Tonight on the Write Stuff — The Jesus Conspiracy with Lewis Smith

It’s not the first time the Lord Jesus has come under attack for being the Son of the God and we know it won’t be the last. However, in recent times, readers have seen an influx of pseudo-scientific religious revisionist historical fiction intertwined with a few mysterious characters and have it called truth. Of note, the DaVinci Code falls in line with that. When it came out, Christians were shaken to the core thinking their faith was a majority vote of elevating Jesus Christ to divine status. Not to mention married and fathered children with Mary Magdalene.

Wow.

Other authors have jumped on the bandwagon with the plots getting more twisted, sacrilegious, and downright wrong. After all, alternative history mixed with a legalistic interpretation of faith plus two ounces of truth equals sales.

There was a time when nothing of this sort would have been printed but, as the saying goes, times have changed. With that in mind, we going to chat with returning guest Lewis Smith, author and historian to put The Jesus ‘Conspiracy’ in its proper place. To weigh and ask questions, call in at 646-595-2083, press 1 to be live on air. Or, you can download the WLUV radio mobile app. Follow the link to listen: http://tobtr.com/s/7609789. Tune in!

Lewis Smith was born in Greenville, Texas in 1963 and graduated from Quinlan Ford High School in 1982.  He served for four years in the U.S. Navy and attended East Texas State University in Commerce, TX, earning a Bachelor’s and Master’s Degree in History.  He has taught at Greenville Christian School for the last 19 years.
His has a lifelong interest in history and archeology, especially where these two disciplines intersect with the world of the New Testament.  He has studied New Testament apologetics for over 20 years and loves defending the historical accuracy and inspiration of the Gospels in online discussions.  He also enjoys karate, collecting Indian arrowheads, and the Elder Scrolls video game series.
He is married to his childhood sweetheart, Patty Smith, and they will celebrate their 30th anniversary next month.They have twin daughters, Rachel and Rebecca, who are 20 years old.

Nicknames and Me

I was browsing  through my reviews when I saw this review of my book, The Other Man.

“I enjoyed this book, but it had things in it that bothered me. The characters names completely threw me off at times. It seemed like most of the characters had at least two different names, and I sometimes got confused. Also, the nicknames were annoying. Other than that, I really liked this book. The story line was excellent and the writing was strong. This is the third book that I have read by this author and I look forward to reading more. Keep up the good work, Parker J. Cole.”

I honed in on the comment the reviewer made about the nicknames. After I read it, I went through my book and I noticed a recurring theme – darn it all, there’s a lot of nicknames.

In Many Strange Women, we’re introduced to the Martin and Greene family whose lives collide when the oldest Martin girl marries the Greene’s only son – without telling anyone. Suffice to say, a lot is discovered as these two families learn more about the other.

I made a list my main cast of characters and all the names they’re associated with from both books of the Sins of the Flesh series. The chart shows their given names and the nicknames

Name	Friends	Spouse	Family	Other
Celeste Greene nee Martin	Icy	Celeste	Icy
Solomon Greene	Sol	Mr. Greene	Given Name
Leah Westwood nee Martin	Blaze	Leahgirl	Blaze	Little girl (by ex-flame Vincent)
Jacob Westwood	Jacob	J-hun	Jacob
Goijaart Thomas	Gonzo			Given name by Celeste
Cordelia Greene		Given name		Reverend Daughter of the Church of the True Virgin of the Washed Saints
Theodore Greene		Theo		Exalted Son of the Church of the True Virgin of the Washed Saints
Patrick Batcher			Raj	Batcher by Cordelia Greene and ‘old boy by Theodore Greene

Imagine my surprise to see this reviewer was right. My current WIP (work-in-progress) is my first full length sci-fi novel. Wouldn’t you know, my two main characters have nicknames. I was shocked. Where did this fascination with shortening people’s names come from?

I guess it stems from the fact I’m known by different nicknames myself. My older sister calls me one of three at any given time: ‘Stump’,  ‘Stump-o-tree’, and ‘Treestump’. My twin calls me ‘Jennay’ (from the movie Forrest Gump). One of my author friends refers to me PJ. My hubby calls me…well, he doesn’t say my name very often. Can ‘Hey you’ be a nickname?

