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Well, I suppose you know by now that the Chain of Evidence book launch at Two Rivers Steak House in Pasadena, Maryland went off without a hitch, thanks in no small part to the efforts of Maggie and Mary and Delaney and Michelle. Lots of ‘M’ names for sure. Now I get a chance to sit back and see what I’m made of, or more exactly, what the novel is made of. The reviews are starting to trickle in, and I won’t burden you with them here, but should you care to read a few, you’ll find them on http://www.dbcorey.com/Media-and-Events.html. 

So far, the reception is good. One 3 star (on Goodreads—a rating, not a review), one 4 star and the rest 5 star on Amazon and others. Above average, I’d say, and four of those are professional reviews. 

Now it’s true I know a goodly portion of the folks writing the Amazon reviews, and I don’t count the ones I wrote for myself (kidding). I fully expected those folks to be positive and encouraging, and to some degree, liars. But they tell me they are being honest and speak the truth, so I believe them.  

Then I hear from folks I don’t know—and these are the ones who really surprise me—people who I wouldn’t know if I fell over them, people who heard of the book through word of mouth, or saw it in the paper, or read it because a “local” guy wrote it. One gal downloaded it to her Kindle, read it in two days, and liked it so much she asked me to send her a signed copy that she would gladly pay for.  

Blew me away.  

I’ve been hearing from folks I haven’t seen in twenty-five years. They’re finding me on LinkedIn and Facebook and readers are telling me how good the novel is, and how much they enjoy the local flavor, and want to know if the next one will be #2 in a series because the liked the protag. Some say they thought they had it figured out only to find they hadn’t. Others had inklings, and so far, no one has thrown the book across their living room.   

Most say that they can’t wait for the next one, and brother, I’m hoping I ain’t wakin’ up no time soon. 

The feedback is awesome and quite humbling, and the Intrigue folks told me this would happen last year when this all began— 

But Maggie, the love of my life, says I’m turning into a Diva.  

"You need a bigger office," she says. "To fit your head."

It’s not true, of course …

                                                                                                                                          

… just because I redecorated my office with pictures of me….

 OK … I’m only kidding.

 There’s just one.

 Poster size.

So Cloud 9 is way up there. And I’m on it. But I’ll be back down soon.

Maggie insists I keep my feet on the ground, and I always listen to Maggie.

Besides, it’s hard to write way up here.

DB

Website - www.dbcorey.com

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In The Blink of an Eye

On Wednesday August 1^st, 2013, I achieved the goal of penning a published novel. It took me eight years. Some folks wait a lifetime; others, barely one. Therefore, you’ll understand when I say that I consider myself fortunate that the Word Gods favored me above some others who still labor, who still seek elusive Success; a cruel taskmaster that stays just beyond your reach, yet tantalizes you with images and imaginings of cover art and 20-city tours and lectures to throngs of the devoted who seek your audience at conventions and conferences. Success changes before your eyes, shifts its shape and appears nothing like it did when you began. It is the Brass Ring, The Lombardi Trophy, The Stanley Cup. It is a tease, a Siren who beckons, and you follow, because if you do not, if you give up, you will live forever in the shadow of failure. The “what ifs” will fuel your self-doubt, and your self-doubt will define you.

Well, that all sounds very literary, very profound, but it’s a bunch of crap!

Failure doesn't define you. It strengthens you! Educates you! Improves you!

That’s its function.

That’s why it exists.

Ever heard the term, “What doesn't kill you just makes you stronger?”

That’s Failure.

  

I started writing in 2005 only because I proposed a challenge to myself. I was fifty-six and hadn't done much more than my ol’ man. When I became an adult I got a job, bought a house, raised some kids, and hoped to retire for a little while before I died somewhere down the road—The American Dream, tarnished somewhat by the years. I challenged myself to write a book, just because I knew I’d never be able to do it, and I think that’s why I tried—better to have loved and lost; better to have tried and failed?

Same thing.

