FINE ART, FINE ACTOR & BOOK COMBO DEAL, TOO!

Artist JoAnn Peralta's original oil portrait of Henry Darrow in his breakout role "Manolito Montoya" in THE HIGH CHAPARRAL was an 80th birthday gift to Henry from his wife, Lauren Levian. Now fans of the ALMA & Emmy award-winning actor can enjoy fine art prints of this gorgeous portrait in their own homes.  Signed by both Henry Darrow and artist JoAnn Peralta, the high quality Giclee' prints are available both framed and unframed through the Greenwich Workshop gallery. Special combo discount for print plus autographed copy of Henry's award-winning biography, HENRY DARROW: LIGHTNING IN THE BOTTLE."

CLICK HERE TO VISIT THE GREENWICH WORKSHOP FOR MORE INFORMATION ABOUT THIS KEEPSAKE PORTRAIT PRINT

HAPPY HISPANIC HERITAGE MONTH!

Celebrate Hispanic Heritage Month by...
1. Becoming a Theatre Angel for as little as $1.00. Veteran character actor Rudy Ramos and writer Janelle Miraz Hooper have brought their considerable talents together in Ramos' one-man play about Apache leader Geronimo in Geronimo, Life on the Reservation. I was fortunate to see the production in rough form earlier this year and it's AMAZING. All Rudy needs is a few dollars more to take this outstanding, historically based, touching and entertaining show on the road. I donated to Rudy's Kickstarter campaign. Will you?
http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/686171151/geronimo-life-on-the-reservation

Rudy Ramos as Rudy Ramos

          Rudy Ramos as Geronimo

2. Reading a book. ALMA winning actor/writer/comedian/director/producer Rick Najera's autobiographical Almost White: Forced Confessions of a Latino in Hollywood is much like its multiple award-winning author - political, personal, passionate, funny and insightful. Available in softcover and ebook.

3. Buying artwork. Artist JoAnn Peralta created a gorgeous oil portrait of renowned ALMA winning actor Henry Darrow in his breakout role as sexy Manolito Montoya of The High Chaparral. The original oil hangs in Darrow's home, an 80th birthday gift to him from his wife, Lauren Levian. But fans can now buy their own high quality Giclee' on canvas print of this gorgeous portrait, signed by both the artist and by Henry Darrow. Pre-orders are being taken now from The Greenwich Workshop.

Available print only (framed or unframed) or special package discount deal incuding autographed print and autographed copy of Henry's award-winning biography, Henry Darrow: Lightning in the Bottle.

4. Reading another book. Henry Darrow was a Hollywood pioneer and mentor to Rick Najera, A Martinez and many other successful actors. In 2012, the legendary performer was honored with the NCLR ALMA Award for Lifetime Achievement. His award-winning biography, Henry Darrow: Lightning in the Bottle, is available in signed softcover, softcover and ebook. Visit www.henrydarrowbook.com for ordering information, excerpts and reviews.

Keep Smiling, Fellow Writers!

Sharing some writer and writing themed memes I've found on Facebook. Enjoy!

CHAIN OF FOOLS sends in the clowns (in a good way!)

Noted author, performer and speaker Trav S.D. is passionate about screen comedy. His love comes across in spades in his most recent book, the thoroughly researched and entertaining "CHAIN OF FOOLS: Silent Comedy and Its Legacies, from Nickelodeons to YouTube."

CHAIN OF FOOLS tracks American slapstick film comedy from its origins in Greco-Roman comic mime and French sex farce through Vaudeville and early masters like D.W. Griffith and Max Sennett to modern comedians Jim Carrey and Steve Carell.

Trav SD's wit and flair keep this scholarly work readable. Fascinating tidbits abound. For instance, “I believe not nearly enough has been made of the influence of Sennett’s theatrical experience in his later cinematic oeuvre. Sennett claims to have made his stage debut as the ass end of a horse, and I refuse to make the world a sadder place by trying to debunk this tale.”

