Some brief comments

So Steve Jobs' last words were Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow.  What is that supposed to mean?  Another mystery.  Perhaps he was getting a glimpse into the afterlife and liked what he saw?  Just sayin'.

This morning, we got the news in St. Louis that Tony Larussa was retiring. I guess he decided that he liked the idea of going out on top.  I don't blame him.  One of the St. Louis writers compared it to the time Dick Vermeil retired after leading the Rams to a superbowl championship.  Of course, he unretired and coached again -- successfully, I might add.

I am wanting to get a new tablet computer.  I don't know if I want to go all out and get an Ipad or get something cheaper.  I'm interested in the new Amazon Kindle Fire, but I always have a bit of trepidation about buying something that's exclusive.  For instance, I'd like to download my rhapsody on the tablet.  Could I do that with Apple or Amazon.  If anyone has any words of wisdom, I would like to hear it.  I had a tablet, and there wasn't anything wrong with it, but it just couldn't do what I wanted it to do.  Plus, I didn't know how to use it very well.

I think I'm going to write a musical, a serious drama about mental illness.  I have even written the rough draft of the lyrics of my first song.  It's called "Demon Child."  I have a nephew who does music, so I'm thinking we will collaborate.  I think this might make for an interesting endeavor.

Excerpt from Lancelot and a word about Reckless...

...the name of a book by Cornelia Funke, the author of the Inkheart trilogy.  I started reading it yesterday morning and finished it last night. I guess that gives you some idea of how good it was.  I am in my older age an impatient reader sometimes.  If I don't immediately get into a book, I tend to put it down and not finish it.  It isn't necessarily because the book is bad, it's just that I am usually doing so many things that I don't like to start a book unless I can completely immerse myself in it until I finish it.  So it was with Reckless.  Perhaps at a later date, I will write a brief review of it.  The book has some similarities to Inkheart but enough differences to make it special in its own way.

This is the second time in the past week I've sat down and read an entire book.  The other one I mentioned on an earlier blog.

It's Sunday, and every Sunday I like to post an excerpt from my book, Lancelot and the Tides of Time.  In this excerpt, Lancelot meets King Arthur for the first time.
You can order the book at
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005IDNASS/ref=tsm_1_fb_lk
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/lancelot-and-the-tides-of-time

BOOK TWO:

WORLDS APART

Chapter 1

Lancelot peered out from behind the tree into the clearing. What he saw astounded him. A young man close to his age stood and practiced his battle techniques. That he would dare do such a thing in Arthur’s kingdom infuriated him, and fierce loyalty for the man he had never met welled up inside of him. However, before he rushed into the clearing and beat the living stuffing out of the profligate, he decided to study his moves.

In front of the young man hung what looked like a scarecrow on a revolving post. With a wooden staff, roughly five feet long, he smacked one arm of the contraption, and when it spun around, he would counterattack and knock it back the other way. The faster the man smacked the ends of the wooden dummy the faster it spun. Lancelot marveled at the quickness of the young man, but once every ten or 12 swings, the dummy would get a good lick in on the young man and send him flying. This infuriated him, and he would swing as hard as he could, not caring for balance and control.

This lack of control often turned the tide of combat. Control often made the difference between the conquered and the conqueror.

After watching for only a minute or two longer, Lancelot knew enough he could easily defeat the young man in a battle. Because he believed in giving the enemy a fair

chance, he decided he would not simply rush him from behind and crack his skull. Instead, he stepped calmly into the clearing.

“Who are you to dare profane the sacred realm of Arthur?”

The young man whirled around. He studied Lancelot carefully to size him up. Lancelot knew that nothing about himself suggested anything unusual. Both of

them stood about the same height and weighed about the same. The sun had bronzed them both, and both possessed muscular builds. In fact, Lancelot marveled at how much this villain looked like him. About the only differences between the two that Lancelot noticed were their hair, his long and black, the other’s light brown and cropped short; and their eyes, his a silver blue and the other’s a muddy brown.

“Who I am is none of your business,” the young upstart said and then readied his staff.

“Maybe, but your presence here is my business. You don’t belong in this place.”

“I suppose you think you can do something about it.”

Lancelot sprang into action. He swung his own staff hard at the young man’s upper chest, but his opponent  blocked his swing, whirled and tried to hit Lancelot with a

quick backhand. Lancelot hadn’t expected the move so soon, but he blocked the blow anyway.

