Not to detract from Wapakwoman and Max but here are the promised pictures of what happened in my garden while I was away.
For a much closer look, in case you didn’t notice, there’s Pepper between the proud parents.
As an added bonus, this is a nice photo of Bryan, my friend Sarah and I before he took us to the ballroom.
110 comments May 30th, 2007
Since we are over 100 posts, I just thought I would drop by with a few thoughts.
1. I am suffering terrible guilt since I went to Atlanta and didn’t call or see Andi. Then I read she was S-I-C-K. Andi, I am sorry you were sick and I am sorry I missed seeing you. I will be in Atlanta every month at least once, so we WILL get together.
2. Driving 12 hours in the car with your husband, when you haven’t had a road trip for a while is “More fun than the law should allow.” He’s been in 40 some states and had never seen the Smoky Mountains. We had to divert to go wander through them on our way. It was lovely and peaceful, but I really had to potty and I didn’t have a cup.
3. If you are in the car in the center lane and cars on both sides are passing you, don’t you think you could speed up JUST A LITTLE BIT, Honey…she says with gritted teeth. My family drives with lead feet, his—-do they know what the gas pedal is for?
Last but not least….getting to watch our Grandson Max while we sent the parents off for some R&R for the weekend….what a gift they gave us. My DIL trusted us enough to ask us to come. We had forgotten about the gummy smiles and the sparkling eyes you see in the crib in the morning, when he is rescued. Having him fall asleep on me and letting him nap on me and no parents there….I think I kissed him 1000 times that day. Laying on the floor and watching him play and wiggle and make baby noises….it was really tough duty.
My mom wasn’t the babysitting type, and my sister and I made a pact that we would give our kids time away, or time alone at home, if we ever could. I held up my end of the bargain, and had more fun than the law should allow.
PS. I have told everyone from my neighbors to my cleaning person, to my show choir kids, if I die, bury me in my Jammies and SHUT THE LID. My mom says people aren’t dead if you can’t see them dead. I told her that I would live forever as NO ONE was seeing me. I don’t worry about how I look now, so they don’t need to gussy me up then!
Donate everything that can be donated. If my life in this body is over, give someone else a chance. But for Bob’s sake, if you put me in a dress for eternity, I will haunt them all every day of their lives. DH wants me to write down the songs that should be played because he says he would get them wrong and I would be pissed. 
We both agreed on Stairway to Heaven..**as she crosses her fingers that is the correct way she will be headed!**
11 comments May 30th, 2007
A week ago I went to Denver for a booksigning for Lee Child- Very Nice Man and Good Writer- who writes the Jack Reacher books, which I learned about from this group of folks at our old home
The Tattered Cover is an independant bookstore in Denver, actually now they are three stores, but… They do amazing book events and host a wonderful assortment of local, regional, and national authors. The store I went to was the Colfax Ave location. I highly reccomend it to anyone who is passing through Denver. The store is an old theater that has undergone one of the most sympathetic remodels I’ve ever seen. They even went so far as to fill in the slanting floor with a flat floor that can be removed at a later date without damaging the slanted floor beneath it.
The signing/events area is in the lower level- it’s cosy without being small- nice large area, shorter ceiling than upstairs, comfy reading areas that are rearranged for signings- it’s also right next to the children’s area which makes it a very nice multi-purpose area.
I got their early, found a decent seat on the end of a row, grabbed two copies of the new book, and sat down to read. I’m not real sure how long I waited, but I made it through chapter 15 before I realized things were getting ready to start.
Lee Child was introduced by a staff member, he came in, said some very nice things about the new store location, and then did a reading- for maybe 15 seconds- but the passages he selected (yes, two of them) totally summed up the book- a little longer and more complex than Bob’s “The Idea” but not by much- he was successful in explaining the entire book in less than 30 seconds and with a handful of lines from the book.
He took questions from the audience-
-He said ThrillFest would be a good thing, but expensive since it was in Manhattan-
-He explained that the reason the early Reachers were short staccato sentences was that he came from a television marketing background and that shaped his style and his attitudes about the reader. He felt that people often had so much competing for their attention that the attention span wasn’t real long so the sentences had to be short and compelling. He has relaxed that some since then but not oodles and lots.
