To avoid misunderstandings, make sure your writing accurately reflects your thought.
Reading And Writing Quote
A longtime friend of mine and an avid reader, Greg Holley, sent me this excellent quote from Carl Sagan on the magic of both reading and writing so I thought I would share it here.
D-Day June 6th, 1944
This year marks the 75th anniversary of the famous invasion of Normandy, France when allied forces launched a momentous attack against the Nazi German troops occupying France.
The American allied forces, now often referred to as “America’s greatest generation”, served their country selflessly, with honor and distinction. My father, Artie C. “Jack” Cotner, was one of those.
Artie “Jack” Cotner, England, one week prior to D-Day Invasion of Normandy
He enlisted the day after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, Hawaii on December 7th 1941 and served in both the Pacific and European campaigns as a U.S. Army Air Corps gunner and radio man, first on a B-17 Flying Fortress in the Pacific, then aboard a B-26 Marauder bomber in Europe.
Based in Australia for the Pacific campaign with the U.S. 19th Bomb Group, he fought with honor in the Coral Sea Battle, saw vicious combat over New Guinea, and survived the ferocious battle of Guadalcanal.
Canberra, Australia 1944
After two years of combat in the Pacific, he was transferred to Europe. Based in Great Britain with the 397th Bomb Group, he flew more than 66 missions over Europe, the first of which was on D-Day June 6th, 1944. His B-26 Marauder the “Dee-feater” was seventeen minutes out ahead of the invasion forces bombing key targets along the French coast. With its prominent invasion-striped wings, this famous bomber can be seen in several D-Day newsreels of the time making its way inland high above the invading Allied naval armada at Normandy.
Dad’s plane, the Dee-feater, over Great Britain 1944
“Dee-feater” crew, RAF Rivenhall, England, July 20th, 1944. My dad, kneeling, center. Colonel McCloud, standing center with helmet.
In my book “Storytellin’ True And Fictional Short Stories Of Arkansas” I write more about my father’s, mine, my brother’s, and nephew’s military service in a chapter titled “Veterans.” In it, I also explain the origin of his plane’s name and the reason behind its unusual spelling.
For more about the 75th anniversary of D-Day and Normandy follow this link http://en.normandie-tourisme.fr/calendar-of-events/anniversary-of-d-day-847-2.html
Photo attribution: Isigny-sur Mer D-Day Festival @ Ville Isigny
May the world never forget their great sacrifice.
A Little Wednesday Humor
Sound advice here. Be careful where you purchase your reading material.
Clematis
I’m taking a pause (also famously known as procrastination) from writing to post a picture of my flowering clematis.
I planted this three years ago and this spring it has blossomed wonderfully.
Book Review: Wyvern Of Wessex
Eadwulf is back in the Sea Eagle with Bjorn and his crew in a quest to discover if Eadwulf’s father, King Beorhtwulf of Mercia, is still alive after twenty years as a slave. Bjorn’s great dragonship carries them down to the searing June temperatures and strict laws in the Moorish lands of al-Andalus. But searching for Beorhtwulf proves more difficult than they’d expected, causing them more trouble than they bargained for…
In Wessex, King Aethelred is now dead, leaving his twenty-one-year-old-brother, Alfred, to succeed to the throne. Though his succession was agreed by the witan, Alfred must now prove himself worthy of the kingship or lose it. But Wessex is in turmoil, besieged by Viking Danes intent on subjugating the kingdom – and knowing that the new king is young and inexperienced. Alfred must use all his wiles if he is to outthink and outmaneuver Guthrum, the Dane who nearly becomes his nemesis.
Alfred’s victories and defeats take him on a journey of learning, during which he gains experience and strength. We share his highs and his lows and how he rises from the depths of despair to save his beloved kingdom from total conquest.
And at his side at his greatest time of need, is his new ally and friend, Eadwulf of Mercia.
“Wyvern Of Wessex”, the third book in author Millie Thom’s epic “Sons of Kings” trilogy, is a well-researched historical novel set in the 9th Century. It continues the adventures of the fictional Eadwulf of Mercia intertwined with the historical Christian King Alfred and his epic struggles to unite and solidify a kingdom and battle against the ever-present invasions of the pagan Danes. Though much has been previously written about Alfred and his Danish antagonists, Millie Thom takes a fresh, detailed, and interesting look into the personal lives of the King, his family and friends, and of those who battle against him. This is a historical novel clearly written by an accomplished author who knows and enjoys her subject. I highly recommend.
Links to Millie Thom books and author information:
Amazon US http://amzn.to/2udCDJH
Amazon UK https://amzn.to/2MfSLAy
Amazon Au https://amzn.to/2Kg7WME
WordPress: https://milliethom.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MillieThom
Fighting Back
Thanks to author Susan Holmes for permission to re-blog this excellent post. Valuable reading for both authors and readers.
“The reader deserves honesty.”
Nora Roberts
Whether you’re a writer or a reader, Nora Roberts’ post Plagiarism, Then and Now is worth your time and serious reflection. In that post she shares her own heart-wrenching experience and confronts what she calls “this ugly underbelly of legitimate self-publishing.” It’s both humbling and awe-inspiring that a writer of her stature would stand and fight in defense of honest authors, whatever publishing path they choose.
I hope you’ll read the post in its entirety.
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The more I read about the plagiarist-pirate-thief Cristiana Serruya the worse the story becomes. While it’s possible her thievery did not extend to mystery fiction, it’s unfortunately quite probable that another wordsnatcher is out there raiding our work. (For the record, I cannot claim to have coined wordsnatcher; a quick search online turned up this post on the No Bad Language blog.) If you’re a writer whose work…
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I’m Not Sleeping, Just Thinking With My Eyes Closed
Haven’t posted lately but that doesn’t mean I’ve been idle. As John Lennon and others have said, “Life is something that happens to us while we’re busy making other plans.” Beyond time-consuming personal and medical issues, I’ve continued work on the second book in my Runevision Murder Mystery series as well as writing more short-stories for my second book in that genre. I also have three books in queue to finish reading, at least one of which, I plan to review here.
An Amusing Halloween Read
One of my favorite authors, Ray Bradbury, provides a wonderful fantasy Halloween romp in his 1972 book ‘The Halloween Tree’.
“It was a small town by a small river and a small lake in a small northern part of a Midwest state,” reads the opening line.
In the typically quirky, spooky fantasy style only Bradbury can conjure, we follow the mysterious Mr. Carapace Clavicle Moonshroud as he leads a group of eight Halloween-dressed boys on a trick-or-treating journey that turns into a mission across time and space to find the group’s missing friend, Pipkin. Along the way, they discover the role that fear of death, ghosts, and the supernatural have in shaping our world.
This adventure is just pure Ray Bradbury fictional fun.
Goodbye My Love, Goodbye
‘Tis near the season for Halloween so why not post something a little chilling?
Working on the second book of short stories, I completed one about a young man, his high school sweetheart, and their less-than-desirable relationship. The story is actually humorous and ends well. However, in some dark corner of my mind, I wondered: what if it hadn’t ended well? What if the man couldn’t handle the fact his one true love was unfaithful? What might he do? That’s when this poem came to me.
“Goodbye My Love, Goodbye” by Jack R. Cotner Copyright 2015. All Rights Reserved.
Retreating inward from the pain,
I smell the sweetness of her hair
As we move along the path. I strain
Uphill, dragging muddied weight to where
Headstones squat like sacred peaks between
Mowed grass where walked mourning crones.
Stoic statues weathered, weeping, still serene,
Guarding lengthy rows of buried bones.
We halt. Crows pass, loud caws abating.
A portal beyond the pale awaits, silent.
The gaping hole lies open, waiting, waiting
For my dearest here quiet, broken, spent.
Farewell, sweet beauty, unfaithful miss.
I weep. Red lipstick on blue, icy lips
Beckons. Entranced, I take one final kiss
Before tossing splendor into the dark abyss.
Goodbye my love, goodbye
Jack Ronald Cotner 