Showing posts with label McShane. Show all posts
Showing posts with label McShane. Show all posts

Friday, January 22, 2016

A Writer's Frustration

 



If you've ever written more than one thousand words for a project, you should appreciate this...

The McShane manuscript for book four moved along nicely. The first two chapters barely saw a difference between the first draft and the third. Then came chapter three. Almost five hundred words in and I knew it wasn't working.

At All.

I tried to edit by moving the text from the back to the front, deleting a paragraph, rewriting a scene, to no avail. I had to admit. The draft sucked. So, I deleted the whole thing and started from scratch.

The end result of chapter three speaks for itself, although I'll tell you anyway. Fantastic. It moved the plot along nicely. The problem, however, is that it moved the plot in the wrong direction from the original outline. *sigh*

So, I started chapter four with a new direction that either had to be brought to heel and conform to the outline, or rethink where these characters are taking me.

Two thousand one hundred and fourteen words into the fourth chapter and I knew it couldn't be saved. The whole chapter was one long conversation between two characters. While funny in places, and intriguing for the plot line in others, it would not work. If this weren't a novella, and I had to find words to fill space, this might have been an award winner.

But it's not.

So, not only did my time frame get busted, so did my plotline. I really like where I ended with three, but I have to go back and rewrite my outline to conform. Chapter four now has five hundred forty-eight words toward that goal.

With uninterrupted time, I still should have a new draft written in the next few days. But who in the world ever gets uninterrupted?

Wish me luck!

Sunday, January 3, 2016

McShane Mini-Mystery - "The Mushroom Murderer"



Chapter One
Party of the Season

Jaw clenched, a fake smile frozen on her face, Summer Autumn Malone McShane fought the scream trying to burst out. The older gentleman before her, whom Mother claimed was a distant cousin, droned on about his life, love, philosophies, travels and travails. She’d tried to reply or add to this one-sided conversation, with little success. She’d walked away once, only to have him follow her. The smile she held was beginning to make her cheeks ache.
Her mother’s voice sang out. “Tod! There you are!” She embraced the old man’s shoulder. Mona Malone had the ability to make everyone feel at ease as if you were family. Even if you really were.

“Tod,” her mother said. “You cannot manipulate all of Summer’s time like this. She has a party beginning in less than an hour and a world of things that need her attention.” Mona turned to her daughter. “Summer dear, Mrs. Lorenzo is looking for you. She said something about Chef Walters being annoyed or some such. You should go.”
The rescue brought a genuine smile, replacing the fake, plastered-on one that Sam had held. She reached out and grasped her mother’s hand. “Thank you so much. If you’ll excuse me?”
Cousin Tod bobbed his head, said, “Bye, Sam!”

She didn’t mind ‘Cousin Tod’ calling her Sam. Everyone did. Except her mother.
“Now, Mona,” Sam heard him say as she walked away. “Tell me what you’ve been doing all these years.”

Sam smirked. Mona Malone had run from the family estate on her eighteenth birthday. She and Richard Malone, high school sweethearts, married the moment the law would allow, much to their parents’ chagrin. After Sam was born, they spent her entire childhood traveling on mission trips, so she never knew many of the extended family members. After this encounter, she understood her mother’s motivation.

Mrs. Lorenzo, the head of household, interrupted her thoughts. “Ms. McShane, you must come to the kitchen with me. Chef Walters is furious over the mushrooms.”

“What’s wrong with the mushrooms?”

 ******************************************************************

Book Four has been taken down for edits, etc. Please subscribe to the JL Mo website so you won't miss a notification on publication dates!

Wednesday, December 30, 2015

The Mushroom Murderer is coming

I'm working on the finer points of the opening chapter for McShane Mini-Mystery, Book 4, The Mushroom Murderer. This has been fun to write. I hope you enjoy the first chapter,  posted here on January 1, 2016.

Happy New Year, everyone!

Tuesday, December 15, 2015

The Mushroom Murder is coming

Keep an eye my blog for the upcoming post of Chapter One, the new McShane Mini-Mystery Series installment The Mushroom Murder. I hope to have  it posted here on January 4, 2016.

