©️Filter Me

The-Cracked-Mirror-Reflections-of-An-Appalachian-Son-original

‘BUY SITE’ for above Author Bio – 90% True: mybook.to/B004ZGWQY8

*

©️Filter Me

By BR Chitwood  

Filter from me the sad, weak spots of this Orb’s Voyage – filter away those memories that only reawaken strife, suffering, and thousands of stinging tears…  

The journey began on a lonely bucolic spot in Appalachia, its soil rich with it offerings, its mountains and green space alive with  snakes and wild beasts of prey whose nomadic nights of stealth searching were cut short by gunshots from the peasants who tilled the soil and raised their families with a roiling mixture of nascent anger and distrust both the displaced Cherokee and the stalwart, distrusting immigrants carried in their blood. 

These daring  immigrants who crossed the seas from England for better lives in a land that held the only promise open to them met the disgruntled red men and women and somehow forged a bond of sorts until the massive and deadly ‘Trail of Tears’ march forced by a government of questionable intent would bring the ultimate end of the Cherokee Nation.

That bit of history was important to me as it would be ultimately followed by ‘The Great Depression’ that would mark its time on my generation as it would on my parents. Because of the giant Economic impact of ‘The Great Depression’, no jobs, no stimulus plans in place, families were uprooted. A husband and father would often need to go into another state to find work to sustain his family, often in the process bringing divorces, suicides, crime waves and a societal near-collapse… The wealthy survived this period in our history, but this group was not without the awful tempo of the times.

My life began in the frantic after-period of the depression, a sad mistake I’m sure – not that a loving mother and an absent father would make that admission. I remember some of our living areas being in run-down neighborhoods in Knoxville, Tennessee and some of the terror moments when my Dad beat my Mom or my sister. I remember sitting in a paralytic fear, body trembling, my mind only able to stare catatonically straight ahead in fear. 

My parents were divorced, but my Dad came frequently to visit, and these were the times to dread and to fear. My Dad did not like my Mom’s family, felt they had caused a lot of the problems in the marriage, so he embedded those thoughts inside his head. I loved my Dad, and he never hurt me, but he did beat my Mom and my Sis…he was a product of the times, working out of state at times, always wanting to work for one of the rail carriers – which he did ultimately.

During the depression, I was sent to live with my Dad’s folks, and my sister, to Mom’s folks. It would not be too long until my Mom was able to bring my sister and me into a family environment. Mom worked as a telephone operator, in war assembly plants during WW2, and as a Boarding House Cook.

As one might easily conclude from this ‘Filter Piece’, life does indeed shape us. I have had a full life, so much for which to be thankful, beautiful ladies, love, acting, serving my country in the US Navy, and I’ve written twenty-one+ books. There, in that story-land world I find my ultimate peace and full satisfaction. Being fascinated by how life shapes us all, I have a fetish for fictionalizing true crimes, getting inside the heads of people who walk down those perilous roads.

My latest book, THE POWER MERCHANTS, was just released in May, 2020. It is a novel for our times, complete with the World Pandemic, Political Crises, Love, Murder, and a Billionaire’s evil penchant for ‘underage girls’ and currying favor from top-level politicians in the Federal Government.  

I hope you will buy a copy at your Amazon Location and leave a book review. The following AMAZON BUY LINK should take you to your own Amazon BUY location:

The Power Merchants (5)

YOUR AMAZON BUY SITE: mybook.to/thepowermerchants

BR Chitwood – June 5, 2020

*

All of my books can be previewed at: http://www.billyraychitwood.com

Please follow my Blog:

http://www.brchitwood.com 

Please follow me on Twitter:

https://twitter.com/brchitwood

The Power Merchants

Just released this month, here is the first book review for 

The Power Merchants

A Novel by BR Chitwood 

Book Review by John Dolan (Wordsmith estraidinaire)

Rating: 5-Stars

by Diogenes

Author Billy Ray Chitwood is at his best in this tale of lawless adventure.
Most of Chitwood’s books that I’ve read so far deal with themes of crime, individual purpose and romance, but with ‘The Power Merchants’ there is a political message to the story that I don’t recall in his other works. But of course, this being a Chitwood novel, a healthy dollop of love interest is never far away. This time the main protagonist – advocate Bradley Bennett – finds himself falling for the platinum-blonde police officer Penny Sawyer amidst the surrounding chaos of corporate skulduggery, illicit sex, corruption in high places, the political elite, and rampaging hit men. (In a nod to the present day, Chitwood even throws in Covid-19 for good measure.)
Highly recommended for lovers of action novels with a large helping of romance.
 

Hope you will buy and enjoy this latest novel by Billy Ray:

LINK TO AMAZON BUY SITES WORLDWIDE

for: “The Power Merchants”

  Click here to Buy:    mybook.to/ThePowerMercha

BR Chitwood – May 31, 2020

Please Preview my books:

http://www.billyraychitwood.com

Please Follow my Blog:

http://www.brchitwood.com

Please follow me on Twitter:

https://twitter.com/brchitwood

The Power Merchants

FREE for five days! 

The Power Merchants

br BR Chitwood

AMAZON

The Power Merchants (5)
GOOD READING!

Wordsmith Extraordinaire: John Dolan

From My Archives

An Interview With John Dolan – Author of:

FUN WITH DICK

81cS+YXx-bL._AC_UY218_ML3_

-NEW for 2020-

SYNOPSIS:

Twenty-five-year-old Richard Blackheart – geek, wage slave and Superman wannabe – seems destined for a life of dull obscurity.
Then one day he hits upon an idea for the ultimate non-self-help book, ‘How to Die Alone, Smelly and Unloved’, and things start to change …

‘Fun with Dick’ is a heart-wrenching, hilarious and harrowing tale of one man’s struggle against gravity and cats. It is not recommended for people who are easily triggered. If you do read it, keep your shrink’s phone number handy.

