With some shame and omissions, I can honestly say that the mind is a most perplexing combination of stupidity and bright ideas!
“Huh?”
Okay, instead of saying ‘my mind’, I said, ‘the mind’. MY MIND is the perplexing combination of which I write. There are times when I hatch an idea on this laptop and it flows very well for a while until…until the mind is sidetracked with too many different themes coming into play, and they are darn good themes, just mildly disconnected from what I intended for this post.
“So!”
So, I look back over my over 500 post writings and find posts quite similar to the one I’m writing.
“Disconcerting?”
Indeed, because I want to be ‘fresh with what I write.
So, after reading over my 300 or 400 words, I wipe them off, clean and clear of my other posts…but I pushed the wrong button and ended up not only wiping out the post I was writing but the post in front of the one I was writing… Yes, I know, I used ‘I was writing’ twice in a sentence – a mistake because the ’wipe out’ was from exasperation and I went too far back and wiped out two posts… please don’t ask me why and how I could make such a mistake. Suffice it to write, for an ‘old coot’ like myself, I embarrass myself and my wife who reads all my posts and comments, generally always positively to them like a good wife (and writer, herself) should. When she begins her comments negatively, she acts like she’s embarrassed herself.
It’s enough to take an author to ‘drink’!
So, we doubled up that night – meaning we got half-soused on those two ‘hyped-up’ cocktails.
In this post, I wanted to be honest with my readers and let them know it hurts to make this admission…
So, with this post I apologize to readers of my words and their generally wonderful comments. It appears the ‘Writing Gods’ are reminding me of age factors…don’t get me wrong, I can get around rather handily, and it appears that I’m being reminded by some good and wholesome author friends that I should not cease my writing – you know, ‘good for the mind’, ‘good to be active in what you are good at’, and I know they are being kind and generous…some of them have written great reviews of my books – twenty books, in all! Many of my mysteries are fiction taken from actual crime cases.
Now, it would be nice if the readers of this post will join my writer friends and check out my books on my Word Press web site… https://www.brchitwood.com – Just saying!
Some say I should have been a comedian instead of an author.
The sweat literally poured from his brow and onto the green felt of the crap table like a leaking kitchen faucet… Brad Caron’s comeback after losing twenty grand in just two hours had the record for ‘longest run’ and, so far, the highest money winner in Arizona Casino and Gaming’s history, and the only casino where dinners for four weeks were free for winners of big sums their four guests, no matter the time of day, the logic of which was no secret for any gambler – the casino had back-up history showing many big winners would gamble away their large winnings within a period of six months, if not the same night…varying by a small degree.
That sweat did not pour in Caron’s right hand. The Crap Table was surrounded by a small village of other casino Winners and Losers who went crazy after each winning Toss. Caron’s right hand was the only dry spot on his body, visible in an almost eerie way in the midst of people, card players and/or non-players – an almost silent drone of conversation like a soft whir of motors ready to explode. Brad chose his bet preference When Caron tossed the romanced die, his lady’s bright red kiss planted on his right cheek, the ‘eight’ was his number the two white square cubes displayed on the green felt.
More side bets by the gamblers around the table, the die kissed again by brad’s lovely lady of the evening, he flung the die back-handed against the end of the long table and the number nine came up…Brad Caron’s side bet earned him a quick ten grand. The whoops and yells from the people were cacophonous, and the sweat flowed and sprayed the people nearby with a good dousing.
Brad conferred with the Croupier, asking for his highest bet of the long day – one and one-half million dollars… After a short conferring pause, the bet was approved by the Croupier and upper management. A soft-seeming electric buzz filled the darkened casino as the die was returned to Brad Caron.
A casino employee presented a towel to the gambler but he refused the offer…he wanted nothing to change in his long run… The loud speaker in the casino had already announced that no changes would interrupt the table play.
Brad Caron’s right hand was still the only part of his body still dry after all his tosses, and he saw it as a positive omen not to be trifled with.
“Players, place your side bets totaling $50,000 as he placed on the ‘4’ spot in the side box in front of the Croupier.
There were some moans and groans from bystanders who apparently thought his side bet pick was a bad choice.
“Roll the dice, Mr. Caron,” commanded the Croupier.
