There are four cases in all with really creative intertwining plots. The story doesn't feel as ambitious as previous games probably because it doesn't deal with the mythology established in those, which were all linked by the story of the spirit medium Fey Family and numerous prosecutors. It's tight and entertaining nonetheless, thanks to a snappy localization headed by Alexander O. Smith, who noticeably sat out from working on the middle installments. The writing is even laugh-out-loud funny at times as the addle-brained Judge got me lawlin' by his near-constant confusion, and the cast of characters, true to series form, is bizarre and lovable. Grumpy forensics detective Ema Skye, who snacks on chocolate "Snackoos" and is turned on by the mere hint of scientific evidence, is definitely a new favorite, along with a mountainous gangster who looks like the anime approximation of Marlon Brando wearing a baker's apron. The new prosecutor Klavier Gavin also moonlights as a rockstar and air guitars in the middle of court proceedings, complete with accompanying soundtrack and a brilliantly detailed sprite animation that ought to pump some fists. And it wouldn't be an Ace Attorney game without Phoenix Wright, whose presence reaches Metal Gear Solid 2-era Solid Snake levels of cool, confidence and control as the main force working behind the scenes of the narrative to help Apollo and Trucy.

It helps that the gameplay flows easier from investigation to courtroom segments. Talking and presenting evidence finally makes perfect sense - the series' usually goofy logic is gone so it's tough to get stuck - and the game makes good use of the DS' capabilities so cases stay fresh. When Ema's around you take on the role of forensics analyst. You dust (and blow!) for prints, spray for poison residue and scan items with X-rays. Pretty cool immersing stuff. Apollo also has the ability to detect the nervous tics of witnesses to tell if they're lying, an inventive way to show off the game's new hi-res animations and illustrations although the Judge and some other returning characters from the GBA ports still sport their dusty old sprites. The music also gets a facelift, definitely the best since the first game. There are more complicated, rocking compositions with one musical case in particular taking special advantage of the DS' SNES-like sound system.

I'm still sentimental over Phoenix Wright's third outing, Trials and Tribulations, for the bittersweet Godot story and original cast of characters but Apollo Justice is inarguably the best, most fully-realized entry in what I consider the flagship series of the Nintendo DS. Hopefully the next game starring original star prosecutor Miles Edgeworth won't drop the baton with its drastic design deviation (you can walk!). That would be a most unfortunate turnabout.

There are apparently no ants in Antarctica, Iceland, Greenland or Polynesia east of Tonga.

 How many children are growing up without the pleasure of discovering the mystery of the magnifying glass/ant lesson?

note: I was more of a ball-peen hammer type of child.

Humor-Blogs

Anyway, the taxi driver eventually asked me if the music was OK, saying I could change it if I wanted. I said it was fine, and he smiled a bit wryly. We got a little farther up town and he turns to me and says:

"If you fall in love, what do you do?"

I was off in my own head, some so I wasn't paying attention to the music at that point. That comment shook me out of my zone though, and I laughed. I was a bit stumped so I offered a little "huh?" and he just giggled at me. "It's a strange question, isn't it," he says. I'm just looking thoroughly perplexed at this point so he offers that it's the lyrics to the music we're listening to. I cracked up at that point. He told me about how his daughter had bought it for him specially to play for his customers. I said I thought it was calming and he agreed. All his "nervous" customers relax to it, he claims. It made this funny little cab seem like a small oasis for the lucky few.

Incongruity was a bit of the theme for the whole night, though. I'm a cynical, sarcastic sort most of the time but sometimes something just catches your attention, and this cab driver certainly did that. He was just pleased as punch to get compliments for his music. I was thinking about it later, and realised that outside of context I'd probably hate the music. I'm almost sure I would. I wouldn't have listened to it under normal circumstances. Certainly not so closely and that is what makes the difference.

You can hear the most relaxing music in the world, or have the greatest meal ever right there in front of you but unless you're open to it it may be only so much fluff and nothing. It can pass us by all too easily. Unless you slow down, and take the time for things outside the realm of your immediate perceptions you don't tend to have the capacity to enter things as fully. So make room for things, is what I'm saying. Make it a bit of a priority sometime. It's a "no d'uh" kind of point but it's also something I know I could do to be reminded of more often.

There's a Joni Mitchell song that captures it well called One Tin Solider Rides Away. It's a story of two warring clans, and treasure and the value we place on things that go unseen. You may ask the world for treasure, and receive it but unless you place value on all things, even those that aren't precisely what you were looking for then it may not come to much.

So here I was, sitting at the laptop, looking up books about blogging and freelance writing (oh yes, I'm doing this for real, b's). I get up for some reason, and turn around to look at something on our 'dining area table'. When I look down, I see a foreign fork sitting on my cute lighthouse-themed dinner tray. Yes, I repeat, a foreign fork. Now, I'm not saying I obsess over people's cutlery...but I know for a fact that this particular fork is not ours, nor is it my bff and ever's. I think I would know, considering I eat a few tasty bowls of Velveeta Shells N' Cheese over at her apartment, like every week. So definitely NOT hers. And I also know that it didn't come from his grandma's house (where we moved from). I used to eat off of those forks every night. So wtf? I turn to Mr. Crab and ;

Me: 'Where did this fork come from?'
Him: 'I was going to ask you. I don't know'.
Me: 'Are you for real? You mean you have no idea where this fork came from?'
Him: 'Nope. I saw it there earlier. I thought it was from you or something.'
Me: 'Uh, NO. It was just sitting there when you saw it?'
Him: 'Yep.'
Me: 'Well....what the hell? I swear I ate off of the dinner tray yesterday...it wasn't there last night or I would have noticed it.'
Him: (looks at me like I'm a raving lunatic)
Me: 'Seriously, you have never seen this fork before? Who has this kind of silverware? I mean really?
Him: 'Yes, baby, I have never seen it before.'
Me: 'Well, we gotta figure out something. That's really creepy. How does a random fork end up in our apartment??'
Him: (rewinding through a VHS tape of 'Fight Club'.) 'Dunno. It's crazy.'
Me: 'UGH! Some weird shit is going on in this place, I swear!'