-Now Available on Amazon-

BUY SITES:

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Fun-Dick-John-Dolan-ebook/dp/B083RW93CV/ref=sr_1_2?keywords=fun+with+dick&qid=1583519142&s=books&sr=1-2

*

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Fun-Dick-John-Dolan/dp/1912361078/ref=sr_1_2?keywords=fun+with+dick&qid=1583519691&s=books&sr=1-2

*

Amazon Canada: https://www.amazon.ca/Fun-Dick-John-Dolan-ebook/dp/B083RW93CV/ref=sr_1_2?keywords=fun+with+dick&qid=1583519839&s=books&sr=1-2

Check these books out as well:

41ueWLingSL 81KZBoJbzEL._UX300_PJku-sticker-v7,TopRight,0,-50_OU15__BG0,0,0,0_FMpng_AC_UL320_SR210,320_717eWeNcitL._UX300_PJku-sticker-v7,TopRight,0,-50_OU15__BG0,0,0,0_FMpng_AC_UL320_SR210,320_

              

51voQBlT+kL 51voQBlT+kL._SY346_ 81WelIQjL4L._AC_UY218_ML3_ 91xMlvB5I2L._AC_UY218_ML3_ 81cS+YXx-bL._AC_UY218_ML3_https://www.amazon.co.uk/Fun-Dick-John-Dolan/dp/1912361078/ref=sr_1_2?keywords=fun+with+dick&qid=1583544857&s=books&sr=1-2

JUST CLICK ON ANY COVER FOR THE BUY SITES

*

AN UPDATE

NEW!

 

A Disclaimer ‘Preface’

Perhaps I’m over-stepping the ‘surly bonds’ of respectability with this archive rendering, but, nearly a decade ago, a jolly fellow from my beloved ancestral England caught my attention with his wordsmith brilliance and his hilariously creative way of interviewing fellow authors, myself included. I’m proud to say that I, in turn, escaping his threats, innuendoes, infringements and lawsuits with promises to glorify him daily with tweets, loving words, and phrases, was permitted to interview the author in question by using the same technique… Without my stale humor attempts, the author being interviewed did indeed make author interviews not only informative but so much fun to read, not to mention the good information delivered.

I’ve gone to the archives and retrieved that ‘Interview’ of some years ago, and I thank him for being here today – at least with his words of years ago – although he appears, as he did then, a bit angry by his mode of transportation.

John Dolan is the author’s name, and I’ve just read his latest ‘jewel fonts’ found in, “Fun With Dick.” In fact, I’ve read all his books – you will see some of them below. This old country-boy is an ‘easy sale’, can be sold just about any item, tech goodies, automobiles with wooden tires, and ice cream on a frigid day, but, when it comes to writing, holding readers captive for hundreds of pages, not wanting an ending, I cannot be fooled…at least, that’s what my good wife tells me.

So, while JD’s check is not in the amount agreed upon, I truly do love his writing. (John, please, don’t go nutsy on me…you’re going to break the orange crate…) I’m just kidding about the check…this time, I shall truly stop with the banal humor.

Here is my long-ago interview of John Dolan, the idea for which came after reading many of his author interviews of the same technique…indeed, HIS very own ‘intellectual property’. For me, those unique ‘John Dolan Interviews’ were ‘golden nuggets’ to treasure…okay, sorry for the trite, sophomoric bromide.  If you’ve never read them, go to John Dolan’s archives. It will be worth your trip. They were truly humorous and informative BLASTS.

Just a final few words about John Dolan’s NEW 2020 novel“Fun With Dick.” This is a book I highly recommend you read. It has elements from several genres, and, I promise, you will not be sorry you read it.

 Here is the 5-Star Review I gave “Fun With Dick” on Amazon:

Billy Ray Chitwood

*

5.0 out of 5 stars – The Author-Wizardry of John Dolan: FUN WITH DICK – 5 Huge Stars

Billy Ray Chitwood

Reviewed in the United States on February 17, 2020

Format: Kindle Edition – Verified Purchase

AND, Now, 8-years old, but still relevant:

An Interview:  John Dolan – Author Extraordibnaire

This is a ‘Do Not Miss’ combo for you: an interview with a quality author and a partial review of his 5-Star book, “Everyone Burns.” If you have not the pleasure of reading John Dolan you’ve missed a ‘Wordsmith Extraordinaire’ creating his magic. JD is truly a quintessential author for his times. He is also the man who introduced me and countless others to the word, ‘Galericulate’ — that was once the name of his website/blog. (See end of interview and summary.) He’s the man hidden under the hat and he’s roaming around some continent or another. At last report, he was in Amsterdam…

OOPS – UPDATE: that was 2012…he was just recently released from Foxes and Hounds Tranquility Center! He’s much better now, I’m told! I do so hope my information is accurate…

JUST KIDDING. JD IS JUST FINE – ORNERY, BUT, FINE!

But, be gone, my foolishness! Here’s a re-blog of my 2012 interview with this important literary figure and an update on his writing and ‘book cover’ changes…

*

BUY SITES FOR “Everyone Burns”:

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Everyone-Burns-Time-Blood-Karma-ebook/dp/B008I6GXM2/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=everyone+burns&qid=1583442961&s=books&sr=1-1

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Everyone-Burns-Time-Blood-Karma-ebook/dp/B008I6GXM2/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=everyone+burns&qid=1583443269&s=books&sr=1-1

Amazon Canada: https://www.amazon.ca/Everyone-Burns-Time-Blood-Karma-ebook/dp/B008I6GXM2/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=everyone+burns&qid=1583443464&s=books&sr=1-1

 *

NOW – THE 2012 AUTHOR INTERVIEW

‘Burning’ John Dolan, Writer Extraordinaire – An Interview (Sort of!)”

(BR Chitwood=BR)…(John Dolan= JD)

*

BR: Okay, Filbert, take off Mr. Dolan’s  blindfold…

JDHey, not so rough! You just don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, do you?

BR: Why should I? You can leave us now, Filbert, and take Salomé with you.

JD: You kidding me? ‘Salomé!’ ‘Filbert!’ They’re ‘junkies…’

BR: Had no money…they grabbed you for the ‘grass.’

JD: Are you mocking me? Are you stealing my interview ideas?

BR: Show me a legal document!

JD: At least my interview chair is comfortable, and my straps are pure leather, not this cord crap!

BR: You left me no choice, JD, you broke your promise to take my books viral and…

JD: Correction! I said your books were vile and pretentious…

BR: Okay, okay, I understand you’re a bit angry…just some tit for tat, that’s all. I really like your book, “Everyone Burns,” and I’m thinking ‘movie,’ ‘TV series,’ something really big. Can we just relax and talk about the book?

JD: Can you at least put a cushion on this orange crate? You’re not helping my hemmies.

BR: How’s that? Better? Good…Now tell me about “Everyone Burns” and how you came to write it.

JD: Guess I got no choice, but you gotta promise me you’re not going to make a habit of this kind of interview. This is my idea, not yours. Do we have a deal?

BR: Yes, we have a deal…Hell, I thought you would be pleased!

JD: Well, I am, sort of, but this is intellectual property, not something you mess with…plus, I only get one original idea per decade.