Ritual the same, the lady with Brad Caron kissed his die and then his wet right cheek. She smiled as she rendered the kiss. The first roll of the dice, Mr. Brad Caron’s two squares yielded him another win – a ‘three’ and a ‘one’ showed brightly on the green felt.
In the history of Casino gambling, Brad Caron broke gambling records all over the country, perhaps even the world…in the millions.
NOTE:
I wrote this fictional post based on a ‘Time’ Magazine article about a New Jersey Grandmother breaking a ‘Craps’ record with 154 rolls of the dice for four hours and eighteen minutes without ‘sevening out’… the odds of doing that are 1 in 1.56 million – a fascinating article by Claire Suddath.
I found out many years ago that ‘Craps’ and I did not get along very well – thank you very much!
By BR Chitwood – July 16 2022
Please take a look at My 20 books of fiction (many written from romance, memoir, true criminal cases, plus 500 blog posts, short stories, flash fiction, poetry, and songs – all you can find at:
“Mama’s Madness” was solved some years ago by some excellent police work in Northern California…
This ‘Mama’ was from the loins of Satan, evil in word and deed, the punishments of her daughters were manic and difficult to believe, recorded not here but stark and vivid in the book. This ‘Mama’ murdered two of her three daughters and an ex-husband, robbed and invented tortuous punishments so ugly and vile to mention here – but, there between the pages of the book, the reader will find them. This is a well-written book with many 5-Star Amazon ratings…you don’t want to miss this one!
This one was solved: mother sentenced to a California prison…probably out by now…
“Stranger Abduction” is very close to the Author’s heart because this crime was committed prior to my move to some ranchland in SE Arizona… My new neighbors told me as much as they could know about this mother and daughter disappearance, to wit:
It is a summer Sunday afternoon in rural Cochise Country, AZ near Sunizona, AZ, and a large happy family has just finished Sunday lunch. It is decided that Mom and her pert little 14-year-old daughter will walk three miles to their country store for ice cream and cigarettes for Dad. It is a walk often taken by members of the family – a sister lives along the Hwy. 181 route, affording them the opportunity to stop and visit.
Mother and daughter reach the country store, chat gaily with the owners and other shoppers, then leave for their return walk home, happily smearing ice cream on each other’s faces and kicking gravel along the road… a cheerful Mom and Daughter enjoying their Sunday.
Mom and daughter never make it home on that sunny Sunday in 1983!
They were never heard from again.
*
The sad aftermath of this true case is a family tragedy!
This novel explores the possibilities of what might have happened on that Sunday afternoon so many years ago. As an author in residence some six miles from Route 181 where two people were abducted, having talked to so many of the neighbors, I had to write about this case… It became a ‘must do assignment’ for me, and, I suggest for other writers as well.
PLEASE! If anyone has any information about this ‘Cold Case’, please contact the Sheriff’s Office in Bisbee, Arizona. PLEASE!
All 20 of my novels, 500 blog posts, many Short Stories, Flash Fiction, and Poetry are on the website provided above… Hope you can read and enjoy some of my stories.
No? I knew him, not so well, some forty years ago…he was a habitue, a devotee, of the Phoenix neon night life, searching for parts of himself he lost along a long emotional road from the hills of Appalachia: lost in an abusive and disoriented childhood; lost in a flawed and impetuous marriage; lost in the glittering promise of booze and women. Yes, I knew him, not so well, as he made all his stumbles along the way, losing not only himself but the connections to family and friends, to the people who loved him.
Yes, of course, I’m the man in the photo, and there’s a lot more to the story…hope you’ll read THE CRACKED MIRROR, Reflections of an Appalachian Son, by Billy Ray Chitwood.
In the end, my story must be like so many others, a story of a simple kid who grew up eating emotional soup and spending a lifetime trying to digest it. There are no spectacular or heroic moments. I’ve been in the United States Navy, but I’ve never fought a war—except the one I’ve declared within myself. So I know not the pain of holding a bleeding comrade to my bosom as he or she gasps the final breaths. I know not the anguish of a parent losing a child in an accident, or, in war—unless losing a child to drugs can be comparable. I’ve loved and been in love, but I’ve never stepped far enough from myself to know the true and natural profundity of its happiness and joy. I’ve been born but never died—unless the demon of the past is segmented death. The prospect of dying scares the hell out of me—not so much the prospect itself, but the pitiful legacy that is left behind. I’ve known insecurity and fear, along with self-confidence, loyalty, and pride. There have been the sins, small enough, I hope, to keep me at least somewhere in the thoughts of those I’ve loved. At times I’ve longed for ‘Nepenthe,’ the drug mentioned in ‘The Odyssey’ as a remedy for grief, the potion used by the ancients to induce forgetfulness of pain and sorrow. But, then, without some pain, can the soul truly seek refuge when the long journey is over?