I'll be adding a chapter each Monday. Since, as my readers know, there are only five chapters to each book, the draft of this novella should be complete by February, 2016. This will be the fourth book in the series. If you'd like to catch up on the first three, you can find them on my JL Mo Amazon Author Page

I am certain you'll enjoy the return of reluctant billionaire, Sam McShane.

Tuesday, March 10, 2015

Advertising on Facebook

I finally gave in and paid for an advertisement on Facebook.

Now, what's especially difficult about advertising, at least in my case, is the fact that I write ninety-nine cent ebooks. I don't sell 'widgets.' I don't even offer a hard copy of my books to put in your hand.

For a long while, I wrestled with what to do. Then I decided I wanted to make the cover recognizable. So, I uploaded that. It was rejected. The text totaled 44% of my image(?). According to their standard, it could not exceed 20%. Here's the rejected cover:




So, I put up a link.

The link connected to my blog post, which offered another link to Amazon, which offered the opportunity to purchase my ebook, McShane Mini-Mystery, The Trilogy of Thrills, a compilation of the first three ninety-nine cent ebooks of the series. How did having to click three separate links do, you might ask? Well, you might. C'mon! You might.

Okay, okay. It did a great benefit. For my JL Mo fb page (feel free to 'like' my page!). For the sales of my ebooks, not so much. But, as the spirit of the great Marketing God has been quoted, "it got my name out there." The stats on the fb page said that my five bucks got me 2,607 views (if you can believe that). I still didn't make enough to cover the five bucks.

The moral of the story? Well, 5 divided by 2607 is 0.0019 (that calculation is for those who have read the books). I couldn't buy that kind of audience, for that price, to see my name in any other forum that I know of.

So, I just keep writing, working, hoping, that one day, someday, maybe I'll make my five bucks back.

Thursday, June 19, 2014

A Couple Fights



A Couple Fights

While working on my third installment of McShane Mini-Mystery, I wrote this interaction between two characters. It may not make the cut, but I felt it needed to be put somewhere.


A couple fights
each tries to shout over the other to be heard
Voices and tension rise
Boy throws something at girl
it smashes against the wall, missing by a few feet
Boy is shocked he threw that, but continues to scream his argument
Girl is aghast, runs when her senses return
she reaches room, slams door, locks it to keep violence out
Boy knocks hard on door
feeling embarrassed, he begs girl for forgiveness
said if he wanted to hit her with it, he would have
It was just a stupid impulse.
she doesn’t answer
he pounds harder at the door, frustrated
she screams to go away
he pounds harder
she screams in frightened anger
the interior door succumbs to the brute strength thrown against it
it flies open
she screams in terror
he sees her fear as he approaches, tries to calm her with palms raised
she extends her own hand, shouts not to come nearer
he grabs her wrist, implores her to stop screaming, to hear him
She struggles. Against his strength, against the immobility, against the pain of his grip
he grips harder
Why won’t she just listen?
She screams again, hoping for mercy, praying for rescue
He watches her writhe as his ears ache from her screams
his throat is sore from trying to reach her
his anger pushes aside patience
Why won’t she just listen?
her scream is cut off by the back of his hand
in shock, he releases her
she crumples to the floor, tasting blood
he scolds himself
he didn’t mean to do that
he only wanted her to listen to what he had to say
she’s quietly sobbing now
but it doesn’t matter
he’s too embarrassed that he lost his temper
to exhausted to pursue the fight anyway
What were they fighting about?
He kneels to comfort her, to apologize
she slaps his hand away
he stands, rebuffed
resisting the urge to kick her, he leaves
before doing something he’d really regret

Saturday, May 31, 2014

McShane - Four Files for A Life

(Ahem. Drum roll, please. Announcer, if you will...)





Mom has been taken. By who, and why, is given to Sam through cryptic clues. 
When the path seems clear, a bloody body gets in the way.