If you’re a film historian, amateur or professional, make your world happier and give CHAIN OF FOOLS a place on your bookshelf.

CHAIN OF FOOLS is published by Bear Manor Media. It's available in softcover and ebook online through BearManor, Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

BLOG GUEST AUTHOR PEGGY BECHKO

Today's guest author is Peggy Bechko. Peggy has been in the writing biz for quite a while, so I know you'll enjoy reading about this dynamic lady and an excerpt from her most recent book, STORMRIDER.

Evolution

Thanks for having me Jan – a delight to offer this post on a  writer’s evolution for your readers.

Yes, I’ve been a writer for a long time – most of my life actually having begun writing stories when I was about 13.  It just progressed from there. I wrote novels and saw publication with Doubleday, Harlequin, Pinnacle, Five Star and others and I slid sideways into screenwriting, optioning scripts and writing for an animated series. 

Things they keep a’changin’ and yet I couldn’t foresee the biggest evolution of my writing life; the advent of the digital book – ereaders, digital content, fiction in the cloud, the ability to put out there what I wanted in the way I wanted. 

Wow.

So I decided that in addition to publishing with established houses I’d test the track many were following – Ebooks – and  converted a number of my already published works to Ebook (aka Amazon Kindle, Smashwords, Barnes & Noble Nook, etc.).

It’s evolution isn’t it – 

ev·o·lu·tion  (v-lshn, v-)

n.

1. A gradual process in which something changes into a different and usually more complex or better form

2.

a. The process of developing.

b. Gradual development.

It took time, experience, and the arrival of computers, the web and technology that’s hurtling us all forward, but it was my own evolution nonetheless. There was a lot of writing and publishing between my first book and destination now, the moral of the story being continue to grow, experiment and allow yourself to be surprised.

So with great excitement and anticipation I shifted gears into the fast-paced now and I have to admit I’m loving every minute of it. Opportunities abound for the writer. A writer can take the bit in his or her teeth and run with it. Traditional publishing, indie publishing, self-publishing, Epublishing. Many doors have opened. Traditional publishing remains but I decided to strike out on my own as well with the publication of my book, Stormrider. The Fictionworks handled the Epublishing end and I took care of the transition to paperback resulting in the availability of Stormrider as an Ebook and paperback.  It’s getting great 5 star reviews along with a glowing recommendation by John Cullum, Tony award winning actor who said he “couldn’t put it down.”  

Stormrider Blurb:

Stormrider, young woman Janissary, quests for justice and peace on her rebellion-torn world, several continents away from what she considers home, and for the missing Amulet that can choose the leader of the worlds in concert. Stormrider is cast adrift in a sea of intrigue, mysticism and magic. Isolated, she is dependent upon her own wits and skills to survive and triumph.

Immerse yourself in a great read – a Stormrider excerpt follows: 

Chapter 1

Stillness, galvanizing in its intensity, overwhelming in its suddenness, a stillness not her own, it nonetheless surged from some inner repository, filled Tanith, pushed all else aside.

Her head jerked up. The important work of gathering plants for food and medicine was forgotten and the stillness transformed into an unmistakable, undeniable pull. Her heart took up a skipping rhythm. Ears buzzed with silence, a void soon filled.

Come, it beckoned, rippling softly through her mind, disturbing the great stillness. Come.

Tanith Aesir grasped her collecting bag tighter and bolted to her feet, rising from the mottled forest shadows into brilliant sunlight. Tension snapped through her body like a whip crack as a sudden breeze surged, swaying the surrounding trees. Their movement dappled the sunlight, flickering shadows impairing her focus. The grove’s serenity evaporated in an instant.

Expert training strained to the fore. Years of it. Green eyes rapidly swept her surroundings, adjusting, that adjustment delaying her only a moment while she analyzed the throbbing quietude about her. Barest moments of time were swept away on an indrawn breath and then she began to run.

