mysteries and motorcycles

2012-01-24T19:02:00.000-05:00

With the pending release of the movie "Red Tails," I felt it appropriate to post my humble tribute to these brave Americans. The fo;;owing is a chapter from my novel, The First Domino “Lieutenant Springfield?” The body didn’t match the voice. The man standing in Otis’s doorway was old and small in stature. The voice that had called his name had been youthful and booming. He looked to be at least in his seventies, possibly older. His skin was as black as the telephone on the desk. He wore an expensive looking suit and wore it well, like he was used to it. He was smiling.Otis stood up and returned the smile. “Yes, that would be me. What can I do for you today?”The old man moved into the office and sat in the chair that Otis had gestured toward. “I’m John Reid. A friend of yours tracked me down and told me that I might be interested in meeting you. I must say, you’re an absolute picture of your father.”“My father? You knew my father?”The man smiled again. “Certainly did. Probably about as well as anybody except your mother. Never met her though. I sure heard a lot about her. I served with your father in the army. We were part of a huge plan to cut off supply lines to the German troops. We flew together. Faced the enemy together. We were flying together that last day, the day he died. He was the squadron leader and I was on his wing that day. There was a little action over the target, nothing too intense, just a couple of one-o-nines that we managed to chase away with no real damage. I don’t think we scored any serious hits and none of our guys took any punishment either. We didn’t get jumped until the bombers had made their run and had headed home. They were way ahead of us. We were bringing up the rear. We got into a fight with over a dozen German fighter planes that were going after our bombers. We were low on fuel and ammunition. Actually some of that worked to our advantage because it made us lighter and more maneuverable. We managed to take out five of their planes and send them running for cover. It was a ferocious fight but probably didn’t last more than ten minutes. One of our most decisive victories. But we took some losses as well. I was hit and I was wounded too, but was able to make it back to the airfield.Your father had over a hundred and fifty missions under his belt, a really seasoned flier. We were great friends. It was such a waste. He was such a good man and so young. War just doesn’t leave much time for grieving. You stay real close to your buddies and you give them everything you have but if one of your friends, no matter how close, goes down, you pay your respects and you move on. Otherwise you’d be doing nothing but mourning. There would be plenty of time for grieving once the war was over. I never had the chance to talk to anyone in his family, to tell them how I felt. That’s why I wanted to see you. From what I’ve been told, your father never even knew about you. Anybody ever tell you that?”Otis nodded.“Ours was a tight and loyal group. Things were tough for us in those days. It was a different world, with all the racism back then. Of course most of the white guys didn’t even know that they were racist. Hell, I don’t think that the word racist had even been invented yet. It’s just the way things were. The Army was segregated. It wasn’t a hatred thing, more like separatist or something on that order. But we were definitely not considered equals. Of course, the fact that we were in the middle of a war didn’t make things any easier. A lot of our guys were worried that a black group would be used for nothing more than cannon fodder, but I knew better because we flew airplanes and airplanes were expensive. The Army couldn’t afford to go sending them out on suicide missions, even the older ones that they gave us when we first went into combat. I knew that they’d train us to do everything we could to survive and bring their equipment back. We had some of the best pilots in the air. Did you know that our outfit has the best record ever in aerial combat? In the history of warfare, there’s no other fighter group in anybody’s army that even comes close. We can carry our heads high for the rest of our lives. We did our job better than anybody in the world has ever done it, before or since. After the war, I decided to finish my education and went on to do a lot of post-graduate work and eventually worked my way up to full professor at Michigan State University. I taught history. I’m retired now and me and my wife are back at my home right here in Detroit.”Otis leaned back in his chair. “I really appreciate you taking the time to stop by and chat and I certainly want to hear a lot more about my father. As a matter of fact, I’d like my whole family to learn more. One of these evenings, perhaps you and your wife would be our guests for dinner at our place. My Marla is a wonderful cook and she loves to entertain.”“Perhaps. Maybe when you get home from Italy.”Otis blinked. “You know about me going to Italy? How’d you find out about that?”The old man grinned. “Your friend, Michael O’Conner, the man who found me, told me that you’d be going over there on police business. He said that you planned to visit your father’s grave while you were there.”“I see,” said Otis. “How did he find you anyway?”“Oh, I don’t imagine it was too difficult. As a matter of fact, there’s a Tuskegee Airmen museum right in Detroit at the old Fort Wayne down on Jefferson Avenue. You should go and visit the place. Get a feel for your heritage. There’s a fairly large group of us old Tuskegee Airmen in the Detroit area and we’re accessible through the Internet. We’re not hard to find at all. Once your friend made contact with the group, he put the word out that he wanted to contact anyone who might have known Lieutenant Isaac Springfield. That’s when I stepped forward. You sure do look a lot like him.”“Well, I’m going to Italy on police business. I’m hoping that I can find enough time to visit the cemetery but I’ll have to see how it goes when I get over there.”The old man’s face took on a very serious expression. “Young man, I hate to preach, but you owe it to your father to at least stop by and leave some flowers or a little flag or something to show that you appreciate his sacrifice. If the truth be known, you owe it to all of our fighting men of all races, the fallen as well as those who survived. Unless you’ve been there, unless you’ve faced death, unless you’ve fought shoulder to shoulder with other kids who were just as terrified as you, you can’t possibly fully understand the meaning or the depth of that sacrifice. No doubt that your police business is important. Just don’t ever make the mistake of thinking that it’s more important than what our boys did there. Yes, you have an obligation to your badge but you also have a debt to those who gave their lives for your freedom. A lot of those boys are buried in that cemetery over there, and your father is one of them.”Otis sat with his head down for several seconds and finally said. “I’ll make time. You’re right, absolutely right. I’ll visit the cemetery and I’ll say a prayer at my father’s grave.”“Oh, and another thing”Otis looked up. “Yes?” “Say hello for me”