So there you have that. My apartment is now host to foreign fork-wielding ghosts. What a lucky person I am.

author’s note:

Okay, maybe I didn’t actually see a skeleton.  But I did happen upon the pickup truck pictured above.  And from that rusted husk came this poem.
 

CLOWN SKELETON

A sudden shock
while walking over
a lost forest trail:
          I spot a skeleton sitting
in the driver’s seat
of a rusted pickup truck shell.

The will-o'-the-wisp I glimpse
becomes merely a glint of sunlight:
in those dingy bones I find no spirit.

As I approach closer I realize
even my old movie memories
can not give this coat hanger life--

the infamous grin of death
--with its happy threat--
fell off long ago
with the lower jawbone--
all the upper teeth followed.

Only a silly baseball cap
perched atop the skull
provides some animation:
death has gone goofy on us.

The hand bones delicately rest
on the cracked steering wheel--
not to guide the vehicle
but as part of a structure
that maintain the vertebrae
in a prim upright posture--

looking pretty pleased with itself
this--what?--who supported this rack?--
a dust farmer? a fruit peddler? a camping tramper?--
I can’t really say as I care:
no ghost; therefore, no mystery.

Moss creeps up hip bones
that poke into bare rusty springs;
I spy a spider dangling
down the hollow of the ribs--

but don’t I already know
that death feeds life?

So then, why
was I drawn here--?--
what am I trying
to teach myself?

Maybe the skeleton means to say:
“I am death, and yet I am life.
 And so, I am also your life.
 You die every day.”

Ah, but that missing lower jaw
continues to intrude
on my sense of the aesthetic--ruins
the effect of any philosophy--

death can not lecture me--
I still feel comfortable.

“Without your teeth,”
 I say aloud--too loudly for this quiet forest--
“you have no bite.”

However, I can’t quite ignore
one whistling fear:
to end my days
in such a place--alone--forgotten--
going nowhere in a derelict truck--
just a clown set of bones...and worse yet--
no mouth, no voice...

no, no, no.

A fortunate encounter,
a fortunate reminder:
this card of death has given my life
a little more desperation,
and even more resolve.

© 2008, Michael R. Patton
dream steps
earnest audio

Noren are traditional curtains used all over Japan, from shrines to shops to hot springs, often with a simple motif to signify what lies within. Some noren are more decorative and less utilitarian, with beautiful shibori designs, or even made of patchworked fabrics from old garments. Whatever the difference in appearance, they all serve the same purpose; to keep out wind, rain, dust, insects, or sunlight without having to shut a door.

I decided to make my own noren from yukata fabric rather than buy a commercially made one. I'm not a big fan of floral prints (and so many women's yukata have floral prints), but love waves. Fortunately I had just the thing on hand. I cut three sections, each roughly one meter (39.5") long or so and 13" wide, to fit across my front door. Here they are hanging in the shower after being hand washed in mild soap. There was a bit of dye bleed, but the colors stayed true.

This fabric has been hand dyed on both sides, something rather rare on the market these days as it is quite labor intensive. Most commercially dyed yukata cottons are dyed using a vacuum machine that pulls the dye through multiple layers, whereas this was dyed with either a stencil or a block, one section at a time and then flipped over and the process done again on the other side. The result is a fabric with no "back" side, so when one side gets worn out or stained, the yukata can be taken apart and resewn with the inner part now facing out. Sometimes the dyer doesn't quite line everything up perfectly and we see a flaw, as shown here:

All things considered, I feel it's pretty reasonable to overlook the bit of blur and move on to the greater plan. How will this work as a noren? Is the design too busy, or will it impart an inviting sense of refreshing coolness to my doorway--and keep out bugs? (Keep in mind that indigo has been used as an insect repellent for centuries.) After fiddling about with the pieces for some time, here is the layout I decided would work best. It allows the checkerboard background to standout and the waves to ripple along without mirroring each other or moving at awkward angles.

I still need to decide if I want the bottom edges to be even or stepped. There's also the problem of trying to figure out what the fabric actually is... I thought it was a stiff, coarse, unbleached cotton, but now I'm not so sure. It was incredibly stiff before and after hand washing, but softens up like a dream once it's been handled enough. I rubbed the pieces together to fluff them a bit and it worked quite well. I am considering that the fiber is something other than cotton, but what? I have the tag somewhere and will post it later once I can get it translated.

Further details to come!

So as the days passed and it was soon becoming time to make a decesion my baby told me, yes I will move, so as we called the movers and arranged everything, it was kind of sad to leave our place, we had so many memories there, that we kept close to our hearts, as we flew down there, we were excited to see her mother and sister, as our first day there we visited with family then we went to find a house, there was a nice one two story house with a pool, and hot tub, just like we wanted, so we bought it and then started to move in, as her mother came to see the house she really liked it, now we had to admit that my wife's sister had a nicer house but eh it was ok a house is what you make it,

I had to go in a couple of days to my job that had transfered me down to where we are now, so as I was doing that my wife, with her sister was arranging the house the way they thought it would look the best, now when I got home it was a beautiful site, flowers a very nice lawn, and everything in its place, as we enjoyed our first night in, we called over my wife's sister and mother, and shared good times, truly an inspirational moment, so that night after the family had left, we sat back and looked at our new home, there were so many things to discover, and to do around the place where we lived now,

So my wife turned to me and said baby I love you, and I said well I love you too, I hope your not mad at me, I said to my wife, she said why would I be mad at you, well we have moved again, and I know that moving a lot is a strain sometime, she said its not a problem as long as I am with you, I am fine with wherever we go, as my wife and I looked at our new bedroom, it was so nice with a television in the front of the room, and a nice hallway with other such features, electric stove, and electric almost everything, so it was a very nice house, as we settled in to watch television we slowly drifted off to sleep as I rolled over, I almost fell out of bed, my wife caught me and pulled me onto the bed, she said babe stay closer to me,

You see my wife said to me, she said babe if you ever wanted to have you know, I said you know what? She said you know sex we could, I said no thats alright, she agreed with me,

Now don't get me wrong, sex is a beautiful thing but it can only be beautiful when two people are willing, my wife clearly agreed, I told my wife personally, I said hunny, it would make me feel awkward and uneasy if I had sex with you, she said why would you feel that way, I said because I look more at you as someone I love, and admire to the fullest, and just want to be close to, She and I agreed that just being close to eachother was a sexual experience for both of us, and didn't need to go any further, so as we went back to sleep, we had a pleasant evening wrapped up in each others arms, and just peacefully resting, and hearing the night sounds,

For He saw the beauty of the water; and the water was everywhere.