BR: Okay, no more kidnaps for interviews! Got it! Can we proceed?

JD: The events in “Everyone Burns” take place over seventeen days while Thailand is still numb from the giant tsunami of December 2004. Like everyone of sane mind this great catastrophe made my emotions run wild, made me think of life like I had never really thought about it. “Everyone Burns” gave me some escape from the reality all around me.

BR: Really?

JD: No, not really. I wrote it for the money and the groupies.

BR: And how’s that working out?

JD: Probably about as well as it’s working out for you, I’d guess. Well … looking at you, probably slightly better with the groupies.

BR: Here’s a quote from “Everyone Burns,” just after a bar fracas scene:

To summarise, my life is one of split personality. I am in two minds about it myself.

 Nevertheless, down these narrow streets a man must walk, even if it is in flip-flops.

But I am no Philip Marlowe, and Koh Samui is not film-noir USA. There is nothing

of Hollywood’s black and white morality on this most colourful of Thailand’s

Islands. And long overcoats just make you sweat in the sun. Here The Postman

Never Rings Twice, simply because he never rings at all. He has better things to do. Lamai’s and Chaweng’s adventurers generally pack a condom, not a gun.”

You open the book with a broken cue stick inflicting injury to your protagonist and it’s like the excitement and action  never lets up after that. I picked this quote because it’s one of my favorites but also because it gives the reader a sample of your splendid writing…

Do you have any disagreement with my assessment here, JD?

JD: Take these cords off and I’ll kiss you. The passage is also a favorite of mine. Aside from the style thing in my writing, it is just basically who I am. But I’m NOT David Braddock, by the way. I want to make that clear in case my wife Fiona is reading this! A book of this genre for me has to move at a rapid pace, the action mostly non-stop. A lot of what I write about in “Everyone Burns” has some factual similarities, the people, the places, the time certainly. And, of course, you know my English is rather precise, proper, as it was intended to be! WHY are you smiling and shaking your head?

BR: Never mind, just me being me! I just like the ‘snap to’ words you love coming off your lips. It’s a great book, JD. Wish we had more time because I’d like to mention “People With Real Lives Don’t Need Landscapes,” a book of poetry you wrote in 2003. You certainly have a way with words, JD, and I happen to love poetry. As Amazon puts it, “This big bouncy collection of contemporary poetry draws on both popular and high culture. The poems have energy, imagination, humor, and lively speech rhythms. They are light, weighty, topical, intellectual, gory, sad, wild, and tender all at once… Why are you vigorously shaking your head, JD?”

JD: I didn’t write that.

BR: What?

JD: I didn’t write that collection of poetry. That was a different John Dolan.

BR: Are you sure?

 JD: What do you mean, “Am I sure”? I’m not likely to forget a thing like that, am I?Sheesh! It’s scary how your brain can live in such a small space.

BR: That hurts, JD. To think, a while ago you were going to ‘kiss me’… Oh, well, regardless, I loved your book “Everyone Burns” and can’t wait for the sequel. [That would be “Hungry Ghosts.”] People should really take a long look at you, my friend…

JD: ‘My friend!’ My butt is sore here, BR!

BR: Filbert and Salome are ‘napping’ right now. I’ll untie you, but, please, no fracas here. Tit for tat, remember? Be gentle.

End of Interview… [JD: Please, no retaliation!]

 *

 Browse all books by John Dolan: Sign up for his Newsletter, news, articles: johndolanauthor.com

Follow JD on Twitter: twitter.com/johndolanauthor

Visit JD’s Author Website: johndolanauthor.com – you will find information about this unique and wonderful literary genius, his books, his life and times…

You want good reading? Check out the books above, and, more…you will not be disappointed. John Dolan is destined for literary greatness! YOU HEARD IT HERE!

 (Really, follow him AND read him. He’s ugly mean: it took two junkies and me to get him here for this ‘Orange Crate’ interview!)

 

 

 

 

 

Welcome to – “Serpent Rock”

 

Welcome to: SERPENT ROCK

[Excerpt #1]

Chapter Two

The first fish was caught by Conrad, a big one we saw come out of the water, stretching the line and giving our buddy a fight for his life, a fight he could handle. Like even seasoned fishermen do, we were yelling at Conny to do this and that. He was yelling back, a simple, “Shut up. I’ve got this whale.”

It was then our story really began…

The bow dipped in the cool green water of the sea, and Conrad lost his marlin with a broken line.

“What are you guys doing to the boat?” Conrad saw us in the stern where he was, so why was he asking, looking at us like a madman. We were no-where near the tiller.

I yelled at him as I rushed to the bow: “Nothing, Conny. The bow is dipping. I’m assessing, Man. Keep your shirt on, buddy. Sorry you lost your fish.”

At the bow, another serious dip, and this one took me off the fishing boat and into the water.

“What the hell?” I heard both my buddies yell in sync, as they came hurtling to the bow. Just as they arrived at the boat’s bow, another serious dip took me under momentarily and brought them into the water with me.

The bow line was hanging over into the water, and I grabbed it as the water was doing some amazing sloshing.

“Get back in the boat, guys,” I screamed as the sudden noise from the roiling sea was drowning out our chatter.

Conrad and Monroe made it into the boat, then helped me get aboard. We grabbed hold of the bow tubular bars and held on as best we could.

“What the hell’s going on, guys?” Monroe asked Conny and me. “Look. Eddies are forming all around the boat. Whoa. What’s that coming at us?”

Monroe was looking south. Conny was looking north. Me, I was looking east.

“The eddies are forming over here, too, Conny. What?” Conny and I looked in Monroe’s southern direction at the same time. “Oh, my God, what is that?”

There was a huge madly swirling hole coming at us, weaving this way, that way, seemingly, to build its strength.

“What the hell do we do? Hey, guys,” I’m yelling above the roar, “Let’s work our way back to the stern. The bulkhead back there has a stronger support bar. Let’s all gather there and interweave the stern lines around us for support to secure us to the boat.”

Without words, we hurriedly gathered there in the stern, interwove the stern line between and around us. We tried to yell above the noise of rushing water coming toward us.

Yelling at the top of my voice, “That maelstrom is getting bigger as it comes this way, and there are no conflicting currents that I can see and those are what causes whirlpools, but this is a whole new ballgame. The vortex is getting bigger and bigger, guys, and I’m the first one to say I’m scared as hell. I don’t know if we’re going to make this. Just hold on and pray. That thing is almost here, and it’s way bigger than the boat…I love you guys”

We were all trying to say our emotional and final goodbyes, but words were lost in the maddening noise being made by the huge maelstrom. We were lost, and for sure each of us was praying and saying those things guys don’t want ever to say – you know, endearing things one says on a deathbed.

