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THE POWER MERCHANTS author

Read the ‘PROLOGUE’ and ‘CHAPTER ONE’ of “The Power Merchants”

by BR Chitwood

The Power Merchants

A Novel by:

BR Chitwood

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Prologue

She was a dazzling lady with long platinum hair in a perfect rhythmic bounce on her shoulders, without a stray maverick wisp out of place. Her cameo face, a near gemstone carved by a Master, her joyous blue eyes twinkling as she walked toward me. Her tanned body was covered by a soft mauve fabric that possessively clung to every curve of her body with every magical step she took. She could have been a Hollywood starlet made up beautifully for her role in an epic movie, portraying a ‘golden girl’ of Hollywood’s early days.

Watching her approach, I stole a glance over each of my shoulders to see if she was making those erogenous steps for me or someone behind me.

No one behind me, just a wall I forgot was there. OMG, she’s walking to me.

With a coquettish smile of full lips made up of a soft and non-glaring shade of red matching her dress, she took loveliness to a completely new standard. She came to a stop at my high table and stools. All eyes in the posh Princess VP Lounge were upon her as she strode elegantly toward me.

She spoke and her voice matched all the rest of her, like mellow harp music in a grand arbor of lilacs and roses.

“You are Bradley Benedict and you match perfectly the description given of the gentleman with whom I was asked to keep company this evening – in a ‘nice way’, of course.” She gave me another erogenous move that I suspected no other woman could ever duplicate…

I attempted a response, but she was not through with her introduction…

“Do you mind terribly, Bradley, if we go to the lower tables and cushiony chairs in the Princess Dinner Lounge? It is more comfortable, and the music is so soft and pleasant there.”

“I don’t suppose…” The lounge music began its long session, and she was unable to hear me above the rumble of drums, bass, guitar, and horn.

I stood, smiled, loudly told the waiter to transfer my tab to the restaurant lounge, and the lovely lady and I strolled slowly the short distance to the other, more sedate, lounge.

The Princess Lounge was a large intimate room clothed in a magical lighting that seemed to sweep through the room with unobtrusive and delicate alternating shades of pleasing colors – if the shades were colors at all, but only subtle shifts at certain locations of the room. I could never tire of this lounge were I to have dinner with a special someone like the gorgeous lady who just joined me. The room was elegant in its leather comfort and sundry accouterments – fresh flowers, their scents an intoxicating pleasure in breathing, sculptures of high quality, notable portraits of prominent dignitaries on the golden-hued walls. The Princess Dinner Lounge was the epitome of consummate beauty, luxury and refinement.

In this truly magnificent environment, our drinks ordered, I spoke: “This is quite sudden, but, then, how could I not accept such an offer from one so beautiful? You have me awkwardly off-balance, lovely lady. You know my name. I don’t know yours.”

“Christie Conway… Oh, Bradley, this lounge takes my breath away in its beauty…”

She paused, about to say something else, so I asked: “Yes, it is a magnificent room, and I’m delighted you like it. May I ask: to whom do I owe for such lovely company this evening? I can hardly wait for the answer to that question.”

With a slight shift in her soft lounge chair and a subtle smile that invited me to end all protocols, to rise from my own comfortable chair, to take a stride to her side, to lean and kiss those luscious lips, she said, “I’m sorry, Bradley, I’m sworn to secrecy.”

When I recovered from that impulsive moment, I responded. “So, are you with an agency that caters to requests like, ‘keeping company’ with men who might be in the throes of divorce, middle-age, or, senility?”

“You know, it just occurred to me, we have names that form ‘BB’ and ‘CC’. Can we use those initials tonight?” Ah, she was changing the subject.

“And, pretty Miss, you didn’t answer my question. Are you with an agency, CC?”

“No, BB. I’m an unworking actress.”

“Here in Phoenix? Wait, wait… I’ve seen you on TV commercials. Did you act in California on one of the daily ‘soaps’?”

“Yes…and, yes.”

“Okay, tell me, what is this all about? Is someone playing a colossal joke on me?”

“I don’t know about that, BB. I was just paid to give you company at dinner and to give you an envelope at my departure.”

CC reached into her purse and pulled out a small manila envelope.

