A young friend recently asked me this question. ‘What twenty things would you tell a twenty year old about life?’

Well, after recovering from the shock of the question and from the fact that there surely isn’t a twenty year old living on this planet who would bother listening to me, I thought, well, why not?

After making my decision, my only problem was stopping at twenty.

So here we go with my list of hard earned snippets of wisdom that no twenty year old in their right mind will pay any attention to at all.

1. Never listen to any advice given to you by anyone over the age of twenty-one. It will always be so boring and based on pre-rap standards of behaviour.
2. If your are a twenty year old girl, don’t ever believe a word that a twenty year old boy utters. And visa versa.
3. Grit your teeth and smile. You all have Neanderthal parents, so just accept this sad fact and get on with life.
4. Work. It’s a very nasty four letter word that you should avoid for as long as possible.
5. Go ahead and change the world. We’ve all had a go it it before, and failed, but don’t let that dampen your enthusiasm.
6. Make very good friends with people who have expensive cars and whose parents have a huge swimming pool.
7. Yes, the world is a dumb place. But it’s your home, so keep it reasonably tidy.
8. No one understands you of course. This is perfectly normal so don’t fret. Just work a bit harder at perfecting your tantrums.
9. When you feel out of place and a little awkward, just accept the fact that you are out of place and a little awkward. Hey, it’s only for a while so don’t get all worked up about it.
10. Fashions and trends do come and go. But when you get a little older, they may last longer than a week.
11. Do not do as you are told. Wait until you are married.
12. You Neanderthal parents may be creeps, but just keep taking their money for as long as possible. (Refer tip 4.)
13. Never smile. Smiling indicates pleasure, acceptance and contentment. You don’t have these yet.
14. Punctuality. Way too difficult to spell, so impossible to look up the meaning in a dictionary. Forget I mentioned it.
15. There’s plenty of time to have friends for life later. A month or two will be just fine for now.
16. Studying is good. Partying is way better though.
17. Try not to make the same stupid mistake thirty-two times. Ten or so will do just fine.
18. Have your own opinion about absolutely everything. Even if you don’t have a single clue about anything.
19. Respecting your elders doesn’t mean that you actually have to listen to them.
20. Read Atlas Shrugged. Again.

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My name is Hubert Williams. I was born in 1952 in Cushing, OK. My Dad worked in the oil field as a roustabout, so we moved around a lot when I was little. A result of moving a lot I did not have many real friends so I made up a few. When I tried to be funny around the family, I usually wound up in trouble, which used to make me cry. As a teen, it made me the class clown. Both of these eras of my life allowed me to use my imagination a lot. I started writing things down but would seldom let any one read them. I would write episodes of popular TV shows of the time like Bonanza and Gunsmoke. My Dad and I would read them and sometimes rewrite them together.

As young adult, I began to make rhymes and even wrote a few poems. Most of the stories and rhymes I wrote during my first marriage were lost during a series of address changes. During my second marriage, I am sure that I wrote things, but sadly, I don’t remember much of that marriage. Most of those months are lost in a blur of alcohol. Actually, I cannot honestly remember, in either marriage, any more happy times than I have fingers on my foot. Yes, I meant to say foot.

I now live in the Philippines with my lovely wife of over twenty-two years, Lulu, and our thirteen-year-old son Gabriel. Lulu has inspired, she doesn’t like me to say nagged, me over the years to write more and save what I write. Gradually, since I retired I have decided to give in to her and published three short eBooks and several short stories. My favorite published book by me is “The Feud”. It is a very gruesome story and I have rewritten it a few times to get the story right. I even changed the books name from “Souls in the Stone” to the current “The Feud” In a way I feel that I covered many of my childhood fears and nightmares, because I have felt a great deal of relief since I published the book. The original name came from seeing pictures and images in the patterns of granite walls. Some of those images closely resembled people who had in some way hurt me either physically or mentally during my life. I changed the name to “The Feud” to remind me of the feud my reality had with my nightmares as I ventured through life.