For He did not send his children to human shelters.

For He showed the fragrance never sold on shelves not to be seen.

For He walked as we walked.

                                             ...

                                                      ...

                                                               ...                                    

                                                                     For He was there.

                                                                     Permanent love.

                                                                     Permanently

                                                                     mysterious love.

Looking for a great summer read? Budget tight? Gas prices getting to you? Well have we got the place for you. Hooked on Books located 2 blocks off the Wildwood Boardwalk is the perfect place to loose an hour or two. As you peruse the stacks in this wonderfully quaint little used bookstore you will get lost in the great titles and selection.

A few summers ago when Drew and I lived in Wildwood there were a few things we could afford for entertainment. We could see the fireworks every Friday night, for free, from our front porch on Magnolia Avenue. We would occasionally treat ourselves to breakfast at our local WaWa. We would walk on the boardwalk, taking in the sights and sounds of summer, “Watch the tramcar please!” Hooked on Books became one of our haunts. I loved browsing and trying to find books I always meant to read, but never had the time. Imagine the Strand Bookstore In Manhattan only smaller, more friendly and with a great selection of books not art guides.

Open seasonally this wonderful little jewel in the middle of Pacific Avenue is run by Kieran & Jim. Both great guy's who don’t mind you spending time browsing and looking at books until you have made your selection. Speaking of selection, it’s huge, you will always find something you haven’t yet read, always wanted to read, or just talked to a friend about, and they read it, and recommended it to you.

You will find that most books are pretty much half of what they would be if you were buying them new. They also run two consistent specials: 20% off when you buy 10 or more books. Also when you buy 3 kids books you get the 4th for FREE. Now you will need these specials because you want to buy the entire collection of Oprah’s Book Club, or the entire Chronicles of Narnia.

On my last visit to Hooked on books I bought enough books to last me the whole summer. It’s a must see if you are in the Wildwood area and a destination if you are vacationing elsewhere. So go out there and get hooked, it’s worth it!

"A summer time store only, open from May through September.
We carry all kinds of books. Popular fiction categories include mystery, horror, science fiction, fantasy, romance, historical, techno-thrillers, westerns, adventure, and the classics. Non-fiction categories include biographies, true-crime, travel, business, art, sport, music, religion, new-age, self-help, cook-books, gardening, parenting, teaching, language, trivia, black and latino culture, history and politics. They also have a great selection of kids books.

Each of these sections are clearly sign-posted, categorized and alphabetized"

Check out the Website at www.hookedonbooks.info

Mystery! (which is now part of Masterpiece Theater) is shown several times a year on PBS stations. My husband and I have watched the various mystery series through the years (Poroit, Miss Marple, Inspector Morse, etc.) and we enjoy almost all of them! This Sunday the last episode of Inspector Lewis will show. Inspector Lewis was Inspector Morse's sidekick and now has his own show! The shows I'm waiting for though in this series of Mystery! are Foyle's War and Inspector Lynley.

Foyle's War returns on July 13 for Series V (three episodes--July 13, 20 and 27) and the last for this show. If you haven't watched Foyle's War search for earlier episodes or jump in and watch these episodes and then find those earlier episodes!

 This is a World War II series taking place in England about DCS (Detective Chief Inspector) Christopher Foyle (Michael Kitchen) who would rather be fighting the war with the military, but instead must stay and fight crime on the home front.

Writer Anthony Horowitz says: "The war adds another dimension for Foyle -- a personal crusade to fight crime when values and morality are shaken up and all of Europe is engaged in killing. These aren't 'war stories,' yet the turmoil of those years allows us to explore a rich variety of storylines."

Amazon carries the DVDs for the prior seasons and each is very good. My library also has them and I have checked them out and watched ones I missed on PBS.

nothing there

nothing

nothing anywhere

nothing there

nothing there

nothing

nothing anywhere

anywhere

anywhere

nothing

nothing

no --

John Wells, the soldier, astronaut, and Christian husband, is particularly sympathetic as he looks for peace between his dreams and his loyalties, and wrestles to find a way to move both his marriage and career forward while concentrating on the immediate demands of a high-pressure job. On top of this add alien contact, a murder mystery, and a false messiah stirring up spiritual confusion. Yup, there's a lot in this book, but I did not get confused by it. It is heady and thriling stuff and I'm looking forward to reading number 2.

Boyd, Austin. The Evidence: A Novel. 2006.  Series: Mars Hill Classified 1.

Cut loose

Some books never get off the ground, and Edge of Evil is one of them. The plot hinges on three debacles, TV anchorwoman Ali's ageist dismissal from her job, the death of Ali's fatally ill best friend in a car accident, and the death of Ali's own marriage. Her son talks her into starting a blog about her tribulations, and, of course, its popularity blossoms immediately. Ali uses Cutlooseblog.com as a vehicle of adjustment, and begins to see the silver lining in the clouds of her personal problems. She's convinced that her friend's death was neither suicide nor an accident, and doggedly pursues the facts while dodging violent attempts upon her own life by various sub-characters.

All of this should make for an interesting thriller, but there are no thrills. There's a lot of whining, a lot of empathy, and a minor blip at the end. There are salt of the earth family members and despicable husbands. But it all adds up to light summer reading but nothing more.

A few days later the Obama site would post a very low resolution, barely legible image -- it still is there on the site, with no reference to the one first posted at the Daily Kos.