She ran not with the small, mincing steps of a maiden, but with the long, athletic strides of a female warrior, muscles flexing, blood heating. Her hair, the color of rich, well-aged Octurian brandy, streamed unbound in a silken wave behind her, caught upon the chill wind of her passage. Her stomach wanted to knot but she forbade it, calling upon iron control as she sought to hold firmly to that mind-touch which drew her.

More urgently now—the voice; the thought; rippling across her mind—come, swiftly, come.

Not words precisely, more like impulses of knowledge threaded through with an urgency she had never felt before, crashing over her with the power of cascading waters. She had a general direction, but no more. It drew her on with its power, its compelling urgency, this voice, this presence in her mind. She no longer feared it as she had at the very beginning when first contact had been initiated; instead she feared for it. This was not a normal contact. This was something very different with something very much more deadly underlying the summons. And there were plenty of things here in Nashira which were deadly.

The mind-touch held and Tanith increased her speed. Her chest burned inside and her extremities felt the chill of blood loss as it was diverted to her laboring heart and lungs. Hide gathering bag clenched in one fist, half-blunted digging knife in the other, she answered the anxious call—without words, but answered nonetheless.

I’m coming, coming—let me feel you—where?

She ran, direction determined by those impulses throbbing through her soul.

Her feet clad in leathers, soft wraps nearly to her knees, hardened soles pounding softly, nearly soundlessly, against pliant soil, she swept on. With the wind at her back, she ran. Blood pumped heatedly through veins and sweat misted her forehead in a fine, gathering sheen. Mind tried to take over, threatened to imagine all kinds of disasters to foster such an urgent call. Fear threatened to blossom, but, with the years of studied discipline at her beck, she deftly turned the imaginings aside and pressed on.

Suddenly the silent communication was lost. Link broken. In its place, echoed the familiar, wolfish, yips and howls of Strongheart, Littlefoot and One Eye. The three wolves, sensing her nearness, had begun vocalizing, beckoning to her, giving her more than the power of the bond to draw her on. Understanding her need better than she did herself, the sound of the haunting chorus brought the hair at the nape of her neck to attention along a rippling wave of goose-flesh.

But there was more—a texture of sight, sound and roiling impressions, mental chaos. Images, isolated, which made no sense. For a moment she was aware of fang and claw, then a man, bloodied, replaced it. Guided confusion. Order in chaos. Tanith fought to assimilate it and understand, but gave that up as futile. And helplessness was not a condition she was willing to accept.

She turned. Carried by the wind as it shifted came growls, animal screams, moist, guttural snorts and snarls—the rough bellowing of another. By the Gods and Goddesses! It was a fight she was hurling toward like a juggernaut, and she had no weapon with her save her digging knife!

She swung around the thick bole of a split-leaf tree, and nearly tripped over a body. She had no time to analyze what lay before her except to note the bloody, mangled body was most assuredly dead; that it wore, in tatters, the leathers of The People—and that other more familiar clothes lay in a balled-up heap nearby, nearly concealed by leaves.

Enemy! The alarm exploded instantly inside her head.

Enemy here!

Anxiety added to chaos. If the enemy was here—if they knew of the golden torque—if they stopped her—so much would be lost—so much. She had heard the mechanical roar of war in simulation. She had no desire to experience it first-hand.

A hideous roar of a different kind shook the ground, drove the birds from the trees and silenced, for the moment, the apprehensions clamoring in her mind. Those could be confronted later. Now she must reach the trio of wolves because whatever it was they had found to tangle with would not wait. Urgency in her mind from Strongheart.

Picking up the thread, she dove through the trees once again, noticed them thinning abruptly before she was spilled unceremoniously onto the edge of an immense clearing. Soft grasses rolled before her feet. Sunlight, painfully bright, made the green all around throb iridescently. Deep, cool shadows cast on either side by limbs intruding into sun’s space moved, and seemed almost alive.

Chest heaving, hair in a tangled mass, eyes wide, she allowed the sight to wash over her, through her, absorbing what she needed with the speed of her sense functions. Even thoughts took longer than impressions.