My life has improved a great deal since I met my wife and our son was born. If Lulu had not nagged me, I mean, inspired me to write, those nightmares might have been my ruination.

Life Shouldn’t Be Like This
Your complimentary download is available now, Life Shouldn’t Be Like This.

Have a great day, Hubert Williams

Author Links
Hubert’s Blog
Twitter
Amazon
Free Books 

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If you’re an author, get ready for a very nasty battle ahead. Barnes & Noble’s decision to remove all Amazon published books marks something akin to a declaration of war.

Following hard on the heels of Amazon’s demand for exclusivity with their KDP Select program, it is now becoming clear that self publishing is being used as a tool in a commercial war.

For authors this makes for grim reading as the whole essence of being self published is in being independent. Having to decide on one distribution platform, and therefore one online retailer forebodes badly.

Barnes & Noble announced this week that they would not be selling any titles that had been published by Amazon’s publishing wing — both indie published through their KDP (Kindle Digital Publishing) and CreateSpace platforms, as well as their new publishing imprints. Source

In reading this decision by B&N, it would appear that even ebooks published independently on Smashwords and then distributed to B&N, will be withdrawn from sale if they are also available on Amazon in either Kindle, or paperback format published by Createspace. So where does that leave the authors?

While there are alternatives to Amazon and B&N, the market share of the other online retailers is so small, it is a folly to think that these could supply any worthwhile volume of sales. So as a self publisher or small press, it comes down to a choice of devils. Logically, Amazon, as there is no doubt that they deliver the greatest volume of sales.

While this is a ‘no brainer’, the danger that lies ahead is that it leaves one totally open to changes in Amazon’s publishing terms and conditions, which can and are updated regularly. There is no notification of these changes and unless you visit the page regularly, you won’t know that the rules have changed.

Then, if you do happen to dislike these possible changes in the future, what are the rules regarding moving your book to another retailer? Current KDP Select rules would indicate a period of at least 90 days. But who knows? The only thing that is for sure, is that self publishing authors are about to lose their independence and freedom of choice.

Self publishing has been around for a while now, but ebook publishing is still in its infancy. However, this little infant is turning mega bucks of profit for the likes of Amazon and B&N.  This being the case, I expect it is going to get very dirty from here on in.

Related posts:

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Nosferatu Diaries

He believed he had been done an injustice. His kind and their image had been done the most unfair injustice through the ages. He often tossed this thought around in his pale bold head. He thought about it as he watched the man through the skylight window. The man roused from his sleep in a startle. From a nightmare or from the eerie presence he thought he felt, he wasn’t certain. The creature followed him along the top of the roof, scaling it like a deathly cat. Its claws quietly scratching the concrete ceiling, crawling stealthily to the hallway as the unsuspecting man walked through his mansion toward the kitchen. The hallway’s roof and walls are made entirely of glass, a sickle of a moon, cut in faint shards of moonlight. The man yawned unaware of the movement above him. This creature, unable ! to cast a shadow because it’s soul is cursed to roam between the heavens and hell forever. The man stopped and looked skyward. A chill ran through his body when he did not see the strange presence he felt. It’s a shame his blueblood cannot keep him warm the creature thought to itself. But he had learnt long ago that nobles had no fire in their blood; that they were spineless creatures that trembled when their wealth or greedy existence were threatened. The man stopped. His heart beat through his chest with fear. Something in his head screamed, telling him to return to his bedroom. Whether his chambers were safer it did not matter, but proceeding further surely did not sit well with him. The man turned on the ball of his heal to face his bedroom door but could not proceed further, the presence wouldn’t let him. He could feel it now, consuming him and molesting him with its darkness. Tap-Tap-Tap. Tap-Tap-Tap. The creature’s long sharp nails tap at the glass wall. Beads of s! weat rolled down the side of the man’s forehead and his heart ! violentl y punched through his ribs. Music to the creature’s goblin-like ears.”Let me in”, the voice says from behind the man. The man was reluctant to look back and face his vile visitor. “N-n-n-no”, is the only thing he could mutter considering all the effort he put in to try and speak. The strange presence-heavily overwhelming-was almost crushing him. He fluttered like a featherless bird fallen from its mother’s nest, and now in the clutches of this evil incarnate. “Look at me.” This time, the man failed to resist the command. He turned slowly toward the direction of the voice; the sickening grasp seemed to multiply tenfold. When their eyes met, the man melted into relaxation, the yellow eyes caressing his very essence.”Let me in”. This time, the man’s words escaped his lips with ease, “Come in”. His last words lingered in the air as the thing crashed through the glass and clamped its jaws at the man’s pulsating jugular. When the crea! ture had its blood thirst quenched, it left. But not before it intentionally stayed long enough to give the concerned maid a glimpse of its shadowy figure.