***
The jail cell brought back sobriety and a stark reality. Sitting on a hard dirty ‘bed thing’ in the dimly lit, tiny barred enclosure, the demon thoughts came and possessed me. My world was disintegrating around me! The claustrophobic cell was my coffin of contriteness, a veritable symbol of my languishing life. There again was the ‘dark closet’ feeling within me, an anxious and suffocating hell! Grabbing at the bars I pitifully called out to the jailer, but no one came. Within the limited space I paced, stopped at the ugly stained wall, splayed my body against it, and tapped my forehead against its roughness. The jailer eventually came. He showed me a smile of compassion and told me that morning would come soon; then, I would be arraigned. The fitful night would pass.
***
It is Time that wears down the acts and deeds of man into something forgettable, mundane, heroic, noble, historical, and unforgettable. It is Time that leads us warily toward the greatest secret of all: That which lies beyond the dark veil!
***
“…There are men like you in the world, Prentice, through whatever kind of intervention, divine or otherwise, who must make us cry and laugh, who record for us the stirrings of the soul which we might otherwise never know.”
…
BR Chitwood
Okay, here I am today, no longer chasing those windmills, still trying to figure out this ‘one foot in front of the other’ thing. There are times when it seems I’m pretty close to figuring out this grand production, but those times are little teaser moments to stir something in the soul — sort of like a dreaded visit to a doctor or dentist, getting the car repaired – feels great when you find out the blood pressure is normal (thanks to a little round pill taken each day), the teeth cleaning and exam present no new cavities, and the car now carries no shameful dent.
All in all, living for some years on the rolling bluegrass hills of lovely Kentucky, a good wife, an aging, lovable cat, great daughters and sons, have given me happiness and joy. Back in Arizona the past still gets in my way at times in inscrutable ways, like a misty longing for something valuable I’ve left behind. I’ve never abandoned my faith, though fragile it might be, and there are many more good days than bad,
With all this said, I’m still writing, still searching…guess that only stops when mortal time gives up on me…
BR Chitwood – April 6, 2022
If you like books of mystery, suspense, action, romance, many of which are inspired by true events, please visit my website at https://www.brchitwood.com – after a short bio, just scroll down the ‘home’ page to preview the books and synopses of each.
Nine of the author’s 20 books shown below… Go to https://www.brchitwood – Website with synopses of all 20 books, over 375 blog posts, short stories, poetry, songs, author info, and BUY SITES AT YOUR AMAZON SITE…
Please visit! You will find some good reading with ‘BUY SITES’, book reviews, et al!
BR Chitwood – Author
April 6, 2022
NOTE:
All books below have 5-STAR REVIEWS on AMAZON!
***
If you like books of mystery, suspense, action, romance, many of which are inspired by true events, please visit my website at https://www.brchitwood.com – after a short bio, just scroll down the ‘home’ page to preview the books and synopses of each.
Nine of the author’s 20 books shown above… Go to https://www.brchitwood – Website with synopses of all 20 books, over 375 blog posts, short stories, poetry, songs, author info, and BUY SITES…
Please visit! You will find some good reading with ‘BUY SITES’, book reviews, et al!
Since my mobile and turbulent childhood my head fills with the events and movements of the days, the emotions that come and stay with me until I write about them from some subliminal heart/mind connection the words flow onto the screen of my laptop. I accept them and allow them entry on the page – as though they were destined to be there, an outlet for the subtle joy and pain of the soul…it is my belief that all artistic endeavors come from that similar sort of tingling.