Yet the service of Daily Kos to the Obama campaign raises some questions: Who in the campaign would be authorized to release a personal document of Barack Obama's birth certificate? Was it a paper document that they sent to Kos to scan, or did the Obama campaign scan the original and send it to Kos? If so, why not just post it on the Fight the Smears site? Or is there another possible source for the document? There is no documentation of the provenance of this image, from whom and why it was transmitted to Daily Kos, and in which format. None, that is, except for the say-so of Markos Moulitsas, who said he simply asked the Obama campaign for it.

The perceived unreliability of the image has provoked petitions and widespread demands for Obama to submit for objective inspection the paper versions of the "birth certificate" he claimed in his book Dreams from My Father was in his possession, as well as the paper version of the Certificate of Live Birth for which the image on the Daily Kos and the Obama "Fight the Smears" website was supposedly generated.

Without a valid birth certificate, the primary record of US birth, Obama cannot prove that he fulfills the "natural born citizen" requirement of the Constitution, throwing into doubt his eligibility to run for President and throwing the race into turmoil. His presumed Kenyan-born father was foreign-born, and his mother was too young at the time of birth to confer natural born status by virtue of her American citizenship. Thus his citizenship comes down to proving he was born in the USA, and his campaign has staked its credibility on the authenticity of the Daily Kos-derived birth certificate image [...]

N.

But I was bitten by the bug, and eventually I started writing original fiction.  I've been writing fiction ever since, but in odd moments, and sometimes I wouldn't come back to it for months.

My daughter was 2 years old when it occurred to me I should try to get my work published. My daughter turned 17 last month, and my 17th title was released in paperback the month before her birthday.

And I still have a day job.

Across those fifteen years I have written 24 completed novels, and dozens of partially-written scripts, and hundreds of ideas and rough notes for more stories. I've also written around a hundred articles, the majority of them on the business and craft of writing. I teach about eight different writing classes, including the perrenial Romance Writing course that my local university college can't seem to get enough of.

At the same time I have collected and read a staggering number of how-to books on the craft and business of writing. To begin with, I wanted to know how to be a success. I'm still trying to figure that out, to a certain degree, but I've learned enough to be content with the idea of being successfully published and still holding a day job.

But I've also learned enough to look back at the last fifteen years and wince, because I royally screwed myself over at least six times in that period. I'll eventually confess all, but today I want to tell you about just one of those suicide moves.

This is a warts-and-all confession, so brace yourself.

If you've heard "write what you read" once, you've heard it a thousand times. It makes fabulous sense, except that I read everything. I mean, literally everything. I was a highschool geek and straight A student, in the top 10% of the state. Getting less than 90% on anything was a shock for me, one that would have me consulting with teachers to find out where I went wrong.

My parents lived on what you probably call an acreage.  We didn't have a name for it at all, it was just home.  Home was 40 acres outside of a 20,000 person town that didn't run to public transport. Except for the last year I was in high school, there was only a single television station, the government one, which offered some really solid dramas and lots of documentaries, plus a single movie on Sunday nights, usually about two years after release in the theatres. Oh, there wasn't a cinema in town, either.

So I stayed home a lot, and there wasn't much to do at home once homework was covered (and I honestly don't remember doing a ton of that, either).

But I was already a bookworm because through my primary school years the entertainment resources had been even fewer. (In Australia, that's grades 1-12, before you go straight to high school. No junior high there.)

I had grown up in a wheatbelt town that had three shops, five houses, a three-room primary school, sports pavilion (the centre of the community for most Australians), and an A Grade wheat silo next to the railway line. No television, no commercial radio, and only four other kids under the age of twelve and they were all boys. I didn't play with them because they wouldn't teach me how to throw stones like they did, and I had a cooler bike than they did. (A green Dragster with a banana seat...I campaigned with my father for weeks to get him to buy it for me, and then I rode it everywhere.)

When I wasn't hanging out in the bush, getting into this week's mischief, I was reading. My parents owned the general store in town, and I found a cache of books next to the fresh vegetables stand, not long after we moved there. Mum must have figured reading never harmed anyone*, and purchased dozens of books for the store, and many of them ended up in my general collection.

(*When I hit 16, Mum actually started telling me I should a) hang out with my friends more, and b) don't blind the boys with science. I never had the guts to tell her a) I had no friends I cared to hang out with and b) if a boy couldn't keep up with my brain, I wasn't interested in having his hands on my body.)

I grew up surrounded with books, and a minimum of distractions, and my parents never restricted my reading, although I naturally gravitated towards the adventures (Enid Blyton was a staple).

Then we moved to Geraldton, and I discovered the wonders of the high school library and the even bigger public library.

I read everything. I easily moved on from Enid Blyton to science fiction (Wyndham was a firm favourite on my keeper shelf), and around 16 or so, Mills & Boon romances. My mother introduced these to me. She bought them by the carton at the second-hand book store, and we'd devour the lot in about two weeks. Mum could read one in about two hours.

I also discovered English thriller writers like Desmond Bagley (I'm still trying to rebuild that collection here in Canada), and Peter O'Donnell. Stephen King hit me with the impact of an asteroid, and Sherlock Holmes bit hard (I became a committee member of the Sherlock Holmes Society).

I had a room-sized keeper shelf that included mystery, science fiction, romance, historicals, fantasy, horror, thrillers, suspense, and hybrids of all of the above.

So when I discovered Writers Digest, and their treasure trove of how-to books that told me firmly to ‘write what I read', I was utterly stumped.

I read everything. Where do I start?

I finally analysed that the common element in the majority of my favourites was the romantic thread. I can't resist a good love story. So I started writing Harlequin romances for publication. I thought they'd be easy. Ha!

I wrote six or seven of them, submitted them, got firmly bounced every time. But to complicate the issue, I won the Romance Writers of Australia's Emma Darcy Award for romance writers, which told me I could write...I just couldn't get published. Confused, I stopped to reconsider.

It wasn't like I really enjoyed reading the little category novels anymore. If I was going to read romance, I reached for the big thick tombs that usually had an historical setting....

