This is a totally untouched photo. Isn’t the scene beautiful?–made perfect just as it is. Most things are made perfect, it’s idle hands that come along and screw them up-wanting bigger, faster, more, more, more–lest we forget, all those things do not make one more honest, kinder, or more self aware.

It turned out to be a beautiful day on the beach today–I enjoyed a lovely walk on the north end of the island hoping to find some cool shells–no luck. Still, the walk was pleasant–always pleasant–keeps the wheels turning. Still working on SHARK’S BREATH–here’s a little excerpt:

“Will that be all?” The waitress asked, glancing at the napkin laid across the barely eaten food on his plate.
August Temple nodded a yes and handed her a fifty dollar bill. “Keep the change.” He added.
“My—big spender, huh. His ex-wife slid her eyes to his wallet, then glared angrily at him. “Where did you get all the money Auggie?”
“I work for a living.” He returned the glare, softening his expression immediately as the tiny fingers of his daughter pressed against his.
“Daddy,” the lashes of her eyes fluttered as she giggled, “are you still sick?” her sad eyes pleaded.
“No, I’ve been feeling much better.” He patted his thin stomach, then tousled the child’s thick dark curls. ‘I think I ate some bad food,” August’s eyes slide to his wife’s, then back to his daughter’s.
Tiffany smiled broadly showing her teeth, her eyes twinkled. “Good, I don’t want you to be sick, Daddy.”
“Don’t worry about me, little bug. I’m doing just fine.
The little girl glanced from her mother then to her father, “Do you have lots of money? Mommy says if you—“
August’s eyes glared again at his wife. “Sweetie, I wish I did, But no, I don’t have a whole lot, but if you really need something, I’ll try to get it for you.”
Rising from the table, the trio exited the doors of the Fish Hook Grill, walking into the parking lot.
Releasing her mother’s hand, the four year old reached for her father’s. “Can I stay with you tonight,” her tiny voice asked.
Sweeping his daughter into his arms, August smoothed the hair away from her face. “Sorry, little bug, I’ve got to get up real early in the morning—going down to Charleston. Have to go to work.” He paused, receiving a long hug, “But I promise—as soon as I get back from shrimping, you and me are going to spend lots of time together.” Avoiding his wife’s steely gaze, he settled his daughter back to the ground and squatted before her.
She was so pretty, so delicate. Her face beamed lovingly up to his; her perfect small mouth turning upward into a smile. “Kisses, Daddy.”

QUOTE: ” There are several kinds of love. One is a selfish, mean, grasping, egotistical thing which uses love for self-importance. This is the ugly and crippling kind. The other is an outpouring of everything good in you — of kindness and consideration and respect — not only the social respect of manners but the greater respect which is recognition of another person as unique and valuable. The first kind can make you sick and small and weak but the second can release in you strength, and courage and goodness and even wisdom you didn’t know you had.” John Steinbeck

WRITING TIP: If you love writing it does exactly what John Steinbeck says, “releases in you strength and courage and goodness and even wisdom you didn’t know you had.”

The lion always kills the gazelle

Just one of those days perfect for watching your favorite movie, reading your favorite book, or writing about nefarious characters. Today reminded me of the second book in the mystery series, BRIDGE TENDER. It was in this book that I introduced Estelle. If you’ve read any of my mysteries you’ll be familiar with her. She’s a real piece of work. Since I’m working on SHARK’S  BREATH (fifth in the series) I like to go back and tweak my memory–I found this little excerpt and wanted to share it with my readers. It’s from Hank–remember good old Hank. Now, I think he wasn’t such a bad guy compared to Estelle. And I can relate to him here–what home means.

EXCERPT: “walking out to the pier, he studied the thick marsh grasses growing between his house and Pamlico Sound. They stretched maybe a hundred yards before him. The area was reminiscent of Topsail but it was different. There were fewer homes along the waterfront, fewer piers fingered out into the briny expanse. Still, it reminded him of his home. But then, any place along the southern Intracoastal Waterway had that feel of life beginning and dying. It was there, in the marsh and the tides, the smell of what wasn’t any longer, of what was and what was going to be.

All along the coast there was that. So being there among the reeds and grasses, close to the water, felt like home, but it wasn’t.”

QUOTE: “We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea, whether it is to sail or to watch, we are going back from whence we came.” John Kennedy

WRITING TIP: Don’t be afraid to sound stupid or silly, mundane or maudlin. When you read your work back to yourself, it may be perfect.

Here’s the new book! Oh yes, it’s a book for the kiddies.

Tommy Turtle comes to Topsail and has been doing so for many years. Hopefully this little endeavor will inform young readers and at the same time allow them to entertain themselves by coloring the pictures within. Ages 2 to 10 might enjoy this little story.

Don’t worry grown up folks. SHARK’S BREATH  is still a work in progress and will be out in the spring. If you remember me mentioning a book called SAVING THE WORLD, this book is also in progress, but will probably not be out for another year.

quote: “Dear Ocean, thank you for making us feel tiny, humble, inspired and salty-all at the same time” –  Apefit

Writing tip: please sign up for my Creative Writing class this coming Feb. 4 at Cape Fear Community College on Hwy210. They are signing up now. I promise it will be fun and…you might even learn something.

We’ve all got them…a mom and dad. These are mine.

This photo was taken in 1944 at the Swing Club in Hollywood, CA. World War II was raging in Europe and Daddy had just left  Samar–a little island in the Pacific (big battle was there at that time). I’m not too sure about the specifics, but my father’s records say he was there–he was a Corpsman–so I guess he was busy–anything else, he would never talk about. All I know is that he was an interesting man. He was tough and had such integrity.

