Sample Pack

“Mediocre marketers think in terms of campaigns. Great marketers think in terms of growth frameworks.” – Neil Patel

The above quote sounds vaguely like the warfare axiom - amateurs talk tactics, professionals deal in logistics. I struggle with marketing, finding it much harder to reach out to readers than to sit in my summer office and write stories. The former seems an exercise in mercenary self-aggrandizement. The latter? A sunny day among the trees and flowers, faithful dogs at my feet.

But, I am also an observer of marketing. I get to watch what works, and what doesn’t, every time I visit the Kindle Direct Publishing dashboard and see if anyone has read my published writing. While not all of the conclusions I draw are concrete, it is fun to speculate.

For example, I’ve acquired a “following,” if you want to call it that, on X - formerly Twitter. It ebbs and flows based on, among other things, the number of bots and porn sites that glom onto everyone, trolling their wares. I’ve also engaged a few disreptables, including one person who labeled my writing as “chick porn.” That sort of thing I usually laugh off, stopping to suggest the poster buy a book. The typical reply is something on the order of “Not if it was the only book for sale in the universe…” but you never know what happens next.

It seems that when I engage in social media give and take the number of visits to my web site increases, and the bounce rate… You’re really not in the mood to geek out on web site analytics, right? The good stuff gets gooder, that’s really all I care about.

Sometimes, it leads to a corresponding bump in sales. Sometimes it doesn’t. If correlation isn’t necessarily causation, is non-correlation necessarily non-causation? Or, something? I suppose I should be looking long term, but tactically…

That’s why this week’s activity is both refreshing, and puzzling. Someone is dabbling in Karen… Okay, that sounds awkward. I had someone read a few pages of Out of Ideas, a few more of The Heart of the Matter and then digested the entire short story A Parasol in a Hurricane in one day. It looks like someone who was drawn to the idea of the Karen Sorenson books but hasn’t yet gotten the “cowbell fever.”

Is this a rational conclusion? How would I know. I just write the stuff. I put serious, heroic people in complicated situations and let them figure it out for themselves.

Yeah, that’s actually how it works. Maybe I should ask Karen.

Dog and a Beer

When I read great literature, great drama, speeches, or sermons, I feel that the human mind has not achieved anything greater than the ability to share feelings and thoughts through language.

James Earl Jones

Noting the passing of the great James Earl Jones.

What is the quintessential James Earl Jones role? Was it the bombardier on Major Kong’s ill-fated B-52 in Dr. Strangelove.” Was it as the voice of Darth Vader in the Star Wars? Perhaps as Admiral James Greer in the movies made based on Tom Clancy’s Jack Ryan novels. For me, it has always been Field of Dreams.

Everyone remembers, “People will come, Ray.” Great moment. They remember the “Dog and a beer” scene that begins with a statement of exasperation and ends with that entirely baseball menu. Kinsella (Kevin Costner) attempts to kidnap Terrence man (Jones) by pretending his finger, tucked in his coat pocket, is a gun.

Mine is the end of the movie, where Mann is invited into the cornfield by the players, and Kinsella is not. “You’re gonna write about it,” says Kinsella. “That’s what I do,” responds Mann.

There have to be a thousand ways Jones could have delivered the line. It isn’t the most important one in the movie, nor the most memorable. But, he embeds in the line an authority that any writer will recognize. Anyone who has sat down and written words that describe a person or place, or event, who has tried to convey in writing for others what they have seen, and what it means to them. It’s is not just a simple line in a movie. It’s a writer’s line.

“It’s what I do.”

The movie makers set up that scene by observing Mann listen as people describe Doctor Graham - Moonlight Graham during his playing days. Mann is the writer, by which he is an observer, a listener. People open up to him, gifting small recollections of a good man who was once a promising ball player and became a country doctor in all of that term’s finest senses.

It is Jones’s soft and compassionate side he accesses in those moments, the man with whom you might share a ball game, or beers. Jones grew up with a deep sense of extended family, never knowing his father until he was an adult. Raised by his grandparents on a farm, he later served with distinction in the US Army.

He appeared in dozens of movies, his voice instantly recognizable. At a time when CNN was the ultimate in cable news his voice, announcing “This…is CNN” was heard the world over. Memes announcing his passing suggested that he’d been called home so his voice could be lent to God.

I should remember him because he played a fictional character who shares my name. I remember him for playing a fictional character who shares my love of the written word. I am grateful for how he animated that love with four simple words.

Write about it? It’s what I do.

Flipping Through Pages

The first draft is just you telling yourself the story. Terry Pratchett

I like my Primary Care Physician. He has seen me through a bike accident, some scary symptoms that turned out to be nothing, and an innocuous shadow in my field of vision that turned out to be cancer. He was a steady voice during COVID, giving us advice but ultimately letting us make our own decisions. So, I brought him a book.