Legs spread to steady her balance, moccasin-clad feet planted firmly upon the ground, she gaped while the sounds of her own blood rushing filled her ears. She couldn’t help staring, but she couldn’t spare the time for it.

There, before her, Strongheart, magnificent in battle, wore his great silver ruff stiffened across massive shoulders like a cape. Head down, ears up, lips peeled back from impressive white teeth in a deadly, guttural snarl, he challenged the enraged bear for possession of his victim—a man (a rather torn-up man), caught between bear (who seemed prepared to make short shrift of him) and wolves (who undoubtedly seemed not much different than the bear to the man). Already battered and bloodied far more than any man should be and remain standing, that hardy soul stared warily from beast to beast to beast, his lips peeled back in a rictus of a man-snarl, his body half crouched in readiness, but bleeding, weakening, swaying on his feet.

Readiness—readiness for that? The bear towered over them all, standing a solid twelve feet tall if he was an inch.

The Goddess only knew what he weighed! Staring, gauging, Tanith translated all that poundage and fury into physics of force and momentum—the damage just one paw swipe could do -- and shuddered. The wolves were all crazy! She was crazy! Her eyes flicked back to the wreck of a man.

He flinched every time Littlefoot or One Eye followed the choreography of a master; entering the dance as Strongheart directed with impeccable timing. It was a stunning stand-off, for the moment. One Strongheart fully expected her to break.

In the space of a heartbeat, she watched in horrified fascination as both Littlefoot and One Eye dashed in to harass the bear. Littlefoot, less aggressive but quick and protective of the pack, moved like lightning. Sharp teeth sank momentarily into ankle or leg and then she was gone, wind rippling across her bloodstained muzzle.

One Eye, blind on one side, flew to the attack with brutal ferocity. Teeth snapping he leapt high, raked the bear’s golden pelt above the hip, turned, raced between the animal’s massive legs, and went for the hamstrings. But for all his bulk, the bear, too, was swift in retaliation. One giant, sickle-clawed paw descended to rid himself of the annoying pest. The bear missed One Eye and the wolf flowed clear, dodging the tottering man, eye fixed momentarily on Tanith before jaws snapped in final assault.

Heart in her throat, Tanith slid smoothly to one side, out of the bear’s immediate line of concentration. She gripped her dull, pitiful knife tightly, feeling the direction of the fight, sensing Strongheart’s intent as he lunged forward—deflected most of the force of the bear’s blow while One Eye dashed clear—and powerful jaws tore out a piece of bear hide in his passing.

Hammered by the impetus of One Eye’s flight, the man, badly leaking blood everywhere, fell with a disturbing finality arms pinwheeling past Littlefoot who slipped into the fray again. At first she went unnoticed. Then sharp teeth scored where intended and the ground-shaking bellow of the great bear once again rocked the earth beneath Tanith’s feet.

She felt the direction of Strongheart’s plan; knew she had to move swiftly. The delaying action thrown up by One Eye and Littlefoot could not last much longer. The bear was clearly the superior force and definitely was not willing to be turned from his goal: the man now prone on the raw turf. She was the deciding factor. She was the tie-breaker. By the Goddess she was good! But this was not the kind of fighting she had been trained for. Nonetheless, it was the kind she would do. Attention spread thin, she glanced again at the prone man.

He was not important. He was a stranger, possibly an enemy, though Strongheart was rarely wrong in his impressions of people and would not have bothered to defend an enemy. Still, her primary concern was for the wolves, her pack. Death would be swift if one of the bear’s paws connected directly. Plainly, the wolves did not intend to disengage and leave the man to the bear with the bloodied muzzle, ragged ears and fetid breath.

And she could not leave them.

She projected anger, gathered her resources, suppressed a new shudder, and thought of the things she would have to say to Strongheart once this was over and the sour sweat of fear had dried. This was not for food, nor was it for the safety of the pack, this was something else! Something beyond her meager experience of the pack. She would demand an explanation from Strongheart.