I reached for the envelope, and she pulled it out of my reach and said: “I was told to give it to you upon my leaving tonight, so, if you want to skip buying me dinner I’ll give the envelope to you now, and leave.” She smiled sweetly.

“Would you like to leave now, CC?”

“No. I find you a handsome man, easy to talk to. I think we would have a fun evening, again, in a ‘nice way’.”

“I’m flattered. Thank you… Can you tell me anything about the person or persons who asked you to be here tonight? You are beautiful, and I would love to buy you dinner and spend the evening with you – in a ‘nice way’.” I smiled but I was sure the smile and eyebrow lift conveyed no gallantry at all.

“I was only told by the agency to be here tonight…the agency gets a percentage of the money. I can only say that I would not expect my agency to send me out for anything not lawful.”

Soft romantic music began to flow through the hidden speakers, audible enough to enhance and please any mode of conversation.

We talked, had dinner, and, at our parting in the parking lot we instinctively kissed – not a kiss of lovers but with perhaps a hint of that ‘goal’ in mind. She handed me the envelope and walked away to her car, stopping once to look back and give me a wave… That had to mean something… Yeah, she was making sure you weren’t following her.

I absently put the envelope in my sport coat inside pocket and went to my car.

My mind berated me with thoughts…

You dummy. No phone number. No address. You’re daft… I tried, but she changed the subject. You should have tried again. You’re some ‘Romeo’…

Chapter One

The bikini-clad blonde on the large billboard looked down on me with a smile that said she loved me, and some uncontrollable part of me had the gall to convince my cock to get alert for action. That, as a full-body numbing buzz came and filled my total awareness with razor-sharp pains in all parts of my disabled anatomy.

First, though, I needed to remember why the hell I was lying in this ditch some fifty yards from what looked like a state highway. The area was too isolated to be a major road. At this point I saw no traffic at all.

Uh-oh, another sharp jolt just sparked my brain, letting me know where the pain was coming from. Just when I figured the pain was coming from the right side of my body and figured it was time for me to move, the left side of my head near the eye urgently warned me, ‘do not move quite yet’.

I closed my eyes tightly as though that might offer some sanity to the moment, but it only added to the pain. After softly touching my rib cage, carefully moving my feet and hands, after touching a spot above my left forehead, I felt the large wide lump with a long gaping valley running along my forehead, I let out a sharp cry when I touched bone some a few centimeters down, a half-inch above the eyebrow. The exquisite pain threw me back, slamming my head into a boulder I didn’t know was there, and one more yell came. With the yell came more pain, and some part of the engine inside me was fit enough to allow me some self-pity.

Self-Pity?

How did I get to self-pity when I did not even know my name? For whatever the stupidity, that thought had a consoling effect.

I lay there, not moving because both sides of my body were denying that simple task. So, I lay there, thinking… How the hell did I get here? That thought was swallowed up with the previous jarring truth… I did not know who and what to call me. I did not know me.

Oh, my God!

The panic now lodged there in my crowded brain made me try again to get up out of the ditch, but I only fell back to my earthen bed of the moment – dusty earth, gravel, and the afore-mentioned boulder.

Some knowledge bade me take long deep breaths and not try to figure it all out. I guess some ruling gene from the cranial pool was trying to settle me down with the fact that my mind and body was going through a temporary shut-down, and, again, how do I get ‘there’ when I don’t even know my name and how and why fate put me here?

I lay there, taking deep breaths until sharp stabbing ouches hit me. I tried to calm my thinking. All events have reasons, good and bad. It would come to me…’Just relax’ I kept telling myself.

Lying still there, the pain was not so bad, and the bikini-blonde beauty was still trying to get me erected.

Smiling lamely and with pain at my silly thoughts I kept my gaze on the billboard.

At some point, I felt like I was going to pass out, a swooning sensation, not pain so much.

That’s when I heard movement among the dirt and gravel.

The thoughts came hard and fast. What can I do? I can hardly move.

Then I screamed at what I saw within ten feet of me.

It was a Mojave Rattlesnake.