Suddenly the bow of the boat tipped and went into the vortex of the maelstrom, straight down into a fast free fall, and, in the vacuum created by the vortex, our yells became one huge cacophonous earsplitting tone that would wrack our ear drums with an excruciating pain so unbearable as to render us unconscious in a fall of indeterminable length.

[End of excerpt #1]

*

[Excerpt #2]

Chapter Fifteen

We stayed away from Serpent Rock by design. We truly needed to make this trip simply about fishing and relaxing, allowing the beautiful Sea to calm us, rejuvenate us, make us fit warriors again.

Oh, we truly believed in our new Divine mission. There would never be any question about that. The noble nature of that mission far exceeded a mere fishing trip to Rocky Point, Mexico, but, with Conny’s near-fatal ‘car accident’ and recovery, Julie’s and my late-night broken window incident, the ‘Atheist Jerks’ interference, this trip was most definitely needed. A leisurely hook-up with the sea for fishing and assessment of recent events was our excuse, and, we were sticking with it. Hey, we loved fishing. It was our panacea, our escape from problems of all kinds.

The wives planned a Malecon Day to do some shopping, lunch, and ice cream cones, so they were happy doing their ‘thing’. The wives (and kids when with us) were always in on our fishing the lovely Sea of Cortez. The suspicion, however, was that they didn’t like being on the water as much as we ‘Three Amigos’. The wives and kids were sadly prone to sea sickness.

This trip, we were only interested in fishing, beer drinking, and perhaps in finding some solutions to our current problems. We decided to go farther south on this sea trip, so I steered us out to open sea. Soon, there was only a distant horizon forward and aft.

“I’m anchoring here, guys. There’s sea all around us, and I’m in territory that is unfamiliar. We’re already out a bit farther than we should be. Let’s do some slow trolling and see what we hit.”

Opening a fresh brewski I heard a big splash, heard Monroe make something ugly ‘holy’ that people are liable to do occasionally.

“Good gosh, look at that rod. It’s touching the port hull. What the hell do you have on that line, a giant octopus?”

“Guys, you gotta help me, I can’t hold this rod any longer. Whatever’s on the end of this line is not going to be reeled in. Trust me on that.” His face was as red as a proverbial beet – and, not from the sun.

Conny placed his rod into the rod-grip on the aft hull-rim, moved quickly, carefully, wrapped both his hands around the rod just above Monroe’s hands that were turning white with all the blood rushing upward in the bulging veins of his arm.

“I can’t hold it any longer, guys, I gotta let go. It’s killing me.” Conny was now literally being pulled to the bow and would go overboard if he did not let go of the rod.”

“Let it go,” I yelled to Conny, “You’re about to go over the side. Let it go. Let it go.”

Conny had no other choice. He let the rod go flying over the forward port-side of Chavala, and he fell to the deck of the boat while we watched his rod speedily skip for some feet on the surface of the sea, then disappear into the cobalt water.

“Are you all right, Conny?”

“Give me a minute,” Conny managed to wheeze in gaping breaths.

Monroe was also on the deck, one arm propped on the port bench-seat, taking in great whiffs of air.

The Sea of Cortez suddenly became still, its cobalt surface glassy and hardly moving. There was an eerie cast on the water, like a mirror slowly moving in different shades. If a penny dropped on the deck of The Chavala it would sound like a TNT blast.

We looked at each other, a trio of goggle-eyed rookie sailors lost in total wonderment on a silent sea – at least, for that moment.

“What the hell just happened?” Conny asked.

Before an answer came, Monroe spoke, “What’s going on, Sully? Chavala is turning.”

“I know, I’m turning us. It was my dumb idea to come this far south. We’re not sailors, guys, and we should know by now that this sea knows who we are. I have absolutely no earthly idea what just happened, but I do know I’m an idiot for coming down this far south. We’re heading back.”

“I need a beer,” Conny said. “Anyone joining me?”

We three bemused sea rookies joined in with the beer. I was the only mate sensibly sipping. Conny and Monroe were tantamount to chugalugging.

“Take it easy, you guys. You’ll make yourselves sick.”

“I’m already sick. That was a new and expensive rod.”

“You’ve got plenty of money. Better the dumb rod going overboard than you two guys. That, boys, is a yarn that will just keep on giving, each time we tell it.”

I sipped a cold frosty beer as The Chavala headed back north.

“Hey, Guys, what’s with this crazy sea?” asked Conny. “It’s smooth as silk, but it’s rocking the boat…and, what is that forward of the bow, in the water? Run silent and slow for a minute, Sully, and steer toward that object up ahead. You see it?”

“Aye, I see it, I’m heading for it now.”

When The Chavala was close enough, Monroe spoke, “Hey, it’s my rod. What the hell is going on? I’ve finished one beer and started a fresh one. We’re many nautical miles north again, and there’s my damned rod. How do we explain this, guys?”

“It’s a magical sea, fellows,” Conny said with a head shake.

“Hey, guys, it’s whatever fish you had on the line, Monroe, it worked the hook from its mouth or gill and released it. The rod came up and now floats on the sea. That’s my simple, true Sherlock deductive reasoning, boys. Someone hand me another beer.”

When I slowly steered over the rod, Monroe leaned over the port hull to pull it into Chavala, but the rod jerked away from him just as he was about to grab it.

“What the hell?” Monroe spoke in an awe-puzzled near whisper.

“You didn’t get it, Monroe?” I noticed his puzzled look from my position at the bow.

“No, it jerked away from me. It literally jerked away from me.”

“Yeah, I saw it, Sully. The rod just…just jerked away from Monroe, like it was teasing him.”

“Hey, guys, enough theatrics for the day. I likely hit a mild chop wave. I’ll turn, and we’ll get it this time around.”

“Sully, I’m telling you, it jerked away from me, no chop wave, no nothing. It was something under the water jerking it. I swear. I’m not making this up. Conny saw it as well.”

“Believe it, Sully. We’re not messing with your head. His rod just jerked away from him, like a fish or something under the water was playing with him.”

“Okay, then, say adios to your expensive rod, Monroe. I’m not sticking around this area if something funny is going on. We’re going steady north, all the way to the pier. We’ll be able to see Peñasco soon, straight ahead.”