Next, the enemy tried a frontal assault. Holding the staff in the middle, he used both ends of it in his attempts to hit Lancelot. Each one Lancelot blocked.

Enraged, the young man grabbed the staff at one end. He stepped back two steps just as Lancelot expected. Then, he swung hard straight at Lancelot’s head. Lance blocked it easily, whirled around, and with his back swing hit his opponent in the upper chest and sent him flying to the ground. Thinking this would end the conflict, Lance relaxed, but to his surprise, the young man jumped to his feet.

“I’ll kill you!” However, he didn’t get the chance.

“Stop it!”

The voice, heavy with authority, froze both of them. From out of the cover of woods, an old man stepped and stood in the clearing. He shook his head in disgust.

“Haven’t I told you once before that you’re going to win more ballgames with base hits than you are home runs?”

As Lance stood confused, the young man answered, “Yes, but I still don’t understand what it means.”

“I forget where I am sometimes,” the old man muttered. “Baseball … never mind. It means you can defeat an opponent of equal ability with several smaller blows rather than one larger blow. In this case you forgot that and lost your composure. Instead of reconsidering your strategy, you go charging forward like an idiot. You deserve to be thumped good and hard. Be thankful Lancelot did not have a sword or you would be dead,” the old man said as he pointed at Lancelot.

“Lancelot?” the young man said.

“The very same. I told you he was good.”

Lancelot gripped his staff. “What is this witchery?”

“The correct term is wizardry, young man. I can understand why you are confused.” The old man stepped forward and extended his hand.

Frightened, Lancelot raised his staff to strike. When heat suddenly shot into the wood, he yelped and dropped his weapon to the ground.

“Don’t even try it, Lance. I am a wizard and I can obliterate you in one second. Allow me to introduce myself and my young charge here. I’ve been called lots of things in my lifetime, but Merlin will do for now. And this is King Arthur.”

Lancelot gasped, lurched backward, and clumsily knelt. With his eyes locked on the ground, he said, “My liege, forgive me for my impudence. I have insulted my king. Execute me here and now.”

“Get up,” Merlin said. “He’s a king, not a saint, and a man at that – a pretty stupid man at times.”

With astonishment and horror, Lancelot stared at this disrespectful wizard.

“He’s right. I generally am pretty stupid, but I have some great ideas for the kingdom, and you figure into many of them.”

Merlin whistled through his fingers. “Crystal. Come!”

When Lancelot looked up, he saw a white horse stroll from the woods. Then, he took a closer look. To his amazement, he saw a brilliantly white horn protruding from

the animal’s forehead.

“A unicorn.” He looked once more at the old man. He looked familiar.

“That’s only the beginning. Merlin tells me you are going to be one of the most important people in history.”

“I think my exact word was histories,” Merlin said.

“Histories? That doesn’t make sense,” Arthur said.

“You have a lot to learn.”

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Lancelot said.

“And you too. I just hope we don’t all get killed before you learn them.”

It suddenly struck Lancelot. “I know who you are!”

This guy would be Arthur if my book were made into a movie.

This guy would be Lancelot if my book were made into a film.

Lancelot and the Tides of Times would be a fantastic film if I could ever convince a Hollywood producer to read it.

World Series Hangover and some other news for a Saturday morning

In my lifetime I have seen Cardinal World Championships in 1964, 1967, 1982, and 2006

Though I didn't drink a drop of alcohol, I do have a World Series hangover.  The Cardinals had a season of destiny.  It was a fairytale year, a classic story that should be made into a Hollywood movie -- at least in my humble opinion, but what do I know?  I am a Cardinals fanatic and have been for years as was my father and my grandfather.  I stayed up until 1 a.m. watching all the celebrations.  I'm too old to do that anymore.  The thing is I did it twice in a row.  One of the greatest storylines to come out of this series is David Freese, the hometown boy who comes back to be MVP in the World Series.  Wow.  All right, enough of the Cardinals for now.  I will report on their offseason moves as they come up.  It's liable to be an interesting winter.

I spoke with a person yesterday who has received electro convulsive therapy for a mental illness.  I have been looking for a person to talk to because the character in my novel I'm working on has had it.  I did research on the subject which helped me find out a few things, but research isn't a primary source.  I have to absorb a lot of what this person told me before I speak of it with much coherence, but this person did tell me a couple of this.