As I pondered this, I saw I tend to shorten people’s names. In my mind, you can be different things to different people. ‘Stump’, as my older sister calls me, refers to the fact I have short legs. My twin calls me ‘Jennay’ to mirror the affection Forrest Gump had toward Jennifer in the movie. As twins, we’re two parts of one person.

And on it goes. Nicknames denote fondness among close family and friends. They bind a group of people together because they can refer to an aspect of a person or an unforgettable event. The day my older sister called me ‘Treestump’ was when she saw me reaching for an item in the cabinet in our apartment. Apparently one of those neurons cells turned on and connected the stump of a tree with my short legs and thus the name stuck. My twin on the other hand laughed at Forrest’s pronunciation of his love’s name but over time, she attributed that to me.

After I saw the correlation I saw with my writing and my own life, the last question to answer is simply this: Will I continue to use nicknames in my books?

You betcha!

I have no idea why but my favorite nickname of all time (and I have no idea why) is Googely Bear.

I tried to call the hubby that…needless to say it didn’t work.

What are some of your favorite nicknames? What about the ones you hate? Love? Share!

Tonight on the Write Stuff — The Need For Edgy Christian Fiction, Part Two with George McVey

Last week we began our discussion on edgy Christian fiction and the need for it. We’ll continue our talk with our guest and touch on other areas related to this developing genre.

Recently I was quoted in an article that’s making it way around various writing circles both Christian and non-Christian alike discussing the need for edgy Christian Fiction.

In the article I state: The current Christian fiction out there seems dull, boring, and unrealistic. This doesn’t apply to every single book, but the majority of Christian fiction is very white washed, clean, and shows exemplary characters of sinners who sin ‘a little’. This is not to say that we don’t need those books, it’s good to have a benchmark to aspire to, with the ultimate goal of being like Christ. However the state of the church, particularly in the west, proves this to be opposite. Churches contain people who lie, cheat, and steal. Cynics, skeptics, and seekers sing praises to God, and don’t believe a word they’re singing.

I believe edgy Christian fiction addresses this by using the imagination of the mind, with real-world accuracy. It shows saints who go through life far from the peace and wisdom of God, and find their way back to Him. Of course it would have been better if they’d never fallen at all, but we all know that isn’t the case.”

What is edgy Christian fiction? How does it apply to us? Is there a point where we can go too far? Join me as I discuss these and other issues with my guest, author and pastor George McVey. You can call in at 646-595-2083, press 1 to be live on air. Or, you can download the WLUV radio mobile app today. Tune in!

Write Stuff Author Spotlight — Running In Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace by Mary A. Perez

Title: Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace
Paperback: 360 pages
Genre: Christian Living, Inspirational, Memoir, Nonfiction

Author: Mary A. Pérez

Publisher: Chart House Press, LLC (January 28, 2015)

ISBN-10: 1631250280
ISBN-13: 978-1631250286

Mary A. Pérez was born in the Bronx, raised in Miami, and now resides in Texas with her husband of twenty years. Her award-winning essays have appeared in La Respuesta and Sofrito for Your Soul.

“More than a memoir—this book is a promise of hope for anyone who was abandoned as a child, to anyone who woke up hungry and went to bed hungrier every day, for every wife who has loved a husband who left bruises on her heart and on her body.”
Somewhere between stealing cold cuts from stray cats and watching a stranger leave her mother’s bed after breaking in through their bedroom window, Mary figured out that her family was dirt poor. Worse than her empty stomach, she was hungry for acceptance and love. She thought she found it when her baby sister was born and she became her “mommy”, taking care of her needs as best she could at the age of seven. Then she had to say goodbye over a small white casket.