Not just any book. It was An Intrusion of Trifles. I released it in March 2024, and purchased several print copies (at the author’s price) to hand out. So, I gave my PCP one.

He smiled, and flipped quickly through the pages. From my vantage point, all I saw was upside-down words on white pages. My breath caught.

He was glancing at the hundred-thousand words I’d written telling the story of Karen Sorenson’s return to law enforcement. It had taken eighteen months, a lot of stopping and starting, but I’d finally arrived at a story I could proudly publish. All of those words my doctor would read, and I’d written them.

I guess I’m fine. He said so, anyway. But, then he blessed my by asking that I sign the book I’d given him.

I love being a writer.

Got A Penny?

“It was the best of times…”

No, I don’t think Dickens is where I’m going, here. I’m going to stick with this gif - Scott Gomez, as George Luz, in Band of Brothers doing his best Marlene Dietrich from the 1940 movie Seven Sinners.

Got a penny? I do.

Someone read two pages of The Heart of the Matter. After something of a drought, it was the first KENP earnings in several weeks. It’s an exciting time, here in Karen Sorenson land.

KENP is Kindle Edition Normalized Pages. That is, it’s a way of paying an author for pages read on Kindle Unlimited, or listening on Audible Plus. That’s opposed, of course, to how we are paid if you download the Kindle or Audible versions, or if you order the print edition. They appear as a one time royalty, whereas on KENP I can follow someone’s reading progress by the number of pages I’m credited for each day.

Some people read quickly, dispensing with a title in two, maybe three days. I see them ripping through the paragraphs, breathless to see how Karen foils yet another villain on her way to a hero’s reward…the beach, a boat drink and her family beside her.

Others read more slowly, digesting the scenes as a fine wine - rolling the nuances over their (virtual) taste buds to discern all of the hints and notes I’ve crafted. “Hmm. I’m getting bold insightfulness, strong sense of virtue and a hint of whimsy. Finishing with intimacy was inspired!”

So, maybe it isn’t that at all. Maybe people just read a few pages and wonder what the hell got into me. A strong woman who is hero, mother and wife at the same time? “What you smokin’, Rasta?” Especially in light of the recent disdain shown some especially brave women Secret Service agents, maybe some people keep reading to see if I’m going to return to Planet Earth and have Karen…you know…fuck up. They give up when it’s obvious I actually walk the talk.

Whatever it is… I hope whoever started Heart gives it a chance. I’m particularly proud of that novel, for a number of reasons. Mostly, it is Karen at her best - a loyal friend, an experienced law enforcement officer and a woman whose heart is open where others have closed. In the end, it is a celebration of how men and women strive together in the most dire of circumstances.

And, I’ll get a penny…or two.

“It was the best of times…” No, I think Dickens isn’t what I’m after here.

X Marks the Spot

Data is like garbage. Big data is like big garbage.” Rupa Mahanti

My spouse and I had a conversation. It resulted in a chuckle, a bike ride and a blog post. I put it on X. I had an unusual number of visitors to my web site.

I thought - what the hell? The analytic that really matters appears daily on Kindle Direct Publishing, where I find out how much money I’ve made today. Or, not. But, why not explore the features on Squarespace and see what interests people when they arrive?

It turns out that the thing that interests them the most, where people spend the most time (and where the “Bounce Rate” says most people wander) is…me. Seriously? Well, okay. So I read about me.

And discovered that I hadn’t really paid much attention to me in years. The pictures are of a younger me. I can live with that. But the text is about a me that hasn’t been me in years. FFS, which translates to for goodness sake. Sort of.

What does this mean? It means that I’ll have to go back through the entire thing and update it. Not that I care, but…

Heather will be proud of me, though. So I’ve got that going for me, which is nice.

The Vertigo of Truth

“I don’t think a fiction writer would dare create a week like we’ve gone through,” my spouse said this morning. We both chuckled, for two reasons. It really was our first opportunity to reflect on the chaotic real world, having been consumed with the goings on in France and some yearly summer bike race. More importantly, no fiction writer would dare construct a plot so outrageous without some modification that made it more…believable.

It’s no secret that a fiction writer often begins with a real-life occurrence, and folds it into a plot or, as is often the case, builds an entire plot around it. I’ve sold books and made money - not a fortune, but some - starting with (for example) an airplane crash in Oshkosh. Reading a pamphlet led to a book about drones and radicalism. Then, there was an employment upset that led to an angry manuscript that just seemed to flow onto my laptop’s screen from a dark heart.

Buried in that last manuscript, for no other reason than it seemed a safe place to put it, were some reflections on my experience at the 2008 Democratic National Convention that took place in Denver. While it is safe to say that week was one of the jewels of my law enforcement career, it predated my efforts at blogging and, so… To keep many of the more interesting moments from fading forever, I gave Amy Painter a role in an event in Flatiron Valley and populated it with some of the people I met at the DNC. There it has sat.