I asked if there were any regrets for having the treatments.  This person told me that there were none.  If not for the treatments this person would have been dead.  I asked about side effects.  This person said that there were 30 years in (since I'm tired of saying this person, I'm going to use an initial.  W.) their life that they can't remember.  (I know that their is a pronoun antecedent agreement error but I don't want to say he or she.)  W said that they, at one time, had a house and a van but somewhere during the course of their treatment these disappeared and they don't remember what happened.  This is just one of the things that W told me.  W said that they believe they had hundreds of treatments over the last 30 years.

One of the most important things to come out of my interview with W is this.  So many negative feelings are associated with ECT, and we get all of these negative images from Hollywood and books, such as what happens to Jack Nicholson's character in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.  The truth of the matter is that ECT is a very humane treatment that saves lives.  W told me and I stress this, that despite everything that happened, W would take the treatments again and is alive today because of them.  I'll explore this further in further blogs.  Now, I need to decide how I intend to use this information in my book.

I have a lot more to say on this issue, but this blog is already getting long.  I would like  to thank the 108 people who looked at my blog yesterday.  I would sure like to have that number again today or perhaps even more.

I haven't mentioned it for a while, but my book is still available, and it's really good, I think.
http://www.buckscountypublishing.com/portal/BookStore/LancelotandtheTidesofTime.aspx

World Champions

Anyone who is even remotely a baseball fan knows the historic story of this year's St. Louis Cardinals team, so I won't say much.  We won.  Cool.  Wow.  What a team.  What a city. Wow.

Homage to the Cardinals

Fair weather fans. Shame on you. The Cardinals are down; they are not out. How many times have they been down this year, just one count away from a knockout? More times than I can count. Today is just one more time. The lady has not sung. Ten has not been called out. The bell has not rung. We have three innings to get three runs, and darn it, we can do it. We CAN do it. We HAVE done it for a month now. Magic does NOT die with a whimper but with a bang! And the Cardinals have been magic all year. Don't count them out yet.


I posted this last night on Facebook after the Cardinals fell behind by two runs -- the first time -- in what is most likely the greatest World Series game in history.


I have been a Cardinal fans since I was a child.  My grandfather would sit in his living room, reach into his can of tobacco, grab a cigarette paper,  carefully roll up his cigarette, lick both ends so it didn't come apart, get out an old fashioned wooden match, strike it against an iron pot-bellied stove, touch it to his cigarette, pause for a fraction of a second, and then say, "Son, have I ever told you about ..."


He had told me before, but it didn't matter.  I could hear stories about the old time baseball players over and over and over again.  Grandpa grew up with Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, and the gas house gang in St. Louis.  My dad, who is almost 80, would likely kill me if I told this story, but his given name before Grandpa died and Dad changed it legally was Pepper Martin.  Do a little math here.  Dad was born July 2, 1932.  Almost exactly nine months earlier, guess which team from St. Louis was in the world series?  Guess which player won the MVP?


Now, though I am just as fanatical as both my dad and my grandpa are and was about Cardinal baseball, I didn't name my daughter Roberta (after Bob Gibson) or Louise (after Lou Brock) or Stephanie (after Steve Carlton) or Orlando (after ... uh ... Orlando Cepeda.) 


I feel privileged to have grown up in an era when I got to see these players wear a Cardinals' uniform and do get to see Albert Pujols.  I don't know if the Cardinals are going to win game seven or not, but let me tell you,  I wouldn't bet against them.

Many thanks to my father and grandfather for giving me 'the love of the game'

Two New things I experienced today

Katy Perry.  What do you think about when you hear that name? I must confess to you that I am not a fan of Katy Perry.  In fact, I have only listened to one or two of her songs.  Recently, her latest album -- as any fan of hers should know -- set a record for having five number one singles.  Out of a morbid sense of curiosity and perhaps a need for self flagellation, I took advantage of some of my music downloading software and downloaded her album.  Of course, at my age, I found some of the music simply ridiculous.  Katy Perry knows how to take advantage of the teeny bopper crowd to crank out best sellers.  However, two or three of the songs really impressed me.  Even I have to admit that she has a good voice also.  At any rate, I listened to the songs Pearl and Fireworks and thought that they had wonderful messages for girls. Having a daughter, I found myself thinking, I hope my daughter has heard these songs.  There was another one that was good despite having some language in it.  I could have done without the California Girls, Last Friday Night, and Peacock songs though.

