Another week of mixed weather is behind us. We had plenty of showers with the occasional burst of sunshine. Now that we’re past the summer solstice, the nights are already coming in sooner and some evenings the temperature necessitated the use of the heat to keep the dampness at bay. At least right now, the sun is shining and we’re at 60F (16C).
“Believe in yourself! Have faith in your abilities! Without a humble but reasonable confidence in your own powers, you cannot be successful or happy.” – Norman Vincent Peale. Compliments of: https://getfreewrite.com/blogs/writing-success/55-motivational-writing-quotes
So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on 9 July, the second Sunday of the month. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/):
John of Saint Thomas [Juan Poinset], Portuguese theologist; Alexis Piron, French dramatist (La Métromanie); Johann Nikolaus Götz, German poet (Die Mädcheninsel); Ann Radcliffe, English Gothic novelist (The Mysteries of Udolpho, The Romance of the Forest); Johanna Schopenhauer, German writer and mother of Arthur Schopenhauer; Matthew Lewis, English novelist (The Monk); Johan Philip van der Kellen, Dutch stamp cutter, lithographer and writer; Franz Boas, German-American anthropologist and linguist (Mind of Primitive Man); Samuel Eliot Morison, American historian (Admiral of the Ocean Sea); Gerard Walschap, Flemish writer (Mary, Revolt in Congo); Barbara Cartland, English romance author (Camfield #69); Gerhard Pohl, German writer (Crazy Ferdinand); Beene Dubbelboer, Dutch writer (Secret Resistance); Mervyn Peake, British writer and illustrator (Gormenghast books); Oliver Sacks, English Neurologist and author (Awakenings); June Jordan, Caribbean-American playwright and poet (His Own Where); Hermann Burger, Swiss poet and writer; Glen Cook, American sci-fi author (Shadowline, Star’s End); Dean Koontz, American sci-fi author (Star Quest, Beastchild); Thomas Ligotti, American author (Songs of a Dead Dreamer); Fred Norris [Nukis], American comedy writer (Howard Stern Show), singer, guitarist, and actor; Paul Merton, British writer, actor and comedian (Room 101); Tim Kring, American writer and producer; Lars Gyllenhaal, Swedish author; and Masami Tsuda, Japanese manga author.
Any names familiar to you? There were three for me this week: Barbara Cartland, Dean Koontz, Paul Merton. Whether you recognize anyone on the list or not, if today’s your special day I hope you have a great one!
In case you missed the notification, my eighth novel, Frozen Conquest, is now live on Amazon.
For anyone who is interested, here is the international buy link. Frozen Conquest is available in Kindle and paperback formats, and participates in Kindle Unlimited. https://books2read.com/u/bwNDVP
Here’s the blurb from the back of the book:
An international criminal gang, known as Diablo Corps, plans a series of devastating attacks to take over the G7 countries unless their demands are met. Secure in their hidden headquarters in Antarctica, they possess the means to disrupt the leading world economies. The CEO wants what other power-hungry people want—more power.
Will the G7 bend to the will of these rogues or will evil triumph? Diablo Corps believes their previous infiltration of the international banking system and world stock exchanges will allow them to risk all on a single gamble.
The Scandinavian Protection Agency joins forces with Bedlam to thwart the efforts of the group and restore faith. Will Antarctica become a smoking ruin or will the world suffer an economic meltdown?
My Work In Progress
This week, I completed the first two chapters of Mission: Yemen, Xavier Sear Thriller Book 2. Both chapters have been posted to the two online writing sites I use and they’ve received twenty reviews. As always, plenty of recommendations for me to consider.
Here is the first snippet. Please keep in mind that since these are first-draft chapters, things will likely be changed once I get to the editing phase. In the meantime, if you have any suggestions, please let me know.
Shatara scurried forward as a chunk of bread and an apple dropped through a slot. Moments later, the door inched open, and a fresh bucket of water was shoved inside before the door slammed shut.
She studied the stale bread. Larger than normal. Makes up for the bruised apple. Oh well. She broke off several small pieces of the crust and put them in the corner. Here, Bushra, you may eat when you are ready.
Shatara scooped dead flies from the top of the new water bucket. Stomach rumbling, she broke off pieces of the bread and dunked them in the tepid water before shoving them into her mouth. After finishing the bread, she bit into the apple. She shook her head at the bitter flavors while she savored the juice trickling down her parched throat.
After finishing her meager meal, Shatara leaned against the wall opposite the window. She could make out a few stars appearing, as well as a sliver of a new moon. They were soon blotted out. The sounds of the wind picking up whistled through the bars as sand splattered the outside of the building, as noisy as if it were a tropical storm.
She crept back to the water bucket and dipped her hand into the tepid liquid, cupping her fingers as she brought a small handful towards her mouth. After wetting her lips, she spat it out and returned to her blanket.
With the cooler breezes because of the approaching storm, she spread the chador across the blanket to give greater warmth. Before long, she fell asleep.
Shatara tossed and turned for hours. At one point, she reflected on her family. Tears formed as she thought of her parents and her brother, Zahid. I miss them so much. Will I ever see them again?
At long last, she drifted into a troubled sleep, the blanket and chador tight around her body.
The morning call to prayer woke her from a restless night. Body aching, she stretched to work out some of the kinks. What will today bring? Will Baba find me and take me home? She began her preparations for the Fajr, or the first prayer of the day.
An ear-piecing screech filled the air, which was abruptly cut off.
What is happening? She dashed to the blanket and tugged on her chador.
Rather than the clip-clop sounds of the jailer, the measured footsteps of someone else echoed in the corridor.
Shatara hurried to don the chador.
The key turned in the lock, squealing as normal.
The door opened, and a man dressed in a white full-length loose-fitting garment with long sleeves known as a thobe and a red and white checkered kaffiyeh stepped inside. “Well? Are you ready? I demand your answer—now. Speak with great care, or it could be your undoing.”
More next time.
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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