Friday, June 22, 2018

Fight Hard. Lose Well. Go Home.

Society seems to be more divided than ever, with strong feelings on every side of every issue, and very little middle ground. How do you deal with putting your views out there? Have you ever had to deal with a flame war?

Flame war? War, period.

I won't take the position I don't have the luxury of developing and maintaining a comfortable position outside the fray. I do. I live and work in a place where I'm free to be myself and think however I want. It's very blue here, so unless I dig deeper into the political dynamic and take positions with more granularity (schooling, policing, affordable housing and rent control, statutes and ordinances, ballot referendums on what grade of toilet paper is acceptable, the fight for/against plastic bags and flushable wipes,) I can keep it mellow. Just wait every four years for that big national election to get involved, same as how I don't follow the Cubs unless/until they make the playoffs. White Sox for life.

At this point, seems to be I'm built for the fight. Doesn't mean I go looking for it. I'm smart enough to avoid it. I know how to diffuse it. And yeah, if it comes down to fighting, I'll fight. Ain't no thing. Last thing in the world I'd want. And I can make it what gets me up in the morning. It's in the blood.

The purely American part of me comes from my black heritage. If one kept score, I’d cop to being black American via the migration which brought a Louisiana Creole into contact with a half-Sicilian/half-African American woman which produced my mama and her brothers, those wacky hot-headed blacks with the Italian first names. My pops had some Sicilian as well, and a lot of Irish. You knew how he felt when he put his fist through something fists normally shouldn't pass through. Dead silent all day, until he laughed so loudly it shook the house. One drink—only one, a sip of vodka or a can of Old Style—he was singing songs. You could pick his pocket. Kissing you all the time. Such ebb and flow from a big, young guy with a loud voice and a deceptively brilliant and articulate tongue. Levels and layers.

I'm packed with so many cultural influences from peoples known for their deep emotions. All that stuff simmered on the burner in the South before it arrived in Chicago. Like attracts like, so in the early aughts of the 1900s into the 20s, everyone is falling in love and having great sex and trying to forget the dark days of the Great Depression by producing mixed children with deep passions. The Midwest being all about propriety, everyone's packed with pressure and wrapped up tight. This grandmother was this, with a bit of that mixed in. This great-great someone or other had a father who was such and such. Who begat whom. It was all above board. We owned it all, even the rough edges. 

"So and so pulled a gun."

"You're kidding."

"Well, he has that (insert race here) in him."

"There it is. Hot-headed."

"Yep. In the blood. Y'all alright now?"

"Yeah. He came through for the Bulls game. Brought dip and brews."

If the cops came, and you told them whatever racial/cultural composition was responsible for the disturbance, you'd get a warning and time to cool off if they didn't have any warrants.

So let’s just say black, Irish, Italian, some Louisiana creole with deep farming ties, a bit of Choctaw Nation sprinkled in, and a big city consciousness where politics was life. Add to it the constant oppression—sometimes you can feel it, sometimes it sneaks up on you and you realize it—and it's going to be LOUD. Every woman I've ever been involved with thought I was crazy unless they were black, Irish, or Italian from the Midwest. Can't trust a guy who won't fight. Sure, she'll clutch the pearls and stand between you and the fight, demand you calm down or it's quits. And if you didn't drop your coat and put 'em up when her honor was challenged, she'd never talk to you again. It was wrong to want a fight, and it was wrong to avoid a fight that found you.

You learned to watch what the unions were doing. Cooperative covenants in organized labor meant that the old man may have to show support by picketing, even if the firefighters themselves had no beef. He could bring home a fight we as a family would have to support, even if it didn't mean anything for us directly. If the teacher's union bristled, there could be a strike, which would affect everything so my mother would have to check in with the school, other parents, the PTA, and still get herself to her own job in a career that was affected by Chicago politics: health care for the chronically sick, infirm, and elderly. A lot of nights, I saw my mother drinking and smoking, in tears, filling out paperwork over a patient who didn't make it. I could see her anger, and her sense of defeat, that someone she gave her heart to didn't live with the quantity and quality of life they deserved because of, yes, politics. I knew she'd be a hard taskmaster the following morning. I knew if my game wasn't tight getting to school, I'd be getting a smack, because of those bastards in this office, or at that agency. Some crooked alderman saw fit to wet his/her beak on the backs of a vulnerable community so now I'm making my own damned lunch or I don't eat that day and maybe your brother ate all your Twinkies, boy, folks are dying, Danny, go make your own damned lunch.

