Neither of my NCAA teams, the Michigan Wolverines and the Michigan State Spartans, had football games over the weekend. In fact, Michigan State is finished until the 2025 season begins. While Michigan eked out enough wins (7-5) to warrant a bowl game, the selections haven’t been announced yet.
I forgot the Detroit Lions were playing on Thursday night against the Green Bay Packers. It was shown on Amazon Prime and then replayed the following day, where I was able to watch it. The game seesawed, making it unclear who would be victorious. The score was tied 31-31 with two seconds remaining, when Detroit kicked a thirty-five yard field goal to clench the victory and improve to 12-1. The win guaranteed a playoff spot, but with four games to go and Minnesota at 10-2 behind them, anything can happen, although I’m keeping my fingers crossed for Detroit to continue their winning ways.
“There is no rule on how to write. Sometimes it comes easily and perfectly; sometimes it’s like drilling rock and then blasting it out with charges.” – Ernest Hemingway. Compliments of https://getfreewrite.com/blogs/writing-success/32-inspirational-hemingway-quotes-to-get-you-writing.
So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on December 8th, second Sunday of the month. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/).
Horace, Roman Republican poet (Odes); Jan Althuysen, Frisian vicar and poet (Frisianche rymlery); Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson, Norwegian author “Pa Guds Veje” and Nobel laureate 1903; Georges Feydeau, French playwright (La Dame de Chez Maxim’s); Padraic Colum, Irish novelist and poet (Collected Poems); Hervey Allen, American writer and poet (Anthony Adverse); James Thurber, American humorist, playwright, and cartoonist (Men, Women & Dogs; The Male Animal; The Secret Life of Walter Mitty); Kitty Muggeridge, British author and translator; Richard Llewellyn, Welsh novelist (How Green Was My Valley); Nikos Gatsos, Greek poet and lyricist; Jura Soyfer, Austrian political journalist and cabaret writer; Delmore Schwartz, American poet, short story writer and critic (Shenandoah); Ernest Lehman, American screenwriter (North by Northwest); George Scheuer, Austrian writer and journalist; Carmen Martín Gaite, Spanish author; Joachim Fest, German historian and journalist (Hitler biography, Speer: The Final Verdict); Ulric Neisser, America psychologist (Intelligence: Knowns and Unknowns, Bell Curve task force head); Goffredo Parise, Italian writer (Il padrone); John Morressy, American sci-fi author (Starbra;t; Greymantle; Kingsbane); Jim Morrison, American singer-songwriter (The Doors) and poet; John Banville, Irish novelist and journalist (2005 Booker Prize for “The Sea”); Kati-Claudia Fofonoff, Skolt Sámi poet and writer; Roscoe Nance, American sportswriter (USA Today; Mississippi’s first African American sportswriter at mainstream newspaper); Bill Bryson, American British author (Notes From a Small Island); and Ann Coulter, American author, political commentator, and attorney.
Any names familiar to you? There were five for me this week: James Thurber, Ernest Lehman, Jim Morrison, Bill Bryson, and Ann Coulter. Whether you recognize anyone on the list or not, if today’s your special day I hope you have a great one!
My Work In Progress
Editing of Mission: Yemen, Xavier Sear Thriller Book 2 continues at a good pace. Since my last blog post, 
Here’s another snippet:
Yusuf corkscrewed to a stop, facing back the way they came. Black rubber patches marked where he drove. Yusuf put the vehicle in park, raised his feet, and kicked out the remnants of the shattered windshield. He turned to Wazir. “Do the same on your side while I check on Prince Sami.”
Wazir nodded and replicated Yusuf’s actions.
Before long, the windshield was gone—replaced by a slight breeze.
Yusuf climbed into the back beside the prince. He checked his wound—blood flow was diminishing. He reached into the cargo area and pulled out an emergency trauma kit, which they always carried in the event of hostilities.
He yanked out a bandage, removed the protective wrapper, and slapped it over the prince’s wound.
“Owe! Be careful, will you?”
“Sorry, Prince Sami. I want to ensure you’re okay.”
“I am, thanks to you and Wazir recommending I wear the bullet-resistant vest.” Prince Sami fingered two holes in the vest and located the bullets underneath. “Without this, you’d be taking my body to my brother.” He moved his shoulder and winced. “The area where the bullet perforated near my shoulder blade hurts.”
Yusuf chuckled. “At least you are still counted among the living, Prince Sami. Praise be to Allah.”
“Yes.” The prince winced again as he shifted his body. “Now what?”
Yusuf glanced out the back window. No one coming—yet. He heard gunfire in the distance. He began to climb back into the driver’s seat. “We better get moving—someone is bound to discover what happened to us.” He grinned. “Wazir and I were lucky, or perhaps it was Allah’s intervention. Three bullets passed between us and only managed to hit you.”
