Printed Words

Mystery Readers and Working Writers Newsletter

2012-01-14T11:53:00.000-08:00

We have some significant changes to my newsletter Mystery Readers and Working Writers - the addition of 12 new columnists - some will be occasional columnists - some regular...Our 11 year old New Voices columnist will post regularly as well.

Expect new content, new authors to enjoy and much more as we move into the 2012 year. Our first issue will be delivered January 26. If you haven't signed up you can go to www.billiewilliams.com and sign up for the Mystery Readers and Working Writers Newsletter top right corner of the website page.

I hope you will enjoy the reading - and tips from the writers as well. We enjoy comments so make sure you do that too - and tell us what you'd like to see more of in the future newsletters.

While we are at it I have a new contract as well - My Brothers Keeper a mystery suspense will be released in April of 2012. I'll give you a sneak peak of the cover here.

Hope to hear from you soon

Billie

Territorial - Responsibility - Secrets

2011-12-30T11:43:00.000-08:00


The goddess Ebony misses her beads will they be returned before its too late?

We are, by nature, territorial. Our living space depends on our status which depends on our country, state, town and even the environmental conditions such as weather.

As I watched the bird feeder stations outside my panoramic kitchen window I observed the territorial activity of the early morning feeders, creatures of nature, free from rules--or are they?

A gray squirrel seemed almost frightened about the rabbit while both were engaged in eating the sunflower seeds the birds had pushed out of the other feeders. A huge black crow sauntered down the road bed sorting through and feeding on pedestrian-tossed leftovers. I use the term pedestrians loosely—the walker, jogger, bicyclist and various modes of propelled vehicular transportation populated by humans who, with careless disregard for the rights of others, tossed whatever half-eaten, half-drunk morsels or super sized portions they no longer needed or wanted.

We have no street cleaners in this small-town, rural community so it is left until home owner/me or the crows, mice, voles, ground squirrels and/or an array of other scavengers see fit to take off with it or dispose of it. I go from enjoying view to my ruffled feathers over other people's lack of concern, or is it responsibility, for my territory – my space.

Whether it's setting as the background for a fictional story or our own reality we have certain expectations about setting and the things that influence those conditions.

There are countries where you are not allowed to own the land.

When Native American's were first encountered in America, the concept of owning land was against their beliefs. Some cultures still adhere to that belief. That doesn't give anyone license to use the land and resources irresponsibly. Quite the opposite. It means everyone is responsible for every last inch of space the Universe encompasses, from land to water, and the air one breathes. Isn't that a better way to look at our territorial rights?

Could you build a story around a setting with this mind set? Where universal ownership results in a new kind of manifest destiny—a shared pride in and code of ethics for survival and well being of all?

Of course, there are still territorial issues. Some people are very uncomfortable when another invades their space, their territory, with in-your-face closeness. We are still territorial as are the creatures in nature.

Check out this book it talks of territorial rights in a different way-- anywhere you buy your books even Amazon Kindle HERE

The First Rule of Creativity

2011-12-27T11:50:00.000-08:00

Amazon Buy Link

The first rule according to Kurt Vonnegut is Do not use the semicolon. He adds this reason, "...they are transvestite hermaphrodites representing absolutely nothing. All they do is show you've been to college."
In case you don't know what hermaphrodites are - according to the Oxford English Dictionary they are representing themselves as Male and Female - so as with Vonnegut's quote they are nothing - even while they seem to be everything.

The rule of thumb is if MS Word puts in a semicolon rework your writing into shorter sentences--single idea, single topic, simple sentence. Which is always much more affective than a complex multidimensional sentence. Noun + action is the preferred concept.

So spare the semicolon and raise good sentences.
Do you agree with Mr. Vonnegut?

Spice It Up, Creativity From The Kitchen - Spice Up Your Writing, Write to Entice

2011-12-19T11:14:00.000-08:00

Order Your Copy Today

Instructor: Billie Williams. There's nothing worse than bland-as-oatmeal writing that doesn't evoke passion, laughter, anger, love…some kind of emotion from your reader. Story tellers who don't elicit emotion won't gain an avid readership. It's that simple.

If you've struggled, wondering how you can get your writing to sparkle like a new penny, or a just cleaned window, learn to see everything as a metaphor for your writing. Start by looking in your spice cabinet, or your herb garden with a fresh perspective.

Garlic, Life Saving but distancing

Easier to write from this perspective but it puts your reader at arm's length--remember readers want to feel, experience, get to be friends with your main character so they can help him/her escape the villains wrath.

Sage, Advice
Sage has several meanings from wise advice to healing properties - what does sage mean to your story? We'll explore.

Basil, The flavor of language, dialect, cultures
Ah Basil - language - should you use dialect in your dialogue? How do you show culture if not through language?

Lavender, Relax feel the flow--in sync [Chat here with a book giveaway as well as a book giveaway at the end]In the flow, relax, meditate let things go where they may--don't lose site of the big picture but let your writing flow with a rhythm and cadence only you can create. Here's how.

Mace, Caustic, self defense, breaking the rules

An irritant chemical, a heavy club with a metal head and spikes - what could these possibly have to do with writing you ask..follow me--it's all about rules.

All Spice, Apple pie or American Graffiti

All Spice is for cookies and more from on genre to another all spice imparts its unique twist, it's unique flavor to your manuscript--your voice. We'll explore more.

Appendix: Handouts, "How to Hook A Reader", "Beginnings to the Work Day By the Masters"

WHEN: Jan 2, 2012 - Feb 19, 2012

COST: $15 for Premium Members

$25 for Basic Members

Cancellation policy: Registrations are non-refundable except when the workshop is cancelled by Savvy Authors.

REGISTRATION: Click Here to Register (Members will not receive member rate unless logged in.)

Mystery or Horror? Bram Stoker's Dracula

2011-12-14T09:20:00.000-08:00

Dracula, by Bram Stoker was first published in 1897 when he was 50 years
old. He died in 1912 at the age of 65 (according to onlineliterature.com .

While reading Dracula, I decided it is a good mystery.

What qualifies it as a mystery? Every genre has the potential to be included in the mystery genre. To qualify as a mystery the story needs certain considerations: A crime, a secret, a detective, suspense and an orderly resolution.

A crime, either the death of Lucy Westener early in the book, or any of the other deaths in the book would qualify.

A secret---there are plenty of those, even those between Jonathan Harker and his wife Mina who promised never to keep anything from each other. Dr. Seward is the best secret keeper, but the others --each hold something back.

A detective, I think Mina Harker is the best detectives in the book. She is brilliant, and even when under the spell of the monster Count Dracula, she reasons, plots, and delivers the necessary clues.

There are four others (her husband Jonathan), Dr. Seward, Professor Godalming, Mr. Van Helsing, and Arthur Qunicy also plays a part of the detecting crew.Their names intrigue me. The define them.

Suspense, oh yes, there is a whole boatload of suspense here. As to the orderly resolution...
We are taken round trip from Transylvania and back to Transylvania with the original Dracula and his first adversary Jonathan Harker.

Yes, Dracula is a very credible mystery dressed in the clothing of a well plotted horror story. Don't you agree?

Agatha Christie - Contract snafu

2011-12-04T09:57:00.000-08:00

The years 1920-1945 were considered the Golden age of British Mysteries, according to John Curran in his book Agatha Christie's Secret Notebooks, 2009. The queen of those mysteries was Agatha Christie. Christie's first novel, The Mysterious Affairs at Styles, took five years from book contract to being published in the UK. The book contract specified she would not receive any pay until 2,000 copies of the book had sold. After that she would get a 10% royalty. That wasn't the only condition though, she was commissioned to write five more novels in the same vein.

Talk about being taken advantage of, luckily Christie learned fast and was assertive. She designed her own contract in subsequent deals and the rest as they say is classic Christie.

Please answer a question for me...

2011-11-28T16:35:00.000-08:00

Hi Blog Readers,
Comments have been severely lacking on the story Painted Pony if anyone is reading it would you please let me know by at least a yes in the comment box - I have another chapter to post but I'm reluctant to put it out there if no one is reading it anyway. So if you are - comment in the comment box Please. Thanks If you do I will put your name in for a drawing for one of my books - your choice - download only. Shout out if you're reading.
Billie

The Painted Pony Chapter Nine

2011-11-26T08:44:00.000-08:00

Chapter Nine

While Jamie is in the kitchen getting more coffee together for their guests, she listens to the retelling of some funny details of life before modern technology. Jamie enjoyed the congenial banter, but her mind tried to sort through Courtney’s off the wall behavior. It seemed she always went against the grain.

Sheriff Hale’s appearance drew her back to the present. “Thought you might need a hand,” he said loud enough for the others to assume that was his mission. He pulled Jamie to the far corner of the room, effectively, out of the earshot of the others.

“Be careful of Courtney. Watch your back where she is concerned. I know she’s connected to those we suspect are involved with the marijuana grow. They’ve all been on our radar for a while. Getting evidence –rock solid evidence is the hard part. You could be in a lot of danger, just because of Courtney’s involvement.”

A chill surrounded Jamie and then faded. “She’s my sister. Courtney wouldn’t…” That lie refused see the light of day. Jamie remembered other times when that wasn’t true, not even slightly. When it interfered with what Courtney wanted, no one and nothing was off limits. “I’ll be careful. Do you really think these men or people are dangerous? I mean it’s just marijuana. “

Sheriff Hale’s look turned incredulous, and his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. “It’s illegal.”

“I didn’t mean—I mean-- I know it’s illegal, and sometimes leads to the need for stronger drugs. I really only wondered how important this was to whoever is growing it.”

