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Sex or No Sex?

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That is the damn question.

It’s always a tough decision when writing—to write hot sex or simply to fade to black. Or… postpone the decision by writing this blog about the damn decision. There was a time when I couldn’t wait for an opportunity to toss my hero and heroine into the sack. As long as it was part of the story, why not?

Do I need sex?

Let me rephrase that. Does the story need sex? Like the kind of steamy stuff I’ve written in the past? Or is the story just as well served by the scene fading to black? After all, ya’ll have great imaginations.

I’m not talking about the vampire books—those puppies will remain full of sex. That’s just a given.

This is about the stand alone books. They’ve always been a little more serious in nature. They’re a mix of romantic suspense and action, and I’ve always kind of liked the way my people come together in these books. The idea that they’re both looking for something more, but willing to accept whatever it is that draws them together seems to work. I’ve always made it a natural part of the flow of the story. It’s not that my characters wouldn’t hop in the sack; it’s a case of how much do I need to show… or tell.

So here I sit with a great story about protecting a witness from the drug cartel while chasing down killers and I once again have to decide—

Does the sex scene help or detract from the story?

*sigh* I think I’ll go write something involving automatic weapons and explosions while thinking it over.

No One’s Elephant is Bigger

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I’m preparing myself for some flack on this one, but I gotta ask – Why the hell is one person’s trauma more important than someone else’s trauma?

If your trauma was obtained by being involved in combat, is it more important than the trauma that occurred in a stateside shooting at a military installation?

If you lost your leg when a tank rolled over it during maintenance in Iraq, is that loss greater than losing your leg from a tank rolling over it during pre-deployment training stateside?

If you were sexually assaulted in Afghanistan, is that more traumatic than being sexually assaulted at your home station stateside?

If you are forced to “medically retire” due to injuries sustained in combat or a terrorist attack, are they any higher priority than the same injuries sustained by someone at a home duty station from work place violence or a training accident?

This isn’t about taking anything away from anyone else. This is simply about the bigger question “Is anyone’s service less or more valuable than anyone else’s based on the type, location, or length of service?”

Here’s a football analogy that a friend of mine came up with: Equate this to the pro football player who breaks a leg in preseason training versus Joe Theisman who broke his in a game. Because Joe’s leg was broken in the heat of “combat” Joe’s injury had a greater emotional impact on the spectators. Even though both players have career ending injuries, Joe is who we remember. And if a bill were going to be passed that would authorize federal compensation – Joe’s would be the remembered and the bill authorizing compensation would state “while in a game.”

Not every infantryman will make it into combat any more than every football player will take the field during a game. But they all train for the same event at the same time and in the same way. Just as not everyone will make it into the theater of operations even if they volunteer, many of them will not make it to twenty years no matter how much they want to.

Why ask? Because it’s all about money – whether monthly income or tax breaks – it’s about equal and fair compensation.

Those who served in certain theaters of operation and for specific lengths of time are eligible for different compensation either through the VA or through their branch of service, or in some cases, through their states. I’ll just stick with the feds for now and only military retirement and VA compensation. [Don’t send mail about service connection priority and care – those are for another day.]

Here’s an example:
10 years ago, John and Bob both had 16 years in service and were both preparing to deploy for the first time to Iraq.

John loses his leg due to an on-duty accident during pre-deployment training. The military deems him medically unfit for service, and he is medically retired with 16 years of service and receives an 80% disability [just a number for an example – don’t get excited.] The VA takes the 80% out of John’s military retirement pay and gives that to him tax free. The remaining 20% is paid out as a standard military retirement and is subject to federal and state taxes. Bing, bang, boom – John’s done.

Bob deploys to Iraq for six months and comes home to finish 4 more years. He retires with 20 years of service, goes to the VA, and manages to get a 50% disability for a variety of ailments. Because he reached 20 years, Bob keeps his entire military retirement check less taxes – plus he now receives a VA check for 50% of that amount tax free. This is provided through CRDP – Concurrent Retirement Disability Pay.

John didn’t ask to be retired – John was injured in the service of his country and forced to retire before he could get his 20 years in or be deployed to a theater of operations, but he will receive many hundred dollars less per month than Bob even though he was the one who suffered the injures in service.

A May 2016 phone call to DFAS (Defense Finance Accounting Service) confirmed the following. Those who retire early (less than 20 years) do not qualify for CDRP. The current bill for pay and compensation makes NO distinction between those who are forced to retire early due to injuries/illness and those who took a voluntary early retirement.

I’m just asking the question about what we consider equal or fair.