The second new thing I experienced today was Buffalo Wild Wings.  I had never eaten there because I thought that all it had was wings.  I'm not a big wing fan., but I was ready for a new experience. I was incredibly surprised at their menu variety and also by their more than reasonable prices.  I wound up getting boneless wings with honey barbeque sauce.  There were 8 or 9 nice sized wings, fries, celery with blue cheese dip, and a soda all for about $6.  I will be going back to BWW at some other time.  Next time, I'll take the missus.

I finished reading The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time.  I finished it in one evening and part of the morning.  Nowadays, when I read, the book has to grab me quickly and keep me.  If it does, I will read it until I finish it.   Otherwise, I set it aside. I don't have the patience I used to to wade through a slow book.

The Cardinals face elimination tonight.  Currently, it's 3 to 3.  Could be an interesting night.

A great writing book

As a wannabe writer for some 30 years and having only minimal luck I have spent a lot of money on writing books designed to make me a writer.  I always told myself as the song goes, "I'm just an old chunk of coal, but I'm gonna be a diamond someday."  Though I have had some successes, I would have to say that I have not had nearly as many as I would have liked.  I recently got a book -- one that I did not buy, but which I won in a contest -- that I wish I had picked up years ago ... which now that I think about it would not have happened because the book is only a couple of years old.

It's called Storyline and its premise is that we write better when we incorporate our own emotions into the material that we write.  It's kind of like Stanislovski's The Method only it's for writers.  (My apologies to Mr. Stanislovski because I'm not sure I spelled his name correctly.)  The book is a combination of explanation and exercises, and it puts a lot of emphasis on the logline and writing loglines for the turning points in your life.  I am halfway through the first exercise and I've written more-- and more emotionally-- in it than I have for a long time.

The exercise goes like this.  Pick five moments in your life.  Moments when your whole world turns upside down and list them.  I wrote, as a couple of examples, about the time when my grandmother died and when a friend killed himself.  After you list the moments, write down the emotions you remember from the experience.  Then think of a character in a screenplay or book or story you've written who is feeling the same way.  As I said, I have done some very cathartic writing on this exercise, and I'm not even halfway finished with it.  I give it a two thumbs up.

Let's talk about reading and NANOWRIMO

I think I may be getting messages from the universe that I need to be reading more than I have been.  Let me say first that I love to read, and because I love to read, I also like to write.  I want to be able to create worlds that Geeks like me can get lost in.  When I was a kid, my fave kind of novel was mystery.  I read Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, but my absolute favorite series was Alfred Hitchcock and the Three Investigators.  In high school, I read the usual stuff: Catcher in the Rye, Stranger in a Strange Land, (lots of science fiction), Helter Skelter, Alive -- I didn't have any favorite genres except maybe science fiction.  In college, as an English major, I read the classics mostly with the exception of one modern novels class.  An old girlfriend's father introduced me to Stephen King -- the first Stephen King book I read was the Dead Zone.  After that, I read all the King and Koontz books I could get my hands on.  Intermixed with my love for horror was a love for fantasy also.  The two genres are somewhat linked I think.  I read the Lord of the Rings trilogy and the Hobbit during Christmas break of 1977, and these books really hit me in the heart because I was getting ready to go to a big university from a community college.  As corny as it seems, I saw my leaving for college as a kind of journey to find the magic rings.

Before My  Bald Spot Grew So Large

Since I have been writing young adult fiction, I read a lot of it.  Today at the book fair, I bought two books.  One looks very interesting.  It's called the curious incident of the dog in the night-time.  I looked at a few pages and became immediately enthralled.  It's a murder mystery, so perhaps it's taking me back to my childhood, but it also has a narrator who suffers from autism.  This viewpoint really interests me because in my novel I have a narrator who sees things in a different way.  From what I have read so far, all I can say is, "Wow.  It is excellent."  The other book is Reckless, by Cornelia Funke who wrote the Inkheart trilogy.  I loved those books and am looking forward to reading this one.  The final word from the universe was spoken to me when I came home.  I received a package from Gotham Writer's Workshop. In it is a writing book called Story Line that I won in their monthly contest.  I NEVER win anything.  I was very excited.