Writers write books. I wasn't a writer; I was Everyman; a father and a son, a citizen and an outlaw, a saint and a sinner. But I decided to see if I could do something more, something different, and that was select eighty-five-thousand words from Merriam-Webster and order their placement on the page so that they constituted something that would pass for a story; something with a beginning, a middle, and an end; something with a plot and a direction, a good guy and a bad guy, a place for it to happen, and for someone to win, and someone to lose. That’s it. Nothing more. I didn't care to enter any contests or be nominated for any awards … no Edgar, no Allen, no Poe. All I cared about; all I required to achieve success, was to do only that.

It took three years, and it was terrible, and the success I had just achieved shifted its shape, and became Failure.

The Siren beckoned. I had to try again.

A friend of mine said to me upon hearing the news, “Even if you publish just one novel in your lifetime, you’ll have done something few have. It’s something special.”

On Saturday August 3^rd, I celebrated having my novel published. The two-hour celebration was over in the blink of an eye. Such is Success. I barely remember it. What I do remember is courting Failure for all those years as it led me to Success. As I failed, I learned, I grew, I improved. I mean, how else could I write all this flowery shit? I had a two-thousand word vocabulary when I graduated high school, most of them no more than three letters, and the rest of them profane.

I usually place the photos I use in my blog at the beginning, but not this time. I’m placing them at the end in an effort to symbolize a beginning; a beginning of a new career … for all involved.

Here’s to mistakes.

Here’s to failures.

And here’s to wherever we are, one year from now.

Website - www.dbcorey.com

Twitter - DB Corey

Twitter - Detective Moby Truax

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Meet Myster Write on Facebook – www.facebook.com/MeetMysterWrite

Crime-Cakes by Delaney

And a HUGE shout out to Mary, Maggie's partner in crime,
for all the help she gave Maggie putting this together.
You two gals should start a Party Planning business.
(Since she didn't get me a photo of her,
I had to go all the way back to Halloween last.
Photogenic, isnt she?)



And the winner of the contest is...

Granddaughter 

Sandra with DB and Michelle of Two Rivers

Daughter Delaney greeted the masses,
handled the transactions,
and kept Chaos at bay.



The Intrigue Group



Shopping for the Book Launch

Since the book launch is Saturday, I decided to up my blog output just a little to chronicle the events leading up to the big day. For example, Maggie said that I should have some new clothes for the launch. I don’t know why. I have plenty of t-shirts, and I thought jeans with holes were the style. Just because I wore the holes in them myself, shouldn’t change that.

But who was I kiddin’….

“You need some new clothes. I’m tired of seeing you in those same ol’ ratty jeans. Besides,” she said, “I’m an author’s wife and I want to look nice, so you’re going shopping with me.”

“Me? You talkin’ to me?”

“Yes I’m talking to you…. I want your opinion.”

“Okay. You look good in everything.”

Now most guys hate to shop. And I’m no exception. I shop when I have to—once or twice a year maybe, not counting Christmas: a couple pairs of jeans, some shirts, underwear … maybe a pair of socks, and I’m set. But then there’s the occasional occasion when there’s no avoiding going shopping ... with a woman. A book launch qualifies.

Visions of traipsing from store to store passed before my eyes; like your life when you think you’re gonna die. Back and forth, from one store to another, then back again. I mean, how many times does one have to visit the same store? I saw myself following her like a dejected child—pouting; standing around while she rummaged through rack after rack trying to find something that:

Fit.
Didn’t make her look fat.
Was pretty.
Didn’t make her look fat.
Was appropriate.
Didn’t make her look fat.

So she drags me to the Mall. There must be a thousand stores in that place. And I fully expected to visit each-and-every-one. She likes Macys. So that’s where I park. Who knew the store she’d actually buy in was on the other side of the planet.

The dressy casual dresses are on the second floor. I didn’t even know that was a category. Thank the Lord there were escalators. We head upstairs and walked a mile or so to the casual dress section. She begins her run and I wait. A day later, she says, “I can’t find anything. Let’s go to Penney’s.”