TA-DA



The second book in the installment is still around fifty pages beginning to end, so you can count on a fun, quick read that will leave you breathless!

I hope you enjoy, and please, leave a review on Amazon, if you would.

Monday, April 28, 2014

My Annoying Muse

My muse wouldn't let me sleep last night.

On Monday, at four in the morning, she woke me to share how she thought the opening of McShane's book three, Homicide by Hurricane should read. I told her that I’d only written the outline for book three, and that I still had to finish the edits on book two, Four Files for A Life in order to upload it to Kindle by Thursday. She didn't care. I, and my need for sleep, fought her for all we were worth. Now, at 6 a.m., I’m typing this tantrum on my laptop rather than writing what she is still demanding I write.

Stupid Muse.

Fine! Fine! I’m writing!

(grumble, grumble, grumble)

Monday, December 16, 2013

Amazon Kindle - Oh what a feeling! - Part Duex

Wow! What a roller coaster of emotions. Anyone who has uploaded their first book to Kindle must understand. I've been checking the status of sales, re-reading the manuscript, researching marketing tips, all of it. But then, one of my favorite author/reviewers sent me an email.

It had two pages of nits and typo fixes for the uploaded text. ARG!

There were some out-right, ridiculous errors and typos that completely escaped me. And they were things I'd changed and updated since the last time my professional editor saw it. So, it was all on me.

Oh well. They've been corrected and re-uploaded. McShane is, once again, "In Review" on Kindle. Once we go live, I'll post the new link here.

Saturday, December 14, 2013

Amazon Kindle - Oh what a feeling!

I did it! After angst, anxiety, mistakes and more, my story, McShane Mini-Mysery - Billionaire at the Bar is now live on Kindle.

When the Kindle email came through informing me McShane was now (finally!) available online, I read it aloud to my husband. Then he said, "Your mama would have been proud."

Yeah, I cried.

Here's the announcement I've been sending out...


***


McShane Mini-Mystery, Billionaire at the Bar is now live on Kindle.

When the love of her life is viciously slain, Sam discovers secrets her lover kept which will change her life, for better and worse, forever. But can she stay one step ahead of the killer?

Do you only have a brief time to read, but still would like to read a complete mystery? Are you disappointed to find most “Mini-Mysteries” out there are targeted for children? Then you need to buy a copy of “Billionaire at the Bar”, the first of the McShane series of mini-mysteries for adults. The McShane Mini-Mysteries is a complete set of short and satisfying stories that adults can enjoy.

Go to http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HB6H6UI now to pick up your 99¢ copy of McShane Mini-Mystery, Billionaire at the Bar. 

*** 

So now, as I understand it, the real works begins. Yeah, like writing it was the 'easy' part. Nope, the hard part is marketing. Somehow, I have to let the world know this book is out there. Among the 300,000 books uploaded annually, my little tale will be drowned. 

Wish me luck!

Or, you could go buy a copy yourself. Thanks, :)

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

McShane


********************************************************************

Note to reader...

A couple of months ago, I entered a writing contest called "Summer Shootout". I came in fourth!

The contest entailed receiving a 'prompt' on Saturday, and having until the following Saturday to submit a short story. There really were no other rules, other than the deadline.

Some people have asked to read the stories I submitted, so I'm posting them here.

This story is for the second prompt given. "An angry woman, a silver platter and a cannon."

I wrote a short story titled, "Scavenge", submitted here as "McShane". It's a detective, murder/mystery piece.

Thanks for reading.