"Money always speaks loudest. Louder, even, than family or clan connections."

Deep inside Jamie knew what Sheriff Hale meant with everything else in a slump economically—always quick and easy money makers hedged the bets for those who could make it work. "Thank, I'll be careful."

"Well I better get back to doing my job before somebody thinks I'm asleep at the wheel."

Sheriff Hale said his goodbyes—the gaiety of a few minutes before seemed to follow him out the door.

"I better go tend to cattle business and see if there's anything else these guys need from me." BJ plucked his black cowboy hat off the hook by the door.

I thought the good guys wore white hats.

"Glad to see you're back home Jamie, really." BJ flashed her that infectious smile that threatened to make her like him.

She smiled back. Would liking him be a bad thing?

"I'll help you unload your trailer when you're ready."

BJ was turning into quite the gentleman. Maybe his arrogance was all in her perception. "Appreciate that. It can wait until tomorrow." Besides with all the commotion over the grow BJ had more pressing things to attend to.

Jamie picked up empty coffee cups and dessert plates to take to the kitchen. Ben followed with creamer and sugar containers. Soon, they had the kitchen and dining area back to normal order.

"I think I'll grab a few minutes of a catnap a 'fore I begin supper."

Ben looked so tired. Jamie wasn't at all surprised. The tranquil ranch atmosphere had been shattered of late. Not just the marijuana grow, the cut fences, missing cattle, life had taken on an edge Ben wasn't used to and Jamie didn't like.

"I think I'll do the same. It was a long drive and now this." Jamie brushed perplexion and angst away with fluttering fingers toward the outside.

"I'm sure sorry missy." Ben's face furrowed with age old concern.

"It's not a reflection on you Ben. It's just a sign of the troubled times we live in." She gave Ben a hug. "You go rest. Ther4e's nothing you could have done differently."

"Hell, missy, I wouldn't a knowed it was anything but a new kind of weed, if I had seen it."

Jamie kissed Ben's cheek. "I know, go rest."

Ben's referring to the grow as weeds nearly made her laugh. How our language has changed. Words morph into whole new meanings before we can say…

Jamie made her way down the hall to her room. It was more than a room, more like a suite in a grand motel, she mused as she opened the door. It had signatures of her from an earlier time. The shelf with her American Girl collection gathered dust, she would remedy that in short order. It was only now she remembered the painted pony. He was part of her collection of American Girl props, and now—how odd. Is that why she saw the vision of—no, she had led Jamie to the Elder's council fire. She was real. She had followed Jamie back to the ranch.

The ribbon shirt that waited for her at the council fire with the elders hung in her closet now when she opened the door. The ribbon shirt form her youth, revived and looking brand new. Hers had long since been relegated to the storage room in the attic, she thought and then remembered. The shirt, faded, the ribbons ready to come free from the cloth. She had kept the shirt boxed, but with her in college. Then it disappeared in one of her many hasty moves.

The ribbon shirt, this ribbon shirt, was brand new, an exact replica of the old. Jamie brushed a hand lovingly over the shirt. Memories stirred in her. She took the shirt from the hanger and hugged it to her. She could hear the heartbeat of the drum and the singers as if they were in the room with her. She walked ot the window where the view of the LaPlata Mountains rose in an ever changing panorama as shadows from the clouds raced from west to east. The mountains held mystery and intrigue for Jamie. As you can never step in the same river twice, you never see the same mountains twice.

They represented both protection and isolation, comfort in their strength, but danger as well. Mountains, obstacles, or barrier to the onslaught of the uncivilized trouble filled world. As Jamie stood admiring and contemplating all the ways those mountains had influenced her, the painted pony trotted into her line of vision.

Jamie startled, mesmerized by the pony's grace and beauty. Protector or bearer of a summons from her ancestors? Did the elders call, wanting her to follow the painted pony again?

What would the elders say about the illegal grow? What would her father say? Jamie slipped into the ribbon shirt and quietly slipped out of the house so as not to disturb Ben. As she walked to the barn Daisy darted to the paddock where Jamie usually saddled her. Do horses have their own silent language? She never heard a whinny or a snort, no vocalization from either horse, but here was Daisy. Perhaps, Daisy saw her coming and with all the commotion wanted to run to dispel her agitation. Jamie looked up as she saddled Daisy and led her out through the corral gate. Daisy waited impatiently while Jamie closed the gate. No one else appeared. She reasoned the hands were with BJ and or the FBI agents securing the grow field.

Jamie searched the landscape for the Painted Pony. She reared, catching Jamie's attention and Daisy's too, as Daisy danced impatiently, waiting to be nudged into flight. Jamie gently, nudged her heels into Daisy's sides and tipped the reins touching Daisy's left side of her neck. Her response was immediate and spirited. Daisy took a couple steps to the right and then broke into a gallop. Jamie saw the Painted Pony strike out ahead of them.

Daisy seemed to know her target and Jamie was a passenger to a phenomenal experience. She never doubted for a minute where her journey would conclude. She could already smell the council fire and hear the drums. The hills blurred into a mist shrouded valley. Suddenly, as quickly as she started Daisy bounced to a straight-legged stop. Jamie saw the elders around the drum and the council fire.

Chapter Eight

2011-11-25T09:26:00.000-08:00

Chapter Eight
(It's long because I've missed writing this story will I concentrate on my novel for NaNoWriMo. Now that that is finished I hope to get up dates here on time. Thanks for your patience. Any comments or questions are always welcome. Billie)

So much tension, Jamie watched Ben carefully. Was he strong enough for this? He, for sure, had always been stalwart and like the beacon on a stormy sea, you could always count on being there when you needed him. There was only so much a person could shoulder and Ben had seen his share lately. Since her father's death, Jamie could feel Ben slipping away, getting older and aging in more ways than just the number of his years.

"I'm here now. I'll stay, at least until we get this all under wraps. Now, where did that nephew of yours get to?" Jamie was more curious than ever. Would Ben's favorite nephew turn tail and run at the first sign of trouble?

"He's out there." Ben waved his hand toward the door. "He's keepin them company so they don't do somethin stupid to make us lose more cattle. I tell ya missy, lately, if it ain't the four legged coyotes it’s the two legged variety." It seemed Ben retreated into himself again.

Jamie wondered out loud. "Why didn't you call me if there was so much trouble?"

Ben melted into his chair. "Since when does a grown man go cryin fer hep over a few miserable outlaws? That's what they is ya know—outlaws."

It was obvious Ben thought the battle was his. He always did look at her as a girl—a girl child, no less. Hadn't he noticed she had grown up more than capable of handling her share of trouble? Jamie sat on the arm of the chair and draped an arm around Ben's shoulders.

"They think the law was made for Joe Schmo, not them."

Jamie could tell Ben's hackles were bristling. He wasn't one to let law breakers get away with it. But, Jamie didn't want Ben to have a heart attack over it. "I think you and BJ did what had to be done. Sheriff Hale and his men will get to the bottom of this."

As if on cue the door opened and BJ and Sheriff Hale came in deep in conversation, which stopped when BJ saw his uncle so drawn and worried. "Hey Unc—it's all going to be fine. We'll get that field plowed and re-seeded for free." He winked at Jamie.

While she was glad to see his spirits allowed for joking and levity, she wasn't pleased with his something for nothing attitude, perhaps he just did it to lighten the load for his Uncle Ben. Jamie hoped that was the case instead of what she thought.

Sheriff Hale interrupted BJ's jovial spiel. "I need to bring some equipment out to do that Ben." He looked from him to Jamie and back again. "One of you needs to sign the paper work so I can."

Ben patted Jamie's knee. "I'm jist the hired hep here. Miss Jamie is the boss."

Jamie smiled. She's never felt like the boss here. Partner, maybe, boss, never. She couldn't understand why her father didn't leave the ranch to Ben. "Sure, I'll sign, but don't let him fool you, he really is the boss. I'm just a city slicker glad for a little country R & R time, occasionally."

Everyone laughed. Jamie especially liked BJ's laugh. He reminded Jamie of a much younger Ben. Anyone could tell they were kin. It was good to see Ben's spirits brighten. He had, had enough trouble.

When Courtney burst through the door Jamie knew she was just more of the same kind of trouble she was trying to protect Ben from. It never failed if there was any trouble around Courtney was part of it. She sauntered over to the group and hung an arm over Sheriff Hale's shoulder. Jamie thought she detected Sheriff Hale's cringe. "Lookie what we got us here. A meetin of the minds, or is it—oh never mind. What'd ya do this time Ben? You got enough law out there ta start a posse." She threw her head back and cackled at her joke.

Courtney slithered over to BJ. "Or, was it this bad boy who brought them in?" She traced a button on BJ's shirt, hanging on him like a bad odor; she acted as if they were lovers.

Had they been connected since Jamie left? She knew how quickly Courtney could zero in on what she wanted. And, she usually got what she wanted, one way or another.

BJ shook her loose. "I'm thinkin it was more your style of trouble that brought them here."

Ouch, Jamie thought, no one dared talk to Courtney like that without paying for it. Everyone tiptoed and cajoled the spoiled little brat. Jamie suppressed a laugh.

"Aw, the rooster's got his tail feathers singed. So, what's the big deal?" Courtney plopped down on the couch stringing her bubble gum out of her mouth with an index finger and then working a cat's cradle of sorts out of it while everyone watched.

The center of attention always, one way or another, Courtney made sure of that. Jamie waited as it seemed the others did for Sheriff Hale to tell her what he wanted her to know.