Indeed humans had done his species an injustice, with their pop culture and glamorisation of the once feared Nosferatu. Vampires had been made into the poster child for the mind rot that was what humans called ‘horror films’. They knew nothing of true horror. The times had forced vampires to creep back into the shadows and let childish myth of the undead to sprout into a life of its own and spiral out of control. Radu despised humans for their lack of respect for the once revered demon. His yellow eyes burnt with contempt as he walked deep into the forest. Away from the frail civilisation that held nothing sacred anymore. Nocturnal wildlife scampered at the very feel of Radu’s presence as he pierced deeper into the dark woodland. The tall bark of centuries old trees creaked in fear, they still remembered the legends of the Nosferatu. The legend of the true vampire. His powder white lips spread into a smile. At least something still told his lost tales. The cold wind stopped ! when Radu came to a halt and planted his bare feet in the ground, his clawed bony toes raking the damp ground. He did not have the luxury of a coffin. He had to burrow through the black soil and slumber deep in the earth, in fear of the wretched sunlight. That symbol of all that is pure and good. He spat at the notion, his saliva a mix of blood and phlegm. His hate only subsided when he had covered his head in the dirt and thought of the prospects of the next night.

Though he loathed a myriad of them, human horror films sometimes amused him. He would scale the building of a local movie complex and watch these films through a crack or opening in a dilapidated roof or wall. On this night it was not amusing, not the in the least bit. It showed vampires that walked during the day and sparkled when they met the sunlight. Radu knotted his hairless eyebrows and his bat-like nostrils flared in disgust. He could watch no more. He then sat patiently waiting for the movie to end; a human patron would have to pay tonight for this transgression against his kind. And as sure as the sun sets, the humans flocked like sheep when the film had ended. Couples of them usually walked slower or stayed behind to see if there was a teaser after the credits of the movie. Two teenage boys strayed into his sight. One of them made his plot easier by walking ahead to talk on his wireless. Radu moved with frightening speed and abducted the unsuspecting human, shootin! g straight up into the night sky. His friend saw only a blur and began to call into the darkness hoping he’s only playing a prank. The boy’s intestines caved within him and he soiled himself when his lost friend suddenly rolled off a roof like a bloody rag-doll. The drained boy’s head hitting the pavement like an overripe tomato with his entrails ripped out. The lost boy’s supper oozed out to his brains. Food for thought Radu thought to himself as he wiped his wrist across his bloody mouth. His hate only briefly abated, he craved more blood, he must strike more fear. The vampire ran through the night, stalking more prey.

They reeked of alcohol. He could smell it in their blood. When he drank of heavily intoxicated human blood, even he got briefly inebriated. The three humans passed around cigarettes in an alley near a club. Radu made himself seen under a flickering light, blatantly basking in all its effect. The humans stopped their mindless babble, staring at the skulls Radu used to craft his belt. Before their slow minds could realise what was happening, he was at their throats in a black flash. He was wasteful with these ones; he chose not to drain them entirely. Flesh gave way to sharp enamel as it was torn away from the vermin humans’ gullets. One of them fell to his face as his knees hit the ground and his back arches, his buttocks to the sky. How is that for a new moon, Radu thinks to himself as he wipes his mouth with his wrist. It would soon be morning; Radu must seek the protection of the dirt blanket once more.