Mary’s grandparents, first generation immigrants from Puerto Rico, took her in and gave her a glimpse of faith and stability. For a brief, shining spell, she had a real home—until they decided that Mama needed her. They may have been right, but Mama needed more than a little girl could give and Mary lost her way again.
Just out of Juvy Hall, Mary found a knight in shining armor to take her away. She became a teenage bride to a man twice her age—a man as deeply enslaved to booze as every “step-dad” she’d had as a child. She loved him anyway, even wearing the bruises he gave her, even when she tried to leave him to give their children a better life. Despite her fear and loneliness, she never imagined it would take a gunshot in the middle of the night to teach her courage. She was even more surprised when rediscovered faith paved the path to forgiveness after so many years of pain.

Running in Heels is a memoir of the grit and grace that carried a young girl through the shadows of her mother’s choices and on through an abusive marriage. Mary A. Pérez narrates an incredible story of survival in the face of hopelessness, and learning to forgive against all odds.
A story of coming of age, and coming into grace.

 

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Tour hosted by Write Now Literary

Christian Fiction Edgy Style

I’m quoted in an article where i talk about my views on Christian fiction and why edgier Christian fiction is needed. You can read the full article here but here’s glimpse of it. Enjoy!

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Recently there has been a new genre within the writing industry called edgy Christian fiction. To those who aren’t aware of this new style, it is basically fiction that isn’t sweet, rosy, and deals with sinful issues, which some may perceive as being touchy.

Now there are some readers, and publishers that aren’t used to this type of writing, and are very dismissive of it. Which adds to my confusion, why am I confused? Well the Bible states all have sin and fallen short of the glory of God. 1 John 1:8 says ‘If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us.’ That is why Jesus died on the cross to save us from our sins.

Yes we are a new creation, but no we are not holier than thou. We have all had a past, which is why it is confusing, to be dismissive of fiction that portrays sinners saved by grace.

Author Parker J Cole boldly writes edgy Christian fiction. Upon interviewing her, I asked why she chose to write this genre.

‘The current Christian fiction out there seems dull, boring, and unrealistic. This doesn’t apply to every single book, but the majority of Christian fiction is very white washed, clean, and shows exemplary characters of sinners who sin ‘a little’. This is not to say that we don’t need those books, it’s good to have a benchmark to aspire to, with the ultimate goal of being like Christ. However the state of the church, particularly in the west, proves this to be opposite. Churches contain people who lie, cheat, and steal. Cynics, skeptics, and seekers sing praises to God, and don’t believe a word they’re singing.’ ”

Read the full article here: Christian Fiction Edgy Style

Many Strange Women — Excerpt

I guess if I’m going to share Book 2 of the Sins of the Flesh series with you, I oughta share an excerpt from the first book, Many Strange Women. Due to your support, Many Strange Women, was on Amazon’s Top 100 Bestsellers for African American Women’s Fiction for several months.   I’ll be back live on January 6th. Yippee!

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Ropes of candy cane bound Solomon to the chair while a giant marshmallow gagged him. A single light bulb hung from a thin wire in the ceiling, and the rest of the room was bathed in darkness. Tears stung his eyes as he fought against his candy cane restraints around his chest, arms, wrists, and feet—but they had the strength of marble. The marshmallow refused to dissolve in his mouth and remained even as he tried to bite down.

The doorway suddenly darkened by the curvaceous figure of a woman.

“Eric Blake,” the woman’s voice spoke, and it smoothed over him like frigid water flowing over rocks.

Solomon’s eyes widened as she advanced, vibrant like an Irish rose. The light revealed her in phases, bottom to top. Long, dainty feet with strawberry colored toenails were hemmed by matching silk pajama pants edged with lace. Slim legs seductively clung to by the silk stretched the fabric. The hourglass waistline was accentuated by a V-neck halter top, and curly copper hair surrounded a long, elegant neck. Jade eyes edged by long curly lashes, an upturned nose and childishly pouty lips. Her arms were slender and sinewy and in her hands she clinched a coiled whip of candy cane.

A scythe of glacial, nipping fear sliced into Solomon’s body, opened his chest and exposed his thudding heart. Over and over as each step brought the woman closer, fear flayed him. With renewed vigor, he fought against the candy cane rope. He twisted and tugged at his wrists in an effort to set him free. The marshmallow bulged and expanded until it overlapped the corners of his mouth.

