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The Prodigal Returns

Luke 15:24 ” For this son of mine was dead and has now returned to life. He was lost, but now he is found.’ So the party began.

If you’re coming late to this party you can read all about how my son Micah went missing. The short story is he walked off his Army base and didn’t contact us for a month. It was the worst month of our lives, not knowing if he was dead or alive, strung out on drugs, or messed up mentally from too many deployments.
When we found him and I said, “What have you been up to?” He replied, “I’m having the time of my life!” Turns out he’d become a bit of a celebrity, making anti-war speeches through the “occupy” movement. When we googled him we could watch the speeches and marvel, who is this articulate young man?
We watched a live feed as Micah tried to turn himself in before the deadline of thirty days. He was turned away because it was too late and the base had no housing. “Come back tomorrow,” they said. We watched as he turned himself in the next day and they sent him away again, “It’s Columbus Day, come back tomorrow.” But the next day he was off occupying something else and stayed gone for four months.
This period was seminal for his development. He learned about living on the streets, sleeping in his car, eating out of trashcans. He went on tour with Occupy the Roads and enjoyed meeting many people. It was seminal in my development too. I learned that as parents of adults, we have no power, and no say. We can only love, pray and hope for the best for our kids. I wrote a lot of blogs about how it was for me during that time. It was rough!
Micah decided to turn himself in after Christmas. He came home and it was a healing time for our family. David and I had a post-Christmas conference so we agreed to take him back to base on the 4th of January. While we were gone, the police arrived at our door to take Micah away. This led to three weeks in the local jail before the army came to claim him.
We were sure he’d be heading for military prison when he returned; he’d been gone four months. But, it turns out the Army wanted no more publicity. He was “chaptered out” as if he were merely AWOL. He left with an “other than honorable” discharge, knocked down in rank to Private and had some extra duty, but was treated very well.
Two months later he was released on his twenty-fifth birthday! When we got the news I had a permanent grin on my face. I called our moms and texted all of my friends who have been with me through this time. I felt like I could breathe for the first time in nine months, maybe five and a half years. He is home and I am grateful. Let the party start!

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Steven Nedelton writes suspenseful novels with crime, mystery, paranormal and noir. He is an approved member of the Awesome Indies Authors. His published titles are: Dangerous Trade, The Raven Affair, Fear!, A Suitcase Mystery, Coma Sins/The Madness of Ben Bluman and Nemesis (in Edit), the sequel for the A Suitcase Mystery. His novels were evaluated by the Midwest Book Review, The US Review of Books, Bookpleasures and Apex Reviews, and were rated 'Five Stars.' Recently, three of his novels were accepted by the Awesome Indies group. "Fear!" received a special recognition from the MBR Journal. The novels are available in Kindle, Nook and paperback, and can be ordered from his web site,

His familiarity with French customs and people are reflected in the "Dangerous Trade" thriller (originally "Secrets of the House on Liberty Street" and "Crossroads" published in 2008/2009). Steven holds a MSME from the Polytechnic Institute of Brooklyn (NYU-Poly). He is a Professional Pennsylvania, New Jersey and Ohio.

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Writing Controversial Fiction

The novel I am just completing and will be sent out to my beta readers this week will be a very controversial story.

MURRAN is the story of a young African-American boy named Trey coming of age in the 1980s, and his rite of passage to adulthood. Trey is a member of a crew in Brooklyn and is enticed into helping a violent drug gang. He is eventually framed for murder and flees with his high school teacher to his Maasai village in Kenya. There, Trey learns what a true Black African and African culture is, goes through the Maasai warriors rite of passage, becomes a young shaman, and returns to America to confront the gang leader that framed him. 


The story is a politically incorrect version of Black America. The language, scenes and characters are realistic and gritty. Certain characters use profanity appropriately and the gang members use the N word liberally. I wanted this book to be as close to reality as possible. 

Oh! And its written by a white boy.

So, I hired a story polisher who had the knowledge of the gang culture and teenage crews in Brooklyn at that time to check on my facts and semantics.

So I thought some thoughts on controversial fiction would make a nice blog post.

The IB blog ran a post on How to Write About Controversial Subjects.  Lets see how his rules for writing that kind of fiction were followed by me in MURRAN.

Do your research


It doesnt matter what you write about, you should always do a certain level of research. Some stories require more research than others, but if youre going to write about a touchy subject, you need to make sure that you know what youre talking about.