"I'm sorry. Can't give you any details just yet. Ongoing investigation and all you know."

Now Courtney took affront. Her anger blew her off the couch as she went toe to toe with Sheriff Hale. She pointed a manicured and detailed red polished finger into his chest. "Listen mister—I am part owner of this blamed acreage if you're on my land, I better know the reason why."

Jamie moved to intercede. Sheriff Hale grabbed Courtney's accusing finger from his chest and moved his face within inches of hers. "Insults will get you a cell with no view. As far as I'm concerned you are an absentee land lord. The people who maintain this place have been notified. I will caution them not to divulge the contents of our investigation to anyone—including—you." He released her hand and stood stock still glaring at her.

For a long cold minute Courtney froze her glare was full of fire and Jamie could nearly feel the ice coursing through her sister's veins. She held her breath—Courtney jerked her finger form Sheriff Hale and spun like a whirling dervish including them all in the venom that spewed from her mouth. "You'll all pay!"

Though her words were nothing more than a loud whisper, she spit them out with such force they all sat paralyzed as Courtney fired toward the door. She turned long enough to glare at Jamie, point at her as if her hand had become a pistol and Courtney was going to pull the trigger. "You—City girl--," she turned and bolted out the door.

It was as though she sucked the air from the room with her. A feeling Jamie had once when she had to escape from the barn being consumed by fire while Jamie tried to get all the horses out—the fire used up all the oxygen, just like Courtney did.

"Whoa, that was some fire ball." BJ was the first to speak in Courtney's wake. "Is she always that charming?"

"Sometimes even worse." Sheriff Hale said shaking his head. "She's a piece of work. Hard to believe she's part of…" He swallowed his words.

Jamie knew Sheriff Hale wouldn't insult one family member to another, no matter what he thought, it wasn't his style. Ben just sat. IT was as if Courtney's display had drained the life out of him.

"She'll get over it. She's always had a short fuse." Jamie couldn't stand the tension Courtney always left in her path.

Ben slapped the chair arm and bounded to his feet. "Let's have us some coffee. I got fresh baked apple pie ta go with it." His energy returned as he made his way to the kitchen. The relief was almost palpable. Courtney was an entity whose influence faded on the surface, but burrowed under the skin and festered like an open sore. Jamie was glad to have her attention diverted, while Courtney's final words singed her mind. What evil would she conjure next?

Chapter Seven

2011-11-09T07:55:00.000-08:00

[Actually the last chapter was chapter Six this is the REAL chapter Seven]

Chapter Seven

Jamie was allowed into the property, not that anyone, but the rookie questioned her right to. She needed to get to Ben, hear from him, what he was thinking.

"I'll come in and talk to you and Ben soon as I corral these bees and move them out." Sherriff Hale waved a hand toward the army of the various law enforcement personnel.

Jamie knew they would leave a few to watch the grow until they could harvest it, and plow under any roots—at least she assumed they would. They wouldn't dare burn it. She almost chuckled at that thought. Depending on the wind direction, a bunch of happy folks wasn't necessarily a bad thing…she groaned at her private joke, must be the drive made me slap happy.

Ben sat slouched in his favorite thread-bare easy chair. He didn't look relaxed or comfortable. He jolted to his feet when she entered. His face went from happy recognition to overwhelm with the shadows of trouble. He held his hands out to her.

She didn't know what to say to comfort him, instead she wrapped her arms around him and just held on. "What a mess, hey?" She said finally as she released her grip. Ben backed away nodding his head.

Certainly is missy, and I—" He slumped back into his chair leaving the sentence hanging like laundry on a clothes line blowing in the wind.

"I don't know, I never seen, this mari—weed—whatever –growin. In all my years, I never—well, you know."

"I certainly do know Ben." She sat on the arm of the easy chair and draped an arm over his shoulders. "They'll figure it out. Don't you worry."

Jamie could see slight relief in his demeanor, but he was going to worry. That's what Ben did was worry over everything until he had it resolved to his satisfaction.

:Who found it?" Jamie asked the question she had been wondering since she arrived.

Ben stood up again. This time he began pacing, pinching his lips between forefinger and thumb. "How would he know what it was?" He questioned, the question burned in his eyes a she stared through Jamie—for some unknown answers.

"Who?" Jamie felt she already knew, but where was his nephew if he was part of the investigation?

"B.J. He's the one done found it. He was riding fences, checking the ditches—He--." Ben stopped and turned to gaze out the window. Lost in his own thoughts.

"Where is B.J. now?" Jamie wanted to know if he turned in the find, how could he leave his uncle to face the music alone—BJ wasn't stupid—arrogant maybe, but not stupid she decided.

Chapter Seven

2011-10-29T09:57:00.000-07:00

The Painted Pony Chapter Seven

Jamie questioned her choice of friends as she drove to the family ranch. Why did she choose those like, Donna, with clairvoyant –seer tendencies? Suppose it was partly because of her own tendency to see—what wasn't visible to most. Donna saw danger for her both from a familiar person and a stranger. She did say a familiar person, not a "familiar," didn't she? There's a world of difference in what she said…Now Jamie questioned herself and her memory. I must learn to listen better and not assume.

Courtney was familiar person and always an explosive link in her life. When she wasn't involved in Jamie's life it was a good thing, but Jamie knew, if she returned to the res and the ranch there would be trouble with Courtney. There always was. That was a given.

More pleasant things crowded out those worry thoughts. Arrogant, but interesting, Ben's Grandson. The fact that he wasn't impressed by Courtney's flirting moved him u a notch in Jamie's book. Well, he was only temporary anyway and he'd probably be gone by the time she got back to the ranch.

Ben confided in her that he worried about some of the goings on at the ranch property, cutting fences was only one of them. The small herd of horses and the few cattle, no one should bother with. They certainly weren't worth rustling, not to someone looking for quick cash. So why cut fences?

Jamie was certain it wasn't rustlers, but what then?

She had a feeling she was about to find out as she pulled in to the ranch to see squad cars, troopers in uniform and some men in suits gathered around the bunk house. Where was Ben? Immediately her mind worried over his safety and well-being.

A deputy approached her truck a she slowed the truck and U-haul trailer to a stop. Ben hadn't indicated there was any trouble when she called him to tell him her plans to come back home.

The officer motioned for her to roll her window down. She obeyed without turning the engine off.

"No one is allowed on the premises, a police matter here." He motioned behind him to the men milling around the bunkhouse.

He was abrupt, a rookie showing his power to control. Jamie smiled. She recognized the rooster strut of new hires. "It's okay. I'm the owner. I'm moving back here." She pointed to the U-haul that had a large percentage of her worldly good in it.

Sheriff Ludwick (Ludy to the locals) Hale approached as she tried to reason with the rookie. Jamie smiled at Ludy. "What's up Lucy? Did Ben rob a bank?"

Sherriff Ludy ticked the brim of his hat as a salutation. "Good to see you Jamie." He waved the rookie away. The rookie laced his fingers into his belt and backed off; he didn't wilt, just stood as if on guard to protect his superior. Jamie found the display amusing, but what brought out this entourage of law concerned her more.

The suits definitely were FBI and that wasn't unusual, reservations were treated like a foreign entity, a sovereign nation when it came to law enforcement. Jamie knew this, but why they were here puzzled her.

Sheriff Hale leaned his elbows on the open window. "Discovered a marijuana grow back there."He indicated a region toward the mountain range that bordered the ranch to the North West.

Jamie glanced in that direction and saw J.C. Cole the tribal police chief headed her way. She pulled on the latch to open the truck door and Sherriff Ludy straightened up pulling the door with him.

"Where's Ben," Jamie directed her question to J.C. She didn't like him. He was the type of man who could be bought and often looked the other way when trouble surfaced.

JC shrugged. "Settin warm and cozy in his livin room I 'magin."

Jamie wanted to reach out and smack him. He never grew up. He was always a bully, all through school and continued to think he could get away with it.

She turned to face Sherriff Hale. "You know Ben would never knowingly allow this to happen."

"Well he did," JC fairly gloated.

She ignored him and waited for Sheriff Hale to respond.

"We have to investigate all angles, but I'm as sure as you are that Ben wouldn't have allowed this."

She studied Ludy Hale's face—he was holding something back. She could sense it, but what? Is Ben somehow implicated?

Printed Words: The Next Chapter - Painted Pony

2011-10-12T07:31:00.001-07:00

Printed Words: The Next Chapter - Painted Pony

The Next Chapter - Painted Pony

2011-10-12T07:31:00.000-07:00

The Painted Pony, Chapter Five

Jamie sat in her office feeling like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. What was Courtney involved in that made her so hateful? It was hard to imagine the poverty and disruption on the reservation since she had last visited. When her father was alive none of this was going on, now…

Her thoughts were interrupted by a customer entering the store. Herbal tonics and information seemed to be much in demand today. Maybe it wasn’t just her world that was in serious need of intervention, of fixing. The interaction with customers allowed her mind to be consumed with their problems instead of her own. It was lunch time before she realized it.

If she hoped to have her friend take over the business for the next month so she could go back to the reservation and try to help correct what was happening, she needed to do that today. Donna had expressed an interest in doing just that for some time now, it would be a good opportunity for her to really get involved and decide if she wanted to open her own store as part of Jamie’s chain. The other managers could handle what they had for a month. They had already proven that to Jamie’s satisfaction.

Donna greeted her with a cheerful hug and hello. “So you need to go home for a while.”

“Actually, I call this home. But I do need to go back to Ignacio to take care of some business. I hope I will be back by Christmas.”

