The Big Ticket...

...alas, basketball playoffs are upon us, rendering my time limited at best. On a positive note, however, the longer my absence, may in fact represent my young team's successful tourney run ;) After all, we're a feisty bunch!

Just a quick reminder that we are but a few short hours from the anticipated ticket release of The Hunger Games, the theatrical version.

Having devoured all three novels quite some time ago, I'm cautiously optimistic that Hollywood can pull off a success. And yes, like a feverish teen riding the vibes of a high school crush, I've agreed to accompany the kids and wife on opening night.

Therefore, in honor of Suzanne Collins's big night, I've attached a link to "Katnissss..." a short story I penned some time ago involving the young huntress from The Games, and a pair of "pale-skins" from the Pacific Northwest by the names of Bella and Edward, (perhaps you've heard of them ;)

Having read the Twilight series as well, a fair amount of time was sacrificed playing around with a simple thought, "so what would happen if those vamps were to be on the hunt one day and find themselves within aim of an Everdeen arrow?

When released, this one ran amuck on Facebook for about a month, give or take, and remains one of the funner stories I've hammered out in recent memory.

Enjoy ;)

http://elliot-grace.blogspot.com/2010/01/katnisssss.html

El

Game Day

...this is so cool.

Saturday afternoon. On the road. Game day.

Despite the sun's distant grin, the recent freeze has resulted in an ice-packed layer of crust holding firm to our corner of the world. But the roads are clear, the traffic steady, the car's heater keeping the frost at bay.

Aside from the purr of tires, the world has offered us a moment of peace.

Glancing into the rear view mirror, I spot my son in the back seat, head tilted, eyes focused on the passing scenery. But yet, not really.

His gaze seems to follow a row of naked elms as we cruise by, but if I were to ask him which one stood the tallest, he could offer me no more than a shrug. For while his eyes are aimed at the snow-covered landscape, his thoughts rest elsewhere.

Afterall, its game day.

I continue to watch him, an eleven year old now, a dusty blond, still wiry as a twig, but gifted with a burst that can't be taught. A set of thin fingers drum upon his thigh, as if feigning the play of an imaginary instrument. And if studied closely, one may catch the movement of his lips...thinking through the plays, the various scenarios he will surely face in less than an hour, when he steps onto the court.

I study his focus, the flush of his cheeks, and smile to the passing traffic, remembering my days in the game, so long ago.

The intensity of game day, of sweaty palms and twitching muscles. Pent up excitement, and those bursts of adrenaline. The magical sound of a leather ball slipping unscathed through an iron hoop. Swish!

Such fun that was, those days of competition. And yet, more than two decades later, the real fun is about to begin...

We pull into the parking lot. The engine settles to a hum. I twist around in my seat. "It's time, Son. You ready?"

A pair of eyes, green like the sea, lift their gaze from the pair of scuffed Reebok's on the floor, and offer me a twinkle.

"Let's do this."

El ;)

...Playing Field

...in a few short days, the world as we know it will come to a grinding halt. Ever-present worries and tedious affairs being cast aside for an evening, as a multitude of countless observers lay siege to family rooms and man caves spanning the globe, all channels tuned to Super Bowl Sunday.

We set our ovens ablaze with pizza and bowls of festering chili. We stuff our faces, share some laughs, and cheer on as two rival combatants partake in good-natured bloodshed.

For they are the final two, dueling for the right to be the last man standing. They've accomplished what their opposition stumbled upon...survival. And regardless of Sunday evening's eventual victor, both teams have experienced that feeling of confidence. Of falling into a groove.

As writers, it's an experience worth treasuring. When every word is perfect, the diaglogue as natural as a conversation on a street corner, a performance worthy of tears.

I've read of storytellers being unable to remember penning a particular scene, their minds too engrossed in the drama being played out to focus on words spattering across the monitor. Throbbing fingers hammering on keys, where only the seizing of cramps can slow one's pace. Where days grow somber, and the hours pass to a sun's rise before one ponders as to wherever the night has gone.

For only then will we make it onto that playing field. Where the likes of Gaiman and King, Sandford and Clark, come out to play. To wine and dance. Speaking of such tales as "Neverwhere," and "Salem's Lot." Of "Horns," "Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell," and "The Story of Edgar Sawtelle," whispering of secrets that only those on the playing field have earned the right to hear.

Perhaps over time we'll get there. Perhaps not. I've heard them say however, those who've been there, whose creations have been deemed worthy, that we'll know it when it happens. When the story's ebb and flow is reminiscent of life itself, one built of extraordinary circumstance.

And when asked how to get there, how to reach that point of literary supremacy, the great ones, they all shrug and say, "Just keep writing."

Enjoy the game!

El

Updates & Excerpts...

...some shameful acts can be rectified. Others, well...