The Contest Continues

2011-12-21T12:37:00.000-05:00

It's been over a month and nobody has found the targeted error yet. Remember, there's FIFTY Bucks riding on this. The book is only $2.99 in electronic format so if you have a Kindle, Nook, iPad, Smartphone, MAC, or PC you can be reading it in a matter of minutes. Here's the skinny... You're looking for a mistake and the first person who finds it gets a $50.00 prize. These are the clues: #1. You are looking for some incorrect information that is used to describe a thing. #2. Tis the season (very relevant)... and your newest clue is: #3. It's set to music Hurry up, that last clue is a good one. The story of Turn Left at September rnds on New Year's Day. I'd like the contest to end by that day too.http://www.amazon.com/Turn-Left-at-September-ebook/dp/B004FGMW9M/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1324488480&sr=1-1

Big contest $50 prize!!!

2011-10-30T09:27:00.003-04:00

That's right, I said fifty dollars, fifty greenbacks, fifty smackaroonies!
In my novel Turn Left at September, there is a mistake. I'm thinking of one particular error. It would be categorized as wrong information. I mentioned a "thing" and then gave incorrect information to describe it. That's the only clue that you get at this point. It's a subject that I consider very well known among the people who will read this book. Common knowledge, very common.
All you have to do is read the book and find it. Send your answer to me at: theunrealmccoy@aol.com and put "Contest" in the subject line. There is no deadline for the contest, it will keep going until someone gets it right. If I don't have a winner in thirty days or so I might post another clue.
Turn Left at September is available wherever books are sold or as an ebook at just $2.99 from Kindle or Nook. No purchase necessary, you can check it out of your local library. If they don't have it, tell them to buy it.
The winner's name will be be posted right here. Now get out there and buy the book!

2011-09-01T10:22:00.001-04:00

Another Review at MyShelf.Com

The First Domino
Albert McCoy / Otis Springfield Series, No 3
Dennis Collins

Amazon Digital Services
2011 / ASIN B0055LH516
Mystery Mystery / Suspense/ Kindle E-Book ed
Amazon

Reviewed by Beverly J Rowe

Joe Pellerito is the son of a top lawyer for the Mafia, and after his father's death, he really thought he would be playing a bigger part in the mob. It just hasn't happened...Joe figures that he needs to get the mob’s attention...show them how valuable he can be. Killing off cops that have caused problems to the Family should do the trick. Joe pulls off two gruesome murders and tries to kill the newly appointed police lieutenant, Otis Springfield. Unaware that Springfield survived the attack, Joe is sure that killing the police officers would show his dedication and fearlessness.