“Wow, that’s over a month. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure if you want to take over the store for me for that long. It will give you some real experience and help you decide if you want to buy into a franchise with me or not.”

“That it surely would. I am convinced, I already want to. But I’d love the chance to prove I can do it to myself and you.” Donna smiled a kind of faraway glaze came into her eyes.

“Why do I feel like a but, is coming here?”

Donna turned toward her and didn’t answer right away. Her pearl gray eyes seemed even more far away as if she was reading through Jamie.

“What, what is it?” Jamie felt a cold sweat start in the palms of her hands. Donna had a tendency to be clairvoyant and while it was part of their attraction to each other it sometimes made Jamie very nervous. What was her friend seeing now that Jamie had failed to see about this whole situation.

Enjoy - until next time, I hope it won't be so long. Mean time think about Donna - how does she fit into this mix, does she see something that Jamie doesn't -- is it possible there is more to the whole than it's collective parts so far?

Billie

Chapter Four The Painted Pony

2011-08-24T09:15:00.000-07:00

Watch For The Raven

Sitting in the old ranch kitchen with Ben, watching him work his magic with the fry bread he'd made especially for her, the world's petty troubles seemed far away and her father closer than ever. She missed him so much. Ben was as close to a second father as any could be, and they were a lot alike. Jamie could appreciate this now.

"…Nephew comin ta hep out. Get the place ready fer winter 'n all."

Ben's smooth, mellow voice lulled her with its cadence. Nephew? Her mind grabbed the word and she pictured the lanky pain in the patoosie she remembered from earlier times. His flaming red hair, from his mother's side of course—those eyes that seemed to rivet people to the ground they were standing on. Menace, not a help, her mind said. She never really gave much thought to Ben's having relatives as they rarely visited when she was there growing up, or except for that red-headed nephew they were part of the woodwork, so to speak. She pretty much thought Ben appeared from thin air one day and was the total package, as in no relatives or significant others.

"That'll be nice for you. Are you planning to stay the winter then?" He always had, but he looked so frail she couldn't help but wonder if maybe he should think otherwise this year.

"Always have. Wouldn't know what else ta do. Not really inta skiin' Aspin or Vale, but love the winters here."

Maybe his nephew could talk him into leaving. Winters here were tough even for the able bodied.

There was a short rat-tat tat on the door before it burst open and Courtney blew in like a Diablo wind. Courtney didn't acknowledge Ben as she brushed by him, spun a chair from the table so the back faced the table and straddled it in one flash move. Not giving Ben or Jamie a chance to squeeze out a word. She grabbed a piece of fry bread and tore a piece off to shove in her mouth. She looked like a painted hussy to Jamie.

"So—how long you sitckin this time til the dust of desert sand sticks in your citified hair and you beat it to civilization again?"

Taken aback by her sudden appearance and tart manner, Jamie paused to drink in the full spectrum of a sister she no longer knew, indeed, if she ever did. Before she could respond there was another knock on the door. She and Courtney turned to see who this might be.

Ben's nephew removed his hat before he stepped over the threshold. "I'm here, Unc. " He slid by his uncle as he spotted Courtney and Jamie. After letting out a low whistle and said, "and who are these two visions?" He replaced his black hat on his equally black, full-head of hair. His blue eyes riveted Jamie to the spot. Courtney recovered way quicker than Jamie as she eyed the cowboy from his boots all the way to his six foot plus, to the crown of his hat. Courtney slithered from her chair and extended her hand. "Courtney," dripped from her overly painted lips. "Puleezed to welcome you to my father's house."

The tall stranger's eyes never left Jamie. Oh, cue the music. Jamie could feel soap opera drama smothering the scene.

"B.J. Archer, meet Courtney and Jamie. They be Jim's daughters." Ben had closed the door and stood beside the mesmerizing BJ.

Jamie found her voice. "Hi and welcome. I hear you've come to help Ben winterize the ranch."

"Don't tell him, but I really just came for some of his vittles. Ya can't get food like this at Mc Donald's."

The air lightened with laughter, like the sunshine after a thunderstorm. Jamie's insides felt scrambled. Ben pulled plates out of the cupboard for all of them and Jamie helped him prepare to serve his meal to the sudden explosion of guests, while Courtney entertained blue-eyed BJ. This couldn't be the gangly teen she remembered, no way. From the size of the kettle of beef stew, Jamie was certain he was expecting BJ before he showed up at the door.

Through dinner Courtney monopolized the conversation and BJ, though he kept his attention focused on Jamie. Jamie could fee his eyes on her. It made it hard for her to eat. She wished she could read minds. Especially, his mind. She also wished Courtney would evaporate or sink into a black hole and quit embarrassing herself and everyone else with her brash and distasteful swooning over BJ.

~*~

Later, much later, after Courtney had finally left and BJ retired to the bunkhouse, Jamie mulled over the impact both Courtney and BJ had had on her. Courtney was nothing but a big flirt and tease. If Damien caught her she would be in a world of hurt. Why she didn't leave that jerk Jamie couldn't figure out. He was trouble with a capital T and her dad knew it. Once Courtney turned eighteen there was no reasoning with her or stopping her.

Jamie tried to brush aside Courtney, BJ and the day to get her mind back to the council fire and the mission that seemed to be calling her. The Painted Pony had escorted her back to the ranch, but he couldn't be coaxed in for grain—she wasn't about to be corralled or confined, obviously. She never had the opportunity to ask Ben about The Painted Pony. In the morning she'd be sure to. Sleep seemed to come over her like Grandmother Nokomis pulling one of her handmade quilts over her. "Yes, morning was soon enough to ask question," Nokomis seemed to whisper.

Watch for the Raven (Old cover will show - but the new cover, posted above, will be on the book you receive.)

Chapter Three The Painted Pony

2011-08-17T09:25:00.000-07:00

Let's catch up with Jamie and her encounter with Courtney and see where we will be going from here. (Please keep in mind this is raw an rough and needs editing and polish - but thoughts come quickly some mornings and need to be captured before they get away.)

Chapter Four

A molting Blue-Jay dropped in front of Jamie to pick up some seeds from the open field. His neck looked too scrawny to hold his head up and his head and neck were totally featherless. It tugged at Jamie's heart strings. The striking colors and crest of the Jay was no longer his. As vain as he normally is, shrieking his loud "thief, thief; Thief!" He was muted, hungry and very nervous. It reminded Jamie how the Great Spirit Sometimes brings lessons to a person. Sometimes very subtle but often like a smack upside the ego, just as Mr. Blue Jay's vanity was certainly rebuffed or at least shown how quickly everything can change.

Being called to the council fire shook Jamie deep into her roots. She had neglected family and tribe since her father died. Her sister, Courtney, was not her responsibility and she couldn't tolerate her attitude since she joined the Spiral Edge Band and began living with Damien Westerly. As though their father, James Two Cloud's death had set her free, like a race horse at the sound of the starting pistol, nothing could stop her, reasoning wouldn't reach her. She was hell-bent on a path of destruction and Jamie felt so powerless and hopeless.

Jamie's father was not about to let Jamie loose from her responsibility to family, but what else was Courtney tangled up in besides drugs and or alcohol since she gravitated to this band? How did it affect the tribal youth and traditions mentioned at the council fire? Jamie's head hurt from trying to sort it all out. She should start by talking to Courtney, if she would even listen to Jamie. The Painted Pony nuzzled Jamie as if to say let's get moving. She was not at all sure she wanted to ride this phantom horse. Well, okay, she wasn't a phantom, but she seemed to have powers Jamie knew nothing about.

Suddenly, thundering hooves jolted her back to the spot she stood on. Dust kicked up to invade Jamie's space. Courtney reined in the fiery-eyed black stallion and glared at Jamie. "Stay out of my life. Go back to your big city life and leave me alone."

"Wait Courtney, I haven't even seen you in two years. I'm not meddling in your life." Jamie stared at the gaunt frame of her sister as she sat astride the agitated beast that couldn't seem to stand still. Courtney's make up was overdone and apparently left over from the night before as it was smeared and half-gone. Courtney looked like a train wreck and sounded even worse.

Without replying, Courtney spun the horse around and charged back the way she had come. The Painted Pony snorted and pawed the ground.

First, how did Courtney know she was at the Rez, and exactly where she was? Second, why did she think Jamie had any thoughts of meddling in her life? She withdrew from Jamie and family, when she turned eighteen and never looked back. Perhaps it's time she looked into her little sister's life. Something was horribly wrong.

New Cover

Character Sketch for Courtney (Yellow Fox) Two Cloud - Antagonist #1

2011-08-16T08:52:00.000-07:00

Here we have a look at the sketch for Courtney - doing the character sketch I found out she is a sister (or perhaps step-sister) to Jamie...This could prove an interesting twist. While she is not the main Antagonist, she is to a certain degree the number one antagonist - she could cause Jamie the most angst. So hang on to your hats because the main antagonist is Damien Westerly (I don't think he's Native American at this point) he is the live-in partner of Courtney - and her father never liked him.

Character Sketch—Antagonist 1 Courtney (yellow Fox) Two Clouds

(Father James Two-Cloud)

March 15, (Beware the Ides of March)

Pisces—I Trust—Spiritualist or ConArtist

Water Sign, dreamer

Colors: Sea Green

Famous People: Jackie Joyner-kersee, Billy Crystal, Alexander Graham Bell, Drew Barrymore

Strengths: Compassionate, unselfish, holistic, inspired, perceiving the unity or essence, unpretentious, synthesizing, introspective, reflective, subtle, elusive, musical, poetic, creative, imaginative, spiritual, transcendent, inspirational, visionary, idealistic, serene, psychic, intuitive, flowing, surrendering, flexible, forgiving, soothing, gentle. *see notes* song writer, singer, musician

Weaknesses: Sacrificing, timid, directionless, weak-willed, overly impressionable day dreaming, impractical, unrealistic, deluded, escapist drug or alcohol addictive, bitter, cynical, self-depreciating, easily victimized, vague, confused, undiscriminating, illogical, unanalytical, cowardly, spineless, weak, imprudent, easily hurt, deceptive, absorbent.

