Perfect Tunes ;)

...have you ever listened to a song and thought, "Wow, could I ever hammer out the perfect scene with that tune drumming in the background!"  

That's what this righteous jam does for me.

I listen to the beat, like a countdown to "The Fall's" unveiling, and think, "Yep, it's comin'.  It's comin'..." 

Enjoy ;)

El

Buckling Down...

The Fall...

...stepping onto a band of light at the threshold of the bathroom, Johnny craned forward, spotted the man from the driveway leaning into the tub.  Followed the man's gaze and found Jessica crumpled into a shivering ball of arms and legs, a damp towel shielding her body.

He released a gasp, hesitating at the entrance a moment too long.  She caught sight of his shadow, followed it to the source, her expression running a gamut of emotion, from shock, to relief, to horror, as Johnny managed a blink of his eyes.

And as he stood there, little more than an arm's length from his girlfriend's father, Johnny thought, okay Jessie, I'll do this for you.

He said, "Jessie."

Her father turned with a start, offered a grunt, eyes widening.  A set of chafed lips opened, an expression that Johnny recognized as fear, passing over the man's face.  There and gone in an instant, as if carried on an ocean's breeze.

Then he lowered his brow.  Grizzled cheeks gathered around a clenched jaw.  Burly fingers, stained the color of rust, closed to form a pair of clubs, wavering upon the end of each arm.  And from his mouth came a warning, painfully gargled as if some of the rust from his hand had somehow made it to the lining of his throat.  "Get outta my house."

Johnny managed to find his voice, said, "Jessie, it's gonna be okay."

Bracing one hand on the bathroom wall to steady himself, the other remaining closed to a fist, Jessica's father lifted a boot toward the hall.

Johnny stepped across the threshold, hastening a glance at his girlfriend, still huddled upon the floor of the tub.  Her knees were pulled up to her chest, a pair of trembling arms embracing them.  Their eyes met, and a word formed on Johnny's lips.

"Run."


Just a teaser...a little something to think about as we approach this week's mid-section ;)

Thanks for reading.

El 

...The Month That Was

...and so here's where I've been these past few weeks.

Saturday the 1st...

My wife and I were enjoying a quiet evening on the couch, taking advantage of our children's decision to join some friends at the local park, catching up on past episodes of Storage Wars.  Other than sharing an occasional giggle at the antics of Dave Hester and Daryl Sheets, we spoke little.

We were granted nearly an hour before the creak of our screen door and a yip from our lab, allowed us a moment to prepare for the kids return.  

I continued watching the final seconds of an episode where Barry Weiss spent a week's salary on a storage locker full of Good Will items from 1985, when a shadow the size of a small cumulus cloud spread across the ceiling.  I felt my wife's grip tighten around my wrist.  I turned with a start to find not only my teenage son, but three of his high school buddies from the football team, standing at the entrance of our living room, wearing only their underwear.  

Two pairs of Hanes briefs, one set of loose-fitting boxers, and an embarrassing pair of whitey-tighties that would've been snug for my ten year old daughter.

They stood in a single file row, failing to make eye contact, three out of four blushing from the neck up.

A moment later my younger son bounded into the room, fully clothed, cradling his basketball, offering a grin that would've made The Joker envious.

"Okay, so...what did we miss?" my wife asked.

I considered the ball in my twelve year old's hands, read the expression on his face, and offered a guess.

"Lose a bet to your little brother?" I asked the scantily clad teens.

I was granted a nod, then turned to my younger son, The Hoopster.

"So how far was the shot?"

He answered in a burst.  "Half court!  They said if I made it, they'd walk home in their skivvies...I nailed it on the first try!"

"You boys walked home...like that?" my wife asked, shoulders trembling with laughter.

A collective nod.

"And guess what, Dad!" Young Hoopster added.  "A bunch of girls drove by!"


...a week later, I sat in front of my rough draft of "The Fall,"  glaring at words on a screen, when a thought caused me to open a second tab for my email.  In minutes I drummed out a short letter to fellow writer Anne Gallagher, The Piedmont Writer, (here's her blog,  http://piedmontwriter.blogspot.com/, and here's her book, http://www.amazon.com/Remembering-You-a-novel-ebook/dp/B0083IDAU8 , it's good, check it out ;) asking her where she continues to find those beautiful covers for her stories.  

Being the pal she is, she offered her assistance, and within days, working alongside my son, (now fully clothed,) we found the perfect cover shot for my upcoming shorty.  

Anne, a weight's been lifted.  I can't thank you enough ;)


It was last week, while sitting behind my desk at the dayjob, when a call came in from home.  I glanced at the time, considered what day of the week it was, and thought, "She's calling about another kid."  

(My wife and I are foster parents.)

I released a sigh, lifted the phone from it's receiver.  

"Hi Hon."

Nothing.  I recognized her breathing, short stressful huffs, as if fighting to catch her breath.  

I waited a moment longer, then asked, "Okay, who is it?"

"He's only four days old."

"What?  Four days?  A boy?"

"Yes...and yes."

"What's wrong with him?"

"He's losing too much weight.  His birth mom...well, so anyway, he's just a baby."

"Yeah, I figured that much."

"Well, what do you think?"

I grinned at my hulking computer monitor, a spread sheet I'd been working on for three days, due the day prior, not worth the ink it would soon be printed on, thinking how life can change on a dime.  One day your laughing at your teenage son's rotten luck, and the next...

"What do I think?  I think you already said yes, and that little boy's on his way to the house this very minute..."


In two weeks under my wife's care, the newest member of our family saw his weight match, then surpass his birth weight, receiving an avid thumbs up from our doctor.  He's well on his way...

So that was my month, how was yours?  