I spent several years researching MURRAN. I had two challenges in this regard. First, learn as much as I could about the gang culture – their society, language, reasons there of – and the Maasai tribe. To backstop my research on the gang culture, I hired a story polisher who had personal experience with the gang culture. As for the Maasai, I have been to Africa several times so I had a good feel for the environmental aspects of the story. I was able to include many areas of my Brooklyn experiences since I grew up there. The research on the Maasai and the gang culture came from reading many books, visiting many websites and interviews.


Ask an expert


You can read as many books as you like, but theres nothing like speaking to someone who has been there and done it.


My story polisher Kenji Jasper was an invaluable help in making sure my research ran true for the time period of the story and the lifestyle and semantics of the gang culture. He grew in the city and around the gang culture during the timeline of the story.


Do it for the right reasons


Controversial subjects are there to be tackled, but make sure youre doing it because its integral to your story. No other reason.


I structured MURRAN to show the juxtaposition between one view of what it means to be an African and another. The view of what is an African-American today and what a true African is in the form of a Maasai. The view of what it means to be a street warrior in a gang and what a true Maasai warrior is. The view of the current African-American values in certain circles and the values held by the Maasai tribe. This approach is filled with controversy.


Prepare yourself for criticism


Its likely that someone will take offense to what youve written. If youve done your research and got the experts in, that shouldnt be a problem. You can rest assured that your work is accurate, plausible and handled correctly. Any complaints, well, it comes with the territory.

If MURAN becomes popular, I fully expect it to upset many people in certain political circles. It will come with the territory. After all, the story is a conservative view of the Black experience in this country and —- it’s written by a white man. One objection will be what does a white man know about the Black experience in this country. I retort, what does a white man know about any ethnic group or society or culture. Research is research and as long as the end result is factual, it doesn’t matter.

Dont be shy


Finally, if you are going to write about a controversial subject, do it with gusto and empathy. If you are tentative, you will run into problems and your authorial shyness will come through on the page. It will lead to half-hearted characters and a plot that drifts.


No problem there. As long as I use them appropriately from characters who state from their on personal experiences and individual behavior – which they do -  the profanity and the ‘use of the N’ word is unabashedly used. It’s my characters speaking from their true selves – not me.

So, what about you? How do you approach controversial subjects in your writing? Have you or will you be writing controversial fiction? Let me know in the comments.

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I just had a crazy marketing idea: Anyone who buys the Colorado Mandala paperback ON SALE TODAY FOR 33% OFF, and then reviews it on Amazon, will receive the Kindle E-Book version of Colorado Mandala abso...See More
!!! What do you think?

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JAKE HARWOOD, A Western Novel


Cover Blurb


Harvey Mendez


            Jake Harwood, a burned-out former marshal, whose wife left him, rides west on his way to California. In the New Mexico desert, he happens upon an overturned stagecoach after an Apache attack. He rescues seductive Jessica Raymond, the sole survivor, half-buried beneath the stage. She is from New Orleans where she escaped from Blackie LeFont, a shrewd gambler, who killed her father.

 Jessica talks Jake into taking her to California. Along the way, Maco, a fierce Chiricahua Apache, named after Geronimo’s grandfather, captures them. He has already stolen Susan Blackhawk, a beautiful half-Cheyenne, half-French maiden, from the Comanches.  Apaches, Mexicans, and Comanches fight over the women and capture them for their own. Jake, Blackie, and Maco, in turn, try to free them, but are badly wounded.

            Which man will recover to end up with Jessica or Susan Blackhawk? Will Jake ever make it to California?




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My mother had asked me, the night before, what I was doing with that toy gun. She noticed it on the foot of the extra bed in my room, and I told her that I was going to give it to my friend Alan’s son as a birthday present. I lied to her. The truth of the matter was that I was an alcoholic, a drug addict, and a compulsive gambler, and I was planning to go into Manhattan the next day in order to rob a few dry cleaning stores.

I had thought about doing this before, but this time, I had to go through with it—I already owed the bookmaker six hundred and forty dollars for the week that was about to end, and not only was I unlikely to get even, but I didn’t have the cash in my house. I gave my sister and her husband about ten thousand dollars of my money several months earlier to hold on to, and I was tired of calling and asking for some of it back, a little bit at a time, which I had been doing for a while now. Besides, what could go wrong? I was smart, and knew that all dry cleaning stores have old-fashioned cash registers, no video cameras, and are run either by women or Chinese people, and I would be in and out in no time at all. And once I stole enough money to pay off my debt, I would stop gambling for good. So there was no harm in doing this at all, right?