I was NOT excited about the World Series game last night.  The Cardinals did not look good.  I can only hope that coming back to St. Louis will bring them their luck back.

I think I am going to try the NANOWRIMO this year.  I have the plan for my book lined out.  50,000 words is about the size I want it to be.  Can I do this?  I don't know. 

Blogging while I'm watching the World Series

I am overjoyed the Cardinals are now enjoying a two to zero lead in the third inning.  Carp looks good tonight, and the Cards are picking up some key hits. Texas has made a couple of errors and does not look sharp at all. Right now there are two on and just one out.  I would really like to see the Cardinals have a 3-2 lead going into St. Louis. I am nervous that the seventh game is going to be started by Lohse. He has been inconsistent.  The Cardinals just lost their scoring opportunity by hitting into another double play.

I wrote several pages on my novel today.  I'm in chapter 2 now, almost finished with it.  I like it.  Of course, the rough draft is flabby and will need to be shaped up, but at least I have something to work with.

My wife is in Lesterville tonight.  They're hosting the district volleyball championships and the teachers are in charge of the hospitality room though I don't know how they managed to get elected for that position.  I like to watch volleyball, but I generally don't watch any of North County's sporting events because I live 35 miles away and I don't want to go home and then drive back.  Nor do I want to wait around for a few hours before this or that match begins.  So, I go home and don't go back unless I have to.

Carp looks sharp tonight.

Wow, correction.  Carp did look sharp. Mitch Moreland just hit one of the longest freaking home runs I have ever seen.  I don't like that.

www.loverofsadness.net

Thankful for baseball

I'm glad St. Louis has the Cardinals.  The Rams are already losing their game 7-0.  The Cardinals may have scored more last night than the Rams will score today.  The Cowboys had a 91 yard touchdown run.  Sam Bradford has a high ankle sprain and is not playing.  A.J. Feeley is the quarterback.  We do have a good receiver finally.  I don't know a lot about him, but I think he's been very good in the past.  Anything is better than what we have had.  I can't think of his name, but he played for Denver last year. Ah, Brandon Loyd is his name. Wow, the Rams just got a first down. The Rams just fumbled.  Sigh.

Jason Smith of the Rams is down on the field.  He got his head knocked back when he made the tackle.  They're taking him out on a stretcher.  The man is not moving at all.  I hope and pray he's okay. He moved his hands as he went off.

I really am not a one dimensional writer; sports isn't the only thing I can write about.  It's just the excitement of the World Series.  I am thinking a lot about my novel but not actually doing a lot of writing.  I am the great procrastinator.  I think perhaps it all arises out of the lack of visible success I have had.  I have no trouble writing my ACT stuff because they accept nearly everything I send, and I get a nice check for it.  I am not so lucky in my fiction and in my other kinds of writing.  With the lack of visible rewards, I sometimes feel as if I am wasting my time.  Writing should be its own reward rather or not you get published or not. I tell myself that anyway, but deep down, we all want to be published and we want people to read what we have written and we also want to get paid for what we do.

I need to grade some of my students' journals.  The second quarter has just started, and I'm looking forward to it.  My daughter has this book she's been using in her college class called Inside Out Strategies for Teaching Writing, and I looked it over.  Very impressed with what I saw, I went online and ordered my own copy of it.  I should get it in a couple of weeks. We have a short week at school this week.  In fact, the students are only there through Wednesday, and then, rumor has it that the following Monday is Senior skip day.  If that's the case, I'll have a really slow week.  I don't mind.  I have been hard at it all year.  I kind of need a slow week.

I should go now and do something constructive.

We need to offer up some prayers for the people of Turkey today.  A devastating earthquake has hit there.

Saturday morning coming down

The Beautiful one -- the one in the purple dress -- that's my daughter.

This is the kind of Saturday morning I live for. I'm sipping my coffee and just thinking.  I slept in until nine o'clock, and I look at my day and realize I have no pressing issues.  I have no place I have to be.  Nothing I just absolutely have to do.  I'm sitting here in my sweats and bathrobe and relaxing.  How many times do we get to do this?  Who does it when they get the chance?