As he lay in his newly acquired grave, he remembered a time, centuries ago, in the old country. The time when they lead the virgin boy through the graveyard, on a white virgin stallion to find Radu. The local villagers had known of his presence and seeked to put an end to the disappearance of their cattle and relatives. They identified his grave by the holes in the ground and began to perform their pagan rituals. The humans had made the fatal mistake of coming at night. The night belonged to Radu; he owned it and drew power from its darkness. He rose from the soil in all his undead glory. The humans trembled in fear and the horse baulked, Radu would have a feast fit for him. Ah, the good old days.

Find out more about Benny Blow

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Not a difficult decision as to the topic of the day. It’s February The Fifth’s first anniversary. Bring on the cake and candles!

One year ago today I released my first Glothic Tale. Of course with the main character being called February and the story being set around an old pope, calendars, luxury space travel and a lot of fine food, it is more a farce than a tale.

If you are wondering how the title came about, I’ll let you in on a little background information. Firstly, it is my own birthday and I just thought it would be a great to not only have my name on the front cover, but my date of birth as well. I skipped the idea of adding my address and telephone number though.

Secondly, I love alliterations, so Feb Five satisfied my fatal fetish.

To all of you who have bought February 5th in the last year, I thank you very kindly. For those who haven’t as yet, well, what better day than today to discover what February The Fifth is all about.

So to a quick blurb to help you decide.

A young fool becomes king and quickly discovers he has some very nasty enemies. Particularly the ones who are shooting at him. 

In a remarkable turn of events, a young man with a lot definitely not going for him, somehow manages to come to terms with a startling reality. He has to grow up. Being handicapped by not only having rather nasty acne and an odd eye impediment, he also has to suffer the fact that his name is February. Or at best, Feb to his very limited number of friends.

While not at all wishing to rush into this startling new reality, circumstances and a few elbow nudges from his very protective elder sister ensure that his ‘not at all wishing’ turns out to be a complete waste of time. Thrust totally and altogether unwillingly into a position of authority by early afternoon, February finds himself with a new appendage tacked on to the end his name. 

The Fifth. The new and very authoritative part of his name.

Of course, as is the case in all such rapid and thrusting types of promotion to positions of power, there will be those who are not happy about it. In February’s case however, he finds that in fact these those amount to just about everyone apart from his three sisters.  

Undaunted by this reality, Feb accepts his new responsibility and by early evening sets about getting himself into a real tangle. His only true achievement being that he discovers that quite a few of these those who weren’t so happy, are in fact really very upset about the whole Fifth appendage deal. By bedtime, he thinks he is in trouble.

Before lunchtime the next day, he is sure.

February The Fifth is available from most online and even offline retailers.

Amazon or Smashwords

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It all started as a little joke, but then somehow it turned into a little story and then into a novella. So far removed from anything I had ever written before, and during the early drafts I was advised by those close to me to drop the whole idea immediately. When the last draft was finished the advice changed from dropping the idea to advising me against publishing the crazy story at all. You must be joking was ringing in my ears.

But I am nothing if not stubborn and I continued on with my vampire story. However, in my mind I hadn’t really written a vampire story. Yes there’s was vampire in it, but the story for me was about a teenage boy named Reggie. So it wasn’t so different from my previous books. I found a character I liked, got to know, had empathy with and wrote his story. About his relationships with his parents and  peers and trying with great difficulty, to grow up.

So now that it has been published against all advice, I am just over the moon to have recently received the first reviews from a couple of readers who really know their stuff.

5.0 out of 5 stars My Take Away Vampire by Derek Haines, January 31, 2012

By  Mary Crocco “book review / write” (Las Vegas, NV USA)

Amazon Verified Purchase

This review is from: My Take Away Vampire (Kindle Edition)

A spoof on the vampire craze? A hilarious comedy?