But the mob doesn't operate on fear like it did in the old days, and Joe's actions threaten to upset the headway that the Family has gained in dealing with the police and going legit. Joe is forced to run for his life with a price on his head. With both the mafia and the cops looking for him, he flies to Italy, where he has family connections. A new identity should do the trick.

Even though Joe is a cold blooded murderer, he is a very compelling character. You can feel all of Joe's emotions as his confidence begins to crumble and pursuit gets closer. The contest is on to see who will get to Joe first, the mob, or the Detroit police department...or will his new identity allow him to escape? This story is impossible to put down as the suspense escalates to the surprising climax.

Though this is the third McCoy/Springfield story, it is a stand-alone novel, and a good place to start reading works by the very talented Dennis Collins. It is available for Kindle, IPhone, Blackberry, your PC, or a number of different formats.

Reviews of other titltes in this series at MyShelf.com
The Unreal McCoy, 1
Turn Left at September, 2

Ebook giveaway

2011-08-13T10:52:00.004-04:00

Attention all of you reviewers out there... even if you just review on Amazon.
I'm trying to gather a few book reviews for my latest suspense novel, "The First Domino."
I'm making five free copies available in either the Nook or Kindle format. All I ask in return is an honest review posted at Amazon and/or Barnes & Noble.com, Goodreads, etc., etc., or anywhere else you'd like to post it.
First come, first serve. Just contact me at theunrealmccoy@aol.com and I'll send a gift copy.

Promoting ebooks

2011-07-05T11:14:00.003-04:00

The explosion in the ebook market has given authors some amazing opportunities... but many challenges as well. To begin with, many authors have now become first time publishers. Some of us learned a little about distribution and promotion in the old world but not all of those techniques will work with ebooks. I could always reach out to people in a face-to-face situation by doing personal appearances and presentations with a pile of my books sitting on table for the audience to purchase if they liked what I had to say. Now, the only thing on the table is the pitcher of icewater and a glass. I can hand out cards and such but it isn't the same. Maybe I'll have to schedule future appearances in a place that has Wi-Fi and tell everybody, "Bring your Kindle with you."

I need to reach people with electronic readers; Kindles, Nooks, iPads, etc. And who are they? And more importantly, Where are they? My personal observations haven't done much to pin down a demographic profile. First thoughts were that people who read ebooks are probably the younger generation who grew up with computers but I know a lot of senior citizens who just love the adjustable font size and the audio features. But where do these people gather? How can I access large groups of them?

I belong to a few writer forums on the internet and have asked if anyone knew of a publicist who specialized in self-published ebooks. So far the forums have been unable to come up with any names. I guess the publicists are challenged by the same rapid changes that we authors are. Almost every successful ebook author has their own formula and, although each is unique, there are a few common elements like developing a brand, multiple titles (the more, the merrier), attractive pricing, etc., but we still need to get noticed. And that's my dilemma.

The First Domino - First chapter

2011-06-16T07:38:00.003-04:00

CHAPTER 1
Some days the smell death hangs in the air. Today was that kind of day.
The yellow crime scene barrier tape fluttered in the light breeze. A heavy pall of silence covered the investigating officers. Today they had lost one of their own.
All Tony Pontello ever wanted out of life was to be a good cop like his father and grandfather. It was his dream. Tony was wearing his uniform when he died.
This would be a special investigation with no less than six detectives assigned to gathering clues and evidence. Some of them were on the scene already and others had been summoned. Detective Sergeant Otis Springfield was there to direct operations. Tomorrow he was scheduled to take over the Lieutenant’s job as head of the Homicide Division in the first precinct with his formal promotion scheduled for next Friday. Otis knew that this case would likely be his first assignment at an administration level. His partner, Sergeant Albert McCoy, was helping the evidence team, taking measurements to record how far some of the pieces of the car had been thrown by the force of the explosion.
The car, what was left of it, was parked in the alley behind The Emerald Den. “The Den,” had a reputation as a trouble spot but the past few years the police visits had been fewer. Perhaps the crowd had gotten older; mellowed. The marked police cruiser, passenger side up tight against the building, was badly twisted, the complete left side ripped open and the roof peeled back by the blast. Detroit had its share of car bombings in the past but Detective Springfield couldn’t remember seeing one with this much damage. From the looks of it, whoever placed the explosives knew what they were doing. It appeared that the bomb had been placed on a thick metal plate and then been

