I'm featured in an interview by Don McCauley today, October 28, on "The Authors Show" www.theauthorsshow.com.
He interviewed me about the new Devil's Dance and The Devil's Due books, written as Arliss Adams, and we discussed how the new romantic suspense Twist of Fate series came to be and many things about my writing process. We also talked a little about my funny Silver Sisters Mysteries series.
If you have a chance, listen to it. It will run all day until midnight, but only on October 28 at this time.
MORGAN ST. JAMES
www.morganstjames-author.com
www.arlissadams-author.com
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
http://ping.fm/jJPTL
Aileen Baron - this archaelogist writes thrilling mysteries using her expertise. The story is interesting. She didn't start out to be an archaeologist.
Aileen Baron - this archaelogist writes thrilling mysteries using her expertise. The story is interesting. She didn't start out to be an archaeologist.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Vital Germaine literally made lemonade (a success) out of lemons (the life he was might have had) and became a respected performer with Cirque du Soleil, a choreographer, artist and author. http://ping.fm/9A4ZE
Friday, October 22, 2010
Fun example today about taking one character and his background, one story and varying the theme. http://ping.fm/4Kqfi
MORGAN ST. JAMES
Los Angeles and Las Vegas Writing Examiner
MORGAN ST. JAMES
Los Angeles and Las Vegas Writing Examiner
Thursday, October 21, 2010
DON'T LET YOURSELF GET STUCK IN A RUT. You don’t have to be a writer to put today’s tips to work. Expand your horizons. http://exm.nr/tricks27
MORGAN ST. JAMES
www.morganstjames-author.com
Los Angeles and Las Vegas Writing Examiner for www.examiner.com
MORGAN ST. JAMES
www.morganstjames-author.com
Los Angeles and Las Vegas Writing Examiner for www.examiner.com
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Today’s Spotlight interview in the Los Angeles edition of www.exainer.com with Jeri Westerson was fascinating. LINK: http://exm.nr/jeriw-la
A lot of research and considerations go into writing historical mysteries set in medieval London. I love the idea of her protagonist being a knight who is a detective. I think you will really enjoy this one.
Comments are appreciated. Just scroll down to the box at the bottom of the article to make one. If you are not a subscriber, you can sign in with your Facebook account to comment. If you enjoy reading these columns, why not click the subscribe button at the top of the examiner page. It’s free and you will automatically receive Spotlights and Writers Tricks of the Trade. This Spotlight is in the Los Angeles edition.
MORGAN ST. JAMES
www.morganstjames-author.com
A lot of research and considerations go into writing historical mysteries set in medieval London. I love the idea of her protagonist being a knight who is a detective. I think you will really enjoy this one.
Comments are appreciated. Just scroll down to the box at the bottom of the article to make one. If you are not a subscriber, you can sign in with your Facebook account to comment. If you enjoy reading these columns, why not click the subscribe button at the top of the examiner page. It’s free and you will automatically receive Spotlights and Writers Tricks of the Trade. This Spotlight is in the Los Angeles edition.
MORGAN ST. JAMES
www.morganstjames-author.com
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Today's Spotlight article in the Las Vegas issue of Examiner.com is Irene Watson - a woman with a vision. Happy reading! Look forward to your comments. http://exm.nr/watson-lv
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
We think things are changing, but history keeps repeating itself
We are constantly being blasted with political ads. Everyone and every party points the finger at problems with the economy, claiming it's the other guy's fault. Let's face it---things aren't great. That is certainly no secret. But is this something new? Absolutely not. It's just worse than it's been in the past.
I got a real surprise this week. I was going through some old papers, and found a copy of a letter my mother wrote to George Bush Sr. on January 27, 1992. Everything had been carefully saved in the yellowed manila White House envelope that contained an answer from Barbara Bush on White House notepaper.The math is easy. It was 18 years ago. Mom died just before turning 97, but she was 82 at the time. After reading the documents contained in that envelope, I thought that it was worth accurately copying and including both in this blog. I think you will find they have an eerie ring of familiarity.
January 27, 1992
Dear Mr. Bush:
I listen to the news every day and all I can get out of it is that times are very rough. Companies are going out of business daily and workers are out of jobs.
People are in a dilemma, especially the couples with small children. The first thing they do is to apply for welfare, and that doesn't go very far. Between food, rent and clothing it is like "Gone With the Wind."
I am 82 years old and I have lived through the depression years of the 30's, but if I remember right in those days we had the W.P.A. workers. They were put to work repairing roads, bridges and farming and earned their pay that way instead of being given welfare.
Welfare is a degrading way for most people, but working for it gives a person back his self esteem. It really doesn't matter what work you do as long as you earn it. Goodness knows this country can sure use plenty of repair work.
This letter is written in good faith and hopefully with the best of intentions to help improve the economic conditions.
Rosetta Lachman
On March 20, 1992 this reply was written on White House notepaper and signed Barbara Bush :
Dear Ms. Lachman,
Thank you so much for your kind message and for your thoughtful comments. I will make sure George knows of your concerns and suggestions.
Warmly,
Barbara Bush
The point is, I'm sure letters like my Mom's have been written to the White House and Congress for many, many years. It's nothing new. However, I certainly applaud the fact that this woman in her 80's took the steps to write and voice her opinion.
That letter could easily have been written now. Somehow it reminds me of an old-fashioned record with the needle caught in the same groove, calling out the same problems and suggesting a viable solution---at least a partial one---over and over.
Isn't it time for things to really change? Time to cut out the game playing among politicians on both sides of the fence along with conflicting special interest groups and get on with passing plain language legislation that actually gets something done?