I woke up bright and early that next morning, which was Saturday, June 13, 1998 (I actually don’t remember sleeping at all the night before), and had breakfast: three Valium, three Tylenol #4 with Codeine, and a bottle of Heineken beer. Then I got dressed and hopped on the D train to Manhattan. I brought another Heineken along with me for the ride, but finished it before the train even departed the Brighton Beach station.

After transferring to two more trains, I finally arrived at my destination: the east side of Manhattan—First Avenue in the 60s, where there were as many dry cleaning stores around as any good thief could want. So I proceeded to walk up First, looking into each dry cleaning establishment I passed, until I found one that was empty and had a woman working behind the counter. I had a plan but needed a rehearsal, so I went into dry cleaning store number one on First Avenue and 67th Street.

“Good morning,” the woman behind the counter cheerfully said to me. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, could you please tell me how much it would cost to clean and press these dungarees that I am wearing?” I asked so innocently.

“Three dollars and fifty cents,” the shopkeeper replied, anxiously awaiting my decision.

“Oh, okay, maybe I’ll be back later,” I responded as I walked out the door, knowing very well that I had no intention of returning.

Still not feeling comfortable with my game plan, I went through my practice run at another place.

Then, after having swallowed my fourth and fifth Valium and Tylenol #4 with Codeine, and washing that down with yet another Heineken, my third of the morning (it was still only 8:25 AM), I conjured up enough courage and felt the time was right to go to work.

So I entered the next dry cleaning store that suited my needs. After asking my “how much” question, I allowed the woman behind the counter to start her answer before I began what later would be the biggest mistake of my thirty-six-year life to that point. She was Indian or Pakistani, just the kind of foreigner who would easily comply with my demands, I remember thinking at the time. As we made eye contact while she was telling me the price to clean and press my dungarees, I nonchalantly lifted up my shirt, thereby exposing the toy gun that was tucked neatly under my waistband, and calmly and methodically ordered, “Empty the money out of the cash register or I’ll blow your fucking brains out!”

I remembered the terror in her eyes later on while I was in my jail cell at the 17th Precinct, wondering how I could have done this to another human being, not once, but three times in all. This, after all, was the kind of thing that you only read about in newspapers or see on the news. But I was desperate. I was in debt to my bookie and was feeling nice from the pills and beer. Besides, I rationalized, I absolutely had no intentions of hurting anybody. Little did I realize at the time that the tables could have been turned, and I could have been blown away myself, with there being no repercussions at all to the store owner. However, my plan had worked like a charm, and I grabbed the loot off the counter and scurried outside to hail a cab.

I told the cabbie to drive straight down First Avenue and I’d let him know when to let me out. Being a neat freak, I began to straighten out the money, which I had balled up in my hand, and when it was finally arranged the way I liked it and safe in my pocket, I instructed the cab driver to pull over and let me out. “Two-seventy-five,” he said to me, as we approached the curb. “Here, keep the change,” I replied, as I handed him a five-dollar bill, feeling like a real big shot.

I got out of the cab and stood on the corner of First Avenue and 51st Street for a few minutes in order to psych myself up for my next robbery. Being intoxicated and high from the pills, I never stopped to think for a moment that the woman I just ripped off a few minutes earlier might have called the police, and that they were looking for me right now. I was only about fifteen blocks away from the first robbery, but we crooks are smarter than the cops anyway. We have to be!

I set my game plan into motion again, an exact replica of the first. And the results were the same as well. So I figured I’d try it one more time and that would be it. After all, I had to make sure that I got back home in time to study the baseball lines (odds) in the newspaper and call my bookmaker. Then I was going to take my radio and lie on the beach, it being a beautiful sunny day and all. You see, I was planning on making a whole day of it: the robberies in the morning, lying in the sun all afternoon, and then going over to O.T.B. that night to bet on the horses at Yonkers Raceway. This is what I had been doing pretty much every day (except for the robberies) since I was fired six months earlier for drinking on the job at Phoenix Communications (Major League Baseball Productions).