And then, some young man with a rifle took several shots at Donald Trump from the roof of a nearby building in Butler, PA. Inexplicable (and conflicting) explanations were offered for how that might happen while he was protected by the Secret Service. Partisans leapt to blame everything from the slope of a roof (our oldest daughter, a roofer in Florida for a year or so after college, just shook her head) to intentional gaps in security. The death of a rally attendee, the wounding of Former President Trump and others in the crowd, all seemed to dress the set for social media fever dreams and pseudo-expert hyperbole. People who were conversant (or greater) in Parkinson’s disease only a week before now were gifted and experienced in ballistics, drones and dignitary protection.

With just over a week to digest all of that, President Biden came down with COVID, left to recuperate on the beach (I applaud his choice of places to convalesce) and promptly withdrew from the race for re-election. At least, that’s what someone posted on X. Joe himself was unavailable for comment.

The politics of the election are not the subject of this article. Nor is the firestorm of charges, counter-charges and theories that have flooded social media. I wish President Biden nothing but good health. I’m also not a presidential biographer.

But, in Amy 3, someone will take a shot at… I haven’t decided. Probably a Senator, maybe from Hawaii. He/she is clipped, there are some serious questions for the Secret Service they stumble at answering and…

“Can I please speak with Amy Painter,” the male caller said. His voice is rich, calm and has a whisper of a southern accent.

“Speaking,” she says.

“Hi, my name is Josh Timmons. I’m an assistant to President Harkins. Do you have a moment to talk?”

“About what?” She is immediately wary, suspicious.

“The President has ordered the formation of a commission to investigate the attempt on the life of Senator Inouye. We are building a cadre of experienced investigators to assist.”

“I’m no longer a police officer,” she said.

“President Harkins asked for you, specifically. Some of her Secret Service protection detail remember you from the speech in Colorado, said you are a person who understands confidentiality.”

“I’m—”

“Mrs. Painter, the President is asking you to serve.”

We’re off…

Dry Spell

They happen.

It isn’t often that I’ll go more than a day or two without someone reading one of my books. The recent availability of AI-powered audible files led to a significant, months-long spike in readership. I’d make coffee in the morning, boot up the laptop and see how many pages had been read.

The record in one day? Over five hundred. least that was not zero? Four. Okay, so who reads four pages of a book and then sets it down? Here’s a hint - ask a mom with toddlers who works from/at home.

It’s been several years since I had a whole month without any readership at all. Oh, I’ve tried a few things, at least the kinds of things I’m comfortable doing. Contests have never worked for me, nor “What is your quest?” sorts of buzz-generating. When I’m doing “chumming” on X (Twitter) and someone writes stuff like, “You talk a big game for a romantic suspense novelist!!” I always ask if they want to buy a book and see. Maybe that’s not the best approach, but it is authentic.

Dry spells come, and dry spells go. All I can tell you is the printed versions are robust enough to take to the beach, or to the mountains. I really don’t ask you to think at all, except that I want you to accept the premise of all of my books - heroism, honesty, service and sacrifice, all of that is gender neutral.

So… Maybe you’d enjoy some light reading this summer. Before the dry spells becomes a literary desert.

I Bought A Book...

I had to have that book.

I was on Facebook, today. There was a “page” discussing an American hero, killed in action June 6, 1944 in Normandy, France. He was the commanding officer of a parachute battalion, who was hung up in an apple tree. That’s where his body remained for several days. He never even made it to the ground before the enemy ended his life.

His battered and depleted battalion soldiered on, attaining their mission objectives and aiding in the pitched battle fought to preserve the foothold won on the beaches. Their achievements are chronicled in Tonight We Die As Men: the untold story of the Third Battalion, published in 2011. One click…

Somewhere, on a writer’s royalty dashboard, my sale and the buck-ish it derived appeared. Maybe because of the FB post mine was accompanied by others. Maybe they got an unexpected bump - “Hey, come look at this! Tonight had activity this weekend!”

It’s a wonderful thing. Get up in the morning, make a cup of coffee, open the Amazon Analytics page and see what’s cooking. Even a few cents’ change in the cumulative monthly tally is welcome. Someone, somewhere, is reading a book I wrote.

Maybe it’s different with the pros. Maybe my purchase just disappears into a sea of income. Maybe my buck doesn’t even register.

I doubt it. Writing a book is intense. When someone reads it (especially when they offer their own money to do it) it’s almost like the writer has made a new friend.

A new friend made in a way we introverts can manage.

They Are Heroes, Forever

“How many times must the cannon balls fly, before they are forever banned?” Blowin’ in the Wind, Bob Dylan (1963)

Eight heroes shot, by a gunman (perhaps two) in North Carolina. Four were killed. Joshua Eyer was a Charlotte-Mecklenburg cop. Sam Poloche and Alden Elliot worked for the state as parole officers. Thomas Weeks was a deputy US Marshal.