The victims of the attack at Fort Hood have been fighting to have that event classified as a terrorist attack because this would make it combat related and give them a higher priority in getting their VA claims through the system and also (as mentioned above) probably increase the compensation levels received through their branches of service or states.

I’m all for that happening, but at the same time I question how any federal or state agency can place the needs of one service member/veteran above another who sustained injuries/illness while in the line of duty based solely on the type or the location of the event.

Why aren’t claims and disability based on the simple triage method? The guy who has his leg blown off gets taken care of before the guy who has a broken toe. Trust me – no one wants to the blue falcon that bumps the guy in desperate need of compensation and care.

It shouldn’t matter where the guy was when he lost his leg? Nor should how much time the guy had in service matter. If the person is medically retired due to injury or illness received in service, then he should get the retirement check he earned based on his grade and time served, and any VA compensation awarded, should be above and beyond that retirement check. That’s equal and fair.

Trauma is trauma, pain is pain, and sacrifice is sacrifice. The guy who didn’t get chosen to go downrange and the people who get shot at stateside shouldn’t be treated in any way less than the guy who did get sent. We preached every day that the guy sitting in the missile silo is no less important than the man operating the drone or the guy in the field calling for the airstrike. Hazardous duty and combat pay make sense while you are in the theater of operations doing those jobs, but when people retire (whether after their 20 or sooner by order) and turn up on the doorstep of the federal and state governments to be compensated – no one’s elephant is bigger.

Memorial Day

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I speak their names on Memorial Day, but I’m not sad or somber. I no longer linger in the darkness. In short, I no longer let the last Monday in May turn into a day of mourning.

Memorial Day is to honor the fallen – it’s not a second funeral or a day to wallow in sadness or loss. It’s about honoring and respecting the promises we made to those who are not here. I believe in the national moment of silence and then raising a glass to the fallen, but then I step away from anything dark or sad because every one of the those who are gone would want us to live, love, and laugh.

I’ve been told that’s a healthy place to be, and I’ve also been reminded that not everyone feels that way.

The truth is that some folks may never get there because the loss is so deep and painful. It’s really hard to remember that when we chose this life and took our place in line with those no longer beside us, that we said we’d do certain things for each other. We agreed to carry each other’s memories with us where ever we went. But we also looked each other in the eye and said, “Dude, have a hell of a party for me when I’m gone.” The agreement was to have the drink, eat the steak, and sleep with the damn prom queen/king. None of us asked anyone to be sad, lonely, or depressed.

For many of us, that loss often carries twice the weight it probably should. It comes with a healthy dose of all the survivor’s guilt and the crappy memories of goodbyes not said. It often comes with images that we don’t want to see again, but can’t get rid of. When you’re being crushed under that kind of weight, it can be damn hard to remember that you have to keep a firm grip on the bar, lift with your legs, and above all – keep your head up. And all the talk in social media about how hard Memorial Day is for us makes us feel as though we have to keep carrying that weight even if we’re finally ready to set that heavy damn ruck down for the day.

The fact is that most of us have spent way too much time being hung up on the end of our friend’s lives rather than their actual life – those things that drew us together and those things that we most cared about – the things that we so loved them that we were willing to share our last mini-bottle of Tabasco sauce with the crazy fools or look at that nasty-ass blister on their foot. We’ve forgotten that we were all doing something we loved and believed in.

We’ve also forgotten that our brothers and sisters only asked that we remember and honor their lives – not mourn them. It took me years to get to the point where I could choose to remember and honor the life rather than dwell on the death. It’s a choice that I’m grateful to have and to make.

I think those we’re honoring would much rather if we called a couple friends and threw some burgers on the grill and told wild stories about the perpetually young and crazy warriors we all once were rather than sitting silently in the house. So, as I said, I’ll say their names, hoist a drink in their honor, and yes, I’ll probably cry for a few of them. But then, I’ll step out there and do the things I promised. I’ll talk about them as I live, love, and laugh, because I truly believe that’s what they’d want us to do.

I hope that those of you who are struggling can set your packs down and take a breath. If you need help, please reach out. There are many willing hands that are here for you. May you all have a safe and blessed Memorial Day.

Blood Link VI – The Slayer

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Blood Link – where the military and vampires meet.

Gary Smith has been torn from his sleep every night for the last week by the same nightmare. He can smell the ocean nearby, but he can also smell blood all around him. There are dead vampires at his feet and more coming out of the woods to attack him. At his back is an unseen vampire that he doesn’t know—a vampire that he must now trust with his life. But every time he is jolted awake, the words Vampire Slayer are echoing in his mind, and Gary has no idea if he’s the slayer or the person about to be executed.