-He did explain that there are only plans for 21 Reacher novels- the last one will be titled something about dying lonely, and in it Reacher will die, by himself, in a dingy motel room, after sacrifing for the Nobel Cause
-He confirmed that there were plans for a movie based on Reacher, but it was supposed to be a joint project between a studio and production company that aren’t talking to each other right now. The hope is for them to still not be talking in a year or so when the rights lapse, since there are a few other companies waiting and wanting to tell Reacher’s story.
After the Q&A was the signing- very civilized- a gently moving line, a few cameras, a gracious gentleman and a very able assistant. I don’t know if the gal that was at the table with him is friend, family, assitant, or Tattered Cover staff, but she was very helpful and kind to me when I got up there.
I handed him my books- one for me and one for The Alien- and had him sign them- then told him I figured I would be the odd memorable one from tonight and asked him if he would sign a mug- he just grinned and said that he would if he could figure out how- I pulled a simple bisque fired mug and a blue marker from my purse and explained that it was for a friend of mine- her first book was being released next month- I wasn’t totally sure why she wanted a cup signed, but she reworked her schedule and would be at ThrillFest and she promised me she would explain it to him then. He asked her name, and I said “Jen. The gal the other book is for.” and he looked at me and very patiently said, “Her full name.” Oops, duh- so I replied with her real name, The Alien. He asked me what she wrote, and I said the one coming out is romance, their is one she’s talking to Tor about, but it looks like it’s going to be thrillers from here out. He just nodded. Said he would try to remember her name (betcha he visited your webstite Jen) and would look forward to hearing about the mug at ThrillFest-
I thanked him, left the area, called my boyfriend, and had him make a quick post that I had the mug- life then got busy and I haven’t been around much the last three or four days- so, here is the post with the story of Jen-Ts Cup
110 comments May 28th, 2007
Here is Jen-T’s cup- she gets to splain it to Lee Child at ThrillFest-
okay, I have the images uploaded to the server
I have clicked and dragged and I don’t have the images showing- all I have are the frames with the name in it- I do get properties that indicate a viable image, but I got no image- I’m banging my head against the wall
at least now I have a clickable link- even if I failed to make a thumbnail
I am writing a real post that talks about the booksigning, but until then here are the images
Edit ~ fixed links ~ bjw
8 comments May 28th, 2007
got these from the livejournal of the Goddess of YA Literature (her name), http://professornana.livejournal.com/?skip=80
thought they were funny
and we’re almost at 100
have a good weekend!
and Happy Birthday!
102 comments May 24th, 2007
Now is the time for all good women to come to the aid of their fellow CB’s.
I don’t know why I started with that. We seem to have issues here. Maybe it is Spring Fever.
It’s just that Jen-t has birds banging into her window, and she has severe bladder issues. BCB has a phone bill that has to be astronomical, unless Jen is in her circle. I can’t find Andi’s e-mail ANYWHERE, and there have been so many posts and I want to e-mail her and call her.
AND THEN, I can’t find the f^&*^ing paper that Bryan did so I can suck in pictures of MAX! My desk has paperwork for 50 new kids in our dance choir that don’t know they have made it yet. Tomorrow at 5 they line up at the choir room door if they dare.
Marcia in OK knows that it is XL- short sleeved and school colors, unless the grey is really cool. OH, knows she is a banana slug but doesn’t know why. She seems to have pronoun issues. And Louisa thinks we are all nuts. CC is somewhere Jen wants to be and MCB seems to be agitating BCB and Jen. Lori is baking books or something last I looked. Mary is thinking up more taglines so she can become a famous jingle writer. (AWESOME!) Scope is in her garden, shooing all the birds to Jen.
Cary has written great critiques for Jen, as have others. And may I just say, that I am still worried about Louis and I will continue to fuss until I hear so just get over it.
Here is something I wrote to our favorite Young’un out in CA. She encouraged me to share. But first, a brief time out for MAX! and DS.
Let me say upfront, that we are are pretty much fragrance free here at the Wright House. I use perfume, but unscented laundry products and always unscented cosmetics and deodorant. So the vast array of Smells I encountered in the “PIT” stop was mind blowing.
Honest to Bob, who in the hell would put Vanilla Chi in her armpits? Country Fresh??? I live in the country and I can give you fresh!! And I don’t want that in my armpits either. Melon? Ocean Breeze? Wouldn’t it be somewhat odd to go around sniffing your armpits all day to catch a whiff of the awesomeness that is now you???? What is wrong with people???