shoved under the seat so that the blast would all be directed upward. The amount of explosives used was puzzling. The blast would have been lethal with a quarter of what had been planted. The police officer’s mangled body still lay in the alley covered with a plastic tarp. The medical examiner was on his way but it would be nothing more than a formality.
Otis Springfield wandered out toward the street but stopped short when he noticed something unusual lying in a crack in the asphalt. “Hey McCoy, come have a look at this.”
Sergeant McCoy moved slowly to where his partner stood. Otis pointed toward the ground at a denture, an upper plate. His smile was forced and painful. “Remember when Tony first got his false teeth?”
“I sure do,” answered McCoy. “He used to take them out as soon as he got home from work and not put them back in until he went out of the house. Once we had a three day weekend and got to feeling so comfortable without ‘em that he forgot all about them and showed up at the precinct on Monday without his teeth?”
Otis chuckled “Yeah. The guys called him ‘Tony Teeth’ for at least six months.”
McCoy looked back at the twisted wreck of a police car. “Doesn’t look as if he planned on making an arrest, the way he parked the car up against the building like that. He must’ve just stopped in to see somebody.”
“Or for lunch,” speculated Otis. “This place makes a killer hamburger. Besides, he was an ‘A’ car and Tony knew better than to get into anything chancy when he was working alone. It surprises me that he’d come here though. The place isn’t always exactly ‘cop friendly.’”
“Wasn’t he just working neighborhood patrol?” asked McCoy. “I mean, he wasn’t following up anything specific was he?”
Otis slowly shook his head. “Nah, his patrol sergeant says he didn’t even have any court cases pending.”
“It sure wasn’t an unexpected encounter though. This thing took some planning. Somebody wanted him dead.” McCoy glanced back at the shambles in the alley. “I guess we’ll have to start with his notebook and then check out all the reports he’s filed. Probably have to go back a few months.”
Otis turned to speak to two detectives who had just rounded the corner. “You guys just come from inside the bar?”
The taller one nodded. “We got all their names, customers and the bartender, and a dozen or so statements. Nothing very good, though. Nobody saw it happen. The bartender says that everybody’s still in there that was here when the bomb went off. I guess they’d all been there for a while. Post time at the track isn’t until three-ten and these guys are all railbirds. They usually hang out and drink beer until it’s time to head to the track. Bartender says that Tony came in, had a Diet Coke and stood by the service bar like he was waiting for somebody. He hung around for about a half-hour, kept checking his watch and then just up and left. Barkeep says that nobody talked to Tony the whole time he was in there.”
Another detective, standing next to a patrol car held up a cell phone and yelled to Otis. “Hey Otis, Lieutenant wants to talk to you.”
Otis took the phone, turned his back to the grisly scene and spoke into the receiver, “Springfield here.” He paced back and forth as he listened, answering only in short partial sentences, his face an expressionless mask and his towering athletic frame dwarfing the officers around him. Finally he held the phone out at arms length and pushed the button to end the call. He handed it back to the detective with a short, “Thanks,” and rejoined McCoy in the sunlight at the entrance to the alley. “This could be connected,” he said. “A uniform was just found on the floor of a parking deck over by the old ballpark in the third precinct with his head caved in. Typical blunt force trauma, probably by some sort of wrecking bar or pipe. Sounds like he never saw it coming. Somebody got him from behind. His gun is still in the holster.”
McCoy stood motionless, a light breeze ruffling his dust colored hair. “Who was it?”
“Fitzgerald,” replied Otis.
“The old philosopher? Ah no, he was a terrific guy. I think I heard that he was going to retire at the end of this year. I wonder if… Two cops being murdered on in the same day isn’t very common, gives me an eerie feeling.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” said Otis. He started to say more when his radio crackled with an officer down alert. He sprinted for the big Ford police cruiser to take the call. There’d been a hit and run. And it was no accident. Officer Ray Mantay was an old friend and partner of Otis’s. They had worked the motor-traffic division together twenty years ago back in the days when they had to kick-start their Harleys. After the first “Rocky” movie, Mantay started calling Otis “Creed” because he thought that Otis looked just like Apollo Creed, the boxer who fought Sylvester Stallone. Otis stared at the radio in the police cruiser, thinking that this all had to be a bad dream. Three cops, three friends, three wonderful guys dead. Cut down in one morning.
He returned to the alley and called all of the officers together. “Someone’s killing cops. That makes three in less than two hours. We’ve got a maniac out there. They want me back at the precinct for a briefing right away. McCoy will be taking over as lead detective until I can get free. In the meantime I don’t know what else to say except watch your back, I don’t want anybody working alone. Any of you guys in one man cars, I want you running in tandem until you’re all back at the precinct. Got it?” The determination etched on the faces of the detectives told Otis that they didn’t need to ask questions. They knew what needed to be done and were ready to swing into action. Otis hopped in the cruiser, made a sweeping U-turn and headed back to the main station. When he arrived, the place was already buzzing. Everyone moved with quiet deliberation, focused on the task at hand. Mercifully, there had been no more reports of fallen officers. An alert was sent to all units, briefings held, strategies planned, teams formed. Police headquarters had assumed the look of a war room. No one would be leaving early tonight.