I could be busy on something if I wanted to be, but right now, I don't want to be.  My poor, unfortunate wife had to go to her school this morning and proctor the ACT test.  My daughter, safely home from college for the weekend, is still asleep upstairs.  Parts of our town are bustling.  It is the annual Fall Festival, a yearly celebration that brings people from the valley who have scattered to the four winds back to watch a parade, celebrate class reunions, and a host of other things all in anticipation of the coronation to be held tonight at the high school.  One girl from each class voted on by the males in the class will strut her talent on stage tonight in hopes of getting that elusive Fall Festival Queen.  My daughter got it two years ago.  It was a big deal to her and her class.  Each one of the classes competes in four areas:  a work day to see how much money they can raise, float building, talent show, and votes at the door.  For the first time in a long time, I don't really know any of the four candidates who are running for queen.

As I sit here, I realize that any minute now, the parade will be rolling by my house, and my quiet reverie will be broken by the sounds of bands playing, firetrucks' blowing their sirens, crazy kids and adults honking their horns, and general chaos ensuing.  This will  last about fifteen minutes at best and then it will all die away.

Tonight, game three of the world series is going to happen.  The Cardinals need to win two out of three in Texas.  If they don't, it will be hard to come back in St. Louis.  They have to win at least one to stave off elimination.

I do intend to write today. I am just in no hurry to start it.  I am going to sign off.  Later.

Pre-world series game two musings for what they're worth.

On my way home from school today, I was thinking about how much I love music and how strange my music tastes are.  I grew up in a household where music was being played all the time.  I grew up listening to classic country music: Loretta Lynn, George Jones, Eddy Arnold, Hank Williams SENIOR, Marty Robbins and many more.  Plus, my grandpa could play any kind of guitar though his specialty was the electric mandolin.  My Uncle Mick played guitar, my Uncle Ruben played several things, and my Uncle Denny played the drums.  My dad still plays music with some of his friends, and he'll be 80 years old this summer.

My music tastes these days are eclectic to say the least.  Thank God for Rhapsody and mp3 players.  Today, I have listened to among others Sting, Laura Martlin (sp?), Waylon Jennings, Commander Cody, Glen Campbell, Evanescense, Martina McBride, BTO, and some others.  If I were to buy one CD from all the different groups that I like I would not have enough room in my house to hold them all.  My life would not have as much meaning or as much joy if I had no music.  The thing is I can listen to anything!  I even love Broadway musicals.  About the only thing that I will not really listen to all that much is opera.  As much as I admire those who can sing opera, I just can't seem to get into it.

The Cardinals won the first game of the World Series 3-2.  It was such a good game -- pitching, defense, timely hitting -- it was all there last night.  It was chilly and is going to be just as bad, if not worse tonight.  Jaime Garcia pitches.  The Cardinals have had people betting against them all year, and they keep beating the odds.  Though I don't think they'll win tonight, I definitely would not bet on it because they have surprised me time and time again.  Many times during this year I've griped about them and complained, but that's okay.  I have been following the St. Louis Cardinals to 1967.  I am not a fair-weather fan.

Today, I had some extra time during the school day, so I ventured into my novel and wrote a little bit on it.  I finished a couple of pages on it.  I believe it's pretty good, but I don't know if anyone else will think the same thing.  When I have a better handle on it, I'll post some excerpts.

Until later.

Whazzup!

I am recovering from a viral infection so I probably won't be incredibly entertaining tonight.  In fact,  I really don't know why I am writing at all except that I want to.
http://www.freelancewriting.com/
This is a good writing site out of many available online.  It really isn't necessary anymore to subscribe to a bunch of writing magazines because you can find almost anything you want online.  The joy of the Internet.

I am nervous about the World Series coming up.  Thrilled that the Cardinals are in it, but the Rangers look pretty awesome.  The Cardinals have been counted out time and time again, but they keep scrapping along.  To beat a Brewers' team 12-6 is amazing.  The Cardinals are hitting everything.  At times, it looks as if the Cardinals are hitting off a batting tee.  Rangers have a better starting staff and relief pitching than the Brewers, and they're a better hitting team.  It will be interesting to see what happens with them.

I did grades for my MAC classes.  The scores are not that great.  Too many absentees are hurting grades.  I can only hope it gets better.  Still, I can't babysit kids who are taking college classes.

I felt horrible today and did no good in the classroom.  The thing is, tomorrow is going to be no better I don't think because I am not prepared for it either.  I still don't feel good tonight, so I will not be ready for tomorrow.  I can barely stay awake much less do something constructive.

I am craving a big bowl of chili.
Good night for now.