Sad but true, Gaiman's "American Gods," a modern day classic soon to be entering into adulthood, has yet to find itself upon my bedside table. This admittance coming from a nurtured bookworm who nearly lost his day job over getting caught with one's face buried in a novel while on the clock. (More than once ;)

Not sure how this story has been playing hard to get for the past decade, but the game of cat & mouse is nearing closure. Over the past weekend, while carousing the shelves at the local indie, I inched up behind my wife, who'd spotted "Gods" on a display rack, and was reading its back cover blurb.

I blew softly into her ear, caused her to twirl about in alarm, and gained possession of the softback moments before accepting a punch on the shoulder.

"You scared the living...!"

"Sorry," I whispered, "But I call dibs on the Gaiman book."

"Yeah, whatever."

I bought her lunch, and all's well.

In the meantime, check out Gaiman's latest blog post, describing a day that began with a missing laptop, but ended with a new IPad...

http://journal.neilgaiman.com/2012/01/edgar-and-ill-wind.html

Since dropping in price, "South of Charm" has experienced a rebirth of sorts. In a week's time it scaled Amazon's infamous rankings as if still a feisty pup, settling in nicely at the fifty thousand mark. It stuck for a day or two, then began the inevitable journey back down... Nonetheless, it made for some interesting conversation at the dinner table.

If in dire straits for a decent read, (perhaps not Gaiman worthy, but I'm getting there,) "South of Charm" is now available for $2.99 on Kindle.

http://www.amazon.com/South-Charm-Novel-ebook/dp/B005DJ945A/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2

For anyone hinging...check out fellow writer and dear friend, Olivia J. Herrell's interview we shared a few months ago, along with her take on my first novel. She's a sweetheart...

http://thatrebelwithablog.blogspot.com/2011/10/south-of-charm-author-elliot-grace.html

As for an excerpt I promised a short time ago, a paragraph or two from "The Fall," that novella near and dear to my heart, I apologize in advance for the shortened cliffhanger...

"The Fall"

...despite the sun's departure under a skyline smeared in copper, the temperature remained ablaze. Johnny could see the heat radiating from the cobbled sidewalk. Transparent tentacles rising with the breeze, reaching toward him, trying to slow his pace.

Johnny however, was no stranger to the intense heat of the south. Nor was he unfamiliar to running the historical streets of Charleston. He'd done it once before. Pushing through an ocean's salty breath during the witch's hour. The rustling of palm fronds towering overhead, like distant applause, urging him onward. A night he'd never forget. No matter how hard he tried...

This story is my son's favorite...me hopes you like as well ;)

Thanks for reading,

El

...thinking out loud

...the local weatherman has forewarned us cringing locals of an Alberta Clipper looming upon the threshold of our upcoming weekend. Rain turning to snow by sunrise. One to four inches expected by tip-off of tomorrow's varsity game.

All dapper in his recently dry-cleaned, charcoal three piece, (most likely a sale item from The Burlington Coat Factory,) the smug expression on his otherwise unblemished mugshot led me to believe that he was relishing the moment, five minutes of negative airtime.

Quite the creeper, that fella...

Just a few thoughts and updates as the evening precipitation begins freezing to the window pane...damn that weatherguy!

The younger of Stephen King's offspring, and bestselling novelist, Joe Hill has published several photos of his private den, the spot where he's created such memorable chart-busters as, "Heart-Shaped Box," and one of my all-time faves, "Horns," on his personal blog. Check it out below...

http://writeplacewritetime.tumblr.com/post/13159015406/joe-hill

...a special message to the contest winners from my autumn blog tour, I've been informed that your books have been sent. Enjoy ;)

...the other day, fellow blogger/writer, and dear friend, Roland Yeomans, from "Writing in the Crosshairs," has been honored with a book review of perhaps his most famous creation, "Victor Standish," from Braine at Talk Supe. It's a must read...

http://talksupe.blogspot.com/2012/01/legend-of-victor-standish.html

...and for those who've yet to experience Roland's work, my advice is to remove one's self from under that boulder, and whisk on over promptly!

...from the home front, I've recently been informed that one of the young men on my youth basketball team has been diagnosed with a brain tumor. While tests have revealed its leering presence as merely a benign menace at this point, it's nonetheless a troubling development for a single mother struggling to make ends meet, and her energetic 5th grade son, Michael. One encouraging thought, he's been cleared to play out the remainder of the season, and will be in my starting lineup for this weekend's games. After all, that boy's a rebounding machine. And as I write this post, the community is coming together...

...if all goes as planned, my next post will be accompanied with an excerpt from "The Fall," a novella that I hope to complete prior to the Mayan's Doomsday Revelation. Confounding deadlines...

In the meantime, hop on over to Amazon, where "South of Charm" is now available on Kindle for $2.99

http://www.amazon.com/South-Charm-Novel-ebook/dp/B005DJ945A/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_t_1

...the plummeting rain in the driveway has since turned white...damn that cursed weatherguy!

Thanks for reading ;)

El

A New Year's Day Give-a-Way

...two years ago on this very day, I found myself posting, not so much a New Year's Resolution, but rather, a determined rant of literary blotter, announcing to one and all that on this year, 2010, the final draft of my story, "South of Charm," would be completed.