“Eric Blake,” the woman’s mouth moved as her tongue darted out and over her lips.

The marshmallow gag muffled his scream.

“Oh yes! That sound!” The woman laughed as she rolled her eyes and neck in a movement of pleasure.

Solomon struggled violently. He wrenched at the candy cane ropes, twisted his wrists and grappled with his toes to move the chair. His face flushed with blood from his exertions. The chair rocked back and forth but never fell. The ropes tightened their hold; the candy cane glowed in the light. He had to escape. He had to try!

The woman purred. Her eyes darkened to the color of mold and the mirth vanished from her face as an expression of intent drew her eyebrows together and her mouth fell slightly open in anticipation.

The whip uncoiled; the red and white bands twisted together and met at a point. She backed away until she was once again shaded by darkness and then silhouetted by light pouring in from the doorway. He saw the dark figure of her arm rise.

The tip of the whip cracked against his chest, and he flinched instinctively but there wasn’t any pain. It fell again, this time on his stomach, and he jolted. The sound echoed in the air like a firecracker. Over and over, it touched various parts of his body. He didn’t know how long he sat there as he shivered from response, felt no pain but was utterly trapped by his candied bonds and tormented by a beautiful woman.

Then it was over, and the woman walked back to him, hips swaying. She reached out and pulled the marshmallow gag from his mouth and threw it to the ground. It shattered like glass on the floor.

“No, no, no,” he moaned, and once more struggled against his bonds.

“It’s time to eat, Eric Blake.” She panted harshly, the red lips wide open as she gulped.

“No, please, no! Get away from me!” Solomon screeched, rocking the chair again.

“I will never go away,” she whispered as she leaned over him. Her hair cascaded over him in a coppery waterfall. Her mouth opened over his shoulder, and her teeth sank into his flesh and left a gaping hole in his shoulder.

In horror, he gazed at his shoulder. It was marshmallow with a candy cane center.

Solomon jerked awake from his dream. He scraped at his shoulder fervently, expecting to see a marshmallow wound. A few seconds passed before he stopped and longer for his heart to stop its attempt to escape the confines of his ribcage. He pushed the covers away from his sweat-drenched body. The cool air rushed against his skin and he welcomed it. Darkness shrouded everything except for a pinprick of red light from his digital clock: 4:30.

“Dear God,” he breathed into the quiet room.

He exhaled a long breath. Would he ever escape his past?

The Other Man — Excerpt

While I’m on holiday from hosting my shows, I wanted to share an excerpt from my newest book, The Other Man. I return live on January 6th. Enjoy!

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Vincent Miller stared at the beaming bride, who stood at the altar as she married Jacob Westwood. He had never seen Leah Martin look so beautiful. She had always been a looker, but now at her wedding, she had a bridal glow about her. Her caramel skin radiated with a golden sheen, the thick riot of russet curls shimmered, and her ivory gown was the perfect complement to her curves.

She laughed as she gave her flowers to her maid of honor. A little boy came down the aisle with a broom decorated with pink ribbons and frills. When the little boy placed the broom at the bride and groom’s feet, she and Jacob jumped over it. The bridegroom tripped and his arms flailed to keep from falling. The church rang with laughter as he smiled and stole another kiss from his new bride.

Third in line, Vincent watched with hooded eyes as Leah hugged more guests while the photographer took pictures of the bride and groom with everyone in the receiving line. As his turn came up, he braced himself and allowed his face to show only happiness for her.

“Vincent!” she screamed in his ear as she hugged him. The world receded. The flash of the photographer’s camera faded as an onslaught of sensations cascaded over his mind and heated his surging blood. His nostrils flared as he greedily inhaled the cocoa butter–scented skin. The assault of that delicious aroma nearly made his eyes roll into the back of his head. All her round, soft curves melted into his solid frame like warmed syrup over pancakes. The gentle clasp of her arms around his middle effectively imprisoned him, but he was a willing captive. He gritted his teeth in an attempt to still his senses from saturating themselves in the presence of this woman. Yet, when she pulled back from him an instant later, his body ached to hold her again.