We walk to the other side of the Mall. She starts another run. I wait. “There’s more dresses downstairs,” she says, so down we go. This time, we have to use the stairway outside the store because it’s closer than the escalator. Well, that’s fine with me. It was downhill.

“There’s nothing here. Let’s go back. I want to look at one I saw upstairs again.” Now, it’s uphill. Two landings. I hate stairs. She decides “we” need to go to another store. We pass Sears.

“Let’s try here.”

“Sears? You need power tools?”

“No, silly. A dress.”

It may as well have been power tools, since there were no dresses that she liked. We make a beeline to Boscov’s. Nothing. Back to Penney’s. We come to a set of stairs that look awfully familiar. Up we go.

“I can’t make up my mind. Help me.” She disappears and comes back wearing the first of seventeen dresses she’s picked out.

 “I like that one. Let’s go home.”

Ooooh-noooo! I have to see each one. Between changes, I occupied myself by taking short trips across the tile floor, making sure my sneakers landed squarely on the tile without touching a grout joint. Tiring of that, I traveled in tiny figure eights. Its funny how, if you look at them sideways, they look like the symbol for Infinity, meaning without end; just like this trip.  

At one point, a salesman walked by.

“Can I help you, sir?”

The answer came as a sigh preceded by a breath. “Noooo … shopping with a woman.”

“Ah!” he said. “Well, we have plenty of comfy chairs,” and then he continued on, snickering under his breath.

Eventually, she settles on a dress she likes.

Finally. "You look great. Let's go home."

“I need accessories.”

“Accessories? What? … like an A/C adaptor?”

So with dress in hand, we traipse over to the shoe department.

“I’m not paying $80 for a pair of shoes,” she says. “We can find them cheaper someplace else.”

Great! Now she’s frugal.

After visiting a store that had the gall to refer to itself as “Payless,” there were four other shoe stores to visit. None had anything that matched the dress. Back to Penney’s. I forked out the eighty bucks hoping to get home before the turn of the century.

“Okay, just one more thing.”

Another “thing?” How many “things” do women need? This is a one-day affair, not a camping trip.

Back to Payless. Handbags.

“Why didn’t you just get the handbag when we were here the first time?”

“We didn’t have the shoes. The handbag has to match the shoes.”

“Don’t the dress match the shoes?

“Yes.”

“So? …”

“So the handbag has to match the shoes.”

“????”

“Weren’t you just here?” the saleswoman said.

“Yeah, in another lifetime.”

Nothing there. Back to Penney’s. I think I’m gonna buy stock.

“The weatherman said it was going to be cool Saturday,” she murmured.

“Yeah. So?”

“I might get chilly. Help me find a bolero.”

“Okay…. That’s some kind o’ hat, right?”

I never heard so many women snickering at one time.

Well, I have to admit. When we did finally get home, she put everything on and looked stunning. I decided it was worth the trip and then some.

“You know, honey” I said. “You’ll be the prettiest woman there.”

By the way, I know I have a flare for exaggeration, but honestly, most of this actually happened. I just embellished a little.


DB

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Website - www.dbcorey.com

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Pasadena: Former youth coach pens his first novel - : Pasadena

It's always fun to get yourself in the paper.
Especially if you never have before.


Pasadena: Former youth coach pens his first novel - : Pasadena

The Home Stretch

Yeah … you’d think, now that your novel is in the final stages before publication and the hard part is done, right? You’ve worked hard. The novel is written. The edits are complete. The cover design is in the works and the copyright is in process. Marketing is ramping up, the release party is scheduled, and your last rejection is behind you.

Whew!

Now the book is all it can be! All that’s left to do is to make a list of guests, whip out a new blog post, update Facebook LinkedIn and Twitter, and maybe, since you’ve been inviting so many people to your website (mine’s www.dbcorey.com, by the way), you decide to have a quick look at the excerpt you put there to make the reader’s mouths water. After all, it’s been a while, and you just love that scene.