As some subscribers to my blog posts might allow, most of my writing has a ‘Romantic’ cant, from my murder mysteries (some taken from actual crimes) to genres with historical essence, love, poetry, murder, and current events. My writing heroes of the past are many – …Hemingway, Steinbeck, Crane, DeMille, Grisham, to name a few. For Poetry, my favorite is an ex-Priest named James Kavanaugh.
I have written twenty books, their ‘buy sites’, 375 blog posts written over the years, plus poetry and tribute pieces to Arnold Palmer and other notables. That Website/Blog site address is:
Actress Brutally Murdered! Unsolved in Phoenix, Arizona
Killing Machines?
BR Chitwood
*
Not so fast!
Killing someone with a gun, hammer, fists, eyes blazing with sadistic, satanic glee must be the most despicable human trait. Yet, somehow, in a hostile war between countries, our warriors are trained to blow their enemies to bloody fragments in many number of ways, and, in the process, find reason to celebrate their victories…it is the essential nature of the warriors – their training includes film, hand-to-hand combat, all numbers of ways to destroy their enemies.
Most of us cannot fathom the beasts within those of us who hate so fervently and vindictively that we cannot control the terrible urges that possess us. Real war builds those elements within us, particularly those of us who live a sheltered life in our religious groups and our private ways of life.
Being a veteran of one of our wars and having lived up close and personally with a good lady friend of my wife and me. That lovely young lady was a secretary for two attorney friends of mine, an actress/model who shared living quarters with my wife briefly before our marriage.
During one record-hot summer day of a Phoenix, Arizona August evening this lovely lady was savagely murdered in the Northeast desert of Phoenix and left there by the killer for two record-heat weeks to be ravaged by desert denizens and her body unrecognizable… She was found by two terrified young boys during their rock-hunting hobby and rushed to tell police of their find.
My wife, I, and friends of this lady were devastated with the news and mad as hell when we were finally told by the newspapers of the method of her murder. The killer’s method of murdering her, the newspaper told us…the bastard dragged her through the desert, stopping every few yards to slam large rocks down upon her head. The case is now closed, and the beast is still out there somewhere, his crime unsolved.
This case, so far as I know, is still an ‘Unsolved Closed Case’ in the Phoenix PD files. Please, if you have any information about this case, please contact the Phoenix Police Department. Thank you…
Being an author, I ultimately wrote a fictional novel of my friend’s homicide, using library microfiche for the only facts available about the case. That book became the first book of my ‘Bailey Crane Six-Book Mystery Series’. The title of the book: “An Arizona Tragedy – A Bailey Crane Mystery” (Book 1). You can find it on Amazon or the ‘buy site’ at my blogsite/Website:
So, it seems I shall be ending this fascinating life adventure as I entered it, confounded by the sounds of jubilation and tears, yet, without a kindly grandmother slapping my rear end to bring the breath of life to a reluctant new birth in a small clapboard house in Appalachia, a saw mill hamlet of dirt roads and a railroad spur for bringing logs to the primary employer of most of its scant population of farmers, most of whom were in a prolonged ‘Great Depression’.
*
As a man ready for his final destiny, a man with precious little of consequence for the reader who might chance upon these few words I write here, the words will have little historic value or any other kind of value that would perpetuate a useful understanding except for some amusing and pathetic experiences. At best, the words herein have been written by many others facing their final breaths of air on this orbital craft that ended up with the name of ‘Earth’.
So, skipping over my apathetic problems with school and teenage acne, some good buddies, and a couple of young ladies I was too dull and dim-witted to approach, and an early entry into the United States Navy, marriage to a ‘Navy Wave’ with her own confused history, college, teaching, and emotional experiences that not only paralyzed me but would put me on the path of unrighteousness…yes, alcohol and lovely women of the night – indeed, a shameful and wonderful foray into an almost every night ‘Whoop-de-do’.
Mistakes of a shameful quality?
A ‘big time’ Uh-Huh! Years of willful neglect to career and inner peace. Still, it was fun and disaster – now, you know where the phrase came from, wait for it! ‘Honkytonk-Heaven’ or, ‘Neon Madness’.
So much time wasted?
I suppose – but it was my life for a time. Willie Nelson and Julio Iglesias wrote and performed the lyrics and music For All the Girls I’ve Loved Before. It is a song I should have written. In other words, I could not have written a better epilogue for my life.