If you read My Take Away Vampire as a comedic vampire spoof, then you will absolutely love Derek Haines novella.

The vampire is Agatha and the comedy comes from Reggie, who is her botched vampire attempt. There is Mr. Fipps, a ghost in the cemetery where Agatha and others sleep for about 300 years. The other characters you simply must have the fun of discovering yourself.

I recommend reading this amusing story especially if you laugh at the zany vampire craze. It’s a quick read and Derek Haines does not disappoint his readers with his appealing writing style. He develops his characters in depth which entice his readers to yearn for more adventures. Such is the case in My Take Away Vampire, but I can’t tell you which character I hope to follow because it will spoil the story.

So check out this entertaining novella and enjoy a good laugh!

Book Review: My Take Away Vampire by Derek Haines 

By Emma’s Ramblings on Supernatural Fiction

Forever teenage vampire Agatha’s favourite hunting ground is the brightly-lit interior of McDonald’s. Flashing lots of flesh, she finds easy and willing prey; her preference is male virgins and so she dresses in the manner she thinks will most entice them, i.e. a little teenage tramp. Agatha is not without heart however and always gives them pleasure before she feeds. Hey, I’m sure there are quite a few guys out there who would happily receive oral sex in exchange for their blood. In short, Agatha is brazen.

She lives in the old graveyard and her best friend is her neighbour Mr. Fipps who speaks through rhyme. I developed a fondness for Mr. Fipps as the story progressed despite his annoying manner of communication.There are lots of instances of “tits” and “f**k you”, too many for my taste but I did laugh out loud at “F**k You Marvin”. Keep in mind that this language comes from a teenage boy Reggie (mostly) who likes to spend his days watching porn, eating Pringles and masturbating. Too much information! Reggies’ mom is an alcoholic and he’s left to hang out with his gang called ‘the Wasters’. Like many before him he is quickly enthralled by Agatha’s beautiful body. Will Agatha go for the kill or will Reggie live to tell his gang another tale?

I finished this story in one sitting; it’s easy to read and very well written but I would have liked to learn more about Agatha and how she survived the past 300 years. Wouldn’t her presence in small town suburbia be noticed? Why did she remain in her hometown of Eatensville, a dump by all accounts? One majorly creepy element was Agatha’s seduction of a 15 year old girl who she describes as a “savage tart”, killing her after sex and leaving her body with her teddy bears. Agatha was 15 years old when she was turned some three centuries years ago so is this meant to make the fake relationship ok? She then seduces a married man who’s married to a “bitch” (Agatha’s word, not mine). He believes her to be no more than 15 or 16 and yet her age doesn’t seem to bother him at all.

This novella is well written, creepy in places and overall funny and entertaining. In a literary world filled with deep, brooding male vampires, Haines’ tale was a welcome change.

The best thing about My Take Away Vampire is that it made me laugh, which is always a good thing.

If these reviews tantalize your taste buds (and or fangs), you can find out more and have a ‘Look Inside’ preview read on Amazon.

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Don’t you just love these vampires who would rather die than park more than three paces from a shopping mall entrance. Happily blocking all the traffic behind them as they wait for grannie and granddad from somewhere up the country to pack their monthly shopping into the back of their car for the best part of an hour.

Now it my come as a surprise, but these wretched parking vampires also exist in abundance here in Switzerland. What makes it worse, is that they probably spend their entire weekends hiking up 2,500 metre mountains just to get a little air. They are more than likely equipped with $500 hiking sticks and do ghastly things like going on a five mile jog before breakfast on weekday mornings.

So it’s not because their legs don’t work and are in need of using the disable parking spaces that are reserved for people who don’t have legs that work, or any legs at all for that matter. But these vampires want the next best thing. THAT parking place next to the disabled spaces.

Another quality they possess is the classic ostrich approach to people blocked behind them, all honking, shouting abuse and generally making it known to these vampires that they are really pissing the rest of the world off. Big time. They work on the theory that if they don’t look, everything will be just fine. That is, until someone finally decides to ‘toss the teddy out of the cot’, gets out of their now blocked in car, and make their way to the vampire’s driver side window.