I remember gym class. 60 girls in an old dilapidated locker room that smelled like 60 years of jock rot with a temperature that hovered near 100 degrees. Afterwards, most of us spraying Right Guard by the quart. If you forgot yours you just lifted your arms and someone would oblige. When ARRID XXTRA DRY came out, and we had competing smells, it was like the crips and the bloods, with each deodorant brand staking out their side of the room. Of course, girls ALWAYS got Phys Ed. first period of the day so we would smell like a cloud of Right Guard doused with Bonnie Bell or Whatever the Hell kind of perfume we wore.
It took a while for my prescription to be done, so I spent way too much time sniffing. Luckily there were not many people in the store. I decided that “CLEAN” was the winner, but I forgot who made it. I guess I will have to go back. After I use up the deodorant I just bought….old faithful-SECRET unscented.
Sorry this took up so much space, but the picture thingy is not my friend.
99 comments May 22nd, 2007
This is a placeholder post, just marking time until Wapakgram does her regularly scheduled post.
I have a question for all of you. Yes, you over there in the background. Have you heard of PaperbackSwap.com? Someone just mentioned this site to me. Apparently if you list paperbacks that you no longer keep, you can have access to paperbacks that other people are done with. You have to pay postage for the paperback, but in most cases (unless you’re shipping the puppy Fed Ex, which no one asks you to do) the cost of postage is much less than the cost of the book itself. Especially if the book is not the latest thing and thus can only be had through Amazon + cost of shipping.
This seems like a good idea to me, but I haven’t stopped to consider all the pros and cons of the idea. Just throwing it out for your consideration.
3 comments May 22nd, 2007
I know, I’m a day early. But as BCB always tells me - I’m a damn impatient woman. Yes I am. I’m also shaking in my chair. Writing this book is like starting my writing all over agian. It feels like the very first book I ever wrote. I’m scared it won’t be good enough. I’m scared I’m not good enough. I’m also scared because deep down, I know this is a damn brilliant idea and I’m terrified that I won’t ever have another brilliant idea again. Although, the other day after finish THE CITADEL by Robert Doherty (AKA Bob Mayer) I had an ephany of sorts. Yeah, I’ve sort of got another idea working for another thriller, but I guess I should finish DEATH BY BODY PART.
Now - I don’t think this is that gorey, but I will admit that it could be a bit disturbing. I will not be held responsible for anyone having nightmares. And please remember, I’m really a nice, normal suburban housewife (oh just stop laughing).
So, here goes. And please, feel free to tell me what you don’t like. I’m open to critisim. Kind of why I put it out there.
Prologue
The room is dark and cold. Faint moonlight seeps through the tattered curtains that once hung proudly in the window. The floorboards creak with every step I take. There are no lights, since the electricity had long ago been turned off. Rats were probably the only inhabitants left, and even they are scarce. It is if the building is dead.
I light a match and watch the smoke float toward the ceiling. The smell of sulfur tickles my senses as a shiver runs down my spine. This is what I have been waiting for. I watch the flame flicker as it casts a dancing shadow across the battered walls. I run my hand over the flame and feel the heat on my skin before lighting the small candles. Seven to be exact.
I continue with the new ritual that seems to come naturally to me. I think it’s easy because I know it’s necessary, but I shouldn’t enjoy it. It’s just something I must do. It’s my gift.
I place the candles around the young child. Familiar bright blue eyes blink frantically at me. Pleading with me. “Relax,” I whisper. I don’t want to scare her anymore than is necessary. It’s not her fault.
The young girl squirms on the floor, but her hands and legs are bound, so her struggle is futile. I can hear her muffled sobs under the duct tape pulled tight across her mouth. I kneel beside her head. “Don’t fight. You’re time has been over for a while now.” I brush the girl’s hair back, but she turns her head from me. I wish she wasn’t so afraid. This life didn’t belong to her.
The young girl’s eyes rolled and fluttered. I can tell the end was near. My hands tremble in anticipation as her little body quivers. I can’t wait any longer.
I pinch her nostrils closed. Horror filled eyes stare back at me. “Relax and the easier the end will be.” I try and comfort her with my words of wisdom, but she only struggles to break free. I place my hand on her stomach and rub gently. I used to… “Just relax,” I whisper and squeeze her nose harder.
I can feel the anger surge through my veins like heroin entering the bloodstream of an addict. Terrorizing at first, but so calming when the drug finally takes effect.
I need her to die.