Once again, how the deuce would I know about Mojave rattlesnakes when I don’t even know my name? Then, another weird thought hit me, a movie I saw – Harrison Ford in Temple of Doom. Indiana Jones hated snakes, and he ran like hell from them…

That thought came at me from Hell’s murky furnace, and, hating snakes with good movie company, I rushed on ‘auto-pilot’ to get up, and the excruciating pain took me back to sudden darkness on my earthen bed of dirt and gravel.

Thoughts can be obnoxious – my last bit of thinking as the pain took me again to the nether world of unconsciousness: at least I won’t see the wiggly bastard finish me off.

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Complete your reading of this novel at Amazon buy site:

NEW RELEASE – 2021

“The Power Merchants”

A Novel for the Time in which we are Living AND ‘A beautiful Love Story to shade some of our Realities…

Years of the Covid-19 Pandemic!

A man is presumed dead., left in a ditch by the side of a State Road near Scottsdale, Arizona, badly beaten, with two bullets in his body…

This scenario begins THE POWER MERCHANTS, a book that explores political intrigue and malfeasance at the highest levels of our Federal Government, and the sexual appetites of a billionaire who seduces under-age prepubescent girls for his evil pleasure and to curry favor with some highly placed politicians…

“The Power Merchants” is also a beautiful love story that ‘Romance genre’ readers will find pleasure in watching how it all unfolds…

Plus, there is actual truth in this fictional narrative that encompasses some of the events shaping our world today, certainly not the least of which is the Corona Virus Pandemic and the new policies set in place to fight this juggernaut, some people feel are corrupting our civil liberties…

This is a fast-paced novel that deals with the issues of today, the economic spillage from the pandemic that is affecting every major country in the world…

This novel will keep your interest as you follow the good and bad characters that are on display in “The Power Merchants” – yes, it’s fiction but it smacks of so much truth…your enjoyment is guaranteed in reading this finely crafted literature…

Just saying…

End of Sample

You can purchase this book on AMAZON:

Amazon Universal BUYSITE:

mybook.to/ThePowerMerchants

Love is All

Love Is All

by

BR Chitwood

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Joan Walsh Anglund wrote the lines:

“Love comes quietly…

But you know when it’s there

Because

Suddenly…

You are not alone anymore…and there

Is no sadness in you.”

*

From me to Joan Walsh Anglund

comes a humble, ‘Thank you’…

I’ve known that ecstasy a few times,

Foolishly, at times, I stole away from Love –

A mis-guided fool I was…

The Ache remains forever in my heart.

There seems always one

That remains in the Heart –

The one you abandoned because of space and time!

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BR Chitwood – February 1, 2022

https://brchitwood.com

What Makes Presidents Great?

BR Chitwood – https://brchitwood.com

+ INTELLIGENT AND WITHOUT BIASES!

+ HIGHLY INFORMED OF WORLD EVENTS!

+ ARTIULATE, FIRM, AND HONEST!

+ MASTERFULLY INFORMED!

+ DECISIVELY PROTECTIVE OF OUR BORDERS!

+ METICULOUS CRAFTING OF POLICIES!

+ CLEAR & HONEST ELECTION POLICIES!

+ GREAT COMMUNICATOR & PATRIOT!

+ QUARTERLY UPDATES TO PUBLIC!

+ RAPID & AXIOMATIC IN ACTION!

  (Everyone has to be somewhere!)

BR Chitwood – https://brchitwood.com

Tacit Tenderness

Tacit Tenderness

BR Chitwood

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There are times when a sincere warm smile is not enough to give someone a ‘lift’, a short reprieve from loneliness, a heart cracked with a ‘Dear John’ letter, a lingering love spat, a disappointing job interview.

Tacit Tenderness needs some helpful tactile accompaniment, an embrace with emotional encouragement for that ‘Dear John’ letter and/or consoling words to bring some semblance of understanding and reassurance to help the grieving person under stress.

So, why do I write about ‘tacit tenderness’?

There is not just one reason…

Consider the events that have bruised severely our country, our Democracy, our freedom and liberty, our sacred United States Constitution (likely a document more carefully crafted by the heroic leaders of our earlier days as a nation than any other documents in any other country.

You have your political party allegiance, and, for the most part you follow their dictates. For me, I am unashamedly irritated with our country’s ‘rank and file’ for the unmerciful reign of terror, fires, thefts, murders, beatings, stores robbed with all of it recorded on our television screens.