********************************************************************

McShane
by j l mo


            Sam fumbled for her ringing cell and cursed as it fell off of the nightstand. The ring tone belonged to her mom. She decided to leave the phone on the floor and let the call go to voice mail. Calling at nine o’clock in the morning on her day off deserved voice mail.
            The phone finally stopped ringing. She turned to her side and nuzzled down in the pillow as the cell announced with a beep a message had been left. The damn thing started ringing again. Mom was calling back. Then Sam remembered why Mom was calling so early. Her eyes popped open and she quickly sat up on the edge of the bed. She wanted Sam to go on a scavenger hunt with someone she’d just met yesterday. The whole thing sounded strange. She fumbled for the ringing phone on the floor.
            “Yes, Mom. I’m up.”
            “Samantha Angus McShane! You were supposed to be here already.”
            “C’mon, Mom, you said ten o’clock.”
            “I said we start at ten. You and I were going to have breakfast first.”
            Sam cursed again. She’d forgotten about that. “Sorry, Ma” Sam fell back on her bed. “I can still make ten. Tell me again why we’re doing this?”
            “I want you to meet Tom! Sam, he’s gorgeous and I know you two are meant for each other. I told him my single daughter is a detective, and then he told me about this scavenger hunt his church was holding. One team member has to find their two teammates through riddles. Doesn’t that sound like fun? Tom almost dropped out because his two friends couldn’t go, so I volunteered us!”
            Sam groaned. “Ma, how do you know he isn’t some scam artist?”
            “I just know. He says he goes to the First United Methodist Church and his Sunday school group is hosting this to raise money for the orphanage.”
            Sam smiled at her mother’s continued attempts to replace Amy. “Did you check out the guy like I suggested?”
            “Would you, for once, trust my judgment?” her mother said with a huff.
            “Ma, you know I hate riddles.” After a heavy sigh she dragged herself off of the bed and said, “I’m on my way to meet you.”
            “You don’t have to. Tom says we can start early and send you the first riddle by text. That way you don’t have to come all the way to his church to get it. The answer to the riddle will tell you where to go to get the second one. Don’t forget to take a picture to prove you found it. Since there are only four riddles total, we should be done in time to have lunch together. Okay?”
            “Yeah, Okay.”
            The first riddle came as a text message thirty minutes later. Sometimes Sam hated her own suspicious mind.

A park in town
turned upside down
take the shot
you’ll know the spot

            Sam hit the call back button to reach her mom. The call went to voice mail. Sam called her partner and asked him to run a background check on Tom Novak, her mom’s new friend.
            This first riddle was taking her to Soqquadro Park. Last year she cornered a scum named Aldo facing drug charges and a murder warrant in that very park. The barrel of his gun was pointed at Sam's head when she, her partner Charles, and half the police force took him out in a spray of bullets and blood. She lived, he died. Aldo’s partner River Nowak got away, but last known whereabouts put him somewhere in Southeast Asia.
            She found the second riddle before Charles called her back. Under the shrub where Aldo’s body had fallen she found a miniature set of stairs like one found on a large dollhouse. Each of the four wooden steps contained a carved sentence.

The bank got robbed
Women sobbed
your friend died there
on the stair

            Sam swallowed the lump forming in her throat. River Nowak was back, and he had her mom. Wasn’t killing Amy enough? She snapped the photo as her cell rang.
            Charles said, “Mr. Tom Novak is a white male of dubious descent, according to this photo, who flew into OIA last week. His current whereabouts are unknown. Sam, he came in from Bangkok.”
            Sam’s stomach clenched tighter. Straight from Southeast Asia. “Tell me true, Charles. Could the picture be River Nowak in disguise?”
            “Yeah, I’m afraid so.”
            “Shit! He’s got mom.” Sam started jogging toward her car.
            “I’ve got a couple of uniforms on their way to you.”
            She clenched her jaw, but tried not to let her frustration come through her voice. “You promised not to tell the Captain.”
            “Hold on now, I’ve kept my promise. I’ve spoken to Officer Smith and Officer Wesson. They volunteered to watch your back until more than just the two of them are needed.”
            “Alright, but tell them to keep their distance. We don’t know if Nowak’s got eyes on me or not.”
            “Done. What’s the next riddle?”
            “You’re not gonna believe this. River wants me to go to First National. I’m pretty sure the next clue will be on the staircase.”
            “What a sick son of a bitch. I’m calling the Chief as well as the Feds. Come on in, Sam. You’re too close to this. Let the FBI and the department handle matters from here.”
            “I will, but not now. The bastard’s drawing me in.” Charles was silent for a matter of moments. She added, “I’ll be careful.”
            “Fine, but I’m telling everyone to meet you at First National.”
            “Wouldn’t expect anything less, Charles.”
            “The bank’s been closed since the robbery. You want me to call the real estate company to go unlock a door?”
            Sam thought for a moment. “No,” she replied. “If River wants me inside, he’s left a way. Listen, I’ll check in, but definitely keep tabs on me, OK? It’s good to know Smith and Wesson have my back.”
            “I swear the Captain put them together just so we could say that.”
            “Bye, Charles.”
            The bank stood only a few blocks from the park. Aldo had stuck to his territory, and River was doing the same. First National occupied a corner of a two-story strip mall. She parked her car in front and removed her S&W J-Frame from the lockbox in the glove compartment.
            The front door was locked and the stairway couldn’t be seen though the windows from this angle. Sam watched a patrol car roll by in the reflection of the glass. She waited until they passed before she walked around to the back the building. The emergency exit door stood open.
            Careful not to touch the door or frame, she entered shouting, “This is the police! I am armed. Show yourself with your hands over your head!” Silence answered her. Keeping the weapon raised, she crept down the sunlit hallway and into the abandoned bank’s lobby. She glanced around the corner to the stairs on her left. On the third stair, right where Amy died sat a piece of paper on a small silver platter.
            The memory of that horrid day crashed on her. A lump in her throat threatened to burst as she blinked away the tears and swallowed hard. Memories of their life together painfully resurfaced. Amy had been buried for more than a year, along with Sam’s heart. Why would this sick son of a bitch do this? Amy was an innocent in the bank when Aldo and his buddies stormed in. Sam took several deep, cleansing breaths. Careful not disturb any evidence, she read the next clue.

the bar was filled
you were billed
the tab was paid
in the shade

            “Son of a bitch!” Sam shouted at no one. She snapped the picture and then called Charles. “The bastard wants me to go to the ruins of O’Malley’s.”
            “You got the riddle? Why did you go in? You should have waited. Now you’re gonna get your ass chewed. Stay there, the others should arrive any second. Don’t touch anything else!”
            “I haven’t touched a god damned thing, Charles. And I ain’t waiting. Do me a favor. Let them find this riddle on their own and figure out the meaning. Then they can chase me. Tell Smith and Wesson where I’m going, though. It was good to see them roll by.” Charles didn’t answer for a moment. Sam held her breath waiting for her partner’s decision to let her go on alone or not.
            Finally he said, “You cried in my arms for an hour on those stairs, Sam. I know how much you loved Amy. But your dying won’t bring her back, or bring your Mom home.”
            “I hear you. Will you keep them off my ass for another minute?”
            “Go. Please be careful.”
            “Thanks.” She didn’t bother to tell him she was already parking on a corner lot four blocks from the bank. This spot once held the most popular bar in town. The old oak tree here did not completely escape the massive flames that claimed so many lives. A portion of the trunk and branches still appeared singed. Somehow she, Amy, Charles, and his wife Isabella escaped the death trap that night. Sam was put through the ringer with Internal Affairs for the next six weeks.
            Under the tree sat another small silver platter holding the final riddle.