I watch as the child fights for breath. Suddenly her eyes open wide. She stares at me as if I could possibly save her. Ironic, because that is exactly what I’m doing. “Yes. Let go of this life.” Her eyes roll back and her body goes limp.
But not dead.
Her tiny heart barely pulses in slow, unsteady beats inside her chest. I waited as patiently as I can, holding her wrist, waiting for a sign.
A faint pulse pushed against my finger. I press harder on her wrist, but no more beats follow. My heart races with excitement. Finally, the child is where she belonged. I run my finger over the sharp blade of the scalpel. It fells warm. I smile. “Forgive her. She does not know the sins others have burdened her with. For it is not her fault, but theirs.”
Chapter One
Homicide Detective Shayne O’Malley adjusted his shoulder holster as he clipped his badge on his belt loop. Grey clouds lingered in the darkening Rochester sky. In all the years he’d lived in New York, the sun seemed to only shine during the month of July. That was two months ago, and today the weatherman predicted snow. One of these days he’d move south. Maybe.
He pushed passed the reporters. A few of them shouted questions at him, but he ignored them. A small crowed had gathered behind a police barricade. Hushed whispers echoed in his ears.
He needed it to stop.
Running his hand through his thick black hair in a lame attempt to make it look decent, he focused on the condemned office building, rather than the five local news crews scrutinizing his every move. This wasn’t the right night to start his already rocky career over.
“Push back that police line,” he said to Officer Cox, stopping at the front of the building. The cracked concrete steps crunched under his feet. He shifted his gaze toward the milling crowd of angry bystanders. “Put anyone with a camera on that side of the building. Better yet, tell them to go home. Nothing to see.”
He rounded his shoulders. “Where’s Jones?” he asked Officer Gullo, who stood at attention in what one might assume had been a lobby judging by the old ripped up couches pushed against each other. A sign indicating elevators were around the corner hung behind a desk that faced the main doors. Wires dangled from the ceiling and popped out of the wall sockets.
“Arrived about five minutes ago,” Gullo replied.
“Shayne, over here,” his partner, Will Jones, called from a room just off the main corridor. “Bastard took her eyes.”
“What?” Shayne took a moment to prepare his mind and organize his thoughts. His pulse pounded in his temples. Why the fuck would someone take a little girls eyes?
He scanned the dark room where the body had been found. The carpet was torn up in most areas, exposing a rotted wood floor. The forensics team had set up lights and mini labs on the old rusted desks pushed against the wall.
Jones shook his head. “And the body was drawn on with some kind of a marker.”
Shayne swallowed. It didn’t matter how many times he saw a dead body it still affected him. Tonight would be worse. He averted his gaze from the lifeless body sprawled on the cold bare floor. Methodically, he scanned the room and made mental notes of the tagged evidence.
Seven cherry scented candles lined the floor, surrounding the child. Her hands tied behind her back. Her ankles were crossed and bound. Her naked body exposed to the cruel world.
“Why would someone draw on a body with a marker?” Jones bent over one of the forensics men.
Shayne studied the red lines on her stomach. It didn’t appear to be a pattern, or a message. Just lines. But they had to mean something.
“Do we have an ID yet?” Shayne focused his stare on the girl with no eyes. Her lids look as if they’d been peeled back and almost held open until rigor mortis had taken begun to take over the body. She looked as if she had no soul. He swallowed the bile that bubbled in this throat. Life wasn’t fair. Death down right cruel.
“No positive ID yet, but we’re pretty sure it’s Congressman Cavanaugh’s kid. She went missing a few days ago.” Jones pointed to a pile of rumpled up clothing. “Those match the description.”
“That’s not good,” Shayne whispered. In general, murdered children made headlines. This would make national news and bring in every idiot known to law enforcement. Shayne slipped on his gloves and knelt. The rope around the victim’s hands and legs had ripped her skin, duct tape covered her mouth, and her body had grown pale and stiff.
Shayne pulled out his notebook, running his fingers over the leather cover before flipping it open. He tapped his pen against the paper before scribbling the word eyes. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“I’m thinking whoever killed this little girl is a real nut case. What kind of crazed fucker cuts out a kid’s eyes?”
“You really want me to answer that?” Shayne closed his pad and shoved his trembling hand in his pocket when he noticed Special Agent Kara Martin making her way down the hall. Just fucking great. “Who called the feds?” he grumbled to Jones, but kept his gaze on her. She slowed her pace, pointed to a few things, and handed out a few orders in true Kara form.
“Wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Cavanaugh himself demanded they work this case,” Jones paused. “But still, the Cap has to ask for the feds help.”
If Kara was on the scene, the captain had already asked for help. Fuck. “Captain Terrence is a smart man, he’ll ask for it, otherwise the politicians will make our life a living hell.” Shayne rubbed his throbbing temples. His life was already a living hell and knowing this was probably the work of either some political idiot trying to get attention, or a fucking serial killer, it would murder his career. Not that he had much of one these days.
Kara’s presence would only complicate things. She had a thirst for power and a need for control. The way she barged into a room commanded everyone to take notice. And if they didn’t, look out. Her badge, chained around her neck, dangled just below her breasts. It bounced against her standard issue white blouse. Confident, beautiful, and dangerous. A bad fucking combination.
And she’d be the first one to make the connection.
“Detective O’Malley.” Kara thrust her hand toward Shayne. Her eyes might be blue, but he’d be hard pressed to describe them as warm and welcoming. More like the first layer of ice over a lake. “Just here to help out anyway I can.” She slipped her brown-rimmed glasses off her nose, and shoved them in her breast pocked before brushing her blonde hair behind her ears. “So, tell me what you got.”
“Not much,” Shayne admitted, taking a report from one of the lab techs. No reason not to share information at this point.
“I’ve called in the profiling team,” Kara said in a tone that could frost a beer mug.
“I haven’t asked for them and don’t you think that’s a bit premature.” Shayne didn’t bother to hide his frustration as he glared at her.
“Spoke with your captain less than twenty minutes ago. He agrees that we should be working together on this one considering who we believe the victim to be.” Kara pushed back her coat, planted her hands on her hips, exposing her weapon. “You okay? I’m surprised another detective didn’t take this one.”
He could ignore the fact that he was stuck dealing the FBI, but he couldn’t ignore her condescending tone. And this wasn’t the right time or place. “Bug off,” Shayne said softly, stepping closer as he glanced over his shoulder before making eye contact.
Kara scanned the room then said, “Come on. You should have taken today off or something.”
“Oh fuck,” Jones mumbled.
Shayne wanted to throttle Kara for bringing this shit up in the middle of a damn crime scene. He worked his ass of to try and ignore the significance of today in hopes the world would forget with him. He’d made a point of taking a few days off last week just for good measure. “I’ve got work to do.”
Thankfully, Jones gave him a nod and continued to look over the body. It was as if he understood, but he didn’t. No one did. Anyone else who put the connection together probably figured he was either an unfeeling bastard, or he was still out to lunch. Either way, he was fucked.
“I think we need to dig into the Congressman’s past and see if there is any reason someone would want to hurt him,” Jones commented as the medical examiner carefully turned the dead girls arm over obviously looking for some kind of answer to the puzzle of how, and maybe even why.
“I’ve got my team working on it.” Kara brushed off her slacks, but kept her narrowed focused on Shayne.
“Just stay out of my way.” Shayne balled his fists and squelched his first reaction to grab her by the arm and escort her out of the building. “This is my case.”
“Well, you’re not alone on this one,” she snapped. “I’ll see you in your office tomorrow morning around nine,” Kara said, then turned on her heel and stomped her way to the medical examiner, and started to chew his ear off.
“I’m sorry man. I didn’t think about the date.”
“Drop it,” Shayne said trying desperately to ignore the crushing pain in his chest. He felt a slight bead of perspiration roll across his hairline.
Jones nodded. “You really shouldn’t piss Kara off like that. She can make our lives miserable if she wants to.”
“She can also kiss my ass.” Shayne raked his hand through his hair and turned toward the boarded-up window.
“Regardless. We can use their man power, not to mention the access they seem to have to everything under the sun.” Jones folded his arms across his chest. “If this is Cavanaugh’s kid, we’ve got to work with them.”
Jones wasn’t normally the lets get along, take one for the team, kind of guy. But considering Jones’s job at present was to make sure Shayne was still fit to do his job, Shayne figured the man would become Mr. Politically-Correct. “As long as they stay the fuck out of my way.”
“You know the drill.” Jones stood across from him and leaned against the board where a window used to be. “And give yourself a break.”