My good wife of nearly forty years has encouraged me in my writing efforts, always steadfast and loyal. She also with her love and unselfish nature brings a smile to each new day.
Somehow, in the aging process, I found the gift of writing, much of it venting moments of my life.
Twenty books– some based on true crimes, some in different genres, give glimpses into my life…Romance, Mystery, Suspense, Thriller, Sci-Fi, Biography.
Short Stories, FlashFiction., Poetry and over 375 Blog Posts!
*
Perhaps, I have atoned for some of my ‘low spots’ in life… Regardless, my writing speaks ‘Truth’, and it is my hope that readers can find in my books not only the joy of reading but some essence of inspiration. All my writing can be found at: https://brchitwood.com complete with synopses and Amazon Buy Sites.
Wishing everyone a happy and frustration-free 2022, with the scourge of Covid and Omicron all in our rearview mirrors.
Great Books, Blogs, Short Stories, Flash Fiction, and Poetry…worthy of reading!
BR Chitwood
Writing Realities
BR Chitwood
There’s no earthly or worthy reason why you should heed any advice I might give on the topic of Writing. Oh, I can claim to have taught briefly a course in Advanced Writing to high school seniors on their way to college, and, only my Deity can explain it, but I have written nineteen books and am working on the twentieth.
Having written those books, I’ve done little in the way of marketing them. I’ve deliberately eschewed seeking out a publisher because of the rejection slips I received many years ago when I was writing my six-book ‘Bailey Crane Mystery Series’. When self-publishing came into popularity, I went crazy and madly published too many books too fast, subliminally thinking readers were going to gobble them up.
Okay, the truth is, I’ve always been frugal with money – except for the very large and expensive things in life, like, cars and luxury homes…yes, I like luxury living and won’t give it up. Well, there’s more than one truth. I spent most of my earlier years in the neon lights of lotus-eating, getting married, getting divorced, getting married, getting…you get the picture. So, some common sense came via ‘air mail’ to the left-side of my brain (Or, is it the right-side?) somewhere around the Gail Sheehy’s ‘Forty-Plus Crucible’ stage in Passages. I married a lovely down-to-earth lady with the common sense I never had and have somehow metamorphosed into that sensible place…well, for the most part.
Now, I just write, literally, write – blogs, novels, romance, mystery, thrillers, memoirs, even inject some fantasy occasionally. To the exclusion of, say, keeping up with the social media mélange of tips for writing, how to get an agent, how to write the next great novel, common mistakes made in writing, how to market your book, Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, really, need I go on? I just WRITE.
Somewhere along the way, I discovered that I was likely never going to get discovered by a publisher or by an agent who could get me published, so, I WRITE. No, the sales of my books are not making me zany with joy, far from it – think of an antonym, like ‘zensible’. Think of the smallest grain of sand. That’s I, me, or my nineteen books – under that five-ton pile of pebbles. So, I WRITE. I’m in Twilight now, and I use that descriptive word so as not to admit to an age I don’t feel nor care to reveal…ah, see, a rhyme. I’m amazing to me, I’m amazing. You don’t have to think so. You might think so if you read one of my books, particularly, if you read Dominique, or, Daddy, No! or, Mama’s Madness, or, Stranger Abduction, or, better, just go to https://brchitwood.com and pick one. Many of my books in the Mystery genre are fiction from fact, because evil-doers have always held a morbid fascination for me, you know, how could any person do some of the hideous crimes we see on TV and in daily newspapers? Finally, with all I’ve written here, here’s a writing tip that works for me. If you have the penchant for writing, feel like you can write, you might try it. Here’s what I do: I look over at my lovely wife and say, “Hey, honey, give me a phrase, any phrase, known, not known, just give me a phrase.” She’s reluctant because I’m taking her away from her book-reading or her genealogy, but I pick on her enough she finally gives me a phrase.
From that phrase, I will write a blog post. That post might one day become a full-fledged book. That simple phrase unlocks my mind and the words flow. Maybe in the scheme of things my blog posts are not so great, but I like them, my wife likes them, and maybe that has to be enough. That phrase gets me to writing, and the more I write the better I believe I become…
Forgive the ‘I loveself praise’!
Please check out my 20 books, over 375 blogs, short stories, flash fiction, and poetry at: https://brchitwood.
The Author's Mission 
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