I continued to walk down First Avenue, this time oblivious to everything else around me, until I found another dry cleaning store that I felt could provide me with another success story. I stumbled (literally) onto a small mom-and-pop operation and went inside. There, I found the cutest little old Chinese man and woman going about their business, and by now, after having accomplished two robberies with relative ease, I felt like a seasoned pro on top of his game. So, again I went through my shtick of asking the price to clean and press my pants, but this time, I couldn’t wait. I immediately displayed the (toy) gun in my waistband and demanded the cash. Appearing frightened out of his wits, the elderly gentleman placed the cigar box he and his wife used as a cash register on top of the counter while his wife remained behind her husband for protection, and like a little kid rifling through the cookie jar, I grabbed its contents and fled.

Not knowing exactly how much money I had accumulated, I said to myself that three robberies were enough. But I wasn’t ready to head home just yet. Not until I had another beer or two. This was another of the many mistakes I made that day.

I began walking again until I came upon a little delicatessen that sold beer, not even grasping the fact that I had just committed three “armed” robberies, and that the police were probably hot on my trail at that very moment. But, hey, I earned this break for myself. I justified. I had just worked up quite a thirst, pulling off three robberies in the previous thirty minutes.

I went into the deli and grabbed an ice cold Heineken from out of the freezer and asked the owner what the price was, like any good Jew would have done. Then I walked out and proceeded to drink my beer as I leisurely strolled down the street. After downing it in no time flat and letting out a healthy belch, I remember saying to myself that one more cold one was in order before heading home. After all, my mission had been accomplished, and I was now hungry and tired. So I looked for another deli, all the while not caring one iota about the lowlife things I had just done to these innocent and hardworking shopkeepers.

It being Manhattan, there were many delis to choose from, and I decided to cut over to Second Avenue for a change of scenery. I found a store to my liking near the strip club Scores on 60th Street and took the Heineken out of the freezer and over to the counter. When the woman who worked there told me that I owed her two-seventy-five, I became enraged. “I just paid one-fifty two blocks away,” I shouted, as a small crowd began to form at the counter. After getting nowhere with my efforts at haggling, I paid her “extortion money” and walked out, slamming the door behind me.

I crossed the street and found a cozy corner in which to drink my beer before calling it a morning (it was still only nine-fifteen, and I wasn’t ready to “escape” into the subway system just yet). All of a sudden, from seemingly out of nowhere and coming from every direction, were the police. Before I knew what hit me, one cop tackled me hard to the sidewalk, knocking my bottle of beer high into the air; it came crashing down to the pavement.

“Where’s the gun?” the flatfoot demanded.

“What gun?” I asked, as he took the fake weapon from out of my pocket.

He then pulled me up off the ground and brought me over to one of the many squad cars that were now on the scene.

“We got him. We got Woody Allen,” the officer chirped as he handcuffed and handed me over to another of New York’s finest. “Don’t move an inch, you piece of shit,” the second officer ordered, as I finally realized the magnitude of what I had done, although still not believing that all of these cops had come just for little old me with the balding head and thick prescription eyeglasses.

After being positively identified right there in the street by my last victim, the elderly Chinese man, I was placed into the police car and taken over to the 17th Precinct, without even having had my rights read to me.

At the police station, I was immediately processed (photographed and fingerprinted), and then thrown into a filthy, stinking cell. Oh, yeah, and my money and pills were taken from me, presumably to be held as evidence.

“Now I’ve really done it,” I remember mumbling to myself, as the gravity of the entire situation began to completely sink in. Then, after lingering in my cell for over an hour, two sharply dressed detectives came to pay me a visit.

“How ya’ doing, Gary? I’m Detective Burns and this is my partner, Detective Foley,” the older of the two announced.

“Can I please have my medication back?” I asked. “I’m not feeling well, and my back hurts.” (I have scoliosis and a slipped disc, among other problems with my back, which is why I began taking these pills in the first place many years earlier.)

“We want to talk to you first,” Detective Foley responded, as he began to open up my cell.

I was then brought upstairs to the squad room and handed a cup of water as I took a seat in Detective Burns’ office. But my one free telephone call was still not forthcoming.

“You know, Gary, those were very nice people you robbed today,” Burns offered.

“Can I please have some of my medication back?” I tried again. “I’m suffering from withdrawal symptoms and need some of my Valium and Tylenol #4 with Codeine because my back hurts.”