Laughing wasn’t the smartest thing to do during a conversation like this, but Shayne couldn’t help it. “I can’t afford to. No one else is going to and you know it.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t want to have haul your ass to the county jail.” Jones leaned in closer and stared Shayne down with his dark, near black eyes. “Just go by the book and play nice with the FBI. Don’t screw up your life anymore than it already is.”
Shayne didn’t need to be reminded of his pathetic existence, but he couldn’t afford to be forced on leave again. That damn near killed him. “You mean it could get worse?”
“You could take a day or two if you needed,” Jones said half under his breath. “No one would blame you.”
“Screw you.” Shayne glared at his partner. Jones should know better than anyone what being stuck at a desk job had done to him. “And if I’m off, then so are you, since you’re my appointed babysitter.” One thing he knew for sure, Jones never turned a case over to someone else. He believed that would taint the investigation, allowing for too many mistakes.
“I’m just trying to be sensitive to the situation,” Jones said, glancing down the hallway.
“Then let it go. I’m fine.” Shayne stared him directly in the eye for a long moment. His body trembling on the inside, but miraculously, he’d managed to keep that from the world because once again, Jones gave a sympathetic nod.
“Agent Martin is heading out the door, this is our chance.”
Shayne followed ten paces behind Kara. He poked his head out the front door. “I’ll meet you at the station,” he said to Jones. As soon as Kara had the press distracted, he’d make a run for it.
131 comments May 20th, 2007
If I can do this, anyone can. I’ll speak slowly:
Sign in.
Go to “Write a Post”
Write your post. Or cut and paste. Whatever.
When you get to the “ick” part, put your cursor on the line above it.
Go click on the thing that looks like two white rectangles, one on top of the other, separated by a horizontal dashed line. It’s right next to the thing that looks like a tree.
And then, once people click on it, they’ll get this:
Bang!
You’re dead.
Do you really want people to think I can do this and you can’t?
Yeah, didn’t think so.
Even The GAM could do this.
Maybe.
(Yes, I’m crossing my fingers now, hoping I can do this without breaking anything. Hell, I’ll try anything once. Especially something guaranteed to piss off my good friend, Jen. Who has been taunting me. For no good reason. PMS, my ass.)
49 comments May 19th, 2007
So, I’ve been thinking. Well, thinking in-between trying to figure out ways to knock of pesky little birds. Anyone know a good sniper? Kidding people! Maybe not.
Ok - here is the deal. I was going to put an excerpt up on Monday of RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU but you all are going to buy it anyway, right? I mean, I know some of you have never read an e-book, but no time like the present to start. You’ve read a couple of excerpts because I’ve posted them on my blog before and I posted on here. You know it’s about a hunky state trooper and a girl who is being stalked and they have two weeks to figure it out. You also kind of know it’s good. Hell, I know it’s good, so there. But this is the sweeter, softer, gentler side of JenT. And well, she’s kind of gone and her body has been taken over by aliens. Oh wait, she is an alien, sorry, forgot. But she has dipped into the dark side of the universe and is almost done with her first Thriller. God, I have to stop talking about me in the third person, that is just weird.
Ok - I like that word. Ok. where was I? Oh yeah, the darkside. God, what a weird place. The things I think of are just plain out there, literally. Anyway, I was thinking about posting the beginning of DEATH BY BODY PART over here. It’s a prologue and then maybe part of the first chapter. Yes, I do prologues. I don’t hate then and if you have a reason for it, then do it. If it’s backstory, then don’t, but that is a different post.
Anywho….. the problem is the excerpt might be a bit on the “ick” side of things. What do I mean by ick? Well I don’t think it’s gory, all though others have said so, it is a bit on the distrubing side. What do I mean by distrubing? Well, I show my killer actually killing a child. Then I show the crime scene.
Here is the question - do you want me to share that - yes or no? I’m not going to post it if there is any chance I could either offend or insult anyone. Or even if someone would stay away just because they didn’t want to read something distrubing. So be honest.
The reason I’ve thought about posting this excerpt is because I’m looking for reactions from readers/writers.
I swore I would never put anything out there that wasn’t under contract, but I’m having doubts, fears, and all sorts of emotions regarding this book. But I also know the idea is a damn good one. The question is - can the old Sharpie-nator pull it off. Did JenT do her idea justice.
So, shall I post it, yes or no.
And CC - Just warn Lee Childs that I’m coming. But don’t tell him I’m that much of a freak.
24 comments May 19th, 2007
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