Thirty minutes later at full speed, it was a relief for reasons I do not fully know when we saw lovely Puerto Peñasco on the horizon dead ahead.

Peñasco dead ahead, guys, and I feel better…but, wait, there’s something in the water ahead. Is that your rod again, Monroe?”

Sprawled on the starboard bench-seat, Monroe sat, stared at the site. “I’ll be damned, it is my rod.”

“Engine stalled and approaching. You should be able to get it this time.”

Monroe reached and pulled his rod into Chavala, looked it up and down. There was no line, no hook, just the rod and reel. “I’ve got it, and it’s fine, but the line is all gone. How the hell did the rod get all the way from the point we first saw it? We have had multiple beers, cruising north for over an hour or more. How do you figure it?”

“Damned if I can,” said Conny.

“Ditto,” I said with a head chocked full of questions but no definite answers. “Does anyone think we will ever have another sane fishing day on the Sea of Cortez?”

Conny and Monroe looked at each other, smiled and shook their heads. “Not in this life, maybe next.” Spoken by a true man-fisher of the sea, Conrad Finster.

As we docked at the pier, gathered our beer chest and all other paraphernalia, I asked Monroe: “What’s that stuck on the end of your rod?”

“Hadn’t noticed.” He turned the rod over, stood on the pier deck and looked. “Looks like a seashell with something inside of it.”

“Let’s take it back to the villa with us. There are people afoot here. We can look it over when we’re safely on the deck with a brewski. Wonder what the sea is telling us this trip?” I gave a half-smile, half-frown.

As we walked on the pier, Monroe dropped his rod. Conny and I walked ahead.

“Hey, guys,” Monroe yelled at us, “come back. We are not through with our trip. We have orders. The Shell popped open.”

Inside the shell was a simple message in a lovely script: “Return now to the Serpent Rock. All will be explained…”

[End of Excerpt #2]

*

SUMMARY:

I haven’t given too much away with these excerpts, just enough, I hope, to have you order an Amazona Kindle or Paperback version of “Serpent Rock.” There are many episodic and thrilling moments in this Sci-Fi novel, but that description is given by the author…it is the readers who truly determine the merits of an author and his words. Please read the book and leave your honest Amazon, Goodreads, et al reviews. Authors have a need to know the ‘good and bad’ of their writing efforts and appreciate the time book lovers devote to their reading and their comments.

AMAZON UNIVERSAL BUY SITE FOR “Serpent Rock”:

AMAZON: mybook.to/SerpentRock

It’s my belief Sci-Fi lovers will find this book to their liking and will add “Serpent Rock” to their short list of favorites. The novel is original, conceptually covering some timely issues in a genre that excels in awakening minds to new worlds of possibilities.

Thank you…

BR Chitwood – January 31, 2020

Please preview my books:

https://billyraychitwood.com

Please follow my Blog:

https://brchitwood.com

Please follow me on Twitter:

https://twitter.com/brchitwood

“Daddy, No!”

Daddy, No!

 In a Colorado upscale community near Denver in August of 2018 there were acts of violence so vile that I thought not to write about them, but, then, changed my mind. The desire, nay, the need to write about these brutal homicides was too strong for me to ignore.

 

In the early morning hours of that day in August, a man strangled to death his wife, then smothered to death his two daughters, ages 3 and 4. They were crimes that captured the attention of the entire nation – perhaps even, the world. My need to write about these awful murders can hopefully be forgiven, but I wanted to get inside the head of this monster who would commit such atrocious acts. My novella is not a ‘long-dwelling account’ of the crimes themselves, but of the fictional prison life being lived currently by this family slayer. The book’s narrative is an attempt at understanding the sociopathy, psychopathy of this ugly form of humankind. It can be said accurately that I am playing ‘clinical psychologist’ in this book. Whether these humble thoughts can come near to that professional league, no way, but, at least, I get to relieve some anger and angst.

 

The following two paragraphs from the beginning of ‘Chapter Four’ in Daddy, No! just might create the terrifying atmosphere for the book. Superfluously, this novella is fiction, but many of the details therein come from truth of this tragedy. The following has truth as well.

 

Chapter Four

Sobbing in small choking gasps the little girls wrap their arms around each other, their tiny trembling bodies absorbed in these moments of terror, their short body-quakes synonymous with the gaping flairs of their eyes – wide with the unknown evil outside their bedroom door. With each audible wall bump, each stifled scream, and demonic moan, they tighten their grasps of each other. Their anguished faces are scarlet red and moist from their prolonged fear, their eyes darting hither and yon in nervous expectations of an unknown, impending danger. It is sheer paralyzing, catatonic disorientation, a manic madness their young lives have never experienced.

 

The darkness envelops them but the light-shaft from a bright moon at their bedroom window portrays grievous images of two tiny huddled masses compacted in terror so visceral it might absorb them in a maelstrom of madness. The twisted sheets upon which they now lie entwined are wet with their bodies’ waste. The blankets they are seldom without in the night are damp with the wetness of their mucous and their tears. Their eyes are swollen from the crying, chafed and red with the steady rubbing. Their hands, their bodies tremble in the horror that has joined them in the bedroom.

 

With the world’s population living among those who cut-off heads of people who believe contrary to their so-called religion, with evil perversions of all kinds on our planet, perhaps there is nothing left that can now shock us. Perhaps my skin is too thin, but the factors of these homicides stunned me, and I needed to prowl my mind and soul to find my own truths about this father from hell…herein Daddy, No! they lie.

 

In any event this my nineteenth book, a novella of 36,000 words plus. It is my hope you will read its contents and leave an Amazon review.

 

You can Order Daddy, No! on Amazon when the review is over: Paperback or Kindle, or, both. Thank you. The book was just listed.

 

BR Chitwood – May 19, 2019

 

Please preview my books:

https://billyraychitwood.com

 

Please follow my blog:

 https://brchitwood.com

 

Please follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/brchitwood

A Private Session at the Way Station

A Private Session At ‘The Way Station’

Guess I write quite a bit about my feelings, about my life and times. Thought I

would allow a small portion from one of my books to do the ‘talking’ in this

post… The following is a section from ‘The Way Station’ (a euphemism for a Care

Facility) in my book, “The Cracked Mirror – Reflections From An Appalachian

Son.”Prentice Paul Hiller is recovering from a complicated hip surgery, meets and

bonds with a former Clinical Psychologist, Greta Fogel. Over the weeks of teasing and

mental jousting, Greta has encouraged Prentice to write about his life and times,

suggesting that it might be not only good therapy for him but that the end product

should be a great read.