Purpose. Duty. Honor. Compassionate brawling.

"We may strike this year," Pop would say, and everyone at the dinner table knew that meant sinched belts, outdated fashions for my brothers, a new dynamic for me since schedules would shift and my smart kid school needs would be affected. You had to argue to get your damned street cleared of snow. Had to argue to get your neighborhood repaved, or policed appropriately. That one house on the block with the overgrown weeds, peeling paint and broken windows that Mrs. Hayden always complains about in the block club meeting? There go my parents, with a few other parents, standing on a doorstep, ringing a bell, holding paint cans, gassed lawn mower. You just gonna stand on someone's stoop, wait for them to come out, and tell them their house is bringing down the neighborhood so you're there to help, and you expect not to fight? Not to yell? Where I'm from, people argued, yelled, threw hands, out in the open.

To love each other. To save each other. To save ourselves.

Where I’m from, you had to fight. If you wanted something, even respect for your own authenticity, you had to humbug.

“Take it outside?”

“Shit, bet! Beat yo' ass, right quick.”

Everyone drops the video game controllers. If it's over sports, it was "Aight, at half-time." Marv Alpert is talking, everyone goes outside. "No face." See, face punching made it serious. Can't come back from that. Body punching only. Respect all calls for time-outs. If anyone falls, it's over. And before you’re thinking this is the most hyper-masculine affair ever, at The Crib, a girl/woman will ask if what you’re arguing about was important enough to you to take it outside. My mother would box a dude, no question. A girlfriend was expected to knuckle-up. You'd pass on a fight with a guy depending upon who his lady was, because you may be able to whip him, but you can't whip them both. My father taught me basic boxing, Marques of Queensbury-rules. My mother taught me how to streetfight. She once made me box an older, bigger cousin who pushed me down and took my toys. I was getting picked on because I was lighter than a paper bag and smaller. She had one of my brothers referee to keep it fair. You fight him, or you fight me, and she didn't play. 

Fight, with your cousin, for what's right. It'll hurt. You'll live. You need to do this. For yourself.

The first fight I lost, badly, was to a girl. The next summer, we were a thing. No one batted an eye. In Chicago, everyone fought. It's how we bonded. It's how we learned the other person was sturdy in the high winds of fate.

Ay, what that white boy say? I know he isn't talking at me like that. Take it outside. Slap box? Bet. Oh, hell. That white boy can fight. Shit. Aight, then. Convictions challenged, defended, respected. Bet, my fault. We good? We good. Shit, white boy had some technique. What he say his name was again? Mike (everyone in Chicago is Mike or Bob. Or Chuck.) A week later. "Mike! Ay, I got Mike's beer. 'sup, man. Y'all, this my homie White Boy Mike. Ay, whaddup, White Boy Mike. White boy can fight. Knows his sports. Cool as hell. In the electrician's union. Good people." 

By the summer, if White Boy Mike isn't holding up the end of the bar, it doesn't feel right. The playoff series against Cleveland is coming on. Someone call White Boy Mike to make sure he's coming to The Cove in Hyde Park for the game. Hey, how's it going with that lady you told us about? Getting serious? Naw, Mike. It's alright. Just buy me one the next game. See you Wednesday night? Okay, Friday then. Be safe getting home. My dawg, White Boy Mike.

"How'd you two meet?"

"He beat my ass."

"Whaaa?"

"Slap-boxin'."

"Aw. Aight. He cool?"

"The coolest. Good people."

Fighting is another form of love, but you have to leave room for the love to come through. You have to fight until the path is clear for loving. Can't be afraid of that. Just don't get too personal. Don't fight dirty. Don't call out and take down someone's family. Hug it out. Give up some dap. Back to baselines. Hard fighting. Good losing. Unless you were friends with real assholes with no honor, and the thuggiest thugs back then had honor, it was over. No need for grudges. We're all real people here. The Hawk is on its way. Soon, it'll be 40-below for everyone, regardless of positions. No agreeing to disagree. you agree to fight it out. Impressions made. Deep convictions exposed and respected. Days later, your worldview is altered slightly, as is the worldview of the new best friend you made from fighting. You moved on. And if you couldn't move on just yet, it was alright. You can always go back outside and settle it with them hands.

"No face."