~end excerpt~

For your reading pleasure available at Amazon~ http://www.amazon.com/Stormrider-ebook/dp/B004M18PHI/ref=sr_1_9?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1373405660&sr=1-9&keywords=Stormrider

Also at Barnes & Noble for Nook http://bit.ly/TWggeS

And in the UK at http://www.amazon.co.uk/Stormrider-ebook/dp/B004M18PHI/ref=sr_1_5?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1351782771&sr=1-5

And feel free to visit my website at: http://www.PeggyBechko.com

And my blog for writers at: http://www.PeggyBechko.blogspot.com

Tweet me at:  http://twitter.com/PeggyBechko

And Facebook at: http://on.fb.me/vU1eYV

Join me at Pinterest at: http://pinterest.com/writerPeggy/

Peggy Bechko
Freelance Writer
www.PeggyBechko.com
pbechko@comcast.net

HENRY DARROW: LIGHTNING IN THE BOTTLE Wins NonFiction Grand Prize

Just before the wonderful and wonderfully successful Memphis Film Festival, word came that "Henry Darrow: Lightning in the Bottle" won LuckyCinda Publishing Global Book Award Grand Prize for NonFiction. The contest was for self-published, Indie and small press books. 

Winners got a nice bouquet of goodies like free professional marketing.

Henry, his wife Lauren and I couldn't be happier. 

We're pictured below gazing fondly at our paperback prizewinner during a rare break at the festival.

Henry, of course, leapt to superstardom back in the 1960s when he portrayed sexy vaquero "Manolito Montoya" on the  groundbreaking TV western The High Chaparral. At the Memphis Film Festival, he was reunited not only with Chaparral costars Don Collier and Rudy Ramos, but with New World Zorro star Duncan Regehr. Henry played the father of Zorro/Don Diego (played by Duncan) in that series. This was the first time the two had seen each other in several decades. Their reunion was very heartwarming.

(Photo Courtesy of Alicia Standridge)

Want more info about Henry Darrow and his biography? Check out our website for ordering infomation, reviews, excerpts and much, much more! www.henrydarrowbook.com

RED HOT RED CLOUD – ACTOR ALEX KRUZ

CelebritySpotlight Social Media Management says award-winning Native American actor Alex Kruz is one to watch. Known for his strong martial/combat arts, striking good looks and athletic ability,this hot rising star has skills and creds enough for ten men. A US Army veteran who helped locate survivors at Ground Zero following 9/11, Kruz holds a degree in anthropology and speaks several languages, including Russian, Lithuanian, French, Italian, Spanish, English with experience in German, Arabic, Mandarin, Japanese, Portuguese and Syrian, Yemen, Egyptian dialects.

Behind the camera, Kruz has worked as a writer, producer and advisor for SWAT and Special Forces teams while his onscreen appearances include top television series such as Blue Bloods, The Americans and Person of Interest. With his military training, Alex Kruz easily assumes the roles of law enforcement characters. In 2012, he starred as Native American superhero Jake Red Cloud in the award-winning short, Red Cloud: Deliverance, adapted from the Red Cloud comic book. 

From CelebritySpotlight social media management

Guest Blogger Leslie C. Halpern: PASSIONATE ABOUT WRITING, INSPIRING

Leslie C. Halpern is an entertainment journalist who has written for The Hollywood Reporter, Variety, and Markee Magazine. She authored several nonfiction books about the arts, most recently, Passionate About Their Work: 151 Celebrities, Artists and Experts on Creativity (BearManor Media, 2010.) Also a frequently published poet who performs with the Poetry Ensemble of Orlando, she wrote the book Rub, Scrub, Clean the Tub: Funny Children’s Poems About Self-Image (Cricket Cottage Publishing, 2012).  

Thank you, Leslie, for being this week's Guest Blogger.

Links:

http://www.amazon.com/Passionate-About-Their-Work-Celebrities/dp/159393548X/ref=pd_rhf_p_t_1

http://www.facebook.com/LeslieCHalpern

http://home.roadrunner.com/~lesliehalpern/

# # #

How Passionate Are You?