They had gone to an address in Charlotte to serve a warrant on someone with a rifle, a person who was prohibited by law from possessing it. In addition, this individual was wanted on charges of eluding police on two separate occasions. No law enforcement experience at all is required to conclude this guy was dangerous.

Invariably, some politician or pundit will use the deaths and woundings of these officers to renew their call to ban semi-automatic rifles. That’s fine - it’s not an irrational suggestion. Outright prohibitions are tricky, but one can disagree with a legal position (or some portion of it) without being disagreeable.

It is entirely rational to prohibit felons on parole from possessing firearms of any kind, and apparently this was the case in Charlotte. Just about every state (I can’t account for several) has similar laws. Some continue the ban in perpetuity, even after the individual has finished any post-incarceration supervision. One might argue that they’ve completed their sentence, done their time, paid their debt… Sure, fine. I’m not persuaded by that line of argument, but okay.

“Red Flag Laws” that provide for the (initially temporary) surrender of firearms by people deemed mentally at risk to themselves or others is a separate situation. Because of the relative newness of these laws they are, in some cases, legally ill-defined. Reasoned disagreement about these laws exists, and the discussion should continue. Suffice to say, at the very least, that people who are mentally ill should not own firearms. But, some do.

So do some people prohibited by law because of their criminal histories. That’s what was going on in Charlotte. One of the problems that the “There ought to be a law” crowd does not ever seem to consider is that someone has to go out on the street and enforce the laws passed by the political…I almost wrote “leaders.” Passed by the office holders. In this case, the someone enforcing the law encountered a situation involving desperate, violent, homicidal individuals bent on remaining free no matter what they had to do. If that included killing cops, they were willing to do that.

Rather than understand this point (or, maybe in spite of it), there are self-interested politicians and pundits who spend much of their time criticizing law enforcement officers because of what happens when they encounter violent, dangerous people.

Not a week goes by, it seems, that law enforcement officers aren’t criticized for defending themselves against someone bent on injuring or killing them. In a recent situation, officers awaited an adult male who was expecting a juvenile female he’d groomed to answer a motel door. Armed police officers greeted him, instead. It was a sting. The suspect drew a firearm and, after a brief struggle the officers shot the man to death. It is violent, graphic. All caught on body-worn cameras.

The officers faced criticism about their tactics, decisions and inability to “safely deescalate” the situation. Seriously? This isn’t Hollywood. The suspect died because he drew a gun on armed police officers. The many imponderables - why did he bring a pistol to meet a teenage girl? - are irrelevant. The officers were clearly legally justified. They protected themselves.

Rather than reflect the opinions of constituent members of society who (across all demographics) support the work of ethical, competent law enforcement officials, the politicians and pundits conveniently forget that when they advocate for and pass laws, someone has to do the work in the “hard areas” of society. Someone has to face the deadly situations involving remorseless, armed people.

Eight officers shot, four making the ultimate sacrifice. The loud voices will find it astonishing - they would never do this - that when the shots fired call went out, hundreds of officers responded unhesitatingly. Because someone had to do it. The hard jobs have to be done. Someone has to enforce the law. Without it, there is only anarchy.

Thank you, heroes. You are the best of us.

Do You Read Me?

There are no solutions. There are only trade-offs. Dr. Thomas Sowell

“KDP (Kindle Direct Publishing) now offers artificial voice for Audible.”

I’d been asked, from time to time, whether any of my books were available on Audible. The answer was, well, no. There were two main problems.

First, let’s reject out of hand the thought that anyone would want to hear me reading an “Oh Adam” - “Oh Karen” passage. My late mom said she enjoyed Out of Ideas but wondered why there had to be sexual content. Friends have pointed out that they were “creeped out” when they seemed to be hearing my voice reading to them. So, that was out.

Having someone else read the book was a possibility. As an introvert, I have limited friends and would not like to lose one in the endeavor. Hiring a voice actor is a theoretical possibility, but I’d only be able to offer them a percentage and, frankly, I think Federal Law prohibits working at those wages. Then, there are the logistical aspects - renting or buying the equipment, reviewing and editing… It just never seemed practical.

Text-to-voice has been available on Kindle for a number of years, such as it was. It sounded like a machine voice, a flat affect that simply read the words as written. Similarly, the writing software WORD has a read feature that is useful for proofing, but lacked character as well. One of those things that worked, after a fashion.

And then, “the” email. KDP had introduced a feature allowing AI to provide a voice, free. More accurately, they featured a menu of voices, each subtly different from the others. Male, female, different accents, different inflections. Initially the software required a table of contents (I’ve never seen the need) but later iterations provided one. Don’t ask me how. So, I did one.