“Hey, Vincent.”

The sound of the husband’s voice was an ice cold bucket of distraction that disintegrated the hold Leah’s presence had on him. Vincent gave himself a mental shake as he tugged on the ends of his suit and smoothed his hair in a nonchalant way. He hoped as he reached out to shake the groom’s hand that the slight tremble of his own hand wasn’t visible.

“Congrats, you guys.” How words erupted from his mouth was a mystery. Before he could say more, the photographer gestured and Leah jumped between them with her arms around their necks. Vincent’s lips stretched and curved upward as a sardonic voice whispered in his mind. Smile for the camera.

 ***

Do you see what you missed out on, Vincent? The flash from the camera blinded Leah Westwood as she stood in the middle of her husband and her ex-flame.

The instant she articulated the thought, she felt the Spirit chastise her. Okay, okay. So maybe he hadn’t missed out on everything. They’d been intimate on more than one occasion. Yet, she did feel a pure sense of feminine pleasure at seeing this man, whom she at one time wanted to give her life to, watch her marry another man worth twelve of him. Jacob glanced down at her, his eyes gentle but lit with anticipation. A

bubble of sweet, ginger ale–like joy burst from inside her. Heady and intoxicating happiness made her want to fly. She loved her husband with To think God had crafted them for each other still amazed her. Jacob Westwood, the one man to subdue Mercury, the rage monster inside her.

“You look so beautiful, Leahgirl,” Jacob whispered as he kissed her cheek.

Although she recognized her own beauty, she wished she didn’t have so many men try to hit on her, grab at her, or flirt with her. It became tedious. Maybe there was a curse to being pretty. God knew how often she longed for the face of a tarantula.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she returned the compliment. She reached up and tugged the short, thick blond hair. He laughed, his periwinkle eyes filling with teasing light. The formal wedding suit rested

on his broad frame, accentuating it. Jacob wasn’t tall, but he stood almost a head above her. Her hairline came to his square chin, nicely trimmed with a goatee.

Vincent walked away and she greeted more people. Her lips curved into a wide smile but at the same time little needles of nervousness pricked her skin. Her throat started to constrict and she took a deep breath to calm the nerves. Sweat broke out on her forehead as she remembered the night. It was the night she met the two men who changed her life forever: her husband and her attacker. If she hadn’t been so pretty, maybe that scumbag would have left her alone. No. She refused to go into a full-fledged panic attack at her wedding. She was safe here beside Jacob.

“Leahgirl, what’s wrong?”

Jacob’s voice broke through the memory that had almost unveiled itself and she shook her head. This was her wedding day. The past would not interfere with it. She sent a quick prayer to the Almighty to help her with wayward thoughts, and then pushed the trepidation back and focused on all the people who had come to wish them joy.

***

The muscles in Jacob’s neck were tense and he rolled his head to relax them. He closed the door to the hotel room. His fingers tugged at the tie around his throat and loosened it as he rubbed his neck for a few moments. As his muscles stretched, fatigue seeped into them. Who knew weddings could be so time-consuming? From the moment the preacher declared, “You may now kiss the bride,” he’d wanted to race to the hotel suite.

He glanced out the window. The stars glistened against the backdrop of the city. The soft white blanket of snow gave the scenery a fanciful snow globe allure. Cars scuttled back and forth. Street lights changed. The night bustle added its magic to this special day.

For several hours he’d smiled, shook hands, laughed, and enjoyed oh so brief kisses with his new wife for the benefit of the guests. His eyes were dry from the numerous flashes of the camera. The photographer had cajoled, begged, and finally demanded they pose for pictures at each moment. He could have strangled the man.

Leah had been in her element. She sizzled and crackled with the vibrant energy of her happiness. She’d fluttered from one table to the next, her face bright with joy as she connected with the guests. The air about her buzzed and zinged. Hot like a tongue of fire, she singed people. More than once, he saw drooping backs straighten and unconscious frowns transform into smiles. Leah was a bolt of lightning, unable to be harnessed yet magnificent because of the unfettered freedom. He’d watched her all day, longing building up to a pressure inside him begging for release. When they did exchange kisses, he knew she was as eager for their time alone as he.