Although the Tylenol #4 with Codeine was indeed prescribed for my back pain by my personal physician, Dr. Gencer Filiz, and the Valium for my nerves, due to my anxiety, at this point in my life I was merely only taking these pills to get high because I was an addict.

“Gary, you tell us what happened, and we’ll give you back some of your medication,” Foley guaranteed.

“What happened?” I asked, as if I had no idea of what Burns and Foley were inquiring about.

“Look, Gary,” Burns said, “we were out there in our car and we saw you darting across First Avenue. You almost got yourself run over, you know. But we don’t want you…we want the bigger fish out there. You tell us what we want to hear, and then we’ll speak to the assistant district attorney, whom we are good friends with, and we promise that she will let you go home today and you won’t even be prosecuted.”

“Can I have some of my pills back first?” I bargained yet again. “I’m a drug addict and I need to take the edge off.”

Detective Foley removed three Tylenol #4 with Codeine and three Valium from my pill bottle, which he now had in his possession, and gave them to me. I quickly threw all six pills into my mouth and washed them down with a big gulp of water before Burns and Foley could change their minds.

“Now step up to the plate and be a man,” Burns implored of me, in a slight variation of the normal good cop/bad cop routine. “Tell me what happened from the very beginning.”

As I began spilling my guts, I noticed Burns was writing everything down like a secretary taking dictation from her boss. And whenever I got stuck or was unsure about some of the details of my crime, Burns didn’t hesitate to put his two cents in and volunteer information.

When my statement was complete, Foley told me to sign it at the bottom, and I complied, without hesitation. After all, he and Burns promised that I would be back home by the end of the day, and when you are as high and drunk as I was, you tend to believe the words of two experienced detectives. Another of my many mistakes on that fateful day.

But the deal wasn’t completed yet. Not by a longshot. I was then taken by another detective, Hackett, to the 19th Squad, where I was to give another statement, this one written by me. Detective Hackett, on the car ride over to the 19th Squad, told me that after I write this second statement, using my “own words,” I should add a paragraph or two explaining how sorry and remorseful I was for what I had done, and that he would see to it that I was placed into an inpatient drug treatment program to get the help I needed. That all sounded good to me, since I really did want to get my life straightened out once and for all, so I did exactly as he instructed.

In all honesty, and even looking back at it now, although he lied and set me up like the rest of them, Hackett really wasn’t a bad guy. He did feed me McDonald’s after I completed that second written statement, which was more than Burns, Foley, or anyone else did for me.

I still had one more confession to give, and it was a big one. Alan Daab, who was the arresting officer, then took me over to One Hogan Place, where Assistant District Attorney Lois Booker-Williams was waiting.

In the squad car, Daab said to me, “Gary Goldstein, what’s a nice Jewish guy like you committing robberies for?”

“I don’t know. I’m a drug addict and a gambler,” I answered, as if he even gave a damn. I then asked him if I could use the telephone to call Sportsphone when we arrived at our destination, because I needed to double check the scores of the previous night’s ballgames, and he very patronizingly said that I could.

The woman, who I was led to believe was eventually going to send me home as if nothing had ever happened, had Room 1209 all set up for me to give a videotaped confession.

By now, it was 1:15 PM, and I was no longer drunk or high, but very, very tired. I just wanted to get this whole thing over with, and presumably go home. So, after receiving my Miranda warnings for the very first time, I looked straight ahead (the camera was behind a one-way mirror) and, in essence, hung myself out to dry. When Lois Booker-Williams had what she needed, she stopped the tape and nodded at Daab.

“Let’s go, you piece of shit,” Daab ordered.

“What about that phone call I need to make?” I inquired.

“They’ll let you call after you’ve been processed at Central Booking,” Daab said.

“But Detectives Burns, Foley, and Hackett all told me that I would be going home after I confessed,” I insisted. “Can I talk to you, Ms. Booker-Williams?”

“I said let’s go, and I don’t want to hear another word out of your mouth until we get to Central Booking,” said Daab.

When we arrived at Central Booking, it finally began to sink in that I was tricked, manipulated, and used. After processing was completed, which included removing my shoelaces to prevent suicide, I was permitted to call my mother and father.

I told them everything that had happened, and that I was sorry. It was yet another case of my causing my parents so much unnecessary pain and aggravation. After telling them that I would call again the next day, when I knew more of what was going on, I curled up like a fetus, and went to sleep on my part of the bench in the cell that I had to share with eleven other guys.