Sorry, the major irritation for me is our nation’s leader and his Vice-President, two people to whom history will show as our most arrogant, outrageously inept, useless, withered, without clues as to how to govern and how to keep our great Republic safe and secure…despite some speeches that are written for them, speeches that have a democratic feel, have a somewhat promising flavor, until the next week’s government news and events come to our TV screens.

Please forgive my continuing amateurish and one-sided railing about the state of our government and the people who are the brain-trust and keepers of our sacred documents. If only these wise and valuable documents and their contents were adhered to up and down the great halls of these hallowed structures, we might truly be a democratic Republic. Our leaders take sacred vows to govern and abide by these documents. The obligatory acceptances are always hearty ‘I Dos!

Money is the power broker, billions of dollars spent by the big conglomerates to get ‘this bill’ and ‘that bill’ passed, whether those enactments have negative results for the people who must live within the constructs of those bills.

In short, our elected come to office for honest appraisals of the issues that come before them, to wit, ‘does the issue up for vote benefit the people they represent’?

It is not my intent to insult anyone. I’m only lamenting, surely venting some of my own concerns, simply expressing my angst and fear of where we might be going in this country… We are wrestling with some monumental problems: Health CrisesCovid-19 virus, Omicron and other variants; Crime out of control openly in stores; fires;  murder of innocents; border madness –  illegal entry at our southern borders by hundreds of thousands and more coming each day; airline fights;   congressional wrangling by a disassembled congress (an ultimate struggle for our freedom of choice versus an ‘open and progressive’ society with free college education, free medical support, forgiveness of college/university debts, open borders, short, or, no prison sentences for criminal pursuits), and much more from the left side of our political spectrum.

Where are we going as a nation?

Forget Democrat!

Forget Republican!

We are people of different persuasions, but it would seem to me that all of us want some semblance, some balance, in our political structure. It would seem to me that many of us lost loved ones in the wars we have fought – my uncle Charles was at Hickam Field during the infamous Japanese surprise attack on Pearl Harbor, Honolulu…thousands of lives lost, and, in the end millions of lives were lost.

If there are those who do not like my observations about our government and about our history, you won’t be reading more from this point on. I’m a old ‘country boy’ and I understand we all do not think alike. For me, these at times combative post remarks make me think that, at least ‘I’m not hiding behind a boulder, and people can know how I feel about the state of our union – and other topics that can rankle a few folks. I’m a guy who likes people, regardless of their beliefs and color. So, I am just expressing my personal views

Some might like them (the views.)

Some might just as easily not like them.’

At least, I wrote something this Saturday before turning on the ‘Sentry Golf Tournament in Hawaii’…

Oh, I will continue to write until I’m claimed by my God, and maybe that does not upset anyone…

You can take a look at my 20 books, with covers, synopses, ‘buy sites’, 375 blog posts, short stories, flash fiction, and poetry at:  https://brchitwood.com , with covers, synopses, ‘buy sites’.

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                                    BR Chitwood – 1/10/22

https://brchitwood.com

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                              E-Mail: brchitwood@gmail.com

                              Twitter:  @brchitwood

                             Facebook: Facebook.com/Billyray.chitwood

                             https://www.linkedin.com/in/billy-ray-chitwood-7b17562b/

BR Chitwood – Warts and All

Great Reads! Many

BR Chitwood

BR Chitwood (Author) – Warts and All!

December 19, 2021

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I’ve written over twenty books, over 375 blog posts, short stories, flash fiction, and poetry, all found on my website and blog: https://brchitwood.com.

The books cover most genres, some crime novels depict the author’s factual accounts with some fiction to enrich the drama. There are romance novels, a ‘Bailey Crane’ six-book mystery series, some of which inspired by true events, one science-fiction novel, memoirs that perhaps tells too much about the author’s life.

THE CRACKED MIRROR – Reflections of an Appalachian Son is a narrative about my life, and I use a character – Prentice Paul Hiller – to depict me. In this memoir I use a two-track system for conveying the action taking place: PP Hiller (me) on a ‘Nursing Home’ track, PLUS a track that covers my life. I believe the reader will find THE CRACKED MIRROR an excellent read…of course, my selfish-side believes all my books are excellent.