It was a hit! The money started pouring in. Okay, not exactly pouring. It wasn’t a dribble, though. Looking at the analytic is interesting. Ready for some geeking?

An Audible subscriber can listen for free with their subscription. How do I get paid? Some fraction of a cent per page that the person finishes. Listen to ten pages, I make $.04. With me?

I suspect that many of my “readers” listen as they commute, because I tend to make a lot more during the week - especially in the morning - than I do on weekends. In addition, there is the pinball effect where someone will listen to a book and then start another. I’ve also witnessed the buffet reader; someone who listens to fifteen or twenty pages of three or four books. I interpret this as being a lot like surfing TV channels.

The software gets better and better every week, with new voice versions available. Some of it is behind the scenes material that makes setting up a book easier for me. The voices get clearer and more accurate with every passing month. Sometimes, it seems that the software is reading ahead and anticipates what is coming.

It’s uncanny. There is a downside, which is the books are written to be read. It’s likely there are dialogue passages where the listener will get a bit lost. Some of that I have fixed in the process of tweaking pronunciation, violating some of the rules I learned in writing classes but making the book easier to understand. In other cases…

Okay, this is cool. I have gone back into a book that needed some typos fixed (A More Perfect Union) and added dialogue cues. “What?!” you say. “I’ve already downloaded that book!” But, wait!

If you have the Kindle version, and the device is connected to the Web, the revisions populate a day or two after I upload the new file. You now have the latest, and greatest. And, if you are early into the Audible book, those changes populate, too.

If you bought the paperback… Send me an email and I’ll make it right.

Give the Audible version of one of my books a try. I think you’ll be pleased. It may not be a solution, but the trade offs are awesome!

Log Arythmic

Ah, the life of a small-market writer.
I have just the book for you - sort of a cop’s guide to insurrection. It has drama, it has sex, it is a cautionary tale to both sides of the political spectrum. Did I mention the sex? And, I can’t get any of the normal avenues to distribute that fact, anywhere?

Maybe it’s the use of “insurrection.” Maybe they think I’m sitting in the basement, eating hot pockets and wearing a horn hat and Chewy bikini… Sorry for the visual. Maybe it’s that I don’t mention the sex often enough.

Whatever it is - come on aver and check out A More Perfect Union. It is about what happened this week in Washington. No matter what you thought, Cici will guide you through and show you where we all dare not go.

Release Day

Every writer looks forward to “Release Day.” That is the day that their publisher - them, if they self-publish as I do - has the book go live. That is, put the book out on the market, and let readers decide if it was all worth it.

“A Guardian’s Promise” released today. I tossed and turned last night, my mind focused on what I would say, the things I would write. What is is like, how can I get people attracted to it? In spite of the hours and hours of effort…how many typos, where are the flaws in the story. What will people think?

The answer, for a writer, is generally “Who knows?” This morning, when Amazon authorized the “go live” date, the book stopped being mine. It became yours. If you read it - I hope you do - the Amy on the cover becomes the Amy within you. You fill in any blanks I’ve left out (some intentionally). You feel her trepidations, her fears. You share her triumphs. The supporting characters become your friends, your allies or your enemies. For the time you spend with them - a beach, a porch - you are there at their sides as they try, as best they can, to do police work in the manner it is intended.

Or, die trying.

A Guardian's Promise

“If there's a book that you want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it.”


― Toni Morrison

 

I’ve written several blogs about the death of George Floyd in Minneapolis, and the immediate aftermath of unrest and political opportunism. That’s not why we’re here, today.

In about two weeks, I’ll be announcing the release of a book that sat dormant for almost a decade, as others took shape and were published. I’ve had the benefit of a number of great editors, and a writing instructor who has read thousands of rough draft pages. Friends have helped shape characters, suggested plots and helped smooth out ragged writing. Family members – my wife especially – have supported what is, in essence, a solitary pursuit.

I loved being a police officer. It was a difficult job. I was surrounded by some of the best people, anywhere, individuals committed to risking their lives to save others. My experiences have given me all the material a writer could ever ask for, while I was serving in a manner that was richly rewarding in and of itself.

This book began as an examination of how a policewoman’s life can take abrupt, unfortunate turns. The plot’s undercurrent of law enforcement work was secondary.

That secondary plot involved misconduct of the most insidious and yet modest, almost innocuous sort, something all police departments wrestle with on an ongoing basis. There are small, seemingly insignificant indicia of trouble, often ignored. Then, something public occurs and everyone looks around in amazement, wondering how that would occur here.

A variety of causes are generally bandied about. Bad people, ineffective leadership, weak supervisors (especially from the outside looking in). There is rarely the observation, made in the comic strip Pogo, that “We have met the enemy, and He is Us.”