At last, they had each other to themselves.

Leah twirled around. The knee-length gold dress she had changed into for the reception shimmered in the light. His lips tilted to one side as he remembered how she refused to lug around her bridal dress on her big body for hours.

Big body. He watched her as she stepped out of her shoes and jumped on the bed. Her childish antics were in direct contradiction to the woman he desired with increasing intensity by the moment. This was their wedding night. And he was about to enjoy it.

Guest Blog Post–Paperbacks vs Ebooks: Is it really worth it? by Alana Terry

Our guest blog post is from Alana Terry, an indie author whose book, The Beloved Daughter was a winner in both the Women of Faith writing contest and the Book Club Network book of the month competition.  She gives us some insight on the value of paperbacks over ebooks.
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With so many readers opting for ebooks, may self-published authors wonder why anyone would bother printing a paperback at all? It’s true that ebook sales have now surpassed sales for print books. Especially in the indie book movement, it seems like ebooks are the way to go.

There’s a lot to be said for that. With ebooks, you don’t have to worry about actual merchandise. You don’t have to ship anything out. Formatting is quite a bit easier too, believe it or not. When you’re publishing a print book, you need a full cover design (including that tricky spine whose width changes with your page count) as opposed to just a rectangular thumbnail. You’ve got to worry about things like orphan words dangling at the end of paragraphs and blank lines or awkward section breaks that just don’t come into account on an ebook.

If you’re a self-published author like I am, you are probably going to sell a lot more ebooks than paperbacks. Face it. Most people would rather pay $0.99 to $2.99 for your electronic version than $16 or $18 to get a paperback sent to them. With ebooks, your readers can start reading your novel right away, and they don’t have to pay any shipping fees.

If you don’t count the books I gave away free during a five-day promo, I’ve sold about five ebooks for every paperback someone’s ordered. If you include the ebooks that my readers picked up for free, that ratio jumps to well over a hundred ebooks per print copy.

Even with those numbers, however, I’ve made significantly more money with the sales from my paperbacks. I’m not just talking per book. I’m talking overall royalties. It’s not too hard to figure out. When one of my novels sells on Amazon in its paperback version, I get about $4.50 from that one sale. When my ebooks sell, I only get about a dollar, give or take based on how I’ve priced my ebook for a given time period. In other words, I have to sell five ebooks to match the cost of one paperback.

But that’s just when my readers order from Amazon. I also have copies of my books that I sell at events. With these books, after I order them from CreateSpace (Amazon’s self-publishing service for paperbacks) and sell them, I’m making about $10 profit per book. If I want to earn a hundred bucks, all I need to do is sell ten paperbacks. Find the right event, and that’s not too much of a challenge. To make the same amount of money, I’d need to sell about a hundred ebooks.

Some self-published authors will still choose to stick solely to electronic versions. And I can’t blame them. Like I said, the formatting for paperbacks takes more time, and lots of authors don’t want to deal with the hassle of storing merchandise, shipping orders, etc. But if you have the time (or the money to pay someone else) to get a paperback version formatted and uploaded to CreateSpace, you may find an additional source of income to supplement your ebook sales.

Alana Terry is the author of the inspirational suspense novel, The Beloved Daughter, set in North Korea. The Beloved Daughter was a winner in both the Women of Faith writing contest and the Book Club Network book of the month competition. She has also published a special-needs memoir and a time-travel series for kids.

You can connect with Alana on twitter at @aboynamedsilas, or see her Amazon author page.

Getting Ready for…The Write Stuff

On July 2nd, I begin to host the internet radio show, The Write Stuff.

For all intents and purposes, I have to say I’m so terrified excited to be doing this show. I look forward to introducing a great collection of inspirational and Christian authors who write stories that probe the imagination or probe our every day fears. I look forward to highlighting those people who help these writers fix perfect works of art of the written word.

To tune in click here and you can call during show time at 6465952083.