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Beware of False ClaimsCaveat Emptor”; it means “buyer beware”. Scams and rip-offs are nothing new, and writers are not exempt from being targeted, especially eager new writers. I recently read an article on Forbes by Suw Charman-Anderson about this very subject, and I couldn’t help but think of all the ways that people can be taken advantage of in this industry.

We’ve all heard about the evils of vanity publishing, which is not to be confused with self-publishing. To my understanding, vanity publishing is where a writer hires a company, for a fee, to publish their work. There is little or no support on behalf of the so-called publisher, no editing, no cover art support, no marketing and promotion. If the writer would like these services, they agree to pay the publisher additional funds for them.

On the other hand, self-publishing has gained huge recognition in the publishing industry at large, and has grown exponentially around the globe. In this instance, writers are taking the bull by the horns and, rather than rely on agents and/or publishers to get their work into the hands of the reading public, they are doing so themselves. They are working directly with companies like Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Smashwords, etc., to upload their original works into ebook formats, and contracting the direct services of legitimate printers, editors, cover artists, etc., to produce quality books that rival that of the big six publishers ( Critical Pages).

Racing Ahead
Racing Ahead

But here’s the catch, in the eagerness to self-publish, some writers are being pulled in by scams that claim to assist them in getting their work out there to the masses, for a sometimes very substantial fee. According to Charman-Anderson’s article, and others that are emerging, some of these seemingly legitimate sources are proving to be anything but helpful. In fact, claims are starting to emerge about companies, such as Author Solutions (AS), that are apparently backed by Penguin, one of the world’s leading publishers. Who can fault the writer for believing they are safe with a company backed by this big hitter? Not me. With so much falling to the writer in terms of marketing and promotion, design, formatting, reaching audiences and growing a solid author’s platform, I completely understand how some writers are lured in by the prospect of obtaining some “professional” help in these areas. We are overwhelmed and underfunded, but also eager and determined to “make it” in this cut-throat business of book publishing. The writing part is nothing compared to these stresses.

But wait, what can writers do to help ensure this doesn’t happen to them? Well, I’d suggest reading as much as possible about industry related news, to learn who is doing what. The amount of information available on the net is massive, so start small and just begin by typing in words like “publishing”, or “publishing news”, etc. Look around, become familiar with sites you really like, bookmark them, and frequent them often. Next, I’d suggest researching online about possible bad reviews of publishers, editors, and agents. Yes, these reviews exist. Websites like Preditors and Editors, Absolute Write Water Cooler, etc., give reviews and comments on companies who have run afoul of other writers. Also, by Googling the name of a company you are considering, you can learn a great deal about the dealings of a potential company claiming to help authors self-publish. If there are bad reviews out there, best to discover it before signing on the dotted line and paying out hard-earned money.

Another way to be prudent of course, is to have a lawyer examine any and all contracts before signing them. If there are any hidden fees, or obscure wording that doesn’t completely spell out what the company will and won’t do, a lawyer experienced in reading such contracts will ferret it out and advise you. This will cost you money for the lawyer, but perhaps better that than discovering, well into the process, that you are caught in a trap that you’ve paid for.

If it walks like a duck...
If it walks like a duck...

In the end, it really is up to each individual writer to treat their work as a business and ensure, to the best of their ability, that they have checked out any potential company they are considering working with. Remember, if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. This means there is even more reason to check everything out thoroughly, before committing to anything.

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Hello all

I'm Lannah and I'm a 57 year young Australian wife, Mum and author, journalist, photographer and quite a few other things.  I absolutely LOVE everything that I do - I love life.  I feel I am ageing backwards although there are the odd times when I do feel almost my age!!  I am in the middle of writing four books - one being about the mighty outback of Australia and research has and does involve physically visiting each of the 25-30 participating sheep and cattle stations spread nationwide.  Sooooo much involved and loving every nano-second.

Lovely to be here and hope to 'meet' some of you eventually.