Lime Tree: (The Doubt) intelligent, hardworking, accepts what life dishes out, but not before trying to change bad circumstances into good ones. Hates fighting and stress, enjoys getaway vacations. May appear tough but is actually soft and relenting , always willing to make sacrifices for family and friends, has many talents but not always enough time to use them. Can become complainer, great leadership qualities, is jealous at times, but extremely loyal. Observant and assesses others, revengeful, Loves to dream and fanaticize . Loves traveling, attention. Hasty decisions in choosing partners. Loves home décor, musically talented, loves special things, moody.

*Notes: Hooked up with Damien—Band –Spiral Edge, they are toxic to each other but…*

Additional Notes: Mysticism, escape into the One; sees the unity, fails to make “normal” distinctions, often weak ego; victim, martyr,, servant; tends to escapism, fantasy, drugs (especially alcohol), religion, very receptive, sensitive, even psychic, co-dependency, care-taking, withdrawn from the world; release from the world.

Character Sketch for Jamie Dakota

2011-08-08T08:14:00.000-07:00

Watch For The Raven

I found Jamie's last name as I was doing her character sketch so she is now officially Jamie Dakota - here is her character sketch so far.
=====================================

Character Sketch for Jamie Dakota

Cancer: Mother or child. I Feel; June 24 is her Birthday

Sign of home and family; Water Sign (ruled by the moon)

Color: Silver

Famous People Born under this sign: Princess Diana, Helen Keller, Rembrandt, Bill Cosby and Tom Hanks

Strengths: sensitive, protective, nurturing, psychic, self-protective, maternal, intuitive, deeply feeling, attuned to the unconscious, soft hearted, Comforting, receptive, empathetic, consoling, responsive, family oriented, rooted, shrewd, appreciative of the past, cautious thinking. Thrifty.

Weaknesses: Possessive, smothering, pampering, suffocating, hypersensitive, overly emotional, easily hurt, cry baby, overly-impressionable, childish, touchy, selfish, pathetic, martyr

Like, indulgent, secretive, withdrawn, clinging, helpless, and passive.

Birch Tree: (The Inspiration) vivacious, attractive, elegant, friendly, unpretentious, modest, does not like anything in excess, abhors the vulgar loves life in nature and in calm, not very passionate full of imagination, little ambition creates a calm and content atmosphere.

June People: Think for with vision, easily influenced by kindness, polite, soft spoken, having lots of ideas, sensitive, active, active mind, hesitating, tends to delay, choosey, and always wants the best. Temperamental. Funny and humorous;

Loves to joke, good debating skills Talkative, daydreamers, Friendly, knows how to make friends. Abiding, able to show characters Easily hurt. Prone to getting colds loves to dress up. Easily bored. Fussy, seldom shows emotions takes time to recover when hurt. Brand conscious Executive, Stubborn.

NOTE: This is a thought I had as I ran across her weakness for colds. JAMIE SEES Doctor he’s a holistic medical doctor; working at a clinic he is impatient with delay... Dr. interested in culture and lore of American Indians he is from the country of India.

My take on Jamie is she fits the character mold for a Plucky Lass

Everyone loves her, she makes friends easily .

Loyal, but not in a plodding way. She’s adventurous and spirited with loads of talent and wit. She’s a hard worker, but not because she needs to win, she’s more interested in doing a great job just because she wants to. You won’t find her climbing the corporate ladder, more likely she’ll own that charming little gift shop on the corner or she’ll find an independent niche as a journalist or caterer. Whatever she does it will likely involve creativity and a lot of interaction with people because that’s what she does well.

There we have a great start for Jamie but I will still do an interview with her. I will, however, do a character sketch for the antagonist before I do. I will have a couple links for great places to find character charts on line for you later.

Write like the wind.

Billie

The Painted Pony Character Development

2011-08-05T12:14:00.000-07:00

As The Painted Pony continues, I posted a poll to gather input from readers as to which plot scenario they thought had the most potential. It always amazes me to see the various comments and thoughts about the list of choices. In this case it seems the field was reduced pretty much to one choice with some suggestions on how to keep the topic from being a rerun of a zillion others.

Now, after the second chapter is completed I see I need to build a character sketch of the protagonist. Some of the things I need to know (and I may need to do a character interview to find these out, but…for now) Why did Jamie leave Colorado? She talks about her father – we know he is Native American… How did we find that out? Jamie didn't come right out and tell us did she? Telling instead of showing is a no, no. What about her mother?

I also need to figure out who will be the villain – what is his/her goal – what motivates him/her?

What other characters might I need (I can always add characters as needed, but it's a good idea to get some with a goal already in the story – i.e., a confidant, a romantic interest, etc.)

A major question at this point is what is Jamie's Goal (and who is she…what is her last name? Was she married? What about her mother why hasn't she mentioned her? Or does she need to? It seems her roots are in Colorado – why?) So many questions so few answers – do you feel overwhelmed? Well, we can break this down into manageable steps.

My solution is to begin developing your characters they will tell you what you need to know – to get your story off the ground and moving forward. Characters in Search of an Author ( Filbert Publishing 2007) available at Amazon.com (or wherever you buy your books) ISBN 978-1-932794-15-1 is filled with forms, and formats to help the writer develop living, breathing characters. My favorite way to start a character sketch is to use the Zodiac signs, find a sign that has the characteristics that this plot as I know it so far needs. Then I go through his/her strengths and weaknesses and shared characteristics of people in that birth month, lastly I consult a chart that designates what tree the birth date of the character I am developing means. (this is a really fun thing to do – even for yourself to find out just how accurate this can be.) An example of a character sketch follows.

====================================================

This is the protagonist for the book Antique Armor (Wings ePress, Inc. September 2010)

Luisa Terza June Fabrizio (3^rd born) Nick name June

May 13 I Have (Earth)

Colors Greens and Browns

Calm practical, takes time making decisions. May resent new ideas. Prefers familiar.

People: Florence Nightingale, Wm Shakespeare, Stevie Wonder, Cher

STRENGTHS: practical, respectful of tradition, resourceful, productive, patient, persistent, steady, earthy, sensual, loyal, devoted, has self-esteem, values self, managerial, trust worthy, strong-willed, “down home” , warm

WEAKNESS: possessive, jealous, overly attached, lazy, inert, materialistic, values only physical material satisfactions, money grubbing, unoriginal, greed, unspiritual, stubborn, slow, plodding, craves security, self-indulgent, ultra conservative, unchanging, dull, boring, bull headed, obstinate

POPLAR TREE (The Uncertainty) Looks very decorative, talented, not very self-confident, extremely courageous, if necessary, needs good will and pleasant surroundings, very choosey, often lonely, great animosity, great artistic nature, good organizer, tends to lean towards philosophy, reliable, in any situation, takes partnership seriously.

MAY PEOPLE: Stubborn, and hard-hearted, strong willed and highly motivated, sharp thoughts, easily angered. Attracts others and loves attention, deep feelings beautiful physically and mentally, firm standpoint. Needs no motivation, easily consoled, systematic (left brain) loves to dream.

Strong clairvoyance. Understanding. Sickness usually ear and neck. Good imagination. Good physical, weak breathing, loves literature, and the arts, loves traveling. Dislikes being at home. Restless.

Hard working, high spirited spendthrift. The intellectual, analytic, bright, well-informed, usually has the answer before most men do, they tend to find her intimidating. Can be rigid about her opinions, (Librarian, accountant, and chemist)

Honest sincere, intellectual and rather retiring, sometimes moody, kind and lovable most of the time. You like traveling for educational value make most of opportunities to better self.

BACKGROUND: raised by strict but loving parents, middle child of five – 2 older sisters, 2 younger brothers. Learned to be a loner, take care of herself. (Aunt Rosa stepped in and rescued her)

Father worked hard, loved hard and died young. He drank hard and had a hair trigger temper. Volatile home-life.

Belinda, oldest sister, was devious and cruel. Used siblings, lied, cheated, made life hell for Mae.

Mother stay at home mome died in child birth, step mother tyrant hated children.

Older sisters Belinda & Jade

Younger brothers Derek and Tony

HOME TOWN—small towns, moved a lot from apartment to small houses, always crowded but felt adequate

COLLEGE , interior design, communication

Wanted to be a dancer, actress

Lost virginity when/how? Saved herself for marriage

Past trauma/formative events – death of her husband.

Keepsake from past/what it represents. Locket – her father’s had given it to her mother something he brought back from WWII – kept him near.

TALENTS & SKILLS

Spelunking and rock climbing.

Obvious skill organized artistic/creative. Hates doing, waiting, for anything needs to be doing/busy.

Hidden skill – clairvoyant

Obvious weakness =- obstinate

Hidden weakness – jealous no spontaneity

Talent creative, loves organizing, auctions and estate sales.

Now that I have all this information I need to find an opposition, an antagonist that is worthy of her. Again I'll use the Zodiac charts to find this "other" person – As I recall the above character sketch did not remain the same as initially drafted. For one I changed her name {smile} But a character is malleable—you need to suit your story and though I wouldn't carelessly change a character after the book is started there is occasion when it is the right thing to do.