After interviewing hundreds of famous (and nearly famous) people for entertainment magazines, I noticed that although details about their projects varied, the underlying motives were always the same. Creative people have important stories to tell and are passionate about telling them. They will push past all kinds of financial, physical, and emotional obstacles to get these stories told, whether on paper, film, stage, canvas, or some other artistic means. They reject all forms of negativity when pursuing their individual dreams.

This unyielding determination (usually present from idea conception to product production) keeps passionate people on track when others get derailed. My book “Passionate About Their Work. 151 Celebrities, Artists, and Experts on Creativity” pays tribute to many of the people I’ve interviewed over the years who possess this passion, and takes readers on a journey through the entire creative process from beginning to end.

Passion varies according to people, projects and stages of the creative process. Take writers, for instance. How do you originate ideas or find time and motivation to begin? How can you embrace mid-project changes requiring hours of rewrites, conquer writer’s block, or take creative risks while adhering to format? What if you lack knowledge, contacts, and money to get work published or produced?

These answers are readily available. I found that true artists have a generous nature and share their advice, lessons, triumphs, and failures with others. They are not afraid of competition because the market for creativity has no limits. Most of the celebrities, artists, and experts I interviewed during more than two decades of entertainment reporting were happy to tell the story behind the story, if it could help others. This creative spirit is reflected in the quotes and anecdotes they shared with me, and in turn, my readers.

Throughout my journalism career, I have tried to stay away from CEOs, presidents, VPs, and publicists. These folks usually offer polished prose ready for publication without a shred of originality, authenticity, or vulnerability. Readers cannot benefit much from the publicity of a publicist, but can have their lives changed from the art of an artist. The quotations and anecdotes appearing in the book freely and openly offer inspiration from 151 writers, filmmakers, comedians, and others to people who may be starting their creative journeys, in mid-career struggling for a new form of artistic expression, or well-established artists who want to reinvent themselves. 

Excerpt from the book “Passionate About Their Work: 151 Celebrities, Artists, and Experts on Creativity.”

Chapter 1

Ideas and Inspirations

Everyone dreams of that one big idea that will bring fortune and fame.  But from where do great ideas originate?  As you’ll see in this chapter, our imaginations, successes, failures, personal muses, or even the trivialities of our daily existence may inspire them.  Sometimes ideas are created and developed in isolation; other times a concerted collaborative effort is needed to flesh out a winning concept.  Surprisingly, some artists may even start the creative process – and be well on their way to finishing the project – before they finally reach an “aha!” moment of clarity.  If there’s one thing creative people agree on, however, it’s that when a great idea finally grabs hold, it won’t let go.

Spotlight Insight

I get ideas by starting with the premise ‘what if?’  The beginning of a story is like a composer sitting down at the piano and trying some combinations of notes…. First you have to please yourself, and then decide whether the premise that you find stimulating will appeal to your audience.  Once the premise is acceptable, you can keep going.

Kurt Vonnegut, novelist (Slaughterhouse-Five, Breakfast of Champions, Cat’s Cradle) and graphic artist

# # #

1. Sure it’s great for my ego to get fan letters from Michael J. Fox’s kids or to have Michael Eisner keep asking to see more tricks, but that’s not really the carrot at the end of the stick.  I just keep going because I would have wanted my father to be proud of me.

Jon Armstrong, magical entertainer (Magic Castle in Hollywood, California; Caesar’s Magical Empire in Las Vegas, Nevada; Walt Disney World in Orlando, Florida)

# # #

2. Making a film is a process, and it’s all intuitive in the end.  Films start out as a faint pulse.  As they grow, they evolve and gestate and develop a strong personality.  At a certain point in the making of a film, it tells me what it needs and I become just the caretaker.