Keeping my parents alive, plus the other folks in my life, is what I do. My father, mother, all the cool characters I’ve met and known–loved, laughed with, hurt with, been a victim of, are in the pages of my books. Their personalities are emblazoned in my brain–I see them as clearly as if they are sitting beside me. Man oh man, writing is such a fantastic thing to do. Thank you Jesus!

This Saturday, Nov. 3, the Jacksonville Library is having their 2nd annual AUTHOR FAIR. Local authors will be their to share their wealth of experiences and vast imaginations thru their books. Please come–from 2 to 4–the library is located at 58 Doris Ave.

C U there.

As far as I know this is the only tower on Topsail Island that has not been refurbished. I often wonder why–why the person who owns it lets it stand and rot. I have no clue who the owner is, but find it sad that this piece of history cannot be restored and used as a historical site or simply sold to someone who might love it a bit.

As a kid, I used to jump out of such towers, but back then there were huge sand dunes to land in.

These old Operation Bumblebee observation towers and the ramjet powered missiles they observed were part of a program after WWII that morphed into Cape Canaveral in Florida. Cool huh?

I think it’s important to remember our history, after all, those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it-as Santayana once said.

Our island’s history makes it more interesting, makes it more than just a play ground. There’s an old WWII warehouse still being utilized, old barracks, now used as part of a church and another as apts. Then there is the rich history of seine fishing on the island and our little swing bridge. Of course, so much of this can be found in my historical fiction trilogy. (Had to promote myself a little) but there are other wonderful books about Topsail that have lots to tell. Please read them.

This is a horseshoe crab. Ugly as blue mud,  ain’t it?

I know if you have spent much time on the beach, you’ve seen some of these critters. They are prehistoric looking, wouldn’t you say, but they are important little creatures–more important than you know. I’ve collected a few facts about them you may find interesting. For one, they have blue blood. (and you thought you were important) And since they are true blue bloods they are protected by the royal families of the world…..NO, NO, NO, not true. ha ha ha. They have blue blood for some scientific reason that I can’t explain. (Go on line and find out, if you really want to know) Still, these critters are very important, their blood clots only in the presence of endotoxins. Their blood enables the detection of bacterial endotoxins in intravenous drugs and medical equipment. Wow! and you thought ugly meant useless, well, we learn something new every day-don’t we. (I know there’s an analogy in there somewhere) Another little fact about the horseshoe crab–females are much larger and they too (like the sea turtle) lays it’s eggs in the sand. Momma horseshoe crab lays over 60,000 at a time.

Ah yes, the analogy–like Forest Gump always said “Pretty is as pretty does,” now I will look at the ugly horseshoe crab with new respect and consider the beautiful things they do for our world.

Oh yes, once their blood is harvested, they are released back into the wild. Good scientist, good boy–now sit.

As you may well know, in most of my books I do include some righteous indignation on the part of one or more of my characters–SHARK’S BREATH  will be no different.

I am not the lone ranger when it comes to the lengthy period of time it is taking to get our beach cleaned, of course , there is nothing I can personally do about that. So, I’m determined to find out what could be done; what could have been done, and am going to talk with an environmentalist – all the arm chair stuff doesn’t get anybody anywhere. In the mean time–I thought my readers might enjoy a little excerpt from the work in progress, Shark’s Breath:

He walked curtly into the next room and hit the button finding the “Luck be a Lady” tract on the Sinatra CD. He sang the title phrase, sauntered back into the bathroom, through to his bedroom, opened the drawer to the bedside table and removed an envelope.
His eyes scanning the pages, B.D. grinned broadly. “Bitch, she buys me a used car and she’s getting a million dollars.” Twisting his body to the rhythm of the song, he released, “stick with me baby, I’m the one you came in with.”
B.D. slid the envelope back into the drawer, and removed his jeans and Henley shirt. He snapped the waistband of his briefs against his tight stomach, pulled them down, then threw them into the hamper before entering the shower.
Musing about the differences between he and his sister, B.D. lathered his long hair, sneering a bit as he recalled her jealousy. ‘It’s not fair, you got all the good features,–the great cheek bones, the damn foot long lashes, and great hair. I’d kill for that hair.’ How many times had he heard that from Eleanor growing up.
     Funny, he thought. I’m the one that’s having to do all he killing, not her. “But things are going to change now, big sister. Maybe Human Resources would be interested in the squalor you live in, the parade of men you run through your legs and the way you treat your daughter. Maybe Uncle B.D. needs to gain custody of the little doll.”
The bar of soap in his hand, he lathered his belly and imagined Eleanor finding the will gone from  her jewelry box. “Stupid. My sister was always stupid. What did she think?” He chortled loudly, and exited the shower, beginning a grooming process he had honed to perfection.

QUOTE: “The essence of lying is in deception, not in words.” John Ruskin

WRITING TIP:  Do you have to be a good liar to be a good writer. I think not, at least for me, writing is all about the truth, even if it is about a fictional story.

Amazing how the clouds take form. Just the other day I was on the beach and it looked as if a city was on the horizon. WOW! (didn’t have a camera at the time)The majesty of it all puts things into perspective, reinforcing the belief that so much is not in my hands. That’s kinda nice–less work for me. I don’t have to save the world or anything like that. And it leaves me time to do the things I love, like walking on the beach which is nigh impossible these days without breaking the law. Alas–the ocean is what heals all the little broken parts, so Mr. Policeman, consider the bohemian soul whose air is that vast expanse, whose blood is the little gifts it leaves at my feet.

QUOTE: “We are all broken, that’s how the light gets in.” Ernest Hemingway.

Writer’s note: The Mermaid’s Purse is now accepting self published or small press published writers of worth. Come check out the new expanded book section or contact me.