“Where to now?”
“We will continue our journey to Sana’a.” He reached under the seat and pulled out three pairs of plastic goggles. He passed one to Wazir, tossed another to Prince Sami, and donned the third pair. “We learned long ago to bring these glasses with us. We will need them as the wind will whistle through the remains of the windshield, making it difficult to see without them.”
Wazir pointed behind them. “I fear a vehicle is coming. We better go.”
“Agreed.” Yusuf engaged the automatic transmission and sped down the road as fast as the conditions allowed. He fishtailed over the ruts and bumps but managed to keep heading north.
The vehicle behind slowed and soon turned around.
“We are in the clear, Yusuf.” Wazir gestured behind them.
“Yes, but what will we face in front of us? Will there be more Houthi bandits?” Yusuf shook his head.
As the road undulated through the mountains, Yusuf drove as fast as he dared, keeping one eye on the highway in front of them and the other on his rearview mirror.’
Wazir climbed in the back and reached into the cargo area. “Anyone for water?” He passed out bottles as he climbed back in front. He broke the seal on his and took a deep drink. “How much longer to Sana’a?”
“Less than an hour.” Yusuf pursed his lips. “We will be in Hezyaz within fifteen minutes. Prince Hussein’s residence is another twenty-one kilometers beyond.”
As they approached Hezyaz, the topography changed. There were more buildings butting against the road and additional traffic. In the distance, they spotted the Hezyaz power station, which provided some of Sana’s much-needed electricity.
Many of the two and three-story buildings were constructed of unpainted cement blocks, while others were whitewashed or painted in pastel shades. Cell towers dotted several of the taller buildings.
Other structures were damaged as a result of Saudi aircraft attacks on the capital.
As they approached 48th Street, Yusuf slowed.
Ahead of them, four vehicles blocked the intersection. Standing behind them were six armed men. Each wore once-white thobes and Western-style jackets. Stuck in their waistbands were the traditional Yemeni daggers. They held AK-47s.
One of the men motioned Yusuf to a stop.
Yusuf complied and turned to Wazir. “What do they want?”
“Perhaps more money or to find out if we support their cause. It is always the same.” Wazir shrugged.
The leader approached, his weapon aimed toward Yusuf. “Salam alaikum.”
Yusuf nodded. “Wa alaykum as-salam. How may we help you?”
“We are looking for traitors to the Houthi cause.” He stared first at Yusuf, then at Wazir.
“I think I recognize you.” The leader aimed his AK-47 at Yusuf’s head. “God is Greater, Death to America, Death to Israel, Curse on the Jews, Victory to Islam.”
Both Yusuf and Wazir recited the Houthi slogan.”
The man frowned and aimed his weapon at Prince Sami. “Does he not support our cause?”
“Please, he is a visitor from outside Yemen. He does not know our ways.”
The man grunted as he continued to stare at Prince Sami.
After several tense moments, the leader motioned for them to continue. “Teach your friend our ways. We might not be so generous next time.”
Yusuf nodded and pulled through a gap that opened between the vehicles.
Wazir pointed ahead to the left. “There’s the Yemeni-Chinese Friendship Hospital. Should we take Prince Sami and have his wound looked at?”
“No.” Yusuf shook his head. “It is too close to the Houthi roadblock. Better to head straight to Prince Hussein’s and have someone treat him.
“Okay.” Wazir pulled out his cellphone and dialed Prince Hussein’s number.
Perhaps more next time.
The cover is a filler, as the final cover won’t be done until the entire first draft is completed. I’ll begin posting snippets of this story soon.
Here’s the revised description in case you haven’t seen it:
The Bedlam organization proceeded with their plans to create a fourth operational team, based in Pretoria, South Africa. The existing team leaders, Craig Cameron, Col Trevor Franklin ®, and Lady Evelyn Evinrude are sent to assist the designated advisor with team member selections.
What should be a routine deployment is anything but as they’re targeted by unknown assailants. Who or what organization is after them, and why?
While assisting with the creation of the new team and searching for those trying to eliminate them, Craig, Trevor, and Evelyn are given a new operational mission.
The Council of Vengeance, controlled by an extremist militant group, seeks to overthrow the Nigerian government through a culture of urban violence, political corruption, and juridical impunity. Extortion, bribery, kidnapping, and murder are part of the group’s modus operandi as they surge forward toward their objectives.
How will the Bedlam teams fare in the face of adversity? Or will the militants’ efforts be rewarded?
This brings us to an end for another week. I hope you found something of interest. If you have any suggestions for a topic you’d like to read about, please let me know. Until the next time, thank you for reading and hope you drop in again.
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