still enough for me to wash.
Papa, on the other hand, would sit in his favorite chair in the parlor and lay down the newspaper he had been reading. He would smile and laugh as I placed the soaped cloth between his toes. Our conversations would move from one subject to the next as quickly as a hummingbird searches for nectar. The ritual seemed to both invigorate and relaxed him.Â
           Yet, when Papa had lain in his bed with a pneumonia-fed bad heart, it was not the same. Nothing was the same.
      Nor will it be again.
Excerpt from Naked, She Lies, by C. Dennis-Willingham
daily word prompt: Enamored
Carolyn Dennis-Willingham 