 

It should be noted this memoir is 90% true, and I am Prentice Paul Hiller — but I have never been in a ‘care facility’ (other than hospital stays for hernia and appendectomy operations). The remainder is pretty much true except for names and some places… I might be a bit generous to myself regarding the 90% – but too far off.

Also, this memoir is written on ‘two tracks’ – one chapter for ‘The Way Station’ followed by chapters from periods in my (Prentice Paul’s) life. The section noted below has followed a chapter regarding Greta’s reading of one of my personal chapters.

***

EXCERPT – from “The Cracked Mirror – Reflections Of An Appalachian Son” by Billy Ray Chitwood:

Having just settled in with my laptop, Greta came into the sun room. Without too much preamble, I moved the laptop to her lap, with the cursor set to start on the last two sections. “See what you think of these two sections,” I said with a doubtful expression, “I’m ambivalent! Don’t know if I went too overboard.”

It took some time for her to read the sections. She paused time and again in very thoughtful poses.

When she was finished, she asked: “You want to talk now or later? Want me to leave you so you can write?”

“No, let’s talk! First, Dorie seems really nice,” I said.

“She’s a really good lady. I’m very impressed. You’re going to like her.” She sat on the wicker chair near the window. Greta was wearing a lovely lavender sweater and beige pants outfit plus a new hairdo. Her eyes glowed with the combination.

“I already do. We had a chance to visit when she got here. She’s a version of you, really!”

Don’t know about that, but I like her and I’m glad you do…” She paused for a second. “Shall we talk about these last two sections?”

“Really! You want to talk about the last two sections? Why do you think I shoved the laptop on your lap? Of course, sweet lady, let’s talk about these sections…you read it and acted like you wanted to leave. You don’t like the sections, do you?”

“Of course, I like the sections! You know I like your writing. You raised my eyebrows a bit, that’s all. You surprised me!” She said with a slight nod and a wry smile.

“Bet I know why!” with a nod and smile of my own. “The ‘Vickie’ sex snapshot?”

“Well, certainly, that raised my eyebrows! And we won’t dwell too long on that bit of memorabilia! However, it might surprise you to know that that kind of experience is not so uncommon, particularly when you consider the environment in which you lived, notwithstanding the criminal implications of Vickie’s complicity in the seduction. No, it is not a pretty snapshot, and  it does surprise me somewhat that you would make it part of your ‘reflections,’ although your penchant for honesty and ridiculing yourself would preclude your leaving it out.” She was about to say more when I interrupted.

“It was such a vivid recall, Greta, like the earlier sex encounter with my pre-puberty aunt. It was somehow important for me to put it in, even knowing that is was highlighting depraved behavior…”

“I understand, Prentice. You need not justify it to me. You want the writing to portray the ultimate true picture of who you were then. It couldn’t be any other way for you.” She paused again, then went on.

“The ‘Vickie snapshot’ is not necessarily what I meant by ‘raising’ my eyebrows.”

“Of what then do you speak, dear lady?” using my chivalrous tongue.

“I speak of your ‘isms’ section, EST and ‘Tao Te Ching,’ and your ‘political views’ section to the larger extent. What raised my brows and surprised me a bit was the length to which you’ve gone to find yourself, your belief system as it relates to your political morality. In other words, you’re a man who strives so hard to find integrity in yourself and in others. You fight in your mind the battles of our times, wanting desperately to find a Utopia which you know does not exist. In some ways, you are an incurable romantic, a Don Quixote chasing ‘windmills’ you think are giants to be slain. You know your sins, Prentice! You know your faults, your errant ways! Your missed opportunities! And you’re trying to make up for it all with the pages of your book.” She paused, eyed me carefully with a fondness she would not hide. “And, you’re doing a damned good job!”

“Whoa, wait a minute! There’s something else you want to say. ‘A damned good job’ doesn’t quite say it all, Greta. Come on, I can take it. It might hurt, a lot, but I can take it. I might never speak to you again, but take it, I shall!” She could see the last bit as mock and tease.

“Yes, a damned good job! I say what I mean, Mr. Hiller. And, yes, Mr. Hiller, there is something else to say…” Again, she paused, looked out the window at the lovely blue sky day. “What you put down is well written. You would be aware that some of your reading audience might not share your views. That, I know you know! Incidentally, I’m not one of those ‘really smart people’ to whom you refer, but I am non-partisan. What you want, I believe most people want. You write about it passionately and sincerely. How could I fault you? The chivalrous battles you fight with your writing are noble, patriotic, and good…” She paused yet again, then wistfully continued.

“Why, I’m not completely sure, but I’m thinking of those two great volumes of Spanish literature.” She waited, pursed her lips in that cute little habitual way she had, and went on. “His neighbors thought him mad for all his dedicated reading of chivalry, but Alonso Quixano gave himself a new name, ‘Don Quixote,’ put on a suit of old armor and went off on his chivalrous quests with wild imaginings. He was at times beaten, ridiculed, and ultimately unintentionally betrayed by his dull-witted squire and neighbor, Sancho Panza. His quests, his imaginings, ended in a great melancholy. Alonso would put away his armor. The melancholy worsened with his age, and Sancho in the end tried to restore his faith. But Alonso Quixano died a broken man, and, with him, his alter ego, ‘Don Quixote.’

“What does ‘Don Quixote’ have to do with what you’re writing? The chivalry part, mostly. Though, at times, you do seem daft and wildlyimaginative!” A pause for chuckles. “You write about many differnet things in yur life. You bemoan at times the sad states of your existence, your life style, your ‘images’ of the good life, your moods, your legacy. And, to repeat myself, you do a damned good job of it. If I have any concern, it comes from my fondness for you. I don’t wish you to become ‘melancholy and broken,’ Prentice.

“Don’t try so hard to make up for your life! This writing business, the process, is good for you. Use it for all the right reasons: the legacy thing, the self-ablution, as it were, the process itself. You are who you are. You will try too hard. You will continue to beat yourself. It’s too late for the couch, not that you really ever needed it, but, if I could push but one button for you, it would be the button that makes you believe in yourself and makes you have more faith in the God who made you and accept whatever it is He intends for you. You are really a dear, dear man, and I don’t wish to see you hurt so much.”

She stopped talking and looked again out the big window, her face creased with a sadness beyond the mere interpretations she had rendered on the sections of my book. That sadness held me for a moment. Then, I decided to revert to my easy tactic of light patter. 