when you soared
the cannon roared
then came thunder
she’ll be under

            Sam read the paper twice. The patrol car driving by ever so slowly caught her attention. She realized she should be moving. Snapping the picture she got back in her car and drove away. The problem being, she had no idea where she was driving. The riddle made no sense. There was nothing her mind could recall tying Aldo, or River, to a cannon or soaring or thunder. After driving aimlessly for ten minutes, she called Charles.
            “What do you know about a cannon?”
            “There’s a cannon in Soqquadro Park.”
            “No there’s not.”
            “Yeah, they put a little one in about six months ago. A plaque says the thing was found on a sunken Spanish ship fairly close to shore.”
            “Shit!” Sam tried to find a place to turn her car around to go back to the park. “The bastard’s sent me on a wild goose chase and has probably been there the whole fucking time!”
            “I don’t want to interrupt an angry woman, but maybe you should come in and let the Feds handle this.”
            “Angry Woman?” Sam heard herself screech and didn’t care. “He’s got my fucking Mom, Charles! Angry fucking woman? Are you serious? I am going to get her back!”
            “You can’t get Amy back!” Charles’s screeching voice matched her own. The sound took her by surprise. She took several deep, very audible breaths. Charles sounded as if he were doing the same.
            “That was a low blow.”
            “I’m sorry.” Another moment he added, “Amy would demand you come back and you know it.”
            That much was true. Amy was as overprotective as her mom. “Okay. I’m calming down. Let’s think. Is the cannon in Soqquadro Park the only one in town?”
            “Wait. Read me the whole clue.”
            Sam didn’t have to read the clue. The words were carved into her memory. “When you soared, the cannon roared, then came thunder, she’ll be under”
            Silence stretched. Sam wanted to give Charles time to process it, but she began to think the call had dropped. “Are you there?”
            “Yeah. The clue is for me, Sam.”
            “Come again?”
            “I was flying back from Tallahassee. Isabella had taken the boys to the park. There was a break in at my house and someone blew up my Cannon gun safe. They stole my Bersa Thunder 380 and went on to kill four people. They found the damn thing in a dumpster.”
            “Oh my god! I remember! The dumpster at the fairgrounds! Have everyone meet me there!” She ended the call and took the next right turn. Her phone rang with ‘Unknown’ where the caller ID should be displayed.
            “Hello?”
            “Hello, Sam. Miss me?”
            “Who is this?”
            “I’m hurt. You don’t remember me?”
            “River?”
            “See, you do care.”
            “Where’s my mother?”
            “Well, she’s not with Amy. Yet.”
            “Where is my mother?” Sam screamed into the phone.
            “Tut-tut, such anger. No small talk? No ‘how ya been?’, ‘whatcha been up to?’ That kind of thing?”
            “You mother fucker!”
            “Oh, heavens no! Mother killer, sure. But fucker? Not my thing.”
            She was only another couple of miles from the fairgrounds. Taking a deep breath she asked again, “Where is my mother?”
            “Didn’t Charles give you the answer to my last riddle? I admit, I’m no poet, but I couldn’t have made it much clearer.”
            “What does Charles have to do with this?”
            “Now I’m really hurt. He didn’t tell you about us? Shame on Charles.”
            “What are you talking about?”
            “Charles and I were together for a while. He was everything to me. I would have given him the world. Then he turned straight for Isabella. Aldo was a dear, but I never got over losing Charles.”
            “What?”
            “See, now you’re getting the picture.”
            “No, I’m not.”
            “Charles broke my heart and made my life miserable. I, in turn, made life miserable for everyone he loved. Isabella was supposed to be home that day I got his Thunder, but I still had fun.”
            “You killed Amy to hurt Charles? You sick mother fucker!”
            “We’ve already gone over that part. Besides, Amy was just a happy coincidence.”
            The screech returned to Sam’s voice. “Where is my mother?”
            “Go to the fairgrounds. Mrs. McShane is on the southeast corner, tied to a chair. Behind her is the dumpster where I returned Charles’s Bersa Thunder to him. The one I gave him as a Christmas present all those years ago. Tell him to look under the dumpster for his next gift. She’s kind of messy. You might want to bring some extra cleaning supplies.” The phone went dead. Sam hit the call back and heard an automated voice tell her there is no such number. She called Charles.
            “Where’s Isabella?” Sam asked.
            “At work. Why?”
            “You should have told me about you and River.”
            “What? Wait. Why? No, there’s nothing to tell! Besides, it was ancient history! Why? Oh my god. What’s happened to Bella?”
            “Charles, this wasn’t about me or my mom. It’s been about you all along. Go get your kids. I think something’s happened to their mom.”

********************************************************************

Note to my dear reader; I hope you’ve enjoyed this. I've had so much fun with Sam, I decided to make this a chapter in my next book.