That was it, I decided. I had no respect for the category romances. I'd try the mainstream historical ones, instead.

Newly inspired, I wrote two really big historical romance novels. I had a blast writing them, and one of them came fourth in that year's Emma Darcy Award, which told me I could write them well, too. But I couldn't get them published.

By this time I was living in Canada, and plugging into the local writing scene, and the Internet was booming. I was already an on-line citizen (I met my husband there), and was connecting with romance writers on-line. Living in Canada meant I could more easily attend writing conventions, and my education on the business of writing took a macro leap.

But I still wasn't sure what I should be writing. Nothing seemed to be working (i.e., selling). I tried my hand at a fantasy romance, considered and quickly discarded the idea of writing straight science fiction. (It intimidates me. Reading, yes. Writing, no. Not yet, anyway.) I tried a romantic suspense, which actually ended up more of a romantic thriller. Nothing worked.

Then I heard about Hard Shell Word Factory, and the brand new concept of electronic book publishing. I did some research, but the industry was so new, no-one had much expertise to share with anyone.

So I submitted the category romance novel that won the Emma Darcy Award...and sold.

In the very same week, a Sherlock Holmes pastiche I had submitted to a small press in Canada also sold.

Good news, right?

Actually, it was really shitty luck for a number of reasons, but the chief one I'm trying to convey in this post was that my debut appearance as a published writer was as a category romance author, and a cult-fiction author, with two almost completely segregated audiences (there's not too many women who care for the mysogynistic Holmes).

But I was too naïve, and too delighted with having sold to know -- or care if I had known. I was being published!

I quickly submitted to Hard Shell Word Factory a couple of romances I had stashed away that didn't totally embarrass me. (I was, at least, improving as a writer enough to recognize crap when I wrote it.) They were a category romance that was trying hard to be a mainstream romantic action/adventure, and an historical romance. Hard Shell bought both.

Big mistake. Huge. Career-killing, in fact.

But I had no idea at the time, and it took another five years or so for me to finally realize just how badly I had screwed myself over, right out of the gate, and continued to do so, every book after that.

My publishing history, listed in order and by category is:

1) Category Romance
2) Mystery
3) Adventure Romance
4) Historical romance
5) Mystery
6) Historical romance
7) Erotic historical romance
8 ) Mainstream romantic suspense
9) Erotic romantic suspense
10) Erotic historical romance
11) Contemporary romance
12) Erotic romantic suspense
13) Erotic fantasy romance
14) Erotic romantic suspense
15) Erotic horror
16) Erotic historical romantic suspense (with a interracial romance, to boot).
17) Erotic romantic suspense.

Laying it out this way should tell you what took me ten years to figure out.

** Find your niche, and stay in it! **

My multiple mistakes included:

1. Publishing in two different genres, first books out of the gate.
2. Publishing these books more or less simultaneously, which split my marketing efforts and my time...how do you build a website or a public face that appeals to both? Answer: You don't.
3. The third and fourth books were in different sub-genres from each other and from anything else I had ever published (and in romance, that's a big deal - romance readers are very monogamous).
4. The third and fourth books were released on the very same day.
5. The fifth book was the sequel to the Sherlockian pastiche, and had the misfortune to be released during the weeks-long Canadian postal strike, and I was oblivious to the negative impact it would make...or that it would end my relationship with that publisher.
6. I jumped publishers after that.
7. The new publisher was very new. (They were starting up, and I think mine was their fifth release ever. I never saw a copy of my book on a single bookstore shelf that I hadn't personally arranged with the bookseller).
8. I got talked into "trying" romantica (erotica + romance), and was a moderate success at it...which made walking away from the money very hard.
9. But even then, I continued to jump sub-genres, from historical to romantic suspense to fantasy....
10. And still didn't understand that the romantica audience is more concerned about the sexy subplot than the story, and failed to deliver in spades...which meant I didn't sell as well as I might have.

I think I've made more than my fair share of mistakes, and there's more than what I've listed here (which proves that you can be both intelligent and incredibly stupid at the same time), but all the mistakes I've made tend to fall into one massive no-no: moving out of your niche.

Staying in your niche doesn't just mean continuing to write novels in your chosen sub-genre. It also means staying with your chosen publisher and format. There's been more than one career killed by moving publishing houses, when readers fail to move with the author. And dozens more careers badly bent by the move.

Same with the format of your book, which has a large effect on the distribution of it. If you've been publishing your books as POD paperbacks, don't suddenly jump to electronic, or trade paperback only...not unless you can guarantee that your loyal readers will be able to find your books in the same places they've always found them.

The readers are your base against which you must measure every career move you make.

From your first novel onwards, you're building a readership, even if it's microscopic at the start. In order to build momentum in your career and some serious income, you need the readers who bought your last book to buy this one, and you need to find new readers with each new title.

If any career decision you make cuts you off from your readers or makes it more difficult for them to hear about new titles, or to buy those titles, it's a bad decision. It's an even worse decision if the new titles are ones that your readers aren't going to want to buy even if they can find it - and that's exactly what jumping sub-genres will do: make them not want to read you any more.

What staying in your niche involves:

1) Understand the reader expectations of your niche.

This is where the "write what you read" rule really makes sense. If you're writing in a beloved genre, then you already understand the unspoken reader expectations.

2) Meet those expectations - every single novel.

3) Don't change your niche unless there is absolutely no other option.

Continue to produce books in that niche, year after year, and maintain your readership. As you grow more established, you can stretch the periods between books, and use that time to build other niches, but don't ever let the original one go if you can help it.

4) You can add niches to your portfolio

But don't add niches until you're well established in the first, and even then, be aware that you're starting from scratch, building a new audience for the new niche. Don't expect to sell as well in the new niche until you're a few books into it, and have built momentum.

If a second or third niche takes off big, then you may want to let earlier niches go...but think really hard about that before you dismiss all your earliest readers.

5) Once you're with a publisher, stick to them like glue.

Writers do change publishers, but there's a cost involved. There's even negative impact on your career with a change of editors, too.