In my Website – https://brchitwood.com – you will find all my books with cover pics, synopses, and Amazon Buy Sites.

The Cracked Mirror – Reflections of an Appalachian Son

​​(A fictional memoir – 90% + TRUE)

BR Chitwood

​About a Tennessee boy who ate some emotional soup and spent a lifetime trying to digest it. It is the story of a young man leaving east Tennessee and going in search of himself, unprepared for the adult world he is about to enter. Behind him, and, within him, is the emotional debris of his childhood: abuse, broken family, and a substantial part of his soul. Searching for his identity in isms and bars, he stumbles, gets up, only to find in the end that legacy and meaning are elusive, a ‘white buffalo’ always somewhere in the shadows. 

“The Cracked Mirror – Reflections of an Appalachian Son” is largely a true story of the author’s own life, a mirror of his past, cracked with the stress of all his memories: a family broken apart by their Appalachian circumstances and the ‘great depression’; a childhood tainted by a father’s abusive nature; an impetuous marriage and a sorrowful divorce; a subsequent search of ‘isms,’ for love and meaning in California and Arizona gin mills; a tableau of horrible events, including a senseless family murder, suicide, and a desert survival.

“The Cracked Mirror – Reflections of an Appalachian Son,” is the story of fictional Prentice Paul Hiller (Billy R. Chitwood) his life, his heritage, his mistakes, the events that have come to shape him, and the demons within that he cannot dispel. Along the way, he gives his passionate and provocative views on criminal justice, love, politics, religion, war, and his favorite writers. In the end he finds a new love, some hope for redemption, some semblance of meaning and legacy. 

The author’s own family roots trace back to the eleventh century in Chetwode, a lovely hamlet north of London… 5-Star reviews on Amazon.

 
Amazon BUY SITES:

Amazon Universal BUY LINK: mybook.to/B004ZGWQY8
https://www.amazon.com/Cracked-Mirror-Reflections-Appalachian-Son-ebook/dp/B004ZGWQY8/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1511899160&sr=1-1&keywords=the+cracked+mirror+-+reflections+of+an+appalachian+son – US

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Cracked-Mirror-Reflections-Appalachian-Son-ebook/dp/B004ZGWQY8/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1511899160&sr=1-1&keywords=the+cracked+mirror+-+reflections+of+an+appalachian+son – UK

https://www.amazon.ca/Cracked-Mirror-Reflections-Appalachian-Son-ebook/dp/B004ZGWQY8/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1511899160&sr=1-1&keywords=the+cracked+mirror+-+reflections+of+an+appalachian+son – Canada

Thank you for previewing and reading my books. Any comments you might have can be left on this blog or my Web site or at my E-  Mail: brchitwood@gmail.com

I wish everyone good reading!

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BR Chitwood – December 19, 2021

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR!      

https://twitter.com@brchitwood

https://facebook.com/billyray.chitwood

Living in My World

‘…a tilt-awhirl’ ride!”

Living in My World

By BR Chitwood

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Living in my world

In all its guises

Has been a wild ride

On a Carnival ‘Tilt-a-Whirl,

An Up-down Roller Coaster,

Blended therein with Love

And matters of the Soul:

Empty moments, dull, void;

Danger moments of emotion;

Beautiful ‘Lady moments’,

Romantic and poetic in

Their magical essence.

Not so much has mattered

Living in my world, not

Business, not budgets, but

Those happy, Quixotic moments.

Other than a childhood of

Mood uncertainties and poverty,

I measure Living in my world

By those who have given me

Love, Hope, and Family.

There is also the gifts God

Gave me: a good, caring wife,

My final Remedy and Romance.;  

A need to write of my living

Through books of fiction,

Non-Fiction, Poetry, and

My World of Living –

Twenty books, over 370

Blog posts, including Flash

Fiction, Short Stories, and Poetry.

My World of Living is told

On and between the lines of

My writing…

Good or Bad?

I say, GOOD!

Is that not what you would

Expect me to say?

Read a few of my books and

Let me Know!

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BR Chitwood – March 25, 2021 – Archives

View my books/synopses at:

https://www.brchitwood.com

Follow me on:

Twitter.com/@brchitwood 

Facebook.com/billyray.chitwood

It Cannot Just Be

It Cannot be!