Arliss
I got a real surprise this week. I was going through some old papers, and found a copy of a letter my mother wrote to George Bush Sr. on January 27, 1992. Everything had been carefully saved in the yellowed manila White House envelope that contained an answer from Barbara Bush on White House notepaper.The math is easy. It was 18 years ago. Mom died just before turning 97, but she was 82 at the time. After reading the documents contained in that envelope, I thought that it was worth accurately copying and including both in this blog. I think you will find they have an eerie ring of familiarity.
January 27, 1992
Dear Mr. Bush:
I listen to the news every day and all I can get out of it is that times are very rough. Companies are going out of business daily and workers are out of jobs.
People are in a dilemma, especially the couples with small children. The first thing they do is to apply for welfare, and that doesn't go very far. Between food, rent and clothing it is like "Gone With the Wind."
I am 82 years old and I have lived through the depression years of the 30's, but if I remember right in those days we had the W.P.A. workers. They were put to work repairing roads, bridges and farming and earned their pay that way instead of being given welfare.
Welfare is a degrading way for most people, but working for it gives a person back his self esteem. It really doesn't matter what work you do as long as you earn it. Goodness knows this country can sure use plenty of repair work.
This letter is written in good faith and hopefully with the best of intentions to help improve the economic conditions.
Rosetta Lachman
On March 20, 1992 this reply was written on White House notepaper and signed Barbara Bush :
Dear Ms. Lachman,
Thank you so much for your kind message and for your thoughtful comments. I will make sure George knows of your concerns and suggestions.
Warmly,
Barbara Bush
The point is, I'm sure letters like my Mom's have been written to the White House and Congress for many, many years. It's nothing new. However, I certainly applaud the fact that this woman in her 80's took the steps to write and voice her opinion.
That letter could easily have been written now. Somehow it reminds me of an old-fashioned record with the needle caught in the same groove, calling out the same problems and suggesting a viable solution---at least a partial one---over and over.
Isn't it time for things to really change? Time to cut out the game playing among politicians on both sides of the fence along with conflicting special interest groups and get on with passing plain language legislation that actually gets something done?
Arliss
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
EXCERPT FROM "DEVIL'S DANCE"
TEENAGER JEANETTE CONNOR WAKES UP IN A STRANGE ROOM, BOUND AND GAGGED. FROM THE END OF CHAPTER 1:
That laugh. It was one I recognized. He moved toward me. “I told you, the cops will think she ran away.” Sherry’s boyfriend Tommy was in the room, too.
Her face grew fuzzy again, as though it were veiled by a piece of chiffon. She said, “Yeah, if we’re lucky. I’m keepin’ my fingers crossed it goes that way, Tommy Boy!”
I wandered through the haze of my mind, wincing at disjointed memories of a horrible fight Mama and I had last November. That was when I realized she would never sign the contract the New York City Ballet had offered me. After that, everything in me faded away until there was nothing left.
I still walked to the bus stop on Clark Street after school every day, then took the bus to the Vaganova Academy on Howard Street, just like I used to. But I only watched the other dancers. My existence became that of a body without a soul. I knew I’d never dance again.
I’d first seen Tommy at the Academy, sitting on my chair in the corner watching the others. He winked and said, “Hey, gorgeous, how about a smile for the new piano player?”
It had been one of those days when I felt more like a robot than a person, but that wasn’t unusual. Since the fight with Mama, I was like that most days. When I was the robot-me, I could shut off my feelings. That was much better than wanting to cry all the time. Tommy used to tease me about having the saddest eyes he’d ever seen, but he never got a rise out of me.
Now both Sherry and Tommy stood there staring at me like I was a piece of meat in the butcher’s case. My eyes darted around the room frantically while the pounding of my heart echoed in my ears. I kept telling myself it was okay because the walking dead aren’t supposed to care about anything. I tried not to be afraid. It didn’t work. I was petrified.
Tiny blood red specks blinked furiously on the dark blanket inside my head, growing larger and larger, until everything turned pitch black.
That laugh. It was one I recognized. He moved toward me. “I told you, the cops will think she ran away.” Sherry’s boyfriend Tommy was in the room, too.
Her face grew fuzzy again, as though it were veiled by a piece of chiffon. She said, “Yeah, if we’re lucky. I’m keepin’ my fingers crossed it goes that way, Tommy Boy!”
I wandered through the haze of my mind, wincing at disjointed memories of a horrible fight Mama and I had last November. That was when I realized she would never sign the contract the New York City Ballet had offered me. After that, everything in me faded away until there was nothing left.
I still walked to the bus stop on Clark Street after school every day, then took the bus to the Vaganova Academy on Howard Street, just like I used to. But I only watched the other dancers. My existence became that of a body without a soul. I knew I’d never dance again.
I’d first seen Tommy at the Academy, sitting on my chair in the corner watching the others. He winked and said, “Hey, gorgeous, how about a smile for the new piano player?”
It had been one of those days when I felt more like a robot than a person, but that wasn’t unusual. Since the fight with Mama, I was like that most days. When I was the robot-me, I could shut off my feelings. That was much better than wanting to cry all the time. Tommy used to tease me about having the saddest eyes he’d ever seen, but he never got a rise out of me.
Now both Sherry and Tommy stood there staring at me like I was a piece of meat in the butcher’s case. My eyes darted around the room frantically while the pounding of my heart echoed in my ears. I kept telling myself it was okay because the walking dead aren’t supposed to care about anything. I tried not to be afraid. It didn’t work. I was petrified.
Tiny blood red specks blinked furiously on the dark blanket inside my head, growing larger and larger, until everything turned pitch black.
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