"Aight, bet."


- dg



***

For those interested in the works to which I frequently refer, check out these titles at your local bookseller, your local library, or online where you enjoy purchasing your print and e-books. As always, thanks for your support and encouragement.


         

Thursday, June 21, 2018

Sometimes I Despair

Society seems to be more divided than ever, with strong feelings on every side of every issue, and very little middle ground. How do you deal with putting your views out there? Have you ever had to deal with a flame war?

From Jim

I avoid airing my political views on social media.

But just this week I reached my limit with the cruel, un-American (and unchristian), inhumane separation of children from their parents at the border. I put up a couple of posts on Facebook to express my shame, outrage, and hope (via donations to organizations to help those poor, suffering people). A flaming war quickly ensued, and I spent the day in a shaking rage.

And so I’m back to keeping my political thoughts to myself on social media. The fact is I’m not going to change the opinion of anyone who believes that caging innocent, weeping children is somehow okay. And for the people who agree with me, I’m preaching to the choir. I will continue to voice my opinions in my private life, and I’LL VOTE.

Wednesday, June 20, 2018

Escape artist

Society seems to be more divided than ever, with strong feelings on every side of every issue, and very little middle ground. How do you deal with putting your views out there? Have you ever had to deal with a flame war?

by Dietrich Kalteis

I don’t regularly pick up a newspaper or turn on a newscast, at best I skim the news, a headline here and there. There’s little about it I need to know, most of it’s fear-based and often depressing. So at best, I’ve got a passing knowledge of current events, so I usually haven’t got much to offer about the issues of the day. Nothing wrong with a healthy discussion among friends, but sometimes talking about what’s making headlines can seem like striking a match and lighting a fuse — especially in a public forum. 


I write fiction, I make stuff up. When I stumble on a news gem that interests me — especially if there’s some dark humor attached — it might spark a story idea in my head. The kind of news that might get me thinking, “Well, what if this happened.” A number of my short stories and novels were influenced by actual events that I stumbled on. Ride the Lightning came about after I read on an article a few years back about the number of grow-ops in this province, how pot was the biggest cash crop, worth billions annually, rivaling softwood lumber. And not a tax dollar was being collected while talks of legalization continued. The spark for Triggerfish came after I read an article about a captured narco sub used by a cartel to transport cocaine from South America. Authorities established that the sub, which was constructed in the Amazon, could travel two thousand miles virtually undetected, and that got me thinking …

As a story takes shape in my head, so do the characters, and I like to let them loose and allow them to express their own views, which don’t have to line up with my own. I don’t step in and inject my own viewpoints.

There’s a natural seclusion that comes with writing a novel, which can take a year or longer, so I spend a lot of time working on my own. When I’m not writing, I like to spend time with family and friends, and there’s so much more to talk about than what’s making headlines. And of course, I sometimes add comments on social media sites, the perfect place not to get into heated discussions on hot-button issues of the day.

Some of my favorite authors were reclusive, greats like Lee Harper and J.D. Salinger. Some like Thomas Pynchon and Cormac McCarthy still are. While others are outspoken. At times Hunter S. Thompson came off half-mad in those dark glasses and golf hat, behaving like he’d been imbibing in something stronger than the office coffee, and often while wielding a firearm. But he wrote with passion and fury and had a great sense of humor. And if he was around today, he’d likely have a hell of a viewpoint to share on some of those hot-button issues.
I’m not reclusive and I don’t consider myself outspoken, so maybe it’s just the polite Canadian thing, but I tend to keep my two cents to myself, especially on public forums. One thing’s for sure, life’s far too short for flame wars. 

Tuesday, June 19, 2018

Only when absolutely pushed

By R.J. Harlick

Society seems to be more divided than ever, with strong feelings on every side of every issue, and very little middle ground. How do you deal with putting your views out there? Have you ever had to deal with a flame war?

It’s a tricky question. As an author, I am ever mindful of my readership. I don’t want to turn off fans because of my political views. But I suppose given the types of issues I like to explore in my Meg Harris mysteries, I suspect most of my fans share a similar view of the world. 

Nonetheless, I do try to shy away from voicing political views on my social media platforms. I don’t want it to become a platform for divisive argumentation nor do I want it to take away from my main purpose for being on Facebook and Twitter, which funnily enough is to promote me as a writer and my Meg Harris series. 