    BR Chitwood                    

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It cannot be just the decay of Society!

It cannot be just immoral clarity!

It cannot be just my mind’s ‘gear shift’!

It cannot be just ‘Mob Robs’, grab and jab!

It cannot be just Democracy

In freefall!

It cannot be just big money buying decay!

It cannot just be, Dammit!

It cannot just be!

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BR Chitwood – 11/29/21

Please preview synopses of my 20 books, over 375 blog posts, Flash Fiction pieces, Short Stories, and Poetry at:

https://brchitwood.com

(Website/Blog)

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Follow me on https://Twitter.com – @Br Chitwood)

https://facebook.com/billyray.chitwood

Who Am I?

SUPERB NOVEL – INSPIRED BY TRUE CRIME

BR Chitwood

Twenty (20) Books of Fiction (Some based on true crimes) and Memoirs, PLUS 370 + blog posts (Short Stories, Flash Fiction, Poetry: https://brchitwood.com

(Four of the twenty books appear above!)

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Who Am I?

BR Chitwood

Who am I?

Not a terribly original question, perhaps one that is often asked over the course of one’s life. What got me to thinking about the question are the genres in which I write my books – mystery (some inspired by true events), romance, bio/memoir, political thought. So much of my writing deals with the underbelly of life, the bad elements in our society, the evil people who live among us – fictionally or in fact. It must be my admission that at times it bothers me that I focus my writing so much on a salacious news report about someone being sexually assaulted, people being horribly murdered, an awful pedophile hurting or killing our children, or some dark and greedy enterprise. Another aspect relative to the question is my concern that the books I’ve written are not necessarily going viral.

Don’t mind me. I feel that much of my life has been spent in introspection, analyzing myself as I lie awake in the night, as I drive the open road, as I view television or a sad movie, even in the middle of a conversation. It’s my way of trying to piece together another part of me that is unknown to me. Maybe in some sort of loose and nebulous nexus I’m creating everyman, the good, the bad, and the ugly.

The way I’m built, the crazy DNA I carry inside, does cause me concern. So much emotion and mobility in my early building stages accounts for the calculus here. I’ve always been drawn to the action, crime, drama, mystery, and suspense of the big screen or tube. My wife loves comedies and musicals, the ‘Hallmark Movies’, and neatly trimmed family adventures. I started out loving cowboy movies, then graduated to the more fast-paced ‘True Lies’ and ‘Jesse Stone’ types. That’s all okay for different likes and dislikes. There’s a spiritual part of me that nudges the soul now and then to write something wholesome, like a strong Christian story with an uplifting theme for all ages… Hopefully, one day I shall satisfy that nudge.  

If you had not noticed, I’m rambling and trying to figure an apt finish to this post.

Here it is.

I’m doing all this word vacillation when it comes down to this. There is a lot of me in what I write, in the characters I create, and in the plots. There is fun in the penning of my tales, and I experiment with my writing. There are times when I organize a book – in my fashion – and there are times when I simply allow the characters to take me where it is they want to go… This is likely to make a ‘writing purist’ cringe. For me, the process of writing can take any form a person wishes. The readers ultimately will decide if our writing efforts are worthy.

Writing is enough for me, the process itself…most of the time. Believing I’m under no delusions of grandeur, I truly feel my words are strung together well and tell compelling stories. I get 5-Star reviews which make me feel jubilant. Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn are used daily and perhaps for some, ad nauseam. I admit to a certain ineptness in this digital world, but I’m doing so many things to get people to read s books. Apparently, I’m not doing, nor am I capable of doing some of the things I need to be doing. An old man (me) dusted off some manuscripts, rewrote, edited them, wrote several new books along the way, and self-published them. My first ‘Bailey Crane Mystery’ (“Probable Cause”) was picked up by a publisher, eventually went out of print – that book is now “An Arizona Tragedy – A Bailey Crane Mystery” Book One. There are six ‘Bailey Crane’ books in the series – the original book two manuscripts (“Stranger Abduction”) was done on a Star-Writer word processor and the manuscript was lost. Thus, there are six ‘Bailey Crane’ books in lieu of seven. Eventually, I rewrote “Stranger Abduction.”

