Night Train, Cold Beer has some pretty good stories in it. It won a thousand bucks and publication: how bad could it be? Prizes aren't everything but they're an indication somebody liked it. If you do buy it, leave a review on Amazon, good, bad, indifferent. That helps people who are undecided, and it gives me an idea if I'm connecting with anyone. I appreciate it. And if you have any questions or comments for me about writing or sculpture, (or anything) go to the "contact" page and let fly. More writing coming. Thanks! GW
PS: I'm happy to say that, so far, this book has 5 star customer reviews.
Ruined Days Now at Amazon, B&N, Elsewhere.
Travis Meachem's old man fired the shot that killed JFK. And there's a film of him doing it that surpasses the Zapruder film in graphic detail. Reno Pete made sure the film was well taken care of for fifty some years so he could leave it to his son, along with instructions and details about how to convert it to big cash. Travis is undecided about the prospect until some people close to him are brutally murdered by those who want the evidence supressed. The JFK crime is still rippling outward, still affecting anyone it touches.
Ruined Days is not a conspiracy novel, but the execution by Travis's father sets it in delayed motion. Travis and some others from the Marais Des Cygne Wildlife Refuge in southeast Kansas continue the violence that changed the world in 1963 with some twists of their own.
Along the way, Travis is joined by a stunning Creole girl, a streetwise rasta character and a Dallas police detective. A shadowy figure who Travis never sees seems to be an ally of the Deep Throat variety. Travis and his uncle take the fight to New Orleans where it all began, and sleeping dogs awaken; dogs no less vicious than those who silenced over 100 witnesses in the wake of the original sin in Dealey Plaza. Old dogs who are as motivated and dangerous now as they were then.
A young boxer defies his mob owners and refuses to lose an upcoming fight. He becomes a killer by default, a landscaper by capability, and a private eye by choice. Stranger things have happened. On second thought, no they haven't. Present day L.A. is the locale.
This book is being written. I'll say no more for awhile, and maybe you'll see a "Buy at Amazon" link under it sometime in 2017.
This second collection of short stories goes from noir to light and back again, from a KC funeral home to a bridge connecting Oklahoma and Texas, from a Kansas wildlife refuge to a big rig heading to the high desert for Christmas.
Some grit, some humor, maybe a laugh or even a tear. The Lana Turner story made me tear up. She was a grand lady, the one who looked like her.
The flash fiction story about the old cowpuncher and the robot made me laugh, though it doesn't end well. I have no control over endings. The stories end, sometimes abruptly, sometimes interminably. Jeez, I think, will this ever end? One story, the Coffin/Carload one, is so weird--it's a faux memoir and a blurred genre thing that goes from one guy's POV to another, then a dark angel takes over, then he's deposed and a normal guy runs with it. It's all over the map, but I love the Campbell Sisters--they are mischievous, and hot for over 300 years old. One of them spends thousands on extensions. Their "handler," Mr. Splitfoot, thinks that's nuts.
It was released June, 2016 and is available on Amazon, Kobo, Barnes & Noble, The Black Opal Books site, and more.
An interesting review/interview can be seen here at Big Thrill Magazine, by Derek Gunn, Irish author.
Hot Rods from Hell
All across this Great American Dreamscape, this once-fierce golden republic, waves of kids grew up lusting for speed, self-esteem and power. The awful, freaky war was over. A window of restless quiet was shattered by hell breaking loose.
"Hot Rods" is being written story by story, and one titled "Sad Car, Happy Car" is making the rounds of lit reviews now.
The covers for all these books are by the talented Mr. Ben Carmean.
The shortest poem in this 100-page collection is this:
Bobwar some Kansans say/ not really worth a poem/ sags and rusts and breaks/ like folks. You know 'em.
And the longest one is about a guy willingly heading into a blizzard for an assignation. It's about six pages long and it appeared in Pulp Metal Lit. It's titled "The Blizzard of Ought-Not" and it moves right along. It'll make you cold. There are a bunch of crane poems (I like cranes, both the birds and the tracked work machine) scattered about, and one in particular called "Scattered Cranes" that was in Futures Trading, a really cool literary journal. There are a bunch of "calloused hands" poems about hard work, and some about hard living. Poems about love, motorcycles, dreams (American and otherwise), lakes, highways, sheepherders, horses, throwing water balloons on entangled lovers in convertibles at night...you don't know what the hell you'll find in here. Twenty or so have been published in lit journals so somebody likes 'em. You might, too.
The cover (left) is by Ben Carmean, but it's just a concept cover for now. He's coming up with something beautiful. He did all the covers above. I'll let you know when this book is in print. G