131,082 Words/370 Pages
Editor: Arwen Newman
Cover Design: Liquid Reality Studios

Available from Amazon for your Kindle or in paperback and from Barnes and Noble for the Nook.
Blood Link VI – The Slayer is also available at CreateSpace in paperback.

The Next Story – Part One

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While waiting for my beta readers to finish, I like to occupy my mind with something other than the current project. So in the last month, I helped a fledgling author with some editing on his first novel and was thrilled to be asked to be a beta reader for one of my favorite mystery and suspense authors. Both required my focus and kept me out of trouble for several days.

However, I also use the down time to review story ideas for the next books. Book 7 and probably 8 of the vampires is a given, and I’ve been screwing around with a really terrific story idea for a standalone. It’s been on my desk for a while, but I have actually set it aside twice now. I’d like to blame it on the timing of the novel since some of the subjects are topical. It’s tough to write something about one of the cartel leaders who’s been on the run for years and make that part of your plot, only to have the damn authorities in Mexico actually capture the bastard. Pissed me right off. Two of my male characters figured they’d never be allowed to marry in Arizona, but wonder of freaking wonders, that changed too. More freaking re-writing now. But those are pretty minor problems – this is really about me not committing to what should be a great freaking book.

Sometimes, my failure to trust my instincts about a story simply astonishes me. And when I fail to trust my instincts… stupidity usually ensues. Then I spend an inordinate amount of time trying to fix things and stewing about them. Let me give you the short version what happened.

It began when I had lunch with some friends from high school that I hadn’t seen in more years than we should mention. Kit plays viola for Symphoria in Syracuse, New York, and Becky is an orchestra teacher in the Liverpool School District. We reconnected through Facebook and while they were in Phoenix visiting family, they took the afternoon to drive down and visit with Mr. Scott and me.

It’s always interesting to reconcile the perception of an individual with a living breathing person and find out just how far off you can be. I’m not sure what I thought a symphony musician would actually be like. A man who wears a tuxedo and bow tie, protects his hands, intellectual, focused, and a dozen other things flitted through my mind. And an orchestra teacher – what on earth would I ever find to talk to Becky about? I know nothing about the things that provide them their livelihood and feeds their passions. What do I have in common with either of them but a shared history of high school?

It turns out that I have a lot in common with them. They’re still the same great folks that I went to school with. Fun loving, brilliant, wickedly funny (although Kit tells me all the raunchy jokes came from the brass section), and passionate about their family and lives. We had a great lunch at a local brewery and a wonderful time catching up, and then, we came back to the house. My very old dog Nina came to sit by Kit and in lifting her paw to shake, she managed to scratch his hand and drew blood. I freaked out – my dog wounded a professional viola player. I’m grabbing the peroxide and gauze and Kit’s just smiling and unconcerned. It wasn’t deep, but I was worried about it getting infected. We cleaned up the small scratch, and he informed me that he’s not one of those guys that wears gloves or refuses to do things. He does a lot of home repair projects and is willing to do pretty much anything that doesn’t involve sharpening a running chain saw.

And there it was… the first glimmer of an idea. A fish out of water story. Kit and Becky were barely out the door before I was making notes with questions and the plan came together. What happens when a guy who spends his life in the world of the symphony winds up on a ranch in southern Arizona? What would bring him there? Death, murder, witness protection? What would keep him there? Being hunted by the murderer? Maybe love? How do the ranchers react to him? He should be a down to earth guy like Kit. Willing to participate and earn his keep, but wanting his life back. How do they change their preconceived notions of each other? Humor and food. My musician will have to cook. How do they manage their differences – both politically and emotionally? They’ll think he’s a bleeding heart liberal and he’ll think they’re all gun-toting right wingers. Border issues from the ranchers side, caring about the arts from the musician’s side.

I had the idea and I wrote the first part of the book in less than a week, but then I stopped when I ran into some issues. I needed to ask a lot of questions.

My premise – my musician is in Phoenix when he witnesses a murder. He can ID the shooter and the shooter knows it. He’s in protective custody when the shooter plus a few come for him, killing two of the men guarding him. The surviving detective opts to have him disappear until he can arrest the murderer. But this goes much deeper with cartel hitmen and dirty cops who knew where they had my musician stashed to begin with. The detective takes him to the family ranch near Tucson to keep him safe. Musician meets detective’s sister at ranch.

Problems: I know diddly about ranches/horses, musicians, or actual murder/drug/cartel investigations. I’m happy to know what weapons the ranchers and cartel people carry. The musicians… not so much.
Solutions: Watch Castle (he and Beckett know everything), ask my rancher, musician, and cop friends questions, and drink Jack Daniels.
End result: Shelved book when I realize that my clue meter may not equal my desire to write a quality book meter.

How do I write a book about something that I know nothing about? Not that anything so trivial as having a clue has ever slowed me down before. All I ever really needed was a Holiday Inn Express and a little more whiskey.

Solution – Rewrite: Change all the names and make the sister the detective who brings him to her brother’s ranch and stays there to protect him. Add in the kingpin of the drug cartel coming for musician. Less about the murder investigation, more about the ranch stuff.

Problems: Blech – I don’t want to write a romance. It’s not as good as the first damn story. With the exception of the evil cartel guy (who scares me to death) the story is weaker and lacks the punch and drama of the first story.
Solution: Go back to the first story, but bring in the drug kingpin and rework the issues.

MAJOR PROBLEM: I think I “wrote over” the original without first saving a copy.

What the hell is up with that? NEVER, EVER, EVER DELETE or WRITE OVER. Save a copy and call it No Go or Failed Plan One and stuff it in a folder. I spent an entire day digging through folders and searching, but to no avail. It was gone.

Or was it?

Beta Readers Rule!!!

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Question: How do you know if the book really works?

Answer: You don’t. You think it does, but it’s just a delusion brought on by too much Jack Daniels, too many late nights, and an inflated ego.

The truth is that you don’t really know if your novel works until you send your little disaster out to a small group of people you trust and let them look at it. I usually consider drinking heavily before doing it, while they have it, and before reading their comments, suggestions, corrections, and, in some cases, outright abuse of my talents. I sent Blood Link VI – The Slayer out to the betas this week and we’ll see if I’ve done well or if I suck oily bilge water.

I’ve talked about Beta Readers before. These are the brave souls who volunteer (okay, I coerce them) to read the manuscript after I’ve done all I can to make it readable. These people must love you enough to do it, but respect you enough to tell you the truth as they see it. Not everyone will like what you’ve written. What matters is that they are capable of articulating what works or doesn’t work.

My regular Betas are a diverse group. There are about a 8-12 per book and it’s a fairly even mix of men and women. A hair stylist, two retired attorneys, a gun shop employee, a librarian, a truck driver, a schoolteacher, a great-grandmother, a fitness instructor, an administrative assistant, a housewife, an assembly line worker, and several retirees all read the same book at the same time and provide their own unique perspective. About 2/3rds have prior military service and most are currently employed.

Diversity is important. A novel with a strong military component has to be written so a housewife in Pocatello, Idaho, with no military background can follow the action and still be technical enough not bore the hell out of a former Marine in Miami, Florida. The love story has to excite those that enjoy a little sex and romance, without ruining the action by overloading the pages with batting eyes and ripping bodices.

Betas also have to work for free because I’m poor and can’t pay them. The betas appear in the acknowledgements and they get a copy after publication for their e-reader. That’s not much considering the amount of time and energy some of these people devote to my books. I usually promise them beer or food if we’re in the same place at the same time, but I try not to visit any of them so I don’t have to pay up.

Within a week of sending out the manuscript, I have the first responses back. There are three Betas who don’t worry about anything but the story. They might note a missing word or an awkward sentence, but they aren’t there to correct grammar. Their job is to devour the book as though they picked it up in a bookstore. Their comments within the manuscript are generally short and pointed:
“I liked it right up to here, than you bored me.”
“This character is a caricature.”
“You rushed the ending.”
“You left this plot line unresolved.”
“This chapter has no valuable content”
“Loved this”
“Hate this”
“Where’s the threat?”
“Who is this?”
“Great dog!”

Their overall comments are no less succinct:
“It works and I liked it a lot.”
“Much better than the last book.”
“It’s okay. I think you need to spend more time on XXXXXX to fully develop the plot.”

The rest of the readers take two to three weeks to finish. Some catch a little, some catch a lot, some are really into the language. I have at least two who are talented enough to be paid editors. I love the grammar people since I suck at it.

I truly adore the people with the courage to challenge me. One reader pointed to a particular spot and told me that she was bothered by what my character did. She didn’t feel that my heroine would cry at this point, but would instead remain strong until later in the day when the problem had been resolved and then cry. After mulling it over for a few days, I concurred with her and adjusted the chapter.

One marked a spot and wrote, “You pissed me off as a reader. This is it? This is all he has to say? What the hell is wrong with you?” Needless to say, I reworked that section of the story.

The story isn’t finished until the betas say it’s finished.

I’m now going to go add some Jack to my coffee and wait impatiently.