Don't use petty concerns as a reason to jump ship. Stay professional, work to resolve issues, and maintain a good relationship with your publisher.

6) Equate changing publishers with changing niches.

Some readers will come along for the ride, but you'll probably have to grow a whole new readership when you move houses, especially if the distribution of your books changes in any way.

7) Focus on delivering the best quality book you can produce, every book you write.

Readers may not have the writing expertise you do, but they know if a book stinks, or if your heart wasn't in it when you wrote it. You'll lose readers fast if you starting hacking out tomes.

On the other hand, if you give every book your best, the readers will response to it. Guaranteed.

* * * * *

It takes huge amounts of faith, discipline and determination to build your niche (and your career), but what would you do if you didn't write? At least this way you stand a fighting chance of building a career that works for you.

So make sure you pick your genre and sub-genre carefully. You're going to be writing it for a while.

Isis Crawford

Kensington, Sep 2008, $22.00

ISBN: 0758221924

Amethyst Applegate receives a blackmail letter from deceased Bessie Osgood, who died years ago when they attended school together.  Unshaken Amethyst plans to take care of the blackmailer as she took care of Bessie.

The Simmons sisters, Libby and Bernie, owners of A Little Taste of Heaven, are ecstatic to cater the Halloween festivities at the Peabody School, a place rumored to be haunted.  Businessman Mark Kane is going all out to include construction of a haunted house with high tech special effects that a Hollywood horror move would envy.  Everyone is stunned when they see a torso on a table with the severed head of Amethyst nearby.

Finding the killer will not prove easy as everyone has a motive to murder the universally loathed Amethyst whose list of enemies exceeds the Longley phonebook.  Libby thinks she sees the ghost of Bessie, but rationalizes that her imagination got the best of her rather than her intuitive powers.  Bob Small who is working at the haunted house has a strong reason to kill Amethyst because he spent jail time due to a stunt she pulled.  Inez Colley hated the female abomination for stealing her husband and her wealth by seducing and blackmailing her weak spouse.  Zachary Timberland held Amethyst culpable for ruining his daughter Zoe.  The list goes on.  However, the police arrest Bob as he is the only one with opportunity.  The Simmons siblings think otherwise so with their father along they investigate the murder of an odious witch.

Isis Crawford outdoes her usual superb catered amateur sleuth novels with A CATERED HALLOWEEN as ghosts and Libby’s visions enhance a whodunit in which the townsfolk, the sisters, and the readers agree beheading is befitting the odious ogress.  The two sisters are total opposites yet best friends as each is always there for the other.  Due to Libby’s paranormal skills they feel obligated to unmask the real killer as they believe strongly the cops got the wrong person.  With euphoric ghosts and plenty of eccentric suspects toasting the killer, solving the case of the murdered witch may prove a recipe for failure for the Simmons, but catered entertainment for series fans.

Harriet Klausner

Victoria Laurie

Obsidian, Aug 2008, $6.99

ISBN: 9780451224866

Abby Cooper feels her life has been most fortunate especially of late.  She makes a good living as a psychic who advises clients with what to do about their problems although she censors the darker messages from beyond.  She enjoys working with her best friend Candice Fusco on private investigations in which her spirit guides enable her to help her partner.  However, it is her love for former FBI Special Agent Dutch Rivers and his belief in her paranormal skills that make her feel euphoric.

When Dutch learns his cousin Chase, an employee of Rivers Security, was kidnapped along with the person he was protecting, he rushes to where his cousin was last seen, Las Vegas, accompanied by Abby.  However he made her promise to go home if something happens to him.  Abby senses her beloved is hurt and soon finds the CRIME SEEN where his crashed vehicle with blood and an amnesiac woman inside are.  Candice and Abby’s sister Cat arrive to help her rescue Dutch before his former boss, whom they knows killed a CIA Agent thirty years ago, and the other FBI agents find him first.

The latest Abby Cooper Psychic Eye mystery is an enjoyable whodunit mostly because the heroine misinterprets her visions and her beloved Dutch hid some facts from her; fascinatingly her contemporary conceptions interfere with her sixth sense perceptions while Dutch concealed information because of that DNA imprint to hide his fears and feelings.  Sub-genre readers will appreciate the latest caper as this time the case is very personal.

Harriet Klausner

Green for Danger

The Cast

Leo Genn - Mr. Eden
Henry Edwards - Mr Purdy
Trevor Howard - Dr. Barnes
Ronald Adam - Dr. White
Alastair Sim - Inspector Cockerill
George Woodbridge - Det-Sgt. Hendricks
Judy Campbell - Sister Bates
Wendy Thompson - Sister Carter
Moore Marriott - Joseph Higgins
Sally Gray - Nurse Linley
Rosamund John - Nurse Sanson
Meg Jenkins - Nurse Woods

Plot Synopsis

Murder in a hospital! And the hospital itself is unusual, a lovely Tudor mansion with gigantic old beams and timbered floors, oak-panelled walls and flagged passageways. In the beautiful grounds are a weir stream and a topiary hedge, a long shrub-covered pergola and rock garden with such a profusion of flowers as only a great English estate can show. It is in fact, an emergency wartime hospital near London.

Higgins, a postman who is also a light rescue worker, is brought in as a flying bomb casualty. The surgeon, Mr. Eden, makes his examination. "We'll operate at ten o'clock, Nurse," he tells Nurse Sanson. At ten o'clock the operating theatre is ready. The steaming instruments have been taken from the steriliser, the great shadowless lights are switched on. Sister Bates, masked and gloved, gives a last look round; the patient is wheeled in; the anaesthetist starts up his machine. Suddenly, inexplicably, there is tragedy, the patient dies on the operating table. All those present are bewildered - and suspicious. Then, because she stumbles on evidence that the patient was murdered, Sister Bates is stabbed to death.

Inspector Cockrill, an ominously whimsical fellow, is called from Scotland Yard to investigate the crimes. He finds that each of five suspects has a strong motive for murder. Nurse Freddie Linley is one. Another is Dr. Barnes, the anaesthetist, with whom she is in love. There is also the woman-weary surgeon, Mr. Eden. The others are Nurses Sanson and Woods. The Inspector's dry cross examination fails to trap the criminal.