Excerpt from Lancelot and the Tides of Time: Into the future

If my book were ever made into a movie, I would want Jennifer Love Hewitt to play the part of Trilesa.  Who's Trilesa?  Read the note below.

Note: A third of the novel, Lancelot and the Tides of Time occurs several hundreds of years into a future where an evil demonic king controls what used to be Camelot.  When Merlin uses his magic to transport Lancelot into the future, Lancelot realizes that his fate does not lie in the old Camelot which is under vicious attack from Morgan and her son, but in the future Camelot where he can restore hope.  This is an excerpt from that time in the future.  Trilesa is a woman Lancelot meets in the future and falls in love with.  Trilesa is prophesied to bear a son who will be a great king.  Rittlock, of course, wants it to be his son, so he is forcing Trilesa to marry him.

I'll be very honest; sales of my book are not going as well as I'd like which is bad news for me, but also for the small independent publisher who is publishing it.  Please, purchase a copy of Lancelot and the Tides of Time.  Follow this link:

http://www.buckscountypublishing.com/portal/BookStore/LancelotandtheTidesofTime.aspx

Lancelot crawled out from under the wagon and

hunkered down at the end farther away from the platform.

A trumpet blasted in the air. "It is time." Jorn held a long

metal tube and pointed it into the air. It had a trigger similar

to what Lancelot had seen on crossbows. He pulled the

trigger; a short flame burped from the front of the tube, and

smoke spilled from the back. Lancelot watched an

explosion high in the air. Though it was daylight, he saw

green and red sparks scatter everywhere.

"Fireworks." Rare where he came from, Lancelot

had seen them once before at the celebration after Arthur

and Gwenivere married. He saw a horseless carriage

approaching, and gasped when he saw that it had no wheels

and floated a foot off the ground. He never dreamed such

things were possible. Doors slid open on the vehicle.

Rittlock stepped out, followed by four guards. Lancelot

noticed no swords in their hands, but each carried a silver,

slim metal rectangle—more magic, he guessed-and they

pointed them at people as if they were weapons.

Another horseless carriage-this one white-pulled up

to the platform. Soldiers moved between carriages and the

people who began to press close. Another door slid open,

and then Trilesa appeared. She stumbled as if someone had

shoved her.

Jorn raised the cannon a second time, pointed it into

the air, and pulled the trigger with the same results: the

bright explosion and a shower of sparks.

As the sparks burned out, a woman pushed forward

and cried out, "This is the witch who will bear his demon!"

The soldiers could have butchered her on the spot,

but apparently, Rittlock wanted to make a different kind of

impression. One of his personal guards stepped toward the

woman. The crowd shrank away and left a clear path

between the guard and the woman.

"Do not let this evil union happen."

The guard raised the silver object.

"It will mean the end-"

The guard pressed a button. A beam of blue light

flew from object, hit the woman squarely, and froze her in

her steps. The blue spread over her body and then she

vanished.

Silence fell.

Rittlock walked up the steps onto the platform. "Let

the ceremony begin."

Trumpets blared. Jorn fired a cannon into the air.

During this cacophony of noise, Lancelot climbed into the

wagon. In its floor lay three more of the cannons. Not

wanting to be seen until he was ready to act, Lancelot took

one of the cannons in his hands and crawled to the end of

the wagon near to the platform. When he allowed himself

one more peek, he noticed about 30 Guards arranged in a

half circle around the platform. He could not kill all of

them, and all the other soldiers holding back the crowd, and

the four guards with their silver sorcery, but he believed he

could get to Rittlock if he created enough of a diversion.

"Merlin, be with me," he whispered.

He rose suddenly and fired a cannon at the two

horseless carriages. The shot hit the white carriage and

exploded. Lancelot next aimed at the guards in the front of

the platform who were scrambling, trying to figure out what

happened. He pulled the trigger again. The shell hit in the

middle of several guards, exploded, and blew them off their

feet. "One more," he whispered.

By then, they had figured from what general

direction the shots came and soldiers scrambled toward the

wagon. He pointed, fired, and a shell exploded in front of

them and blasted soldiers backward and sideways. Lancelot

tossed the cannon aside, drew his sword, and jumped off the

end of the wagon. The sword, though not his own, did its

work well. Lancelot swung it through the air and its blade

cut into flesh.