It is at this point that the ostrich approach has a few weaknesses, and after a bit of angry knocking and shouting of abuse, the vampire looks in disbelief at this animal banging with his fists on his window and pointing wildly in the direction of the now more than 100 cars being blocked by the vampire.

But the well oiled technique of a practiced parking place vampire has this move covered. They look out in disbelief and shock, check that all of their doors are locked, check grannie and granddad’s progress, and stall for a bit more time by looking absolutely confused by the whole situation.

Of course by now, granddad’s put his shopping caddie back in the collection bay, grannie has finally got both of her legs into the car and is working on the problem of getting her seat belt fastened, and the vampire knows that the end is near. As granddad takes half an hour to at last reverse out of the parking place, and the vampire reaps the reward, the world behind is simply left to wonder. Why?

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Terror

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Self publishing is the buzz word nowadays. When I look at the contacts I have on the various social media platforms I use, one could be led to believe that half the world are now aspiring, budding or indeed self publishing authors. With so many books being published by so many authors each and every day, I thought it might be about time that I set about explaining the Golden Rules of self publishing.

Golden Rule Number 1. There are no rules.

Golden Rule Number 2. Refer to Golden Rule Number 1.

This may sound a little like anarchy and in a way it is. Yes, there are terms and conditions to read and understand on every self publishing platform, but after you comply with these, you are on your own. Just you and your book. The next step is to find some readers. Here again, you are on your own making all the decisions and doing all the hard grunt in promoting your book in literally an ocean full of books.

While for most self published authors, writing is a hobby, sideline or part time occupation, in the end you really do want to make a side income from all your hard work. So yes you need to get to work on social media, websites, blogs, forums, contacting book reviewers and book bloggers and discovering all the other promotional tools that are readily available and work at getting some attention. And sales.

But here’s a tip. Don’t stop writing. Sure, you have a lot of promotional work to do, however the key to making an income from self publishing is to have a backlist. In other words, a bundle of titles that will keep selling long after you have published them.

I see a lot of self published authors flogging their one and only book day in and day out. One book may make some money, but only if your lucky. The better approach is to start writing your next book before you have even published your first. The reason? Because the more you write, the better you get. So the chances are that your second book may do a lot better than your first. And your third and fourth. It is logical that the more titles you have, the more books you will sell.

The books I have published are now on what I call ‘set and forget’. Yes I still do a bit of promotion, but my main focus is on the book I’m writing at present and also, working on the outline for the book to follow that one. At the same time I published a new novella only a month or so ago, and completed a new edition of one of my older books that needed updating. And while this has been happening, my backlist has been providing my income.

So while there maybe no Golden Rules, it is true to say that you certainly won’t ever sell books you haven’t started writing yet.

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Blacklisted
Written by Mary Crocco

The position of his ears tells it all: pricked forward, he is signaling alertness, curiosity, or interest. Slightly flopped to the sides, he is relaxed, sleepy, or bored. If rotated backward, he is listening to something behind him. However, if they are rotated backward and flattened down against his neck, he is signaling fear or anger.

Remember, when you are working with him, he should always have at least one ear cocked in your direction, listening for your next cue.

This is how my first horseback riding lesson began. My mother had given me a choice, girl scouts or horseback riding lessons. I was ten years old. It was the best summer of my young life.

Ten years flew by during which I traded horseback riding skills for parenting skills. My children were now the ones listening for my next cue.

I was 20 years old when my girlfriend asked me to go riding with her at a local Long Island stable. So on a brisk fall morning, I left the pile of beautifully colored leaves for my husband to rake, and I set out on a long overdue day of horseback riding.