The Painted Pony Chapter Two

2011-08-04T07:01:00.000-07:00

Our story now continues...

She wasn't prepared, how could she have been, it had been so long since she had been involved with her roots, except for her belief in the powers of her holistic health, of course that was based on native traditions of well-being and healing.

Seven gray heads sang and drummed in the rhythm of her heart beat. She felt the tug from her youth. The painted pony grazed in the lush grass behind the council fire, undisturbed, peaceful, apparently satisfied that she had done her task.

Jamie saw now that task was meant to bring her home. All she needed to know was why? Her grandfather motioned for her to join them. A spot had been left for her to sit, the ribbon shirt Nokomis had made her for graduation from high school waited for her as well as white deer skin moccasins. Jamie slid silently from Daisy's back and allowed the horse to back away. Daisy wouldn't go far as long as there was good grass for her to feast on. Jamie allowed the horse's reins to slip from her grasp, and then allowed thoughts of the horse to slip from her mind as she moved toward the council fire circle.

Picking up the ribbon shirt, Jamie pulled the shirt over her head and dipped her toes into the cool, supple, tanned leather of the moccasins. She quietly took her position in the circle between her father and grandfather. It was an honor and privilege to be included here. She knew instinctively something powerful had been given her by this inclusion, but it was going to come with a price. What mission would she be asked to begin? Was she enough for the challenge?

Why this council of elders invited her pulled questions in her mind, as well as, the thought of the distressed child—where was she? Or he, but Jamie knew it wasn't a male child. How she knew that she couldn't understand, but that she knew that the cry was female that was certain in her mind. There was no sign of her now. Unless…Was she that missing girl child? Was the summons her own voice calling her home? She let the drum center her as she allowed her worrisome thoughts to disappear in the smoke of the council fire, rising for the Great Spirit to dispense with.

Slowly, Jamie focused on each face around the council fire. Most of them she remembered seeing before. Current and long ago they had traveled that strawberry path to the beyond; members of high honor in the Lakota Sioux tribe sat singing in powerful but soft voices. Remembering what the words meant came as easily as if she had been at her last pow wow yesterday instead of years ago.

She knew she was summoned and she knew the reason would be apparent soon, but Jamie needed the patience she had allowed to be stolen from her by the hurried world of city life. It had eroded from her being like the banks of a river. Sometimes the traditional ways infuriated her, but there was no rushing the elders. "Mistakes are made in a hurry; haste makes waste; race to error, repent in leisure." The words tumbled from her mind as if spoken by the elders now observing her.

When the drums grew silent and the singing faded away, peaceful silence enveloped the gathering before Chief Lone Feather spoke. His voice crackled with age as he began but soon gathered an even resonate timber, a melodious cadence warmed his words as he spoke. Jamie sensed the graveness of the meeting the council was to address. The message soon found its way to his voice. Tribal values, ties to the Great Spirit and Mother Earth begged for intervention. The Chief's comments were directed toward her. The challenge was hers. As daughter of a lineage of chiefs, the council was convened for her and needed her help –with what? She knew her answer was in the troubled faces of the elders. She felt so small and inadequate. She straightened her shoulders and spine. If she was called, she must, if she could, give whatever it took to help her people.

Choices for Painted Pony and other considerations

2011-07-30T12:09:00.000-07:00

Hi Readers
So far we have Jamie and her painted pony at a scene that hasn't yet been described by the author. I figure we have at least 3 choices. Here are the fourI'd like you to vote on.
What Jamie encounters when she comes around the corner is:
1. A tape recorded trickery that used a trained horse to deliver her to this spot...someone with a sinister motive awaits her.

2. There is a crying baby, the mother is injured in a fall from the horse - the child is crying the mother is bleeding profusely from a gash on her head.

3. A Baby is discovered, surrounded by wolf cubs and a colt - the baby has a note pinned to his/her shirt.

4. a vision - a council fire with elders chanting and singing with the drum - they summoned her to save the Indian burial grounds from developers. Her deceased father is among those present at the council fire. The Painted Pony was sent because her father knew her love of animals would win over anything else going on in her life.

So there are your choices for me to continue - send me an email at Billie and tell me what you think.
Then I will continue with the next chapter next week.
Thanks!
Search Amazon.com for Watch For The Raven
Billie

This is the new cover for Watch For the Raven

The Painted Pony Analysis of Chapter One

2011-07-26T08:20:00.000-07:00

Watch For The Raven

Let's examine The Painted Pony for a minute. Hopefully, without killing the story. As readers and as writers we come to the story with different expectations.

The read in us, swallows up the words a t a pace that's comfortable, digestible and curious about character, plot, setting and depending on the story, a myriad of other details, all perhaps, subconsciously. If the writer is good, all these things pull the reader, you, into and through the rabbit hole of story into a world you, the reader, want to savor.

As a writer you may enjoy the same joy of reading and yet somewhere you are thinking. Hook, okay, hook is in place. Horses foster a more or less universal interest. Whether it's a wish for the freedom and adventure of the old west, or a churning desire to lift our head and stir the wind with an abandoned gallop without the tethers of life and its responsibilities. You, writer/reader, may have your own reasons to be drawn in by that first sense of horse and the thunder of hooves shaking the ground beneath your bare feet.

Not only do we know we're observing a painted pony, why not a pinto, is there a difference? Couldn't it instead be an Arabian stallion, or a Clydesdale, the thunder of his/her hooves would certainly rumble the ground if it were a Clydesdale. For the moment we must assume the writer has a reason for using a paint, over the others. Does it suggest an era, or a custom, or culture? My mind is drawn to the graphics, hieroglyphics', on cave walls, some, at least, the horses look like painted ponies, is that the reason for this image? My experience and knowledge will try to reason out the choices as critics try to do as they examine works of deceased authors. I never interpreted any of Shakespeare's works the way my high school English teacher did. Does that mean I was wrong? I don't think so, now, I think my experience, my creative imagination, saw what it could have been when Shakespeare wrote it originally.

Back to our Painted Pony. Immediately the author names the pony so you, the reader, will get a sense of this horse as opposed to any other. Embers, the glowing coals left in a fire, they aren't blazing fire, though, with the right conditions, they could be. And what of Daisy, she loves me she loves me not, wild flower or garden cultivated, again love by many, thrown away as a weed by others. Both horses could show us dual personalities. Is that the author's reasoning?

The third paragraph grabs emotions. Nearly everyone has felt grief. And there are so many sources and depths of grief. What is Jamie's grief? How does Ember trigger this memory? Or, why? It's obvious, at least to me, horses play a significant role in Jamie's life. The words she, the author uses to describe Jamie's thoughts of horse, delightful creature, magnificent, not beast, but creature—tell the reader subtly how she feels about horses or at least this horse.

Characterization is a tricky business for writers, especially new writers. How do you describe a person without telling? What has the writer shown us so far about our main character. How did it become part of the character Jamie Lynn without becoming description told to the reader? The first clue is the way you find out about people in real life—it's through their actions. As the old saying goes, "actions speak louder than words."

We see Jamie slide form Daisy's saddle to feel the earth, sensitive to subtle earth changes I think. We learn Jamie is familiar with mountains, especially these mountains.

Word choice surfaces as we find out Jamie is Native American and that perhaps that has cast a stigma on her development, at least, in part. But now we see her as a business woman in bare feet, riding a horse, chasing or at least following another horse…why didn't she wear cowboy boots or, given her heritage, moccasins? Subtle things develop your character even when written stream of consciousness.

You can list more things we learn about Jamie form this short chapter. What else do you notice as a reader and/or writer?

Her father's words, what do they add to the story besides word count? Was the message twofold? Does it tell us more about Jamie? And her father? Maybe even hint at the relationship?

The last sentence is the hook that makes us want to turn the page—a child's distress call –why didn't the author use different words, scream, beller, cry, sob, how many synonyms can you think of that could have said similar, if not the same thing?

As writers our tools are words. Precise, words, not flowery (thank you Mrs. Sartorus) words, but precise, strong, colorful, but not gaudy, words that don't parade themselves in front of the reader telling of their literary prowess with a huge vocabulary base, but instead showing the reader what precisely the writer's imagination sees.

Showing, never telling, never say never-- because there are times when the narrator needs to condense and summarize to move the story forward quickly. We don't need to see Jamie getting her feet wet in the dew laden grass as she goes to saddle Daisy for her morning ride. We didn't need to know Jamie had bare feet. We didn't need to see her saddle Daisy or feed her sugar cubes, not this time. We didn't need to see Jamie's bare feet or any of the earlier stuff to inform our story, but if it had been important to the later story we could have had our narrator tell us all this—otherwise, showing by action, is the preferred and better choice.

As a mystery writer, pointing your reader's mind and eye is essential. You play fair with your reader by directing their attention where you want them to focus, hiding clues in plain sight.

Next we'll try to get our author to turn her muse loose on chapter two.

The Painted Pony

2011-07-25T09:06:00.000-07:00

A new story I'm starting today. Here is the first chapter.
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====================

Painted Pony

Jamie Lynn watched as a pale cloud of dust signaled the early morning arrival of a visitor who showed up at 6 a.m. every morning for the past week. The thunder of her hooves shook the ground. Jamie felt it in the souls of her bare feet. Her breath caught in her throat as the painted pony glided over the top of the hill. She stopped abruptly and stared at Jamie.