...last year on this day, amid the dizzying cloud of a hangover, I tripped and stumbled through a post that boldly declared how "Charm" would be available for purchase at some point in 2011.

...now on this day, the first of 2012, as the ghosts of our Mayan ancestry eagerly await our demise, I'll lighten things up a bit with an announcement or two, and yes, one hopeful prediction for what may be our last hurrah on this planet. (Just between us, I don't think those Mayans know as much as they think they do ;)

...in an attempt at beginning a new year with a fresh outlook on all things written and read, upon my request, the Kindle version of "South of Charm" has been lowered in price, and is now listed at a very compatible $2.99!

http://www.amazon.com/South-Charm-Novel-ebook/dp/B005DJ945A/ref=pd_rhf_ee_p_t_1

Next up...I simply can't think of a better way to start off 2012, than with a New Year's Day Give-a-Way. Just to remind a few, back in October I journeyed the faraway reaches of Blogland, touting the new release. Upon my return, I found myself in sick bay for nearly a month, battling a series of respiratory infections that could have downed a feisty colt. I lived to write another day, but failed to announce the winners of my signed copy give-a-way.

The following names were drawn by The Girl, a youthful teen currently piecing her life back together following a childhood that I wouldn't wish upon my fiercest rival. Fellow bloggers/writers who, despite their own grumbling deadlines, managed to keep tabs on my journey, leaving comments at nearly every stop along the way, and thus, entering themselves into my contest.

1. The Golden Eagle

http://thegoldeneaglesblog.blogspot.com/

2. Sarah Pearson

http://emptywhitepages.blogspot.com/

3. Alex J. Cavanaugh

http://alexjcavanaugh.blogspot.com/

4. Carolyn V.

http://paperandparchment.blogspot.com/

5. Cynthia Lee

http://girlinaprettyhowtown.blogspot.com/

To the winners, signed copies of "South of Charm" will find their way to your mailbox in the next couple of weeks. Congratulations, and thanks so much for supporting the book tour!

...lastly, as promised earlier, what's a New Year's Day post without a boastful resolution? Something to strive for. Yet another goal to dream of while under the stars.

If all goes according to plan, "South of Charm" will have some company on its Amazon title page in 2012.

"The Fall," a story that once began as a shorty, and has since grown a healthy mid-section, will hopefully debut as a Kindle novella in the coming months.

Of all the stories I've written over the years, this one is my son's favorite of the bunch, and will be dedicated to him, accordingly.

...the 'kraut's throwing a hissy from the stove top, my friends. I believe it's time to join in on the festivities ;)

Be safe and enjoy your day,

El

...Out Like a Lion

...some battles are not waged on neutral ground, with dueling foes of equal strength. Yet others, well...

A simple chest cold suffered just prior to Turkey Day, nearly a month ago, took root in my lungs, grappling on with an iron clasp, and refusing to let go. A ten day standoff left this writer gasping for the simple things in life, like inhaling a breath without choking on phlegm.

The infection led to a bout with the flu. The fun kind, with a raging fever, only to be shaken minutes later with a set of chills causing my molars to chatter as if adding percussion to an orchestra. And with seven kids under our roof, the plague spread on fleeting wings.

...but the best was yet to come.

Just when normalcy fluttered in the distance, a home visit for our three foster siblings, was repaid ten fold in the form of a nasty bout with head lice.

The younger boy unknowingly brought it from home, where this particularly vulgar infestation found our cozy and clean environment full of youngsters, as the perfect place to set up shop and a stay awhile.

...and that they did.

We figured it out the hard way. During bath time, while drying the little girl's hair, my wife thought she'd spotted something moving about in her curls, but wasn't sure. I joined in the search...and it didn't take long.

We were new to this battle, neither of us having ever dealt with an infestation of this variety before. When it was all said and done, every kid under our roof had been infected, including our own. I had to restrain my teenage son, who'd offered death threats to the little ones, indirectly at fault. Their parents of course denied our claim, then later refuted, coming clean on the matter entirely. The louse eggs weren't spread on purpose, but simply a case of a germ-infested dwelling, and what happens when cleaning products go untouched far too long.

The little ones will not be returning home for quite some time.

The infestation took weeks to conquer. One thought to consider...a single louse egg, roughly the size of the head of a pin, can produce an army of bugs totaling in the millions. For anyone who's yet experience the nightmare, consider yourselves among the most fortunate. I wouldn't wish this past month on my worst enemy.

In any sense, for those who've sent emails and comments inquiring as to my whereabouts, thanks so much for your thoughts. I took each and every word to heart.

And best of all...the other day, finding myself at long last with some quiet time, I clutched my laptop to my side, eased downstairs where only the dog knew of my presence, and began work on, "The Fellas." Like a salty breath of air on a Sunday morning along Siesta Key, the moment nearly produced a tear.

2011 has left us limping, but recovering, and gaining strength.

Thanks for reading, and yes, I'm back ;)

El