I did expect to be given less rein to ride, but I did not expect to be given no rein at all. A trail leader leads the horses as they walk mindlessly behind the horse in front of them. This was a big disappointment and I concluded that riding a trail horse was not riding at all and I decided I would never ride a trail horse again. I realized that short of becoming best friends with someone who owned a ranch, this meant I may never ride any horse ever again. Or so I thought until six years later — but with dire consequences.

My family and I were now living in Lake Havasu City, Arizona. I was 23 years old and being teased with the rich smell of horses, manure, and stables in every breeze. For three years I struggled with my earlier decision never to ride again, but living in the beautiful Arizona desert, with its indigenous mountain trails, I could not resist the temptation. So on a cool winter morning with a forecast calling for daytime temperatures in the low 70’s, I decided to get back in the saddle.

I arrived at the local stable hours before my reservation and asked a stableman if it was okay to walk around. I wanted to see if the horses were alert, interested, or just sulking in the backs of their stalls. Were they relaxed, or did they act jumpy. My prior knowledge came flooding back like it was yesterday. My heart was racing in anticipation of mounting one of these beautiful creatures.

Later on in the afternoon, I walked over to the trail horses where a group of people were waiting for our trail leader. I surveyed the group. The first couple was in their twenties, the woman was dressed for anything but horseback riding, and the guy looked like he was nursing a hangover. The second couple was maybe in their 50’s. The wife looked stiff and nervous watching her husband pet the horses. Goofing around, punching one another playfully, were four rambunctious teenage boys, one of whom yelled to his Uncle Russell, “When do we leave?”

I had my eye on a beautiful stallion and was talking to him when a loud voice announced, “Howdy, y’all, my name is Russell, and y’all are gonna be followin’ me and Banter here for the next hour.” As I continued to stroke the stallion’s chestnut colored mane Russell moseyed on over to me and said, “Can you ride Big Red young lady?” I nodded and proceeded to mount the stallion, sinking comfortably into the saddle and sliding my boots into the stirrups securing a perfect fit. I asked Big Red to stand still for a minute while I adjusted my reins. Then I stroked his neck and praised him before cueing him to walk forward.

“Well hell, I got me one rider I don’t have to worry about, now don’t I miss?” Russell snorted. Big Red’s ears pricked forward as I balanced my weight in his saddle for a comfortable fit.

It was well into the afternoon when the ride began. Russell rattled off a few of his own rules as our horses obediently followed him. I decided to bring up the rear so Big Red could trot up to the group. It was my lame attempt at pretending to ride. What I had not realized at the time was that my pretending was about to turn very real.

We were on the trail for about 20 minutes when our horses abruptly stopped. Russell guided our group towards the fork on the left, pointing out how the right fork led to a steep path down the mountains to the river. My heart skipped a beat as my mind raced with deviant thoughts. I sat there for a minute contemplating this amazing opportunity. I whispered into Big Red’s left ear. Then I gently nudged him toward the right fork, knowing all too well he was programmed to go left. But he pricked his ears forward then cocked his left ear towards me and there was no turning back!
Big Red knew he was venturing on new territory as his steps were cautious, slow, and sure. It took about ten minutes before we reached the bottom of the mountain. I dismounted Big Red and let the cool, slow moving river quench his deep thirst. I paid close attention as his ears slightly flopped to the sides. He was enjoying this reprieve as much as I was, maybe more. I wanted to capture this moment and freeze it for all eternity, but I knew a posse was waiting.

I gazed along the river and to the right I could see a picturesque field the size of two football fields. I asked Big Red if he was up for it. I stroked his mane and once again he pricked his ears forward. I mounted him and we walked towards the field. I held the reins tightly as he cocked his left ear towards me and waited for my cue. I kicked signaling a full gallop. Big Red pushed so hard off the ground when he galloped that we covered the field in breakneck speed. I yelled at the top of my lungs, enjoying selfish gratification, disregarding any later consequences.

We returned back to the stables in a cool – down walk. We were met with the expected posse, an indignant group of three men. I was escorted into the office and Big Red was led to the stables. I was scolded and told I put myself and Big Red in danger. One of the men asked me if I even considered for a moment the fact that trail horses were only meant for walking. I was informed that charges may be filed, and I could be arrested. I was told to sit down and wait while the stallion was being examined by the stable’s vet.