But that said, there are times, when I feel I can’t keep quiet. Often this is when there is an election happening and I am convinced the winner projected by the polls will do more harm than good once in office.  At other times, it is when the powers that be are planning to implement something that I believe is unfair and blatantly wrong. Lately I’ve been posting articles from established Canadian media about happenings south of the border that affect my own country. I want to give my southern friends an opportunity to read perspectives that come from beyond their borders. What I won’t do is comment on internal happenings of another country no matter how much I dislike what is going on. I believe it is none of my business. 

We are only a few days from the longest day of the year, so I thought I would include a couple of photos taken during my research trip to Canada’s Far North for Arctic Blue Death. They were taken on June 21 at midnight in Pangnirtung, Nunavut, on Baffin Island.  The sun basically drew a circle in the sky. It slipped behind the ridge across the fjord for about an hour before popping up further along the ridge. I don’t think there was a single person asleep in the town. Everyone, including children were out cavorting, enjoying the white night. A magical moment. The building in the foreground of the second photo is the Hudson's Bay Company trading post built in 1921.  



Monday, June 18, 2018

Public Views


Today we are dealing with the question of “the great divide”—how we handle putting our views “out there” in public.

Since I’m right about everything, it’s no big problem for me to spout my views. Okay, seriously, I handle it by saying exactly what I think and try to back it up with facts (remember back in the old days, when facts meant something?) I write letters to the editor of both the NY Times and the Chronicle and I freely post my opinions on social media.



I have never had to deal with a flame war, but I have had to moderate some very divergent opinions on my Facebook posts. I refuse to unfriend people whose opinions differ from mine because then not only will I not know what they are thinking (yes, I use the word "thinking" loosely), but the opposite is true as well. If I unfriend them, they won’t ever see my posts. I want them to see what I have to say. I want to argue with them. Maybe I won’t ever change any minds, but at least people know where I stand. They know I have strong opinions and that I am not afraid to air them.

That last statement says something very important to me. I think fear drives a great deal of what goes on in the country today. I constantly read opinion pieces discussing why we are in such a perilous internal war, about why he-who-shall-not-be-named got elected, why people are so angry. I have my own ideas about it. I think fear drives a lot of the division, and I think that fear can be traced back to 9/11. Many of our supposedly brave citizens reacted with abject terror to that event and the fear has been growing unrestricted ever since. To understand the stupidity of that fear, consider how many more people die every year from poorly monitored guns than died on 9/11. How many more people die of opiates; how many more die from smoking; from automobile accidents.

So, if I’m right, it means the terrorists who attacked us on 9/11 won. They won by dividing the country into those who let fear guide them and those who are not afraid of “the other.” The other consists of: people without the same religious beliefs; people with a different skin color. But it also means scientists; journalists; questioners; people who refuse to follow blindly. Fearful people are afraid to step out of line. That's a dangerous problem, and I intend to fight it. It may not be judicious for my professional life, but I think this time in our country is more important than my career.

Just like gun owners who proudly proclaim, “They will take my gun when they pry it from my cold, dead hands,” I proclaim, “I’ll shut up when they tape my mouth closed, tie my hands behind me, and drag me offstage.





Friday, June 15, 2018

I Got My Ticket for the Long Way Round

Do you think a regular writing hiatus would be good for you? (no writing/reading/reviewing/marketing etc.) How long would you like to take and what would you do during it?)

by Paul D. Marks

Before I get to the question at hand, I was researching some things the other day and came across a list of the “Top 50 Crime Novel Blogs For Crime Readers & Authors” at Feedspot. So out of curiosity I had to check and see if we were on there. And we are. At #22. The last update is May 30, 2018, so this is a pretty current list. Not sure how they chose these blogs, but Congratulations fellow Criminal Minds and thank you to Feedspot.



***
And now to today’s question:

I don’t know if a writing hiatus would be good for me, but I’m not sure it’s something I could do even if I wanted to. Though it might be good for my marriage, because writing is like having a mistress, who takes up a lot of your time and energy.

Clearly we all take breaks from writing. But no writing? No reading? What kind of torture is this? But okay, maybe no reviewing or marketing. So, what are supposed to do? For example, if we travel, I don’t know about you, but I know whenever I travel I always have good intentions to get some writing in. And I never do, so even that might work. But no reading – we’re supposed to take time off and do what? Watch TV all day, stare at our phones all day texting all the important things that people must text about every minute of every day. Or maybe cure cancer in our free time – yeah maybe. But my chemistry set is notoriously out of date.