Alan Berliner, screenwriter, editor, director (Wide Awake [2006], The Sweetest Sound [2001], Nobody’s Business [1996]) and installation artist

# # #

3. Films are really the modern day equivalent of the stories we were told around firesides, and the stories that were told in caves with firelight, darkness, and shadow.  The cinema is like that dark cave that we like to go into to escape from our real selves.  Films in some way always reflect the reality of the world around us...Great films reflect the world in a deep and meaningful way.  Even bad films have a way of mirroring some kind of reality.

Gabriel Byrne, actor (The Usual Suspects [1995], Miller’s Crossing [1990], End of Days [1999]), producer, screenwriter, director (The Lark in the Clear Air [1996]), and author (Pictures in My Head)

# # #

4. Inspiration doesn’t drive me to write anymore.  When I was younger, I thought that I had to be inspired to write, and I was always looking for inspiration.  I would sit in coffee shops, stare at people, and wait for things to happen.  I don’t really know what I was looking for, or waiting for, or what was supposed to inspire me.  Now I don’t wait for inspiration.  I work hard because I want to – because I need to.  Everything that goes on around me serves as inspiration:  people, life, music, love, art.  All of these things factor into my thinking when I create.

Joseph Byrne, playwright, producer, actor (Circles, The Observer) and associate artistic director (Women For Women – 15 Monologues)

# # #

5. Our goal [in making What the #$*! Do We Know? ] was to make those words ‘quantum physics’ not so scary to people.  We wanted to take away the taboo of science and help people see what science says, what science means to them in their everyday lives, and how science and spirituality are related.  We take away the big words and leave the audience with ideas.

Betsy Chasse, co-producer, co-director (What the Bleep!?: Down the Rabbit Hole [2006], What the #$*! Do We Know? [2004])

# # #

GREAT PR, GREAT REVIEWS

Marvelous interview with Henry Darrow on HENRY'S WESTERN ROUND-UP January 13, 2013 "The Man Who Is Manolito"
http://www.henryswesternroundup.blogspot.com/2013/01/the-man-who-is-manolito.html

Meanwhile, on Amazon.com, HENRY DARROW: LIGHTNING IN THE BOTTLE, the biography of the endearing, enduring ALMA and Emmy-winnying actor garners more 5-star reviews:

"An engaging and candid account..." (Sylvia Koontz)

"...captivating and funny..." (Linda, Reno, Nevada)

"...you will fall in love..." (Tobi)

"...I literally could NOT put the book down." (Kimberly Flores)

"I loved this book!" (Mariquita Mariposa)

"LIGHTNING IN THE BOTTLE is a magnificent work of art!" (Sandra L. Marshall)

"...an insightful book, full of wonderful stories..." (Pat Melody)

HENRY DARROW: LIGHTNING IN THE BOTTLE WAS CHOSEN BY WILD WEST NEWS AS BEST BOOK 2012

Guest Author: LORRIE STRUIFF

Enthusiastic, upbeat and versatile, that's author LORRIE STRUIFF. Lorrie is generously giving her time and insight as my first guest author, so this entry is All About Lorrie - coping with life as a writer, advice to newbie authors and info about her recent work, the "paranormal thriller/chiller" Gypsy Blood. Thanks for being my guest, Lorrie. 
And to our readers - Enjoy!

Hi Jan,

What a great blog. Thank you so much for inviting me today. I want to tell the readers and authors how panicked I was when I first started to learn about the art of writing.

Letting Go of the Guilt

New writers usually heed the advice they read on famous author blogs or in the “How to” books they read. When I was once a newbie I did the same. One piece of advice I had practiced religiously was to “write every day.”

I learned to discipline myself no matter the garbage that flowed from my fingertips. After all, some of that garbage may be useful at another time—or so the books said. Plus, I would not allow that blank page to daunt me. I told myself, “Just spew on the screen, gal. There is no such thing as writer’s block, and something will click in your brain even if you fill up the pages with nonsense. It’s the routine that matters, and who knows, you may get a usable paragraph or sentence worth keeping.”

So, I carried my computer on family vacations and such, and once to the hospital while spending long days with a recuperating family member.