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A different kind of Christan Author

Hello, I’m Twe Stephens…

I call myself A different kind of Christian Author , because I write stories unlike anyone I’ve seen before – I write the history of God utilizing a fictional format for his Glory. Many of the scenes in my novels take place in Heaven, so the reader can have a realistic view of what heaven is probably like. Heaven isn’t about sitting on clouds, strumming harps and praising God with every other breath one takes for eternity, as the system tries to imply. Heaven is a civilization with ten nations, politics, infrastructure, unbelievable technology, and most importantly brotherhood and total peace.–-A-different-kind-of-Christian-Author

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Writer of The Hope Valley Saga saying hi.

Hello everyone.

I'm Amy McGuire and in February of 2012 I began my Hope Valley Saga.  Worlds Apart was added to the saga December of 2012 and I hope to have Dreams Come True, book three in the saga, available in both ebook and paperback format (as the others are) by December of 2013.  This is the saga telling the story of Anjaline Rodriguez and Gabriel Walker (in books one through three) and the stories of Evelyn Walker and Leah Walker in books four and five respectively.  These are all in the young adult romance genre.  I hope to find readers who will enjoy my books and hope to share these stories with all of you.


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New YA horror out soon!

hi everybody,
Its Hype Time!

I'm hyped for several reasons. No, its not because Lebron James hit a buzzer beating lay-up in overtime to win in the Eastern Conference finals, (though thats pretty awesome anyway).
I'm hyped because I'm about to launch my new website and release my book The Students Sold Us Secrets with ASJ Publishers!
Ive been sending the cover around to goodreads friends to 'Hype' it up. If anyone wants it, send me your email and I'll send it right away.

Here is a little taste of what The Students Sold Us Secrets is all about:

This shocking and at times completely insane collection of short stories will have you wanting more! It includes twelve chilling short stories, all set in Shanghai China! Based on the extrememly selfish and at times megalomaniac like tendencies of your average Chinese "one child policy" kid in Shanghai. You'll be amazed at what these kids do to get what they want!

My website is looking pretty awesome too. It will have blogs, reviews from other books (YA/poetry authors welcome) and of course links to all my books.
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I am finishing up a new book entitled: THE SCIENCE OF GREATNESS. In it I deal with the secret of how to become GREAT. Most people view GREATNESS as the outward expression of leadership, courage, and and a strong personal resolve. But TRUE GREATNESS has more to do with OBEDIENCE than anything else. My editor and I are putting the finishing touches on the grammar. It will be done and ready to order this month.     

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I have written a few books and my latest one is What Makes People Tick & Why.  My book discusses the relationship between the facial structure and personality, which has been well researched scince the 1930's.  The information helps the reader to better understand the people they meet with.  At the end of each trait discussion, there are a list of applications.  They include careers, relationships, sales and understanding children.

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New to this site

I am an avid reader and started writing last year for birthday, anniversary, wedding and birthday presents. The meaning of the recipients name and their unique characteristics are included in the keepsake gift. Several months ago I started writing spiritual acrostic poetry to honor God and his amazing qualities. I am so glad to learn about this site and bond with other writers and readers!  My web site is

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Hello hello

And how are you? A friend suggested that I join, and here I am! I hope to meet fellow indie authors, writers, and readers while I'm here. If you have any questions or just want to chat with a fellow indie author, feel free to hit me up.

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Introduction, of a sort

Ah, and once more into the Tulgey Wood without a clue as to what lies behind the next tree!

This is being put up as a blog simply because I couldn't figure out how else to post it. (I am a total cyber-Neanderthal.) So, as usual, I shall simply jump in with both feet and risk appearing like a total idiot for not knowing how things are done.

A word of introduction for those who may not know me. I'm the author of the 14-book Dick Hardesty Mystery series, the 4-book Elliott Smith paranormal mystery series, the stand-alone Western/romance/adventure/YA/mystery "Calico" and the non-fiction "A World Ago: A Navy Man's Letters Home, 1954-1956", "Short Circuits: A Life in Blogs", and "Dreams of a Calico Mouse: the Poems of Dorien Grey", all of which I am in the process of having done as audiobooks.

I invite you to visit my website,, and to join me on Facebook.

Summing it all up, I want to build my reader base, and will be most appreciative of any suggestions on how to do it.

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Nice To Meet You!

Hello all.  I am new to this site and just getting used to it, but to introduce myself, I am a wife, mother and full-time career woman, but my passion has always been writing fiction, and it truly is my soul food.  To date, I have published four fiction novels, and hopefully you will check them out on my website,  I've been storytelling all my life and look forward to reading your profiles and sharing your stories as well.

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