Massive police reform (or, even more massive police defunding or disbanding) is all the rage in some circles today. I’m not here to weigh in on what would be massive mistakes running contrary to what the actual citizens of a jurisdiction actually want. Maybe another day.

I didn’t write this book to suggest specific reforms. The department from which I retired has successfully employed a “co-response” initiative. There are other things departments should look at. My bias is education and training, but that’s not this books objective.

I wanted to call it Preserve, Protect, and Defend based on the oath each law enforcement officer takes. It didn’t seem to fit the overall message of the book, how each individual doesn’t just take a formal oath, but makes a series of promises – to family, to co-workers, to lovers. They make a promise to themselves, one that is often the most difficult to keep.

Constructing the cover was a struggle – thanks to all who contributed observations. At some point, it is about letting go, getting the book out, doing my best and taking ownership. You’ll get the idea when you read the acknowledgments section.

A Guardian’s Promise. I hope you like it.

Searching for Answers

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
― Ernest Hemingway

I’m sure some writers still prefer the typewriter. I have an old Smith-Corona manual sitting in my office that once belonged to my grandfather. It works, although I’m not sure where to get a ribbon, it doesn’t have an erase feature and, because of its size, it is inappropriate to hang on the wall with the other artifacts of my writing career.

One of the many advantages I have as a writer is immediate access to things I’ve written, but for one reason or another set aside. The miracle of zeros and ones (admittedly a great title for a book, huh?) lets me find the file, bring it back to life and press on as if it hadn’t been sitting for years.

Such is the life of “Amy2.” Why that title? It’s not actually the title, but it helps keep the manuscript straight – not a Karen novel, not a Cici novel, but the second of the Amy novels.

Before I go on, a few things to get out on the table. First, having retired about seven months ago from a police career lasting thirty-five years (and spanning nearly forty-one) I am extremely proud of the men and women working in law enforcement. I’ve seen the ebb flow of “love you/hate you” that seems to be the stock-in-trade of the loudest voices. The irony here – officers are unanimous in their revulsion over the death of George Floyd – is apparently not relevant to the bigger picture.

Also not relevant is the influx of individuals who are using the protests to service their own agendas. Be they simple common street thugs/gangs seeing an opportunity to ply their trade, virtue signalists getting ahead of the crowd (and thereby pretending leadership), or the virtual equestrians astride their usual saddle-weary hobby horse. They are roughly akin to the bicycle salesman in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, taking advantage of Sheriff Kenneth Marrs’s attempts to round up a posse.

The voices worth hearing are those who not only recognize that legitimate reforms within the criminal justice system in general, law enforcement in particular, are always welcome, now they are timely. Good people explore change not out of a sense of boredom, but out of the realization that their voices will now be listened to, not merely acknowledged.

Which brings me to Amy2. I started this book realizing that it is easy for good police departments to go astray. No matter how carefully an organization recruits, selects, trains and manages their workforce, human beings have a way of drifting. There are any numbers of reasons for this, aside from the various frailties and fallibilities people bring with them to every endeavor.

It is virtually assured, for example, that some officers who begin their careers dedicated to ethical performance will abandon some previously held values when faced with criminals having few, if any, scruples. It is often the most idealistic men and women, those who want to “help people,” who are must susceptible to disillusion. What happens next?

Disinterest, or its mirror image, an aggressive distaste for regular citizens who represent an annoyance, an interruption. They are the “One Percent” who give cops a bad name.

But, in the United States there are 800,000 law enforcement officers. That one percent is roughly eight thousand cops, which, unsurprisingly, are not evenly distributed. What kind of mischief can they create?

That’s what Amy2 was about when I got started twelve years ago. That’s what it’s about, now. That’s what you’ll read when the book comes out in early August (fingers crossed). It’s isn’t an indictment of law enforcement. Far from it. Amy Painter will confront something every police department confronts, in her usual Amy Painter way.

Which is to say, with a bit of attitude and immutable character.

Writing Karen

I have had an excellent writing instructor, with whom I’ve worked for nearly twenty years. We met first in an on-line class - her the instructor. We agreed to work together, she as mentor/editor. To this day, everything I write for eventual publication as a novel is sent through her.

To that end, I sent her off a second batch of pages for “Karen 3,” that is, the third of the Karen Sorenson novels. While the name “Karen” has been the source of some ridicule lately, I haven’t written Karen to be whatever it is “Karen” is supposed to personify. Those of you who have read any of the “Karen” novels knows what I mean. Those who have not - what are you waiting for?

This novel started as a short story and morphed. That’s actually not a good thing. Short stories tend to take one idea, embrace it, resolve it and move on. My first published work was a short story, called “A Parasol in a Hurricane.” It was about a woman in crisis who encounters a woman in crisis. I’ll leave it up to you - you have to read it, first - to decide who is the former, and whom the latter.