If I missed a day, oh my, the guilt overwhelmed me. I’m a writer for gosh sakes, I had to write every day. The guilt of missing a day due to real life only added to the self-inflicted pressure.

Guilt feeds on itself and makes the blank page look even blanker, if that’s possible. When I started filling pages with my grocery list, or my weekly to do errands—I realized I was losing it. That’s when I finally smartened up.

I gave myself permission not to have to write every day. I told myself, “You’re indulging in your lifetime passion and this is supposed to be fun.”

It took a while to believe myself, but it finally sank in. I write now when I’m in the mood or I have a brilliant idea for a plot line, or a great character who wants to tell his/her story.

Winnie wanted desperately to tell her story about the COD club. How her near-death experience gave her the ability to speak to the dead.

Johnny May needed to tell readers what happened at the Valentine massacre in Chicago when Capone’s gang wiped them out.

 If I’m writing an exciting scene, I can’t wait to finish and find out what my characters are going to do next. Or when I’m so caught up in the story, like “Gypsy Blood,” I want to get it all down on the pages. Gypsy customs and lore had me so enthralled I couldn’t wait to share it with the readers.

In the meantime, I’ve learned to enjoy my family more, take the real life interruptions as they come, and even take time to smell the roses. My stories are much better for my permission to take time off, and the guilt, the pressure is finally gone. I can once again truly enjoy my passion.   

~ Blurb from Gypsy Blood ~

Everyone has secrets.

Homicide Detective Rita Moldova has a secret, a crystal amulet from her Roma bloodline that shows her the last image a victim had seen before they died. Now, a ritual killer is terrorizing her town and the crystal’s magic has suddenly stopped.

 FBI agent Matt Boulet is sent to lead the task force and gives the group strange orders. Worse, Rita senses he is holding back a deep dark secret about the killer.

When she confronts her seer mother’s advice, she learns another secret about their clan that she finds impossible to swallow.

Rita swims through a whirlpool of confusion as the investigation continues. Can Rita deny the lore of the ancients? Can she deny her growing feelings for Matt Boulet?

(Excerpt)

The units arrived and sealed the crime scene.

Matt walked to her. “It’s a wash for tonight, let’s call in our troops. All the uniforms on the scene will keep our man away.” He took her hand. “Damn, your fingers are like ice.” He grabbed both her hands and rubbed them between his, the friction warming more than her fingers. “It’s late. Let me take you back to your car at the station. You look wiped.”

She let her shoulders slump. “Yeah, it’s been a long day.”

The SUV’s seat cushioned her sore muscles. Rita let her head fall back on the warm headrest with a deep sense of relief and closed her eyes. Matt turned up the heat, and delicious warmth flowed over her legs. A whisper of breath brushed her cheek, a hand slid over her waist. Her eyes flew open.

He laughed. “I’m just putting your seatbelt on. Don’t panic.”

Rita inhaled deeply and caught the faint scent of spice, pine, and man. His nearness tempted her to lay her head on his broad shoulder, cuddle, and sleep.  

The grin he flashed…well, for a moment she could have sworn he had read her thoughts. She sighed with frustration.

They pulled up to the station and he walked her to the Rover. “Lock your car doors. You’re still dressed like you’re ready for action.”

The chilly car seat sent gooseflesh up the back of her thighs. With the door open, she quickly turned the key and hit the heater. When she glanced back up at him, she found his eyes devouring her from the top of her blonde wig, down her legs, then back to rest where the hem of her skirt barely covered her bikini panties. She cocked her head. “What?”

Matt shook his head, took a deep breath, and groaned.

Her gaze strayed to the noticeable bulge in his jeans. She lifted her eyes to meet his. That sinful smile surfaced on his lips again.

“Watch your legs.” He shut the Rover’s door and walked back to his SUV.

*****

For your reading pleasure of my paranormal/romance/thriller-chiller/action/mystery, here is the buy site.

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I want to wish all of you a great New Year. May all your hopes come true in 2013.

Lorrie