Lancelot could fight like ten men and he did.

Two soldiers recovered from their initial surprise

and charged with swords upraised.

Lancelot gave thanks he did not have to deal just yet

with the silver sorcery. The first guard swung a sword and

Lancelot blocked it with his own, and then ducking and

whirling, he hit the soldier in the side. He fell clutching his

wound with blood oozing through his fingers. Lancelot

drove his sword straight up into the chest of the second

attacker-two gone.

The soldiers had not trained as much with swords as

Lancelot had because he quickly dispatched two more as he

advanced. Two more soldiers lunged forward with swords

outstretched, but Lancelot leapt aside and with one

downward swing broke their blades in half. With his fist

curled around the handle of his sword, he punched the

nearer guard and his head crunched into the other's so that

both crumbled to the ground.

Lancelot raced for the steps of the platform.

Soldiers rushed forward but Lancelot transferred all his

strength to his legs and leapt up, turning a somersault in

midair. He cleared their heads and landed on the platform,

his sword ready to disembowel anyone who stood between

him and Trilesa.

"Don't move, Lancelot," Rittlock said.

***

crossbyte for the night

Crossbyte

If you waste too much time grieving because things did not turn out as you hoped, you might be wasting the opportunity to work on making things turn out better than you could have imagined.

Part 1 Summary of new novel: Knight Has Fallen

Tentative Title:  Knight Has Fallen

                Dean and Dee Knight, twins born on July 3, 1995, have experienced a traumatic, depressing childhood and now find themselves in residential care.  When they were five, their parents divorced and their mother left them with their father who suffered from bipolar disorder. He remarried two years later to a cold-hearted, gold digger.  At his assistance, she agrees to adopt the twins.  When the twins turn eleven, he commits suicide unexpectedly, and his wife receives a large life insurance payment.  Not long after he dies, she remarries.

                Her new husband abuses Dee.  Dee tells no one because the husband says that he will kill Dean if she ever tells anyone. When she is 12, Dee tries to kill herself. What follows are a variety of medications and ECT treatments for Dee until the husband is finally discovered.    After Dee tries suicide a second time, she and Dean are moved to Hollis Home Residential Facility.  Both are heavily medicated for bipolar disorder and depression.  Dee continues with her ECT treatments, and she loses a lot of the bad memories.  However, before she takes the treatments, she does tell Dean her secret: that she submitted to her stepfather because he said he would kill Dean.  This, of course, creates tremendous guilt in Dean.

                Dean writes horror stories and has actually gotten a story published for which he was paid.  He frequently dreams horrific nightmares which he converts to stories.  These nightmares are symbols of the horrors of his childhood. 

One night, Roger Wulf, one of the boys in Dean’s bunkhouse slips off at night.  Because Dean has seen Dee flirting with Roger, he suspects that they are sneaking out to meet secretly.  Since he now feels as if it is his duty to protect his sister, he goes after them.   The next thing Dean knows, he is lying flat on a large flat rock that rises out of the swollen river.  Roger Wulf is on the ledge above him and he rescues Dean. Dean does not have any idea where Dee is, nor can he even remember if he saw her or not.  He just knows that his own clothes are soaking wet.

As the novel opens, Dean is in his state-mandated therapy sessions with Dr. Schlitz.  It’s been two weeks since Dee disappeared. The doctor tries to get him to talk about his life and the disappearance of Dee.  Dean refuses to talk about his life and refuses to acknowledge that  Dee might be dead.  He also balks at the doctor’s theory that he might have been trying to commit suicide. The doctor suggests that they increase his medication, but this thought enrages Dean because he feels as if he is being drugged so that he can be controlled.  The doctor, on the other hand, tells Dean that he wants him to simply admit to and accept that his life has been horrific so that his healing can begin.  Dean flees the psychiatrist’s office and goes to a cave that he and his sister know about.  The cave, which has been flooded because of heavy seasonal rains, is open again.  Dean gets a horrible feeling that something is in the cave, so he goes in.  Sure enough he finds Dee’s body.

Dean goes back to his bunkhouse and meets Roger Wulf who asks him if he told Dr. Schlitz anything about the night Dee disappeared.  He begs Dean not to implicate him because he is about to get his level, and once he gets his level, he can go on home visits.  He also makes some kind of cryptic remark about how both of them could get into serious trouble.  Dean does not remember what happened that night.