The two of them stood frozen like two moments in time. Jamie didn't dare blink for fear Ember would disappear again. Jamie could feel the heat of Ember's aliveness, she was real, what did she want? Where did she come from? Why here, why now?

Jamie Lynn's grief was so profound she came to Nimberbrook to regain her equilibrium. She came to figure out if she could go on, which direction she should take. What was the significance of this delightful creature who wouldn't be approached?

As if on cue, Ember reared up, marked the air with her signature, three pawing motions in the air, before she spun and disappeared the way she had come. Today, Jamie was prepared. She hurriedly mounted Daisy and coaxed the horse forward, toward the hill where the painted pony had stood. Ember seemed such an appropriate name. It had appeared in Jamie's mind just as the horse appeared. Ember glowed like a ghostly apparition, but Jamie was sure she was real; at least, until she found no footprints where Ember had stood, she believed she was real. Her image was too distinct not to be real, wasn't it?

The ground shaking thunder of her approach was real. Jamie felt it; it was enough to make her think a herd stampeded toward her, not just one magnificent creature.

Jamie slid down from Daisy's saddle to examine the ground more closely where Ember made her showing. She ran her hand over the undisturbed ground. The feeling of heat warmed the palm of Jamie's hand. She paused and went back over the area—heat, but no tracks. Was she losing her mind? Her gaze followed the dust that puffed like clouds toward the horizon. No sign of the horse except for those fading puffs of dust raised by her hooves. Distance is hard to judge in open country fenced in by the LaPlata Mountain range, a very familiar sight to Jamie. But, always mysterious, always offering new visions, inner as well as outer. Distance was one she hadn't managed to conquer just yet.

Who did the painted pony belong to? Why did she get the distinct feeling she should follow her? Daisy seemed totally disinterested in the other horse as she grazed on the tufts of sedge grass poking up centaur-like from the dry earth. No rain in over a month gave the once lush mountain valley a desert tawny hue.

Pursuing the elusive creature who seemed to be luring Jamie out of her comfort zone into untraveled territory seemed her only option. A very strong pull made her move toward the painted pony's path. It wasn't the old west where savage Indians roamed and lurked for unsuspecting travelers. The term "savage Indian", shuddered the nerves of her spine. What a legacy she had inherited. Do people still think savage when they see her? Sometimes she thought they did even with her rise up from nothing to owner of the chain of holistic health and beauty stores across the Iron Range back home in Michigan. Colorado always held her heart though, her father's land called her back here regularly. She always followed that call. This time Ember stood at the end of that call, or so it seemed she was part of that call.

Slowly, Jamie urged Daisy forward. The horse seemed reluctant to travel in a straight line toward what Jamie saw as her goal—the distant, shrinking dust ruffles Ember kicked up as her bread crumbs in the forest. The Hansel and Gretel fairy tale spirited across her mind as did the word 'lost'. She could never get lost. Daisy would always know her way home, wouldn't she?

Jamie reined the horse in, twisted in the saddle to gaze behind her for a landmark, something to call her home if Daisy should somehow forget. Daisy's fur twitched. Jamie saw why. Coyotes streaked across the path behind her. During the day? Unusual but it was very early. She hoped they weren't after the painted pony, though the pony seemed healthy enough, alone it could be the target for that marauding pack. She nudged Daisy forward. "Come on girl, we need to find Ember."

Daisy snorted and immediately obeyed, albeit, reluctantly. Jamie could tell she was in no hurry to obey her master's orders. Urgency fueled Jamie's insistence that the horse follow her command. Normally, she wouldn't force the issue. Daisy was a seasoned horse and seemed to sense the presence of danger, the avalanche, the rattle snake, the bear, Daisy had balked, and Jamie had listened. And luckily so, yet, this time, not this time, something pulled her toward the distant mountain range and Ember. The coyotes she had spotted earlier crossed her mind, but they were headed due north not west as Jamie and Daisy were. Of course the animals could circle west, nothing except Daisy's nervous twitching told her anything was amiss. Jamie watched the ground for signs, signs of Ember's flight, signs of the coyotes, signs of the mountain lion that had been spotted in the valley lately harassing cattle—she didn't see anything. So why were the hairs at the nap of her neck bristling like a bug crawled among the roots.

Daisy's ears moved independently of one another like a cats, or a rabbits listening for sound a human ear could never pick up. Jamie knew enough to watch the horses' body language for subtle hints hidden from her human self about her environment. Clearly, Daisy sensed or heard something, but Jamie's insides told her to press on. Whatever Ember's message was she needed to follow her, now. Daisy wasn't stubbornly refusing like she did before the avalanche. Jamie took this as a sign she should be cautious but not to abort her mission of following Ember.

She nearly lost her balance and fell off Daisy's back as she was leaning way over to try to 'read' the signs the ground might give up. The sound of a child crying caught Jamie off guard. A child, here, deep in these woods in the foothills of the LaPlata's? From the sounds of it, a very young child and the hurried mission of the coyotes suddenly spurred her own mission. Daisy snorted in protest, but moved toward the sound as Jamie guided her.

"Always carry a rifle when you ride these hills." Her father's words echoed in her mind now. Jamie was of a mentality that there was nothing to fear in the settled west anymore. It was silly to borrow trouble. When James Two-Cloud saddled Daisy for Jamie the rifle scabbard was always present and loaded.

"If you ever get thrown from your horse, or run into trouble, you can summon help. You don't have to shoot any creature or human, just shoot the air."

Sage advice Jamie thought now as she urged Daisy forward toward the child's distress call. But, what possible dan—g—er—Jamie swallowed the lump in her throat that felt like her heart had leapt there.

to be continued...

The Most Important Sentence In Your Book

2011-07-14T18:13:00.000-07:00

Remember the old Peanuts Cartoon? Snoopy, a lovable beagle, wanted to be a writer. There was a recurring story line featuring Snoopy atop his dog house with his old manual typewriter, beginning his book. Snoopy never got further than his opening line, “It was a dark and stormy night.”

The first line is the most important sentence of any book, be it fiction or non-fiction. That first sentence has a big job to do. It must capture the interest of the reader and convince her to read the rest of the first page and then the rest of the book.

Today’s reader is increasingly busy, distracted, and in a hurry. He will not spend time with a book that is boring, hard to read, or needs twenty-five pages to get to the point.

So, what can you do to craft a compelling first sentence?

Follow these steps to make your first sentence powerful:

Don’t worry about your first sentence until you are in the editing phase of your book project. If you are in writing phase, just begin your book and know that you can come back to your first sentence to polish it during editing. If you try to write the perfect first sentence during the writing phase, you run the risk of never moving past it to the remainder of the book.
Pay attention to headlines in news reports, on magazine covers, and on websites. While your first sentence is not a headline, it is the very first experience your reader has of your book so it should be exciting and invite readers to continue. Begin to notice how these headlines are written and see what you can learn from that style of writing.
Is your first sentence boring? Read it aloud and listen. Does it sound compelling? If not, it needs revision.
Next, look closely at your first sentence and see if it generates curiosity. When a reader is curious, she will want to keep reading.
You can elicit curiosity by leading with a surprising fact, a compelling story, a thought-provoking statistic, or by using a metaphor in unusual way.
Read your first page. Find the most interesting piece of information on that page and make that point in your first sentence.
Pare down the number of words in your first sentence so that each word is crisp, clear, and serves a purpose. Shorter sentences convey more energy.

Continue to work on your opening sentence until you feel satisfied with it. When your book moves into publication, your editor will also review this opening sentence and make additional suggestions if more revisions are needed.

Your first sentence is the prelude to your reader’s experience of your book. Invest time in making that sentence shine and your readers will thank you by continuing to turn every page of your book.

Lynne Klippel is a best-selling author, publisher, and book coach who specializes in helping non-fiction authors write books that build their business and transform the world. For a f.r.e.e. assessment that will help you see your author strengths and opportunities, visit http://www.BusinessBuildingBooks.com

Old Presidents and Old Leather Journals

2011-07-11T17:26:00.000-07:00

Zachary Taylor, 12^th President of the United States. The silk bookmark I found in an old leather bound journal indicated he was inaugurated March 5^th, 1849 and died on July 9, 1850. What made this even more eventful for me was I found this bookmark on July 9, 2011. One hundred sixty-one years after his death. The book mark was fading and the ends were frayed, but it was still beautifully preserved.

My mystery writer's mind wondered that he died so soon after he was inaugurated, he was only 66 years old. I suppose that was old for back then, but still. How did he die? Apparently he had helped dedicate the Washington Monument earlier that hot and humid July. Just like it is today. The heat got the best of him and he retired to his quarters early to eat a bowl of cherries and drink a pitcher of milk.

Much controversy over the slavery issues of the time made him a candidate of much ridicule and argument. Did someone poison Zachary Taylor? Or was it, as one doctor presumed some intestinal infection that did him in? Will we ever know? I wonder?

The bookmark and the leather book came from an estate Sale, my mother and my sister used to do estate sales near Detroit, Michigan many years ago. Upon investigating the book further I see that it was made by The New Departure Manufacturing Company, of Bristol Connecticut. And it was called a Business Year book. The cover, raised relief pictured scroll work and the name Mr. A Moorhouse in gold-foil inlay lettering graced the front of the journal, the edges were also gold. I hesitate to deface the pages with my small successes; you see I had planned to use this as a success journal. I would imagine the empty journal, obviously, being housed in a leather zippered stationery holder, complete with writing surface and ink blotter, places for pens, and seals and perhaps postage of some sort, perhaps a stamp or embrossed signature press , gold –foil embrossed in the name of Albert C Marshall are two separate pieces of two different people's lives that really don't matter to anyone any more.