Is Nurse Sanson the most likely suspect? "Obviously she couldn't have done it," Dr. Barnes protests warmly. Is it one of the doctors? The inspector finds Barnes and Eden fighting with Nurse Sanson an interested spectator. "We might perhaps arrange a future contest in aid of some deserving charity," the inspector comments.

Eventually he decides to carry his investigations into the operating theatre. He stages a mock operation with the five suspects in attendance: Eden, Barnes, and the three nurses. Nerves are frayed, but each is determined to give nothing away to the watchful inspector. The 'operation' begins. Every detail of the postman's death is carefully reconstructed. By this grim experiment, Cockrill proves that the crime was carried out by repainting cylinders of lethal gas normally coloured green - to resemble oxygen cylinders. And the murderer is dramatically revealed.

A Little more Detail

Adapted from the novel by Christianna Brand, one of her humorous whodunits featuring Inspector Cockrill of the Kent County Police, Green For Danger. The story, and its protagonist, are considerably altered from Brand's original in this 1947 film.

Originally set in a military hospital during the Blitz in 1941, the film relocates the action to a civilian emergency hospital during the doodlebug campaign of 1944. The major changes in Gilliat and Claude Guerney's screenplay, however, were reserved for the main character. Although Launder and Gilliat made a number of thrillers over the years, Gilliat disliked whodunits, and hoped to largely remove that element from the plot, but Brand's original story was too carefully constructed to survive without it. Their solution, as Gilliat later recalled, was to "make capital of the very clichés of the detective novel".

To this end they structured the screenplay so that the first third set up the mystery in a traditional fashion, though undercutting it somewhat with a wry voice-over. When Inspector Cockrill arrives, most of the viewer's assumptions, about the characters and the mystery genre, start to unravel.

They turned Cockrill into the narrator and cast the comic actor Alastair Sim in the role. The film subtly guys the whole genre, with the Inspector frequently proved wrong and even partly responsible for the last death. In one priceless scene, he smugly turns to the last page of a mystery novel to find that he has incorrectly guessed the identity of the murderer.

This film is a wonderfully atmospheric British film of the period with a remarkable mixture of sly comedy and genuine thrills, with the sardonic and sarcastic humour of the protagonist providing a good counterpoint to the darkly atmospheric surroundings of the hospital - shot with considerable panache by Launder and Gilliat's regular cameraman Wilkie Cooper. This is seen at its best in the night-time sequence in which the various characters roam around the hospital grounds before one of them meets her end at the hands of a spectral murderer dressed in a surgical gown. Except for two establishing shots at the beginning of the story, the film was shot entirely inside Pinewood studios, including all the 'exteriors'. The result is probably Gilliat's most visually accomplished and controlled film as director.

This is a film that is very much worth watching if only for Alastair Sim's magnificent (as one coms to expect) performance as Inspector Cockrill.

Update:

I have since discovered that Alistair Sim was one of Edinburgh's famous sons.

Mbeki in Harare for crisis talks (story)

It doesn't cease to surprise me what individuals can get away with in this world. I wish Mbeki all the best, but getting Mugabe to back down... I don't see it happening. How can you "win" a game from someone who doesn't care about the rules?

Film of Zimbabwe 'vote-rigging' (story)

That's nice. It's a two-minute story here in the West but to what avail. I applaud the bravery of Shepherd Yuda, the prison guard that made the movie in secret, but wonder if the trade-off is truly worth it. In one week we'll all forget his name, but not in Zimbabwe I'd imagine.

A glimpse inside Mugabe's world (story)

Good read.

Iran nuclear position 'unchanged' (story)

Amazing how diplomacy and reality seem to be living in two completely different rhythms of time. The world changes by the hour, yet diplomatic agreements and such take years to make any king of progression. I think Iran just love the fact they can get away with just about anything, simply by keeping this dynamic in mind. One step backwards in diplomacy (give in a little) and ten steps forward in the real world and all is well :)

Waxwork Hitler beheaded in Berlin (story)

He finally gets his due.

Bush heckled at 4 July event (story)

Even making headlines abroad!

Is third 9/11 tower mystery solved? (story)

Story starts saying "no skyscraper ever came down because of fire" ... conclusion of the video "Tower 7 came down because of fire". I don't think the guys from loose change gonna accept this one.

Swedes' drive-in weddings (story)

See CNN isn't the only one with goofy stories on their main page.

Kidnap ordeal (story)

"Colombia's pain over those still held hostage". Finally some perspective on the Betancourt rescue.

Flip-flop guide (story)

Sigh, let's all jump the bandwagon of the flip-flop here. for some reason you can't change this mind in the world of politics. I know there are many reasons why you could change your stance on an issue... but please not every flip-flop is negative.

'Many killed' in Syrian jail riot (story)

"Military police fired live bullets at Islamist inmates." K, beside the obvious joke that this is one effective way to deal with jail overcrowding, I'm thinking isn't it kinda normal that the inmates in SYRIA are Islamists. "They said the guards had also desecrated copies of the Koran." ... now wouldn't the guards be Muslim as well?

Lebanon 'set to announce cabinet' (story) & Yemen blast 'kills five people' (story)

Why they keep using these 'xxx' quotations. Nowhere in the story there is an actual quote. Either it's true and you say "Lebanon set to announce cabinet" or "Yemen blast kills five people. Or it's hearsay, and you go out there and get a confirmation ... and then you post it on the front page.

Queen Mother's note: 'pack the gin' is sold for record price (story)

What money can't buy for ya. Oh an later on the page: The most read story in North America is: Queen Mother 'pack gin' note sold. In case you actually thought another story was favorite with the North American audience.

UShotdog champ keeps title (story)

World news! At least it's in the section "Also in the news".