The final point is taking longer than expected.

The mistake was made, I believe, in coming out with so many books in such a short time. There were no ‘launching parties’ for the books, no book tours, and there was very little internet plugging. Add to that, I’m no longer a young man who can keep the pace of author book signings, events of one kind or another, or other vital networking avenues. So, the point is this: my books are good, and I would like to see them in the hands of readers. Yes, writing is enough for me most of the time, but I do get hungry for reader reaction. Like most authors, I would hope for some gratification. My books are bought too infrequently, and I am at a loss to find some magic buttons to push… Of course, I could turn the books over to someone specializing in all phases of marketing, but that of course is costly.

Sometime ago I did a KDP giveaway of five of my books for five days (likely, it should have been one book instead of five). It looks like some seven hundred total all books were given away during that time, with much tweeting, much Facebook activity, much Goodreads and LinkedIn activity, with my weekly blog announcing the giveaway.

Baring one’s soul is perhaps foolhardy and senseless, but there it is.

What you need to do, kind followers of my blog, other than commiserating, is to start a viral situation with my 20 books and the 370+ blog posts – short stories, flash fiction, and poetry…having not the foggiest idea of how you will do that. Do not worry if you fall short of doing either, the viral thing or commiserating, will still have me doing a weekly blog, valuing you – and still writing my books, flash fiction, and short stories.

Here are the various links to my books and to me.

Please take a look… https://brchitwood.com

BR Chitwood – Tuesday – 11/16/21

Many of my books are inspired by true events favored with Amazon 5-stars reviews…  

https://www.brchitwood.com – My Website & Blog (20 books w/synopses + BUY SITES 370+ blog posts, short stories, Flash fiction, poetry…

Please Follow me on https://twitter.com (@brchitwood)

https://facebook.com.billyray.chitwood

Also on Goodreads, LinkedIn and other book and ‘Universal Buy Sites’…

Twenty books & 370 + blog posts (Short Stories, Flash Fiction, Poetry

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Twenty books of Fiction and Truth — 5-STAR reads, PLUS over 370 blog posts, Short Stories, Flash Fiction,…the writings of BR Chitwood

3 of my 20 books PLUS over 370 Blog Posts, Short Stories, Flash Fiction, and Poetry !

SEE ALL TWENTY BOOKS of Fiction and MemoirS & POSTS AT:

https://brchitwood.com

BR Chitwood

Twenty (20) Books of Fiction (Some based on true crimes) and Memoirs, PLUS 370 + blog posts (Short Stories, Flash Fiction, Poetry: https://brchitwood.com

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Who Am I?

BR Chitwood

Who am I?

Not a terribly original question, perhaps one that is often asked over the course of one’s life. What got me to thinking about the question are the genres in which I write my books – mystery (some inspired by true events), romance, bio/memoir, political thought. So much of my writing deals with the underbelly of life, the bad elements in our society, the evil people who live among us – fictionally or in fact. It must be my admission that at times it bothers me that I focus my writing so much on a salacious news report about someone being sexually assaulted, people being horribly murdered, an awful pedophile hurting or killing our children, or some dark and greedy enterprise. Another aspect relative to the question is my concern that the books I’ve written are not necessarily going viral.

Don’t mind me. I feel that much of my life has been spent in introspection, analyzing myself as I lie awake in the night, as I drive the open road, as I view television or a sad movie, even in the middle of a conversation. It’s my way of trying to piece together another part of me that is unknown to me. Maybe in some sort of loose and nebulous nexus I’m creating everyman, the good, the bad, and the ugly.

The way I’m built, the crazy DNA I carry inside, does cause me concern. So much emotion and mobility in my early building stages accounts for the calculus here. I’ve always been drawn to the action, crime, drama, mystery, and suspense of the big screen or tube. My wife loves comedies and musicals, the ‘Hallmark Movies’, and neatly trimmed family adventures. I started out loving cowboy movies, then graduated to the more fast-paced ‘True Lies’ and ‘Jesse Stone’ types. That’s all okay for different likes and dislikes. There’s a spiritual part of me that nudges the soul now and then to write something wholesome, like a strong Christian story with an uplifting theme for all ages… Hopefully, one day I shall satisfy that nudge.  