I do get asked to do a lot of blurbs and reviews, so much so that I often don’t have time to read for pleasure so I’ve had to put a moratorium on blurbing. So I’d be happy to get a break from that.

The solution is a compromise: Yes, a break or hiatus. A cruise, but not on a cruise ship. That is my idea of H-E-DOUBLE-HOCKEY-STICKS: HELL! HELL! HELL ON EARTH! HELL ON THE HIGH SEAS. And, while the food might be good, the idea of being stacked like pancakes or in a multi-layered ant-hill of drunken partying fools would make me want to jump overboard or walk the plank, be hanged—hung?—strung from the yardarm. If I go to sea—and I have been—to enjoy the ocean and peacefulness a cruise ship is not peaceful. It’s like Las Vegas but where you need a Dramamine fix every few hours, not from the rolling waves but from the rolling drunks.

I don’t think today’s cruise ships are the epitome of sedate, luxurious travel like we might see in the old movies on Turner Classics. People have changed. These days they see a cruise ship as the perfect place to get rid of that extraneous wife or superfluous husband. So they might be a good place for an Agatha Christie type story, Death on the Nile or Murder on the Disney Cruise Express.


Many freighters or cargo ships carry passengers, but usually a limited number. As an old salt, I love the sea. I’d bring a laptop and tablet, lots of books and movies. And Amy and the dogs. Now I know in reality you’re not allowed to bring dogs unless you ship them as cargo, but since this is my fantasy I can do whatever I want – and damn it, the dogs are coming!


How long would I take? Forever, as long as I had satellite internet to send my stories out, ’cause I’d cheat and get some writing in after all.  -----  What about you? Hiatus or no hiatus? And what would you do?

***

And now for the usual BSP:

Check out my recent interview with Terri Lynn Coop on The Blue Plate Special on Authors on the Air Radio:  http://tobtr.com/s/10821245

~.~.~

Broken Windows is coming (September, 2018) from Down & Out Books! And you might be able to get an Advanced Reader’s Copy at Net Galley. It’s FREE, you just have to agree to their terms and agree to give a fair and honest review. Their terms are not onerous. But there’s no guarantee that you’ll be able to get a copy.

Broken Windows is the sequel to my Shamus Award-Winning novel White Heat, which Publishers Weekly calls a “…taut crime yarn.” It picks up where WH leaves off: A woman jumps to her death from the Hollywood Sign. A disbarred lawyer places an ad saying “Will do anything for money.” A day laborer is murdered. And Duke and Jack, the P.I.’s from White Heat, have to figure out how it all ties together. – In a nutshell.




~.~.~


Please join me on Facebook: www.facebook.com/paul.d.marks and check out my website www.PaulDMarks.com

Thursday, June 14, 2018

All aboard!

"Do you think a regular writing hiatus would be good for you? No writing/reading/reviewing/marketing etc.) How long would you like to take and what would you do during it?"

Catriona writes: Thus week I'm taking a blogging hiatus, well, I'm turning my day over to Linda Lovely, who's on a blog tour to celebrate the launch of PICKED OFF, the second in her South Carolina goat farm mystery series, the follow-up to the giggle-fest that was BONES TO PICK.

Over to Linda:



Here’s how old I am: I recall taking vacations from my full time job and packing only clothes, money, and, if we were driving to the coast, maybe beach towels. What didn’t I pack? Cell phones and laptops. All communication with my employer (early on) and partners (later) ceased. If my firm went bankrupt and I lost my job, I’d learn about it once I returned home. Meanwhile I was on vacation and couldn’t give a hoot.

Old fogey that I am I look back on this era as the good old days. Now when friends and family come to visit (often since we live on a very pretty lake), most never entirely escape work and worries. Colleagues call with questions. They answer texts. They check social media and websites several times a day. They never unplug.

That means they miss the joy of a total sabbatical—a timeout to do absolutely nothing or to lose oneself in a fantasy adventure. A chance to recharge our minds and bodies, give free reign to our imaginations. The real world calls us back soon enough.

So do I think a regular writing hiatus would be good for me (and others)? Absolutely. However, I can’t include reading in my potential list of retreat-from-authorhood prohibitions. I was reading for pleasure and escape long before I started writing fiction, and I’ll still be devouring books if I ever quit. Reading is part of the bedtime ritual for my husband and me. We always read for an hour or so before it’s lights out.