Each week, we plan to discuss topics that pertain to authors in the various stages of the writing process, from concept to product. We also will interview authors in various stages of their manuscript and share tips, tools, and techniques to help writers grow and improve their craft. We will talk with indie authors and established authors and hear the stories behind their words.

Most importantly, we will be there to encourage every writer who wants to write to get writing. A small segment of our show called BrainSpark will have writing prompts each week for the author who has no idea where to start. Or, for the writer experiencing writer’s block, can use to jumpstart their writing.  Feel free to share anything sparked from the segment and we’ll be sure to post it on a special blog dedicated to BrainSpark.

As we get ready for the show, I have to thank several people who have made this possible and I will do so formally on the first day of the show.

The Write Stuff…helping inspirational writers write.

The Chicken, the Skater, and the Research

All I need is a ramp…

My granny and I were in the drive thru at Church’s chicken one weekend, waiting for our 15 piece mix. Obviously, the chickens were doing battle with the cooks because we’d been there for at least fifteen minutes and hadn’t moved at all. And there’s something about being in the drive thru for fast food where if you don’t have it in five minutes time slows down to a crawl.

As we waited, I happened to turn and see a young boy jump over the short brick wall that separated Church’s from the retail store parking lot and land back on his skateboard.  My heart caught in my throat and I said a prayer to God to please keep the boy close by.

Why I needed divine intervention:

There is a slim chance you will ever find me and a skateboard in the same place, much less find me riding on one.  I am at an age where a skateboard is a health hazard. Further, my body no longer bounces back when it falls…it simply breaks once it makes contact with cement.

However, in my upcoming new book, Many Strange Women, my male protagonist is a skater who knows all about tricks and techniques on the board and he’s pretty good at doing them too.  And how does he know about them? Because I researched what a skater does to get good at his craft.

First, I watched hour after hour of skating tricks on YouTube, flabbergasted at what these artists do with their bodies and a narrow deck, balanced on wheels. Flip tricks, grinds, variations of Ollies and so much more… and they don’t fall off! I can walk on a flat surface with rails on either side and still manage to stumble.

But for all the hours I spent online, watching and reading about this sport the most information I received was how to do the moves.

Back to the Church’s Chicken drive-thru: when I saw the boy perform an Ollie over the wall, my heart jumped in my mouth. I needed to interview him.  Ten minutes later, the battle was lost and I set a piping hot bag of chicken on my grandmother’s lap and sped off, turned the car on two wheels and drove into the adjacent parking lot.  I saw the boy walking away, his board under his arm,  and I burned rubber to reach him before he completely vanished.  Thankfully, when he turned around he didn’t run away. He looked to be about 14, long dirty blond locks, nasally deep voice, and a small splatter of freckles across the bridge of his nose that added to his appeal in the odd way of boys in the puberty stage to manhood.

I talked to him for a while  and he gave me some pointers (not sure if he thought I would actually use them for myself) about skating as well as why he liked to do what he did. I noticed he wore no protective gear, his board was nicked and worn looking, and how he was dressed. As a writer, I was able to take in all aspects of his person as well as his demeanor. Seeing that was worth more than the numerous hours of video I saw. He showed me tricks and explained the sport to me. My grandmother, kind woman she is, gave the boy a dollar for his help. As she tells me, “A dollar in the ’30’s could buy a ten pound bag of pork neck bones, a get a bus transfer, and half a bushel of apples with change to spare!”

There’s only so much research you can do online. After all, you’re safely in front of the computer. But research has to have a physical aspect to it.  Part of the research includes interviewing people who do or are performing the job, service, or task you want to explore in your writing. Sure, an online Google or Bing search can give you information on it but in order to bring depth to your characters or realism to a plot, a writer should do actual research. With the advancement of virtual experiences through all sorts of medium, I believe we’ve lost our natural curiosity to explore in the real sense when all we have to do is pull up a search engine and have the computer do all the work.

I really liked connecting with the boy, who name is Jay, and other skaters I’ve met in the course of writing the book. And maybe that’s the best part of research you take with you as write…meeting great people with aspects of themselves you can translate into your work.

Possibly the greatest form of flattery and thanks.