While we waited, I had to speak up; I told the men I would not have considered taking such a ride if I thought Big Red was incapable. I told them I was trained to observe signs of stress. I firmly believed Big Red was in no danger. I remarked how we rested and how much Big Red enjoyed the river and the gallop. My convictions fell on deaf ears, so I paced the room hoping to wear down the anxiety that plagued me.
The office door opened too fast and slammed against the wall. I was startled and dropped my riding gloves on the sawdust floor. I reached down to pick them up and prepared myself for the verdict. The vet glanced my way, and then asked to speak to the men alone. They all retreated to the back room.

Ten minutes had passed when the door finally opened. All three men took a confrontational stance as one of them took control of the situation. He advised me that due to the astonishing fact that Big Red was not harmed I would not face criminal charges. However, he continued, there would be dire consequences for my actions. I was banned from all operating stables in Lake Havasu City. I was blacklisted.

Years later, when I was 44 years old, my son Bobby and I moved to Las Vegas. I took Bobby horseback riding at a local stable. As my horse was mindlessly following Bobby’s horse, I started daydreaming about my memorable ride in Lake Havasu City. I was reminiscing that captured moment I had kept frozen in my mind; Big Red drinking from the cool river at the bottom of the mountain, then galloping through the field in breakneck speed. I started thinking of the horse I was riding now as it dragged behind Bobby’s horse, and I wondered if he would listen for my cues like Big Red had done years ago.

With a sudden jolt I was brought back to reality with Bobby turned around on his horse yelling, “Ma, the guy said there’s a fork in the trail. My horse won’t move! What does it mean when his left ear is bent and he keeps looking at me? What’s he waiting for? What should I do?”

Do I dare?

Find out more about Mary Crocco

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4. Turn That Story Into A Book

It never ceases to amaze me how little effort some writers put into their promotional writing for their own books. After slaving away for months or even years writing a book, surely the book deserves a little extra time and effort to promote it in the best possible light.

Some book descriptions, author bios, social media bios and other promotional texts I have seen look like mere afterthoughts and in some cases, not even properly proofread. I was prompted to write this post after seeing the word ‘writing’ incorrectly spelled in not one but three author bios just this week. No I’m sorry but the word writing does not have two T’s!

A quick scan of some books on Amazon plus other book listing sites revealed many book descriptions that hardly made it to 100 words, and even then had grammar or spelling errors. Brevity is good sometimes, but not when you are trying to ‘hook’ potential readers. So instead of highlighting all of the poor writing I have seen, perhaps it would be better just to give a few suggestions on promotional writing.

Author of ‘A Very Silly Book’. I must have seen this bio a thousand times. Even on Twitter it allows 160 characters to be a little more imaginative and personal. ‘Sam authors his books from a human perspective’. A slight improvement, but in the third person? Cold and static to say the least. In any bio, no matter even if just 25 words, try to say why you are interesting and why it is worth finding out more about you. Be imaginative and avoid the tired old clichés.

Book descriptions need to be written so they can be used for various applications. A great tag line for attracting attention followed by a solid 300-400 word summary of the story. An extra 200 words then to include some background information about yourself. When written in this form, the tag line can be used ‘standalone’ in social media posts and the longer versions for use on book listing sites, interviews or blogs. Whatever the need, you have something ready to go. Think about what makes your book great and then put that into your description. Remember that almost every prospective book buyer will read this before deciding to buy your book.

Probably the most difficult thing for writers to write is their own bio. However, it is probably the single most useful promotional tool. With writing and selling books so completely intertwined with the Internet, social media, websites and blogs, a writer’s profile can appear in literally hundreds of locations so it really needs to be informative, intelligent and well written.

Lastly, never post any text that has not been properly proofread and edited. Even on the fast paced Twitter feed, take care as the grammar police are always looking.

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