“Well, Greta, you’ve totally blind-sided me! What the hell am I supposed to do with Don Quixote, Sancho Panza, and you?” smiling, with raised eyebrows. “Okay, methinks I get it. You’re a sweetheart!” I closed the laptop and got up. “Come on, let’s break out of this joint and find a Big Mac, fries, and coke.”

Actually, ‘Don Quixote’ and I likely had a lot more in common than I might be willing to admit. Then, again, there might be more Sancho Panza in me than I might be willing to admit.

[End of Excerpt…]

Billy Ray Chitwood – January, 2019

Please preview my books at:

https://www.billyraychitwood.com

Please follow my Blog at:

https://www.brchitwood.com

Please follow me:

https://www.twitter.com/brchitwood (@brchitwood)

The Flat Head of a Nail

The Flat Head of a Nail

-Some Silly Machinations-

One hellava title, huh, The Flat Head of a Nail?

So, what?

Just waiting for you to ask, thanks!

Science and Technology people are really messing us up ‘byte time’ if you get my drift. When Sputnik went up in November,1957, our knowledge was re-doubling every five years. In 1900, geez, knowledge was doubling, like, every century. What’s next? Now, these genius-minds have so many bytes at work that they could make our entire Universe seem really cloudy…whatever bytes might look like in the universe.

I think.

No, no, no, not, think! ‘Cogito ergo sum’ for me, or, as it was originally stated in French, ‘je pense, donc je suis’…that’s just a dab of ‘showing off’ – I don’t speak French, but, when I was younger and courting the girls, I would carry a few short phrases in French and/or Spanish with me on dates, you know, to put some icing on the proverbial cake.

Hey, I’m barely able to understand that I cogito or sum.‘I think; therefore, I am’! Most of us will remember that bit of Latin from our classroom educations.

‘I think therefore, I am, WHAT?

Really, what am I?

Don’t give me the ‘blood, bone, and flesh’ answer! I mean, we’re in an age now where knowledge is re-doubling every thirty minutes. Computers gave birth to bytes, and now, today, we’ve gone from byte to kilobyte to megabyte to gigabyte to terabyte…all the way to Domegemegrottebyte – that damned word in bytes has eleven 000’s following in a row the numeral, 1.

Did you know that one kilobyte represents the size of a short story like ‘flash fiction’!

Did you know that a short novel is one megabyte?

Well, hell, I don’t know what to do with that information other than sling it at you! Now, some of you are thinking right now what you would like to do with that information, but, please, remember to be gentle with this messenger.

Now, don’t get angry at me and stop reading! This stuff these genius guys of Science and Technology are feeding us every day! Be mad at them. They made me do this post!

On second thought, get angry, because I’m angry… I make a dumb mistake, go to google for help and they feed me this stuff – well, actually, I made a mistake with my Ichabod Crane fingers on the laptop keys.

What I was trying to do was get to Amazon and correct another dumb mistake. My new book, Dominique, just launched (you knew that was coming, didn’t you?) and, like an idiot I put the Kindle Edition on ‘Pre-Order’ until January 20, 2019…when what I really wanted to do was allow folks to buy the novel on Kindle for 99 Cents until January 20, 2019. Some way or another, I got lost in this ‘Knowledge Re-Doubling and Byte’ stuff and got my head zipping around like it was on a tilt-a-whirl stick. Truth is, I don’t know how to get Amazon to change course… Dominique is still 99 Cents on Amazon Kindle, but, as I understand it, readers won’t get the book delivered to them until January 20.

My bad!

Anyhow, “Dominique” is about one megabyte, or, 1 000 000 000 bytes… Ah, sorry, the book is about two-hundred pages in length. Whew! And, yes, this is a ‘plug’ for Dominique! But, gee whiz, a person’s gotta market somehow or ‘tuther’. You will make me really proud if you buy the kindle store out, or, shucks, it’s okay if you want the paperback…go ahead and buy it. It won’t make me mad, I promise.

I’m guessing I should explain the title of this blog post, and, I know some of you are thinking it defies explanation…but I gotta try.

‘The Flat Head of a Nail’?

Well, that mistake of landing on that ‘Knowledge Re-Doubling’ and the ‘Byte’ pages just kind of blew me away, and I began thinking about sizes – you know, planets, universes, cities, towns, people – and I wondered, like, if that flat head of the nail was, now don’t laugh at me, well, if that flat head of the nail was, maybe, populated with people, cities, towns, and maybe had its own world and universe…

Okay, I can’t write when you all are laughing so hard at me, so I’ll stop now…

Except, I just don’t want to take away from my one-megabyte book entitled, Dominique. It deserves to be read, folks. I promise you this: Dominique will be your finest one-megabyte read in a long time. In fact, I’m pretty close to guaranteeing that last little 100 bytes I just gave you.

As far as the flat head on that nail, you might want to read up on Rene Descartes and Emanuel Kant – those philosophers spent some time on trying to figure things out… Then, you can explain it all to me. One day, I’ll do some imagining and maybe come up with a tall tale about it all.

Now, don’t desert me, good folks! My next post won’t try to make sense out of what the sci & tech boys and girls are serving up to us.

Oh, just for fun and your edification, check out this link for me. It’s waiting for you to take a look!

https://booklaunch.io/billyraychitwood/5c363eb290e02adf7ae252c8

interstellar madhouse (3)

Billy Ray Chitwood – January 18, 2019

Please preview my books at:

https://billyraychitwood.com

Please follow my Blog at:

https://brchitwood.com

Please follow me on:

https://twitter.com/brchitwood

DOMINIQUE – A New Book

A NEW BOOK! 

AGAIN!

Hell, the ink isn’t dry on the last one!

Are you some kind of nut?

Yeah, I just keep on keeping on!

Yep! That’s I – myself – me! Seems my writing chunk of brain still feels the need for the fingers to perform their tap-dancing on the keys, still thinking that maybe, just, maybe, this is the one that puts the hungry hillbilly out to pasture. Well, hope no one is waiting for me going out to pasture. Why? ‘Cause I still have ‘stuff’ to write, to get off my chest – mind, that is!

The reason I’m writing this post today is to introduce you to a fellow named Scott Mahlon who is a highly-intelligent man with a new job with Global Wizard Inc, and this handsome dude goes to this corp’s party function and falls in love with a most beautiful lady named, ‘Dominique’. Now, that’s right out of the chute!