You read out loud because you have a reading coming up and you need the practice, but mostly because the words are so pleasing to the ear. You smile as the words flow without effort from your lips; you hear the music, the rhythm—the tongue-twister….

“Whud?”

OH NOOOOO!!!! NO! NO! NO!

IS IT LIKE THAT IN THE MANUSCRIPT?

OMG! Whereisitwhereisit? Scroll-scroll-scroll. Crap! Find! Ah! There it is.
OH NOOOOO!!!!

It’s the same!

WhatamIgonnado? WhatamIgonnado?

FIX IT! That’s what!

But the publisher has the copy that says Approved Final Copy. If you change it, then it won’t be the approved final copy anymore. So you bite the bullet and send them the NEW Approved Final Copy—Ver2! Then you hope LegalZoom hasn’t sent it to the Copyright Office yet or it’s gonna cost you more money and you call them and tell them to trash the one you sent yesterday and use this NEW Ver2!

It’s been a taxing experience, so after all the corrections and calls and emails, you’re worn out, and you go to bed.

The next day everyone is amiable and understands that this is a process, and that’s just the way it works.

You feel good. You re-load the newly, un-tongue-twisted version onto your excerpt page and resume your out-loud reading.

“Dump them in the sink,” he commanded Vecchio, shoving the baby into Vicky’s arms. “Hold her! Open her mouth!”

Grabbing several capsules from the basin, Truax broke them open. Seeing Vicki struggling to get Jade’s mouth—

“Whud?”

Vicky?

Vicki?

OH NOOOOO!!!! NO! NO! NO!

NEW Approved Final Copy—

Ver3!

Illustration used with permission from Debbie Ridpath Ohi at Inkygirl.com

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Website - www.dbcorey.com

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Chain of Evidence - Book Release

Yesterday I met with Intrigue Publishing regarding the Chain of Evidence release in August. In effect, it’s a get together of friends, family, and others to herald the launch of the new novel. We will be holding it at Two Rivers Steakhouse in Pasadena Maryland, by invitation. Of course, I expect their regular customers will be curious as to what all the hubbub is about and will amble over to see. Hopefully, they’ll be fans of crime thrillers, and if they are, perhaps they’ll pick up a copy while they’re there. Of course, I’ll be only more than happy to sign it for them if they wish, but I gotta tell ya, being new to the publishing game, that sounds a bit pompous to me. Of course, if the novel turns out to be a huge success, a signed first edition could be quite valuable. I won’t be holding my breath, but one never really knows, do they? I mean, look what happened to 50 Shades of something or other.

           
I am of the understanding that the intention is not to sell the novel, but to promote it; although if some enthusiastic reader wants a copy I doubt we’ll deny them. According to the marketing director, she’ll be sending invitations to all local media, she’s lined up radio, web, and perhaps TV interviews, will have a video trailer produced, set up author (that’s me) interviews, and other things that I don’t remember. It’s all just a little bit scary.

I guess it was two years ago I looked into publishing the novel myself. Now I’m not talking about print-on-demand, most of those are bogus. I’m talking about actually forming a legitimate publishing company, deciding what format the book would take, selecting materials, hiring an editor, printers, artists, publicists, acquiring ISBN numbers, copyrights, ordering galley copies, marketing marketing marketing, and a plethora of other forgotten things. I know of two writers who have accomplished this Herculean feat, and were quite successful: Vince Flynn and Trice Hickman, the latter of whom is a local author, and conducted conference call class on the subject, of which I attended. To say the task is daunting is to say the sun will rise in the morning. It was far too much for me to take on. Writing the novel was hard enough.

So I am ecstatic to have been picked up by Intrigue. They will handle all that, thankfully. All I have to do now is be where they want me, do what they tell me, and hopefully, we’ll sell a book or two.

DB Corey

Illustration used with permission from Debbie Ridpath Ohi at Inkygirl.com