I could use it – If I dared. There are so many interesting features in the back matter of the book – a perpetual calendar 1756-1956, Leap years 1756 – 1952, parcel post zone rates – for example a one pound local package would cost you five cents…out to the 8^th zone it would cost you twelve cents. What can you mail for twelve cents today?

Each page of the journal has a tiny box that you can place a check mark next to the type of weather for that day-- clear, cloudy, rain or snow. There is a place for addresses, Insurance Expiration dates and other particulars about the policy,

The American Creed by William Taylor Page, Business Laws, points of constitutional Laws, fifteen don'ts in the use of the American Flag and the fourteen errors of life – by Judge Rentoul as told to the Bartholomew Club(I'm not sure what that was.)

The rules as listed:

Remember these are errors:

1. To expect to set up our own standard of right and wrong and expect everybody to conform to it.

2. To try to measure the enjoyment of others by our own.

3. To look for judgment and experience in youth

4. To endeavor to mold all dispositions alike

5. To expect uniformity of opinion in this world.

6. Not to yield in unimportant trifles

7. To look for perfection in our own actions

8. To worry ourselves and others over what cannot be remedied.

9. Not to alleviate if we can all that needs alleviation.

10. Not to make allowances for the weakness of others

11. To consider anything impossible that we ourselves cannot perform.

12. To believe only what our finite minds can grasp

13. To live as if the moment the time, the day were so important that it would live forever.

14. To estimate people by some outside quality, for it is that within which makes the man. "London Standard."

The Journal's forward first paragraph. "Nothing is new except that which has been forgotten," we will regard the passing of the old ear and the coming of the new one as simply a matter of looking at the calendar, for isn't it true that whatever is, functions as a merger of what has been with what is to come.

The ball bearings this company designed, which also designed and, I suppose, presented this business journal to its employees was:

New Departure Mfg. Co

De Witt Page, President

Bristol, Connecticut

December 26, 1924

How neat, maybe I will make good use of this journal after all. It will house my successes and help me keep my bearings.

Small Town America

2011-07-09T08:27:00.000-07:00

Small Town America

"Small towns have long memories and pass their horror down ceremonially from generation to generation."

That may not be your perception of Small Town America, but it was one author's perception. Setting in a small town can evoke peace, tranquility, safety, but add a few 'what ifs' and you can swing that mood in many directions.

Houses absorb the emotions that are spent on them, or in them.

They say, an untimely or violent death leaves the ghost behind to haunt the premises until that ghost is avenged. Certainly, that could put a different twist on the tone and premise of your small town story. Or, what about the recent news story of the house built on the nesting site of garter snakes. The snakes claimed the residence. They would not be moved or excluded. What kind of milieu would that create for your story? What type of character would it take to live in that house?

Small Town Secrets invites you to explore a small town in rural Wisconsin. Is it your town? You be the judge. Buy your copy from Amazon Now or from the publisher Wings ePress in all the various formats. Buy Now!

What sets your small town apart from this small town? Email me and let me know. If you sign up for my newsletter on my website you will get a free report titled: Writing the Modern Mystery

Here is the link: www.billiewilliams.com There is a sign up box on the home page.

Hope to hear from you soon.

Billie A Williams,

Mystery Suspense Author,

Speaker, Writing Coach/Instructor

Small Town Secrets by Billie A Williams

ISBN# 978-1-59705-283-2

http://tinyurl.com/5repos9

Golden Living - Writers Recital

2011-07-04T18:09:00.000-07:00

Amberg Writers Group Recital brings writing to the Golden Living Center in Florence, Wisconsin

On Tuesday June 28, 2011 The Amberg Writers Group lead by Billie A Williams presented a 'Recital' at the Golden Living Center in Florence, Wisconsin. Dance recitals, piano recitals and now writers reading their original works in a writer's recital.

A group of more than twenty people participated in the event. Laughing about readings of traveling on rocky roads and Yorkie dog antics, " yellow" the one word prompt, the man or dog with the red whiskers drew first nervous stirrings, and then laughter at the surprise ending, personal miracles brought, sighs of reverence and loud applause, and a story about a book suitable for every person that entered a book store story surprised and delighted. The actual 1904 book presented and showed words that seemed to suit, randomly telling each person exactly what they needed to hear. A poem about Makeup inspired with its ending twist that makeup can't hide, or make more beautiful, what's inside a person.

Representative of the readings, treats in the form of 'cup cakes' were the container to serve up the dog bone cookies, yellow/orange circus peanuts, a quarter for those less fortunate and other goodies distributed from the writers to the residents and staff of Golden Living.

The drawing for prizes that consisted of an autographed copy of July Heat, and one of Money Isn't Everything written by Billie A Williams (as well as a copy donated to the home's library), angels, pet rocks, a bag of 'yellow' goodies, notebooks and pens, t-shirts and book bags. All the prizes were in some way representative of what each writer read about.

The writers group consists of, mostly unpublished writers—if you consider only book or magazine publications. However, some of these writers have published in trade magazines and newspapers. The online branch of this group contributes their writing even though they can't be present to attend the 'recitals' someone else reads their work. Some of those members can count book publications and publication in anthologies such as the Chicken Soup for the Soul books.

The group is available to do 'recitals' for other groups that might be interested, so far besides the nursing home, this has included library visits, but they are open to more venues. The presentation consists of original works by the writers constructed from prompts such as: "expect miracles", or 'yellow', or maybe "an abandoned tricycle" always a new prompt each month. The results are always a distinctive blend of uniquely different stories developed by the individual writers.

As the group practices with their writing prompts constructing short 250 to 500 word stories, they are beginning a new venture--they all are beginning their own full length fiction manuscript. The genre chosen by most, so far, is mystery. Some are working on memoirs in addition to the fiction book.

Everyone is welcome to join the group, age, writing or publishing credits do not matter. No previous skills are necessary just a desire to write.

"Writer's Write" is the group motto. "Write Like The Wind," or "Write Like Your Fingertips Are On Fire," are the group mantras.

For more information contact:

Billie A Williams,

P O Box 134

Amberg, WI 54102

billie@billiewilliams.com

Do Something "Good", Jump on the Band Wagon… Pass on the Good Wishes

2011-07-03T12:25:00.000-07:00

"If Wishes were horses, the beggars would ride."

When we pass around these emails "do this and something "good" will happen to you in X hours." Sometimes a time is given, sometimes a monetary amount is suggested that you are to expect if you pass on to 5-7-or 10 friends or however many it suggests the message always included. How many friends would you wish good fortune?

Why do people jump on this band wagon? Simple, we want something good to happen to us. And, of course, if all it takes is for us to pass on good wishes to a few other people—Let's do it? Let's get going virally.

Think about it. All that next day you are looking for, anticipating, expecting, your good to appear. Aha! That's the SECRET—expectation—because if you look hard enough for your good, if you expect to receive it, if you THINK you deserve it and believe it, it comes true!

When we worry or fear contemplate the worst case scenario—guess what happens? Right, either you've wasted a ton of energy, longevity and health on seeing the bad, which may appear as you wished or may just have given you ulcers for nothing. If you expect good and don't get it, nothing is wasted.

As Mike Dooley says, "Thoughts become things. Pick the good ones." Or, if we're going to wish and hope and pray, it makes perfect sense to pick the good and pass it on.

Conceive it, (thought) believe it (wishes, hopes, prayers) Achieve it! Our good, whatever that might be is ours for the wishing, hoping, dreaming and working toward that end. I remember a quote I read ages ago, "Even, if you are on the right road, if you just sit in the middle of it, you might get run over."

Recently I received one of these messages and instead of deleting it as I normally do because I worry about passing on viruses, or some other evil spam from the ether—I let the worry wart sleep and passed on the message to seven people as it suggested. The next day, I was looking for the good that was coming my way. First, one little thing (2 kindle books sold – my first). This trickled and tickled my gratitude. Not big money, but good—"my good news". Nothing in the message put a dollar amount or a premium value to my good news - so this was it, this was good and I was grateful for at least that.

But then, a funny thing happened, periodically throughout the day good news grew like a well-tended garden planted at the perfect time, in a perfect way in a perfect soil, producing an abundant harvest, sharing joy and gratitude for the tiniest fruit, seemed to multiply that good. That's why these messages go viral and that's why they work. Expect only good, think only good thoughts, see what happens.

Remember what we think of as bad, may really be the best for us. I can offer you numerous examples of what I thought was a bad thing when it eventually turned out to be a GOOD thing. You have to examine what you receive, look for that seed of good. It may not appear right away—but look for it, slowly erode that mask and look beneath the surface for your good. Expect it, believe it is hiding there somewhere, look at every angle, you may have to adjust your rose colored glasses or your focus to find out why this was a good thing in disguise.

Example: We lost a tenant for a rental property we own next door to us. Actually, we lost him before he had finished moving in because of someone with a vendetta against us. I was crushed and angry, but before the dust settled I realized just how lucky we were that this person decided not to rent from us. His penchant for crying wolf when there was none, his nervous habit of finding something wrong with everything, and "fixing it" usually just making it worse or breaking it, or asking for it to be checked over, all would have been a nightmare even if we didn't consider his habitual lying about everything and anything. We were so lucky and I thank the person who bad mouthed us and created his reason to not accept this house. Whew! There are more examples, but I'm sure you have your own surprises to relate to this situation.

So your good may be disguised in a difficult or seemingly bad happening. The moral of this story is trust that everything has a purpose and if you think good thoughts the good will come through. You may have to look hard, but it's there.