Well, what happens next and on through this romantic thriller will knock your socks off, pardon the expression. It’s a book about the purity of love, about a ‘sex ring’ running loose in Texas, principally in the great metroplex of Dallas/Ft. Worth. No, that’s not the only thing running loose in Dallas/Ft. Worth…there’s a murder or two taking place as well…and, some doggone interesting characters the readers will love and/or hate.

Of course, I’m trying to get you revved up about ‘Dominique’. It’s a book that’s damned-well written – according to my own review, which I’m believing is fair and just. I’ll only say one last thing about the book, and it’s this: I had a lot of fun writing this ‘best seller’ (okay, a subliminal message can’t hurt!), and what I did was to blend several genres together to build this powerful mini-epic. It’s a book that will keep you turning pages, I’m betting the house on it! I’m hoping you will get on Amazon, KOBO, APPLE, TOLINO, and/or wherever you go to buy your books, and get your copy. 

I’m sure hoping I get some reviews with this ‘puppy’, so help an old fool dream a few years longer and buy the book. I guarantee your reading enjoyment will be worth the pennies you spend.

Just to tease you a bit, here are seven paragraphs only from the beginning chapter one of ‘Dominique’:

Chapter One

            The large gathering room was filled with people, and I was alone, feeling betrayed by my body language. Never good in large groups of people, a stimulant was needed to arouse my more amusing personality so I searched for the bar. It didn’t help my growing anxiety being a new hire and mixing for the first time with not only my Southwestern Regional Division but all the US regional divisions plus the International representatives.

            By way of company introduction, Global Wizard, Inc is an international corporation responsible for some of the more popular communication platforms in the world. It is a behemoth in the world of ‘chit-chat’, and major corporations’ playground for setting operational standards and at times arcane digital systems. There are some government leaders in the world that fear the reach and scope of Global Wizard, Inc and its already dominance in the fast-paced internet sphere of ideas and operating systems.

            I was not a ‘nerd’ in my kid-world by any mind-stretch, but the internet was definitely a fascination for me, and that led to my studies in higher education, ergo, preparing me for work in this far-reaching dynamic conglomerate.

            Six bars were operating, one for each horizontal corner and one on each side of the room. I started for the first bar on the left side of the entrance and managed to literally bump into a group of three men and one refined-looking lady I remembered meeting in my first interview with Global Wizard, Inc. Luckily, no drinks were spilled, and the lady smiled sweetly and gave me a quick read, determining with her astute powers of observation my muted buffoonery.

            “Ah, Scott Mahlon, don’t be uncomfortable…it is after all, very crowded in here. You met me as Agatha Lord, but you must promise to call me ‘Aggie’ as everyone else does.”

            Aggie introduced me to the gentlemen in the group, and I uttered simply, “I’m sorry for the bump. Please forgive my new man jitters. I must fight my way to the bar and have some few emboldened moments, Aggie. You sound as though you understand my awkwardness.”

            A few more taglines were enjoyed and they released me to the left corner bar. Twelve feet from the bar when the people seemed shorter than my six-feet height, I saw her, her golden tresses falling over her shoulders, her curvaceous body filling so nicely the glittering light blue evening gown. She turned and smiled just as I reached the bar, as though she somehow knew my eyes were locked onto her. Her glistening, perfect white teeth and sparkling green eyes held me momentarily hypnotized. She had to notice my bulging eyes and my hard swallow. She was the most beautiful creature my eyes ever beheld.

(Chapter One continues in the novel…)

Of course, I hope you like the cover as well as the written parts of the book.

The book, ‘Dominique’ will be published within a two-week period and will be available on Amazon only for $0.99 cents during the pre-pub period…which begins Monday, January 7, 2019.

Billy Ray Chitwood – January 6, 2019

Please preview my books at:

https://www.billyraychitwood.com

Please follow my blog at:

https://www.brchitwood.com

Please follow me on Twitter:

https://www.twitter.com/brchitwood (@brchitwood)

Confused and Mystified

Confused and Mystified

Bill Chitwood

Confused and Mystified

Participating, watching others participate, wondering what and where is the magic in this digital mind-boggling world. You are a writer. You write because of need and because you have identified writing as the talent you most likely possess more than any other, because just maybe that activity keeps you alive and in tune with the world around you. You go through the spasms of depression, frustration, and an occasional adrenaline rush of encouragement and excitement.

Then, you take a look at the marketing aspects of selling your books, the various providers of platforms, tools, and applications. Perhaps, like me, you become aware of the specialized and confusing language used in the digital market places, things like Avatar, widgets, SEOs, RSS feeds, URLs, hash marks, and all of it somehow cannot seem to make sense to you. You become angry with yourself, with the computer and its devious foreign language, and with the madness of minds making life so much more complicated than it really needs be. You wonder what you should be doing that you are not doing but most of all how to do it. Could you have been selling more books and yourself if you had joined this group, used this platform, done this, done that?

Sure, you can hire someone for a tidy sum you think you can trust to take the marketing worries away that allows you to concentrate on your writing. Yet, you either feel not quite comfortable among the so-called professional or you are too money-tight to give it a try. So, you muddle on, writing good books – books that should be selling – and attempting a one-person publishing house. Is there an answer? Is there a Nirvana out there for you?

The odds might not be great, but you figure to keep on writing – because that’s what you love to do. Hopefully, before the grim reaper comes calling, a benevolent event, a magic will come your way and finally make all those moments at the laptop pay off. A Publishing deal with a handsome sign-up bonus? An Amazon selling spree that puts your books virally in the top echelon of the Indie market? Okay, more realistically, beautifully written and sincere heartfelt reviews may lack the money and fame but they do make you soar for a few moments in those heady clouds of success. Maybe that is all we can hope – that and learning the foreign language that is the internet.

Writing mimics life and weather! Just wait a few moments with the emotion you are currently feeling…it will soon pass and be replaced by another. Time is the arbiter of all things – it is here and gone!

Just in the time it took me to write this blog post, I became a famous writer! Talk about an emotional uplift… A good caring and loving spouse can do that for you.

Keep Writing! Good things can happen!

Billy Ray Chitwood – November 1, 2018

Hammers_Holy_Grail_Cover_for_Kindle

NOTE: If you’re into faith,family, abuse, love, redemption, please check out my NEW BOOK:

“Hammer’s Holy Grail” – It’s a great read ! 

Here’s a couple of Amazon Reviews to entice you:

Format: Kindle Edition
– by Gwen Plano –

*

Please Preview all my books at:

https://billyraychitwood.com

Please Follow my Blog at:

https://brchitwood.com

Please Follow me on Twitter:

https://twitter.com/brchitwood

 

%d bloggers like this: