Losing Power

Losing Power

The winds blew, twelve foot waves pounded the shore in the early evening Sunday. An amazing sight to watch from shore, and in the safety of our house. The wind blew shaking the thick fir, pine, and maple trees that shelters our home. And late Sunday night the power was knocked out to several islands, and the mainland. 

So come Monday morning the power still out, the school now closed and my editor waiting for my current manuscript. I dug out the old landline, plugged it in and dialed hydro. And of course they’re experiencing a high volume of outages, thousands, but we’re expected to have power restored Tuesday at 4:00. With the storm still raging the ferry was cancelled, no one was coming on the island or leaving. Of course I can live with that, it’s only a day. So I used up what battery power was left on my two laptops. Cooked over our woodstove, hauled water from the rain barrels I’d set up in the fall, as the wind blew, the rain fell, and the kids on the island celebrated their day off from school.  

It was fun really, playing little house on the prairie. And by the end of the day with no electro magnetic fields, and absolute quiet we all felt great.

Day two the kids still can’t go to school, and of course I can’t write, and the power people still can’t get here because of the thousands of others without power elsewhere. And we’re now scheduled for Wednesday. By this point we’re getting close to using every dish in the house and we’d really like a shower. Thankfully I have enough drinking water to last until Wednesday morning, and I’m one of the fortunate ones to have rain barrels filled with water I can use to heat up and wash with. Others aren’t so lucky, they’re collecting water from ditches to boil and wash up with.

With the woodstove cranked I send the kids out to chop more wood so we can cook, keep warm, and heat lots of water on the woodstove to clean up some the dishes, the kitchen, which takes hours. 

Day three of course we slept great. But still no power and another call to hydro, and they apologize again, no power is expected until the 14^th, which is Thursday. The candles are getting low, but we still have lots of wood, but hauling in water and boiling it first on a woodstove just to have a cup of coffee first thing in the morning is an exercise in patience and makes you really appreciate that high tech coffeepot. Then you hear the unmistakable whirr of an engine and everyone who’s outside gazes at the big beautiful oceanfront home not far from you, and you know that sound anywhere. A generator. And you look with power longing at that house who now has water, lights, electricity, and hot water. And you have none. But wait, late afternoon someone spots a hydro truck on the island, word gets out, and suddenly half the island has power. We wait but nothing happens for us. And then hydro unexpectedly leaves the island-- presuming powers been restored to us all.

Day four, still no power, everything in my deep freeze has unthawed the meat, the berries. And the fridge is warm. But hallelujah the school’s got power, and their up and running. So in the cold early morning, we haul water, heat up the woodstove, and get cleaned up. The rest of my small section of the island starts phoning hydro. And the first ones were told they must be mistaken, they have power it was restored yesterday. But after several calls, including mine we’re now told it’ll be another day as another storm has blown in and again the ferry shut down. With my hair slicked back, as clean as we can get I load the kids up in my vehicle, and dodge debris from the trees as I drive them to school. With my laptop packed up, I find a spot in the school to borrow their precious power and do some work. 

But wait, early afternoon by some miracle Hydro was spotted back on the Island. Our wonderful ferry people found a way to shuttle a hydro truck over a special ferry. And late in the afternoon, while down at the small corner store on our island news spread when the Hydro guys popped in the store and announced power was now up and running. Of course I shouted from the till after paying for my groceries, “wait don’t let them leave until I race home and see if I have power.” And I along with others raced home, and hallelujah the power was back. 

If a power outage hits you are you prepared?

Character Interview: Maggie McCafferty

*Coming Soon, Book 2 of the Walk the Right Road Series, Lost and Found. Remember Maggie McCafferty, Richard's Wife, this loveable woman who managed to get herself in so much trouble with Marcie in, The Choice. Today I’ve included a character interview of Maggie McCafferty, and she is the main character in Book 2, Lost and Found. For those of you who have read The Choice, you will remember loveable innocent Maggie who wanted nothing more than to protect those she loved from Dan. Lost and Found, is Maggie’s story.

Their Loss Tore Them Apart.

Will Their Enemy Bring Them Back Together?

Character Interview: Maggie McCafferty

You suffered a terrible loss, could you tell the readers a little about what happened?

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

I understand. But in your grief you packed up your child and left Richard. What made you decide to leave instead of working out your issues?

“He wasn’t there for me. He became a stranger I didn’t know. All I wanted was for him to hold me, love me, and comfort me. And he couldn’t do that. He stayed out all night, started drinking. I couldn’t take the blame anymore, and blame is all I saw when I looked in the mirror. I didn’t need Richards reminder that it was all my fault. Even though he didn’t say those words he said it with each passing glance, the way he left a room when I entered, and the fact he couldn’t stand to touch me.”

When a place for rent in Gardiner became available, that small house, I took it.  Because I believed it would be better and we’d be better off without Richard.

And how is that going for you?

“Well not so well. Richard cancelled all my credit cards. He seized my SUV, and he emptied our bank account so I’ve no money. I had a small savings account in my name, but its almost empty.”

Will you and Richard be able to work out your differences and reconcile?

She let out a heavy sigh. “I hired a lawyer. He’s a nice man and he’s put together a separation agreement. He warned to play fair, even up against Richard’s shark he hired. I’m just trying to get some support, what I’m entitled, just a little. But Richard’s such a hardass  he’s not even being reasonable. He kept everything, he has all the money stashed away so I can’t touch it. So I’ve filed for divorce.

Well that’s too bad. You and Richard as a couple--there was a lot of love there.

“Sometimes the crap life deals gets in the way.”

 ~~~

The Tarot by Jim Miller

We're back with day six of the Summer Giveaway Hop hosted by I Am A Reader, Not A Writer & BookHounds.My Guest Blogger today is Jim Miller a retired Canadian Army officer with over forty years service who is now writing full time. He has been writing all his life, as time permitted. And has sold a number of humour columns to local markets, but Mined Your Own Business is his first published novel. He served in the Canadian Armed Forces for over forty years, moving through the ranks from private to warrant officer and then taking his commission. He worked with the Canadian Rangers and retired as a Captain. Married to Bev, they have two children, Camille and Michael.

He has a BA in history and philosophy from University of Manitoba and an MA from Royal Roads University.

As of right now, Jim has a portfolio of manuscripts that includes a mystery series of four novels and two short stories and a series of outlines for another ten books, which are all about Rabbi. The books follow Rabbi as he moves up the ranks and describe his adventures as an amateur detective and professional troublemaker, at least that’s how his Sergeant Major sees him.

He also has a military farce manuscript and a romantic comedy novel that are complete but still being polished. One of Jim’s goals is to win the Leacock medal for humour. He now writes daily and intends to write a book a year. 

Remember to leave a comment with your contact information. Jim is giving away six eBook's of his new release Mined Your Own Business.

The Tarot

“Last night I stayed up late playing poker with Tarot cards. I got a full house and four people died.”                        Steven Wright

The above quote is probably the only tarot joke in existence. The whole concept of the tarot is not one that reeks of humour or frivolity. I believe it’s time for a change, which is why I am writing this blog. And despite all the bad press the Tarot has received, you can forget about disappearing into a cloud of smoke because you dared handle a tarot deck.

This blog is not designed to give you the basics, the history or even teach you how to read tarot cards. All that is available on the internet. I would like to suggest that the tarot can be of help to all writers. But it’s not a magic device or an instrument of Satan. And before you ask, the tarot will not make you happy, healthy, wealthy or find you the right man/woman/pet. 

The initial concept of predicting the future, back at the dawn of time, was to use a sheep’s entrails. That idea died a natural death because it was too messy for some, mostly the sheep. Crystal balls came next and they were a glassy handful to have to lug around on pilgrimages. Once paper had been invented and then stolen from the Chinese, the tarot deck was born.

 Around about the 15^th century the tarot came into being mainly as a way of playing card games. Not content with poker, solitaire or bridge, the odd ones in society decided to use the tarot as a means of divining the future, answering unanswerable questions and for scaring the pants off unbelievers.

Tarot decks can be used by those of us who lodge somewhere in between the card game players and the fortune tellers. I use my decks to create options or potentialities. Somebody somewhere took a great deal of trouble to assign each card with a series of attributes, qualities and even matched them up with astrological signs. After all that work on their part why shouldn’t we at least take a look at them. But, prepare to get the pants scared off you. Something about the way they work, or don’t work can be astonishing.

Today there are over a thousand different kinds of tarot decks. You name it and someone has created a tarot deck. I have seven decks, one of them is a baseball tarot deck.

As writers we can employ the tarot in a safe and helpful manner. One very simple, but excellent method of getting the juices flowing is the one card reading. Pick the card and set it down where you can see it. Pick up a pen, a pencil, or start keyboarding. Describe the contents of the card, leaving nothing out and don’t stop at the first sentence. You know how it works, or if you’re like me, you don’t know how it works. You start writing and the next thing you know, you’ve got a grocery list of stuff and a dead end. Dang it! 

Okay, do it again. Pull another card. If after 78 times, (the number of cards in the deck) all you’ve come up are lists, maybe you shouldn’t be a writer. The object of exercise is to create a little story from the scene on the card.

Once that little story has been written, study it, because it’s here that the tarot will show it’s stuff. Something in that description will be pulled into your subconscious and mixed with all the other flotsam and jetsam of a life experienced to the fullest. Or not. Out of that evolves a nugget. It’s not an outline, but it could be. It may be a plot point, a story twist, a story starter, a story ender or even a road-block smasher that’ll get you back on track and writing. Once you’re deep into it, and the words are tumbling out onto the page, you’ll find yourself wondering where the hell those sentences came from? I no longer wonder, I just accept. 

Another method of combining the tarot and writing is to select a card each for your protagonist, antagonist and two or three other characters. By studying the cards based on how you already see the character you’ll begin noting details that pull more of that character out of you. You’ll have a head, or better yet, a computer full of ideas, descriptions, personalities, attitudes, likes and dislikes, and most valuable, an idea of how each character will react in a certain situation. Give it a try. I promise that by doing so the only cloud of smoke you’ll disappear into will be one created by your fingers frenzy-ing along the keyboard. 

And in case you have forgotten, writers are the descendants of those sheep’s entrails-prodders. Only instead of evisceration, we envision. We foretell of worlds and dreams. We populate them and bring them to life in a future or past or a ‘Never-was-never-will-be’ that we have chosen. But we do it with words. The tarot helps us. Besides, it saves on sheep, right? 

Out of nothing but our brain cells we create the truths and lies of our character’s lives for our readers. The tarot, a bunch of brightly coloured cards, greases those cells and jump starts our imagination. If you’re a total sceptic, the tarot is nothing more, or less than an idea-grinder. A harmless almost mnemonic tool. And if you aren’t then the tarot is…Magic. 

Happy Tarot-ing, Jim.

He found the body with his toes. Little did Private Donald “Rabbi” Hawkins know that an innocent little dip on company time would lead to a web of intrigue, a treasure map, more murder, proficiency with a bayonet, and the opportunity to solve a decade old crime. All while trying to stay out of trouble.

While in training with the army Rabbi Hawkins, neophyte sleuth, discovers the death of a fellow solider may be linked to a treasure map he was harbouring. The goal soon becomes to discover the nature of the treasure, and to evade those willing to kill to keep that secret buried.


Remember to leave a comment for Jim. You'll not only be entered to win a copy of Jim's new eBook Mined Your Own Business. Lorhainne Eckhart will be giving away three copies of her new release THE CHOICE, to three randomly drawn commenters at the end of the summer hop giveaway. Don't forget to leave your contact information when you leave a comment, so we know how to get a hold of you.

Visit the other blogs participating in this summer giveaway by clicking on the link I Am A Reader, Not A Writer & BookHounds.
 

Conclusion to Have You Considered Voodoo

We're back with day four of the Summer Giveaway Hop hosted by I Am A Reader, Not A Writer & BookHounds. Today is the final installment of Author Wayne Zurl's guest blog, a short story Have You Considered Voodoo. 

Biography:

Wayne Zurl grew up on Long Island and retired after twenty years with the Suffolk County Police Department, one of the largest municipal law enforcement agencies in New York and the nation. For thirteen of those years he served as a section commander supervising investigators. He is a graduate of SUNY, Empire State College and served on active duty in the US Army during the Vietnam War and later in the reserves. Zurl left New York to live in the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains of Tennessee with his wife, Barbara.

Eight (8) of his Sam Jenkins mysteries have been produced as audio books and simultaneously published as eBooks. His first full-length novel, A NEW PROSPECT, was named best mystery at the 2011 Indie Book Awards by the Independent Publishing Professional’s Group. It is also available on Kindle.

For additional information on Wayne’s Sam Jenkins mystery series see www.waynezurlbooks.net. You can read excerpts, reviews and endorsements, interviews, coming events, and even see photos of the area where the stories take place.

Have You Considered Voodoo - Part Four - Conclusion

Have You Considered Voodoo?

By Wayne Zurl

Copyright 2011

4,400 words

Long Island, New York, July 1977

I cuffed Anthony and walked him over to the Squad. Ten minutes later, Bob Prince from the Juvenile Section showed up.

“I want this bird locked up for the night,” I said. “Can you get me the standby Family Court judge to lodge him and petition him to court in the morning?”

“Good luck!” Prince said.

“Why?”

“Donald Foy is on call tonight. On something important and simple he hates to be called out. For this he’ll go berserk. The guy’s a whack job.”

“This punk has been going around for the last week assassinating animals and smoking grass. That’s why he’s on probation. For chrissake, he’s a serial killer in the making.”

“Foy doesn’t look like an animal lover and where these young assholes are concerned, he’s so liberal, he makes George McGovern look like a Republican.”

“Oh, great.”

Anthony sat in the chair next to my desk picking at his cuticles, listening to our conversation. When I finished, he only moved his eyes to look up at me and grinned like a weasel watching an injured sparrow.

“You want to call this guy’s parents and have them meet us at Family Court?” I said.

“Mother.” Anthony said.

“What?”

“I only got a mother, no father.”

I wanted to smack the smirk off his face.

“Detective Prince, will you tell the Rocket Man’s old lady where she can find us?”

<><><> 

It took us twenty-five minutes to drive to Family Court. Half way there, I watched lightning crackle in the western sky and a light rain hit the windshield. A uniformed court officer met us at the door. He was the only one present.

After locking the entrance again, he ushered us to Judge Foy’s chambers. We all sat on guest chairs in the hallway.

Twenty minutes later Foy came storming down the hall removing a windbreaker before he reached us. Prince stood up. I followed suit.

“Hello, Judge,” he said, while Foy opened the door and turned on the lights.

“This better be good, Detective. You know I don’t like to be disturbed without good cause.”

I stuck in my two cents. “We had a good reason, Judge.”

“And you are?”

I told him.

“So, what’s your story?”

I told him that, too.

“You want this boy lodged in a secure facility for killing a dog?”

I elaborated one more time.

“Ridiculous. You have no proof of his involvement with the other incidents. Even this is shaky. He’s what, a hundred and thirty pounds? Do you know what will happen to him inside?”

Yeah, I thought, he’ll probably slit his cell-mate’s throat and shit on his bunk.

“Your honor,” I said, “obviously the boy can’t control himself and marijuana seems to control his life. His mother doesn’t have any control over him either.”

Then I let it slip.

“He’s on probation for the same thing and he’ll most likely do more or worse unless you lock him up.”

“Most likely? You come here saying he most likely did other things and he’ll most likely do more of the same. I don’t react to most likely scenarios. I need probable cause to believe. You should know that.”

The judge tried to intimidate me with a cold stare. He was neither big nor bad enough to trouble anyone I knew.

“And where did you learn about his probation and the reason for it? Those records are sealed,” he said.

Foy looked at Prince, who shrugged. I glanced at Anthony. The smirk was back in full force. Now I wanted to smack the kid and the judge.

“There was a field interrogation card made at the time of his arrest. It never got purged from the Precinct file,” I lied. “I assumed you’d want to know his history.”

“I’ll look into this and release him to his parents,” Foy said. “Where are they?”

“His mother is on the way, Judge,” Prince said.

“Judge,” I said, “if you let him go, we’ll only have more of the same. This is a mistake.”

Foy picked up a pen from his blotter and slammed it down for effect. The court officer flinched. Prince closed his eyes for a second. And Anthony kept on smiling.

Foy glared at me. “I’m the court, young man. Don’t you presume to tell me my business!”

I took that as my cue to leave.

“Bobby, I’ll call your office and have a car sent to pick you up.”

I heard Anthony snicker. I turned and walked out, reminding myself not to send Foy a Christmas card.

The court officer followed me and locked the door after I left.

<><><> 

When I finished my set of day tours, I spent two weeks with my wife wandering around New Mexico and northern Arizona. I returned to work for a week of 5 to1s. My in-box was stacked with inter-departmental envelopes and loads of other mail.

At eleven o’clock, Louie DeMarco asked, “Hey, Sam, you get a chance to read any of the tour bulletins from the last couple days?”

“Haven’t had the pleasure, Sergeant.”

“You’ll like this one, kiddo. Ryan’s case. Home invasion on Cedar Avenues, two blocks south of the railroad station. Nine-year-old boy was home alone. Perp slit the poor kid’s throat and took a dump on the living room floor.”

THE END

Sam Jenkins never thought about being a fish out of water during the twenty years he spent solving crimes in New York. But things change, and after retiring to Tennessee, he gets that feeling. Jenkins becomes a cop again and is thrown headlong into a murder investigation and a steaming kettle of fish, down-home style.

The victim, Cecil Lovejoy, couldn’t have deserved it more. His death was the inexorable result of years misspent and appears to be no great loss, except the prime suspect is Sam’s personal friend.

Jenkins’ abilities are attacked when Lovejoy’s influential widow urges politicians to reassign the case to state investigators.

Feeling like “a pork chop at a bar mitzvah” in his new workplace, Sam suspects something isn’t kosher when the family tries to force him out of the picture.

In true Jenkins style, Sam turns common police practice on its ear to insure an innocent man doesn’t fall prey to an imperfect system and the guilty party receives appropriate justice.

A NEW PROSPECT takes the reader through a New South resolutely clinging to its past and traditional way of keeping family business strictly within the family.  

Wayne will be giving away ten eBook's of A NEW PROSPECT to ten randomly drawn commenter's on August 5. 

Lorhainne Eckhart will be giving away three copies of her new release THE CHOICE, to three randomly drawn commenters at the end of the summer hop. Don't forget to leave your contact information when you leave a comment. And remember to visit the other blogs participating in this summer giveaway by clicking on the link I Am A Reader, Not A Writer & BookHounds.