When an editor steals your voice

2011-04-25T09:26:00.005-04:00

L to R. Eric Choi, N.J. Lindquist, Helen Marshall (ChiZine), Sandra Kasturi (co-publisher ChiZine), Brett Alexander Savory (co-publisher ChiZine)

When I sat down to listen to a panel discuss the value of editors at a recent writer's conference, I admittedly had a railroad tie size chip on my shoulder. I had recently had a go-around with an editor who wanted so many changes in my manuscript that I felt that it wasn't even my story anymore. I withdrew my submission and went looking elsewhere.
When I first got into the writing business things were tight and nowadays they're even tighter. Without an agent, I knew that the odds were really against seeing any success in my search. Like many other literary orphans I began to consider self-publishing with my focus on the rapidly growing e-book market. I needed to escape the cleaver wielding editors of mainstream publishing. It was becoming obvious to me that editors were the primary culprits in the decline of traditional publishing. Old school editors who insist on pigeon-holing your work into very narrow genre definitions and demand that you follow a cookie cutter format in laying out your plot and developing your characters were really turning me off. I began to question all of the established rules. Do multiple points of view really confuse the reader? Is showing all that much better than telling? How do editors know these things? do they ever talk to anyone outside of the publishing world? Doesn't the reader's opinion count?
And then Brett Alexander Savory, co-publisher of ChiZine publications of Toronto said something that really struck a chord. He said that a good editor could and should bring out the voice of the author. He didn't say that an editor should chop up a manuscript and make wholesale changes, he said that an editor can help the author find the best way to make a point that the author believes in. Hmmm...Perhaps there's hope for editors after all.

An invitation

2011-03-20T08:24:00.002-04:00

I'd like to invite everyone to visit the Kindle Author Blog. I was fortunate enough to do an interview over there. It's a real class place.

http://kindle-author.blogspot.com/2011/03/kindle-author-interview-dennis-collins.html

The Unreal McCoy - Chapter 1

2011-02-22T16:36:00.003-05:00

Here is chapter one of The Unreal McCoy. It's available on Kindle for only $2.99

Feruary 4, 2000 Both ambulances arrived at the emergency entrance at the same time. Backed up under the marquee like a couple of UPS trucks delivering their wares, icicles elbowing each other for space in the crowded wheel-wells and undercarriages, salt brine obscuring the lettering on their doors. The first gurney to be unloaded held a short, burly man, the victim of a frightening heart attack. From the other vehicle, a younger man of medium build who had been so severely beaten that his features were almost unrecognizable. The younger man had been delivered by a City of Detroit EMS unit, the kind that handles violent crime and murder victims. In the dark early hours of this cold February morning, both men were admitted to Downtown Receiving Hospital in critical condition.