Will the hostages rescue change Colombian politics? (story)

Lol BBC is still asking the question ... TIME had the insight already... Two days ago ... Time: Rescue changes the game in Colombia. (story)

The other headlines I don't want you to miss:

Canada ruling boosts US deserter *** Gender 'impacts on transplants' *** Smallest planet shrinks in size *** Abba quartet at Mamma Mia showing *** Google 'faces Street View block' *** Tofu 'may raise risk of dementia' *** UK shops 'misleading customers'

"Szaaaaaaaaaaar!".....Ez jólesett. Ez a film annyira szar volt, hogy hozzá képest a macskaürülék birodalmi trágya. Emelkedett írásokat olvastam róla mindenfelé.... mielőtt még megjelent volna. Miután megjelent, direkt nem néztem utánna, nehogy elrontsam az objektivitásomat. Utólag visszaolvasva, teljesen mindegy volt, hogy utánnanézzek-e, vagy sem. M. Night. Swhoopdawoop legújabb filmje egyszerűen annyira nem szól semmiről, hogy így hirtelen nem is tudom, hol kezdjek bele...

Ugyebár kezdődik a film azzal a jelenettel, amit már a trailerekből is megismerhettünk: Két nő ül a parkban, és egyszer csak minden járókelő megáll, és az egyik csaj hirtelen felindulásból mereven maga elé bámulva fejbetossza magát egy kötőtűvel. A jelenetet hasonló öngyilkosságok követik, kb az összes, amit a trailerben láthattunk. Az építkezéses és a többi kb a film első 10 percében lezajlik, majd hirtelen mintha mise történt volna, egy iskolában vagyunk, és a főhős (ehh... szórítkozzunk inkább a "főszereplő" címre...) éppen órát tart a méhek eltűnéséről. Eddig ugyebár oké, a karaktereket be kell mutatni... csak hogy ez a hangulat a film utolsó percéig tart!!! Ami szerencsére pusztán csak 91 perc, na de akkor is.... 91 percen keresztül mit látunk? Elliot Moore és kis családja életét, és azt, hogy hogyan reagálnak az államot ért vegyi támadásra (amit először terrortámadásént jelentenek be, majd vegyi kísérletként, és csak a végén jönnek rá, hogy a növények gyilkolnak minket a pollenjeikkel), más szóval: A film szereplőinek bámulatos színészi játékát az ellenük felállított krízishelyzetre:

B*zmeg! ...És tudjátok mit? Az utolsó kép a film legvégéről való :D Ezzel a 7 képpel nagyjából teljesen összefoglaltam az egész film lényegét :D Ez a film egy teljesen felesleges -91 perc volt az életemből, egy olyan 91 perc amire ha fizetnének érte se ülnék be újra!! :D

A szereplők egyszerűen katasztrófálisak. 91 percen keresztül az egész társaság ugyanazzal az idióta, barom, retardált, autista nézéssel vándorol az országban, először azzal a céllal, hogy kimenjenek a "zónából", aztán már csak azzal, hogy kerüljenek el minden nagyvárost, és végül már ők maguk se tudják, hogy tulajdonképpen akkor hova a fenébe is tartanak..

Az egész "támadás" lényege mindössze annyi, hogy mi emberek veszélyt jelentünk a növényekre, és mivel a növények nem képesek a helyzetváltoztatásra vagy a fizikai támadásra, ezért kifejlesztenek ellenük egy olyan pollent, ami kikapcsolja az agy valamilyen önvédelmi szekcióját, és az emberek öngyilkosak lesznek. A biológustársadalom már most körberöhögi az alapkoncepciót, ami érthető, mert én ugyan nem vagyok biológus, de ezt még én is körberöhögtem volna, ha nem vártam volna az egész film alatt valami eszetlen fordulatot vagy meglepetést, ahogy azt a rendezőtől már megszokhattuk, de aztán a végén kiderült, hogy ebben a filmben még ilyen sincs. Hát elmehet a... khm...

91 percen keresztül azt néztük, ahogy ezek a barok rohannak a szél elől (ez nem vicc, a széllel terjed a pollen, és ezért futniuk kellett a szél elől...), azt hogy a fertőzött emberek milyen érdekesebbnél érdekesebb módon képesek kinyírni magukat (befekszik a fűnyíró alá, halálra veri a fejét a falba és a törött ablakba), majd a végén a film konklúziójaként kapunk egy "kisétálunk a szélbe és szerelmetvallunk egymásnak, hogy együtt haljunk meg" jelenetet, amit egyálalán nem sajnáltam volna, ha utánna nem derült volna ki, hogy a növények közbe abbahagyták a támadást, és így főszereplőink összeházasodhattak és befogadhatták a haverok árván maradt kölkét is, és Hollywood-i Happy End Time! Erről szól az egész film...

2/10 (A halálesetek jók voltak..) Kerüljétek el ezt a szart. Semmiképp se nézzétek meg, max machoizmusból.... dög unalom az egész, másfél órán keresztül nem történik semmi lényeges, amellett, hogy olyan az egész, mint egy öngyilkos-szimulátor. Majd a jövő emós-társadalmának lesz honnan módszereket tanulni. Ennyi. Gagyi. Szar. Pont.....

Title : Honour Among Thieves
Author : Jeffrey Archer
Publisher : Harpercollins
OUR PRICE : RM 10.00
Book cover : Paperback
Book condition : B
Quantity : 1
Description :

In good condition.The reviews tells all about this book.

"A taut, international political thriller, professionally crafted and plotted." -Milwaukee Journal

"Witty, action-filled...Archer's masterful narrative provides thrills and surprises." -Publishers Weekly

"Undeniably entertaining." -Kirkus Reviews

More Praise for Jeffrey Archer:
"A master at mixing power, politics, and profit into fiction" -Entertainment Weekly

"Archer is a master entertainer." -Time Magazine

"One of the top ten storytellers in the world" -Los Angeles Times

"Archer plots with skill, and keeps you turning the pages." -Boston Globe

"Cunning plots, silken style...Archer plays a cat-and-mouse game with the reader." -The New York Times

"A storyteller in the class of Alexander Dumas...Unsurpassed skill...making the reader wonder intensely what will happen next."-Washington Post