El ;)

...A Smashing Debut

With regard to ESPN lingo, I hope to be politically correct when describing my son's 2012 high school football debut at tailback by stating the following...

"Boy Wonder toted the rock for a buck-thirty-four this past weekend, including a thirty yard dance to Pay-Dirt, while dragging two defenders on his shirt tail."

(Needless to say, I took the day off from editing "The Fall," to watch my son tear up some sod on the gridiron.  He made the most of it.)

...catch him if you can ;)

El 

...Southern Hospitality ;)

...perched conveniently off the curb along Highway 174, and only a mile or two inland, boasts the only literary hot spot on the entire Island of Edisto.  

"The Edisto Bookstore" 

http://www.edistobookstore.com/

We were scooting along under a row of shaded elms, their branches groping overhead, forming a canopy of branches and moss, when the store's neon magenta sign lured us into a parking spot.

Upon staggering into air conditioning from an outside world suffering in drought, we were greeted by the owner, whose first impression appeared more than fitting for the role of one's typical high school librarian, or in this case, proprietor of one's book-cluttered establishment.

She offered my younger kids a grimace, then, as politely as she could muster, ushered them toward the back room where a children's play area awaited.  My son reacted with a scowl, yearning to stay and browse in the adult section, but I nudged him forward, whispering into his ear that our visit would be short.

That matter settled, my wife and I parted ways, scanning the shelves in search of whatever chose to catch our eye. 

Highlighted on display was a collection of work from the Low Country's local writers, the majority of covers splayed in beach scenes.

Then I spotted one I recognized, and a thought, far too ornery to pass up, led me to action.

"South of Broad," I said aloud, my forefinger running along the glistening hardback.  

The fifty-something shop owner glanced up from her Toshiba lap top, resting upon the counter, then back, mumbling something to the effect of, "hmmph."

I wasn't deterred.  "Say, you wouldn't happen to have a copy of, "South of Charm," by any chance?"

"South of what?  Broad?  Why...your finger's restin' on it."

"Not Broad.  Although Conroy did a marvelous job with it.  Charm.  'South of Charm,' by Elliot Grace."

At this, a giggle caused her lips to part before a wiry hand could wipe it away.  "I'm sorry, it's just that, my cat's name is Emily Grace.  For a moment there, I pictured her in front of my computer, paws just tapping away."  

I lowered my brow, watching her shoulders rise and fall with a second bout of muffled laughter.  Then mumbled, "Well, we're a large family, so who knows.  Anyway, it's written by a writer from Ohio...Elliot Grace.  South of Charm.  It was released about a year ago."

"Never heard of it.  And we pretty much only stock the best sellers and some local flare.  Nothin' else would do very well, I'm afraid."

"Oh yeah? Well..."

I felt an elbow in my side, turned to my wife, who'd caught the tail end of our conversation.  "Stop playing games with the lady.  We're on vacation."

I huffed, then grew quiet, carousing the "Best Sellers!" shelf.  

A minute later, I spotted one I recognized, yanked it from its home, flipped to page 2 out of memory, and read aloud the grim paragraph that I knew would still be there.

"I pulled back too hard on the wheel, which sent me once again towards the guardrail.  The cables snapped and flew everywhere at once, like the thrashing tentacles of a harpooned octopus.  One cracked the windshield and I remember thinking how glad I was that it hadn't hit me as the car fell through the arms of the convulsing brute..."

I stopped reading, looked up at the whimsical librarian, whose grin had faded with the mood. A moment passed before she lifted both palms in defeat.  "Well...it sold over a hundred thousand copies."

"Yes," I agreed.  "Life indeed throws us turnips at times...or something like that."

My wife claimed a couple of books for the long ride home.  I decided to leave empty-handed. We paid, offered our good-bye's, and were about to leave when the shop owner held us up.

"What did say that book was called again?"

"South of Charm.  Elliot Grace."

"Well, maybe I'll give it a look-see.  And who knows?"

I couldn't help but grin.  "Tell ya what...I'll run out to the van and sign a copy for you..."

Yeah...we're back, safe and sound ;)

El

Headin' South!

...so is that circling seagull up there preparing for launch, or is he just happy to see me?


The family's headin' south!  


I'll be signing a few books in Charleston, dropping by an auction or two that caught my eye, adding a few touches to "The Fall," and most importantly...some R & R on the beach with my lady and the kids ;)


Anyone up for some laughs?  Hit the link below for a highlight from our last southern excursion...the day we ran into Captain America on Siesta Key.


See ya in August!

http://elliot-grace.blogspot.com/2010/03/captain-america.html

El

...just a little Summer Charm ;)

"...it had been a day or two since watching the fireworks fill the night sky with spider webs the color of a rainbow over Walnut Creek Park.  Later, I swore I could still hear the cannon blasts, like distant gunfire from across the county.


I was nine years old, enjoying summer break, sweating through a July heat wave.  Humidity in the shape of a giant mushroom cloud, hovering over the state of Ohio.  Its intensity was enough to make our cat pant like a dog and scurry for shade by ten a.m.  


I'd sneak up on him, a lazy orange tabby, its fur twisted and matted together from a territorial dispute with the neighboring tom, and blast him with the garden hose.  He'd spring into the air, his back arched, a guttural screech causing every nearby sparrow to flutter about in graceless circles, and stumble for the bordering maples in the distance.  


Then I'd giggle to myself as he'd stop, just out of firing range, and offer me a grimace from across the yard as if to say, "Between you and me, that hit the spot..."




"South of Charm"


http://www.amazon.com/South-Charm-A-Novel-ebook/dp/B005DJ945A/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_t_2


...enjoy the summer ;)

El