Karen 3 began as The Fireboat. It grew. It became unfocused. When I sent the pages off to Terri I said as much. She responded, when she sent the edited pages - “This is your best writing to date.”

Whether it is, or isn’t… That’s why I work with her. She always seems to know when I need a boost.

Do Not Flee

Isolation, social distancing, obsessive cleanliness, pointless hording…

With the grace of God, we’ll make it through this horrible situation with the fewest deaths, our means of maintaining a livable country and world intact, and a solemn promise to improve some of the systemic shortcomings we’ve discovered along the way.

In the meantime, I have a suggestion for those of you with nothing better to do than read this. I’m totally serious. If I’ve heard it once, I’ve heard it a dozen times from people who find out I’m a writer with books to sell them. They say “I’ve always wanted to write a book, but…”

How about now? You have the time, you’re not supposed to congregate. The internet is full of people whose job it is to tell you all of the bad news. Ignore the doomsayers. Write:

About anything. If you are a writer powered by coffee and hate, write about how pissed off all of this bullshit makes you. Seriously - it’ll help. If finding the beauty in difficult situations is your thing, find something positive to write about. The video of the guy in Italy singing Nessun Dorma (search it on YouTube) will take your breath away. Human beings are remarkable.

About nothing. Just start writing. Don’t edit, don’t worry about grammar or spelling. Just. Start. Writing. Don’t worry about the first draft - write with your heart.

About someone you love. What do they look like, how do they make you feel? What is it about them that so captivates you? Look for details, think about it deeply and let the words flow.

About what you will do when the virus runs its course and we can go back to how we usually live our lives. Will you make any changes? Have you learned anything (aside from to have a stash of TP)? Where is the first place you will visit?

Do not flee. Write. Next thing you know, you’ve written something wonderful, beautiful. Uniquely yours.

Welcome to a wonderful world.

The Why of Writing

A quote of Milton Berle is- “My doctor told me that jogging could add years to my life. I think he was right. I feel ten years older already.”

I’ve started to run on a treadmill again, and let me tell you… Taking my mind off of the discomfort gives me plenty of time to think. Mostly, I’m thinking about not looking at the TVs, because if it isn’t politics it’s house demolitions or food.

I thought about writing, why I write and about writing not as a hobby, but as a paying profession. It was spurred on by something on Twitter that caught my attention. I know, right? How to make enemies and seem especially shallow in a limited amount of characters.

The subject of the tweet, which drew me to a longer article, was the slow, steady demise of the printed word, the jobs that print media is shedding and the reasons why all of that is happening. An insane number of writing jobs - employment where real people made an honest living, have vanished in the last twenty years.

So, why would someone get into the business of writing for pay?

First, and most importantly, is that most writers think they have something significant to say. Not necessarily important - a sportswriter banging on a laptop describing the madcap experiences of, say, the Rochester Red Wings isn’t going to change the world. Maybe they won’t even change the front office’s opinion about a player, or a managerial move.

But, there was once a high school senior who played goalie. A professional sportswriter dedicated a couple of paragraphs to a hockey game the young player appeared in, mentioned him by name, and allowed as how he’d been the difference. I still have that clipping, lovingly (if haphazardly) glued in a scrapbook by my late father. That wasn’t important writing. The man made a living at it.

Which brings me to the second reason. Making a living doing something we love. I write about strong women because I was raised by one, have two daughters and a daughter-in-law who rock, and am married to someone who defines the genre. I’ve known dozens of strong women in my former professional life. Several of them have helped launch, and then encouraged, my own efforts at making a living writing.

It doesn’t pay very well, at least in money. I wonder sometimes if someone offered me a lot of money to write about something else exclusively, if I would take it. I suppose I have my price. We have, after all, lives to lead and bills to pay. And, there certainly are people who will write just about anything, so long as there is a paycheck in it. Hat’s off to them. Follow your own heart, your own dreams.

Me? I love writing about characters who make me smile, make me laugh, make me cry. Make me blush. There is a scene in The Heart of the Matter where the strong women have brought about justice, at great peril to themselves. They are together - ordinary people of extraordinary strength and courage.

I loved writing that scene. I hope you read it. I hope those women make you feel what I felt writing it. And, maybe you’ll look around and see they are not all that uncommon in real life.

And you’ll want to read some more.

How Words Work

“The first key to writing is to write, not to think” William Forrester (Sean Connery) Finding Forrester (2000).

I want to write about words. You know, the building blocks of blah, blah blah… Stuff that writers use to create scenes, build plots, describe characters. I want to talk about how some writers, some speakers too, use words not to illuminate, but to obfuscate. And, I want to give you something to read.

Virginia’s legislature is in the process of creating new legislation concerning firearms, specifically those that are semi-automatic in nature. Lawmakers are tying themselves into knots trying to describe, in the stilted manner of statutory construction, what an “assault rifle” is. They have come up with a definition more appearance than function (which is par for the course all over the country), settled on something easy - large-capacity magazines - and then proposed making the possession of an assault rifle illegal.

The debate over the assault rifle ban (which apparently didn’t pass) was particularly illuminating, for the manner in which language was used to obscure the law’s true purpose. Asked if there was a provision in the law that would allow current owners to maintain possession of their weapons, the answer was an easy “No.” Ah, but this is where things got interesting. One of the delegates asked if that meant that law abiding citizens would, by the stroke of a pen, be turned into criminals.

“No. Virginians will follow the law.”

“So, they will turn in their firearms or be arrested. Will there be compensation?”

“The delegate should read the bill. There will not be confiscation.”

I find that exchange fascinating. A law abiding citizen of Virginia would have to dispose of (by some means described by statute) property with a value of thousands of dollars. But, there would be no “active” confiscation effort. Yet.

Confiscation is a law enforcement method, not a legal requirement. It is entirely within reason to assume that some event will occur giving some law enforcement “leader” the impetus…or, excuse…to begin a “voluntary” program that includes some targeted knocking on doors based on records readily available to LE.

That won’t happen? I have laid out what I believe is a rational, reasonable, foreseeable way LE, and the military, would be forced to choose between the law, their personal principles and their understanding of the Constitution in A More Perfect Union. Deputy Cici Onofrio and Marine Lieutenant Kevin Cross are thrown into a rapidly-deteriorating situation on the plains of Colorado pitting them against everything they thought they stood for.

Improbable? The news is full of protests, angry exchanges and gun confiscation proposals made by serious men and women hoping to become government leaders. Read the book, and then consider how improbable the events that unfold really are.

A Gulf Side Irish Pub

“I knew this place existed – I just had to find it” a guy announced as he walked through the door.”

How does one choose a beach bar?

It’s easy, when there is a beach, and bars. Start at one end of the beach, pop in and order something tall and cold. Or, frosty and cold. Cold.

Strolling along the upscales a block from the sand, it occurred to me that there is one kind of clientele, and then there is me. They – no aspersions intended – drink from crystal and lean their forearms on linen. The silverware is, well, probably some rendering of silver. To quote the great Southern Historian Shelby Foote – “Big plates, tiny food. Makes me angry thinking about it.”

Me, I’m looking for little places, basic menus, big portions. Wooden tables, faux leather cushions. A server with a smile, a bit of flirt and a lot of brass.

She’d been a kindergarten teacher, she said. Could there be a more perfect server. Two locals – weathered men with tans not chosen, but earned - wandered in, ordered the mere basic of beers and paid with quarters. She patiently counted out them out, smiling broadly when it looked like the proffered currency would cover two inexpensive brews. “Never been to the East Coast,” one of them commented. “Except Parris Island, and all I got was yelled at.”

Parris Island, of course, is boot camp for East Coast Marines.

Lynche’s Landing, an Irish pub in the heart of crab and conch country. The featured drink was an Orange Crush – OJ, vodka – what’s not to like for a land-locked scrivener from Denver. Why not take a chance on a little bar with a bit of the ‘tude. I ordered the Crush, and a cup of Irish stew.

My great grandfather was Irish, from Donegal. He was a two-fisted laborer who took life as it existed, not as he wished it to be. He moved to America when the opportunity presented, raised a family and taught his grandson to love his adopted country, one that gave far more than it took.

The stew arrived with a length of bread. The soup was amazing. Good stews go easy on the salt, heavy on ingredients. The meat was tender, the potato held together perfectly in the hearty broth.

Of course there was soccer on. And (American) football.

Everyone who ventured in stayed. The newcomers had a pretty good idea of how to choose a beach bar. It’s about the company, the ambiance, and when we all ventured back to the beach… It’s about loving the life.

Writing Cops

How does one “write cops?”

A very serious, studious man editing one of my manuscripts differed with me on a point of order. I had a character - one I knew pretty well - saying something in a moment of pique. Specifically, it was a juvenile moment between…

It was Karen. Early in her relationship with Adam, they had something of a tiff. He explained that he did not care to be touched at that moment. A “can-cannot” exchange intervened in an otherwise adult conversation. I thought it was hilarious. The editor’s comment?

“Policewomen don’t talk that way. I’ve met several, and…”

It is the writer’s privilege to stop listening at that point. He was a great editor, Out of Ideas is a good book because of him, but… Several? One ignores a good editor at their peril, so I asked a subject matter expert. I asked a woman cop at work if the scene had any hint of authenticity.

What transpired might be labeled “grade school behavior” by an outsider. Any outsider. She started poking the nearest male cop in a fairly exact rendition of the proposed scene. He responded in kind and… Well, we were pretty sure I had written Karen accurately.

And then, I went home and fixed it. I had a contract.

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