How long a hiatus makes sense? Depends on the individual. Some folks are so addicted to their cell phones that I doubt they could spend a day unplugged without psychotherapy. It would be torture, not vacation. For me, I’m a fan of the traditional two-week vacation. One week isn’t long enough. I’m usually worn out at the start of a vacation due to frantic efforts to put out any fires and get ready—even if my trip doesn’t involve leaving home. Three weeks is too long since playing catch up on my return to author responsibilities would just rekindle whatever stress I felt pre-vacation.

What is my ideal escape? Perhaps a train trip across Canada with my husband, if we had the freedom to disembark whenever and for as long as we chose. It’s been too long since we’ve visited with out niece in Saskatchewan who lives on a wheat farm. I’d love to revisit Quebec City, Toronto, and Nova Scotia. And I’ve always wanted to see Banff National Park, Calgary, and Vancouver. (Note to self, you do need to renew your passport for Canada.)

I think fear is the biggest reason we don’t unplug for any length of time. Some folks with nine-to-five jobs may fear their employers will realize they CAN function without them. For authors, it’s fear that should we abandon social media, our fans will move on or our publishers will decide we’re poor team players and undependable or poor communicators.

What I fear more is that if I don’t disconnect from the writing world at least once a year I’ll miss out on experiences and emotions that are what the good life’s all about. And those experience might just provide the inspiration for the best book I’ll ever write.

Linda's Bio: Over the past five years, hundreds of mystery/thriller writers have met Linda Lovely at check-in for the annual Writers’ Police Academy, which she helps organize. Lovely finds writing pure fiction isn’t a huge stretch given the years she’s spent penning PR and ad copy. She writes a blend of mystery and humor, chuckling as she plots to “disappear” the types of characters who most annoy her. Quite satisfying plus there’s no need to pester relatives for bail. Henery Press just released PICKED OFF on June 5. It’s the second humorous installment in her new Brie Hooker Mystery series set on a goat farm in Upstate South Carolina. An active member of Sisters in Crime, Lovely served as her local chapter’s president for five years. She also belongs to International Thriller Writers and Romance Writers of America.

www.lindalovely.com


Wednesday, June 13, 2018

Breaking up is hard to do....by Cathy Ace


LIFE: Do you think a regular writing hiatus would be good for you? (no writing/reading/reviewing/marketing etc) How long would you like to take and what would you do during it?


In three words - yes and no. 

Let me try again - I'll break down the different functions listed, so I can give a fuller answer. 


I do already take a sort-of hiatus from writing during March-May, because I attend Left Coast Crime, Malice Domestic and CrimeFest UK during those months (adding in a couple of weeks with Mum in Wales when I go to the UK) and therefore find it impossible to get a lot of writing done, so I’d rather do none at all. 
Interviewing Guests of Honor William Kent Kreuger, Naomi Hirahara and Todd Borg at Left Coast Crime 2018
I also fit in a vacation during those months (by which I mean lolling about in the sun on the deck of a cruise ship) so these are my months when I take “down time” from writing. However, I’m still plotting like a fiend, making notes and plans, and even carrying out research all that time. 

One of my favorite spots on a cruise ship - the library!



Reading? I only stop reading when I’m writing – not because I’m afraid I’ll pick up another author’s “voice” in my own work, but purely because I am so immersed in my own make-believe world that I don’t have room for anyone else’s…so I read most during the three months I’m not actively writing. I read on paper, Kindle and Kobo…yes, all three!
My rather splendid new Kindle cover!



I don’t do much reviewing – I have discovered I’m pretty poor at it, and few people ask me for blurbs simply because I’m not well-enough known for my opinion to count for much. Those requests I do get seem to mostly come from publishers/authors who have clearly never read what I write, because there’s little/no connection between my readers and theirs, so I (politely, I hope) decline.


Marketing’s a different thing – I NEVER take a break from it. Never. Ever. Even when I’m on vacation. Why? Because I've invested six years into building a presence, and I think it’s best to not stop now! 

So...here it comes...please, consider reading one of my books? Thanks! 


Cathy Ace writes the Cait Morgan Mysteries and the WISE Enquiries Agency Mysteries. Find out more about Cathy and her work here: http://www.cathyace.com/