If you had not noticed, I’m rambling and trying to figure an apt finish to this post.

Here it is.

I’m doing all this word vacillation when it comes down to this. There is a lot of me in what I write, in the characters I create, and in the plots. There is fun in the penning of my tales, and I experiment with my writing. There are times when I organize a book – in my fashion – and there are times when I simply allow the characters to take me where it is they want to go… This is likely to make a ‘writing purist’ cringe. For me, the process of writing can take any form a person wishes. The readers ultimately will decide if our writing efforts are worthy.

That brings me to the final point of this post.

Writing is enough for me, the process itself…most of the time. Believing I’m under no delusions of grandeur, I truly feel my words are strung together well and tell compelling stories. I get 5-Star reviews which make me feel jubilant. Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn are used daily and perhaps for some, ad nauseam. I admit to a certain ineptness in this digital world, but I’m doing so many things to get people to read s books. Apparently, I’m not doing, nor am I capable of doing some of the things I need to be doing. An old man (me) dusted off some manuscripts, rewrote, edited them, wrote several new books along the way, and self-published them. My first ‘Bailey Crane Mystery’ (“Probable Cause”) was picked up by a publisher, eventually went out of print – that book is now “An Arizona Tragedy – A Bailey Crane Mystery” Book One. There are six ‘Bailey Crane’ books in the series – the original book two manuscripts (“Stranger Abduction”) was done on a Star-Writer word processor and the manuscript was lost. Thus, there are six ‘Bailey Crane’ books in lieu of seven. Eventually, I rewrote “Stranger Abduction.”

The final point is taking longer than expected.

The mistake was made, I believe, in coming out with so many books in such a short time. There were no ‘launching parties’ for the books, no book tours, and there was very little internet plugging. Add to that, I’m no longer a young man who can keep the pace of author book signings, events of one kind or another, or other vital networking avenues. So, the point is this: my books are good, and I would like to see them in the hands of readers. Yes, writing is enough for me most of the time, but I do get hungry for reader reaction. Like most authors, I would hope for some gratification. My books are bought too infrequently, and I am at a loss to find some magic buttons to push… Of course, I could turn the books over to someone specializing in all phases of marketing, but that of course is costly.

Sometime ago I did a KDP giveaway of five of my books for five days (likely, it should have been one book instead of five). It looks like some seven hundred total all books were given away during that time, with much tweeting, much Facebook activity, much Goodreads and LinkedIn activity, with my weekly blog announcing the giveaway.

Baring one’s soul is perhaps foolhardy and senseless, but there it is.

What you need to do, kind followers of my blog, other than commiserating, is to start a viral situation with my 20 books and the 370+ blog posts – short stories, flash fiction, and poetry…having not the foggiest idea of how you will do that. Do not worry if you fall short of doing either, the viral thing or commiserating, will still have me doing a weekly blog, valuing you – and still writing my books, flash fiction, and short stories.

Here are the various links to my books and to me.

Please take a look… https://brchitwood.com

BR Chitwood – Tuesday – 11/16/21

Many of my books are inspired by true events favored with Amazon 5-stars reviews…  

https://www.brchitwood.com – My Website & Blog (20 books w/synopses + BUY SITES 370+ blog posts, short stories, Flash fiction, poetry…

Please Follow me on https://twitter.com (@brchitwood)

https://facebook.com.billyray.chitwood

Also on Goodreads, LinkedIn and other book and ‘Universal Buy Sites’…

A Love Poem

A Love Poem

by

BR Chitwood

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 A poet lingers long into the night

To capture thoughts of Love,

Dwells on a scene of pure delight,

Smiles and sighs with joy thereof.

Each line must possess yearning,

A Soul with soft echoing violin,

Two hearts apart and burning,

Awaiting the reunion to begin.

As perfect as his pen can trace

His words must whisper truth,

 Bring tears to fall down her face,

Fruition to the dreams of youth.

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BR Chitwood – October 28, 2021

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Website/Blog:

https://www.brchitwood.com

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Twitter:

http://twitter.com/brchitwood

Facebook:

http://facebook.com/billyray.chitwood

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