The older man, Giulio Sieli, was stabilized fairly quickly. This emergency room had dealt with countless heart attack situations and the staff had responded like a precision drill team. Within the hour Giulio was resting in the cardiac care unit, his vital functions being electronically monitored and intravenous tubes were feeding fluids into his system. His family, an older brother and a niece, were in the emergency waiting room, alarmed and frightened by the unexpected attack. An intern was feebly trying to assure them that the man would survive. His scolding tone declared his lack of experience in consoling loved ones.
"If he was alive when he came into this hospital, he'll probably be alive when he leaves it. We're very proud of our record here. He'll just have to learn to take better care of himself."

Enrico Sieli, the older brother of Giulio was not very comforted by the insensitive efforts of the intern. "I don't wanna know about probly. I wanna know for sure!" His daughter, Marie, put her arm around her father's shoulder and turned him away from the young doctor. "I'm sure he will live, Pappa. I've been praying to the Virgin Mary since we received the news." The pair made their way to the back of the waiting room where they sat in rigid, uncomfortable, plastic chairs hoping for more encouraging reports from the cardiac unit.

Nobody waited in the emergency waiting room for the younger man. Nobody called to inquire about his condition. Nobody prayed to the Virgin Mary for his recovery. He was anonymous.
"This guy has sustained more injuries in one night than the Packers inflicted on the Lions all last season!"
Dr. Maurice DesJardines had been called in from home in the middle of the night to render his expertise in the field of traumatic injuries. Dr. Desjardines, or "Dr. Mo", as he preferred, was an old time doctor. He even made housecalls for some of his older patients. A man who eschewed the medical vernacular and called a broken bone a "broken bone". Although he was somewhat of a maverick, his skill was widely acknowledged by his peers. His specialty was putting human jigsaw puzzles together, he was the right guy for this job. He was here tonight to repair a brutally broken body. A body without a name. There had been so many like this in recent years that names were not important anymore. This one would require a lot of time to repair and even longer to heal. The list of injuries was a long one: three broken ribs, punctured lung, concussion, two broken fingers on the right hand, one on the left, severely sprained right knee, multiple lacerations and contusions; the damage seemed endless,as if no part of the body had been overlooked. The concussion worried the doctor. So far, there was no sign of a blood clot but the brain swelling could cause all kinds of problems. It could even be fatal. It was almost eight A.M. before the doctor finished his work. The patient remained mercifully unconscious. Shock and trauma would be his enemies, strength and relative youth his allies. He was moved to room 124, the last room in the trauma center. Room 125 was the first room of the cardiac unit.

It seemed to be an ordinary Friday morning at the first precinct in downtown Detroit, the coffee vending machine in the hallway was on the blink again. "Probably some jerk using Canadian coins.", mumbled the vending serviceman as he tried key after key in his futile attempts to unlock the coffee machine door.
"Why don't you just read the number on the lock and see if you've got a key with a matching number?" An impatient voice behind him asked.
The serviceman recognized the voice of Detective Sergeant Albert McCoy and grunted without turning to look at him. He also ignored the advice. After trying four more keys, the lock yielded and he opened the door and pressed a black button inside that woke up a series of electrical relays. After a few seconds of buzzing and clicking, the machine produced a steaming cup of black coffee. The serviceman handed the cup to the sergeant and said. "Consider this a reward for your patience."
" Maybe I should pay you anyway, this could be viewed as a bribe."
" Never happen, lieutenant, I'm just being courteous."
"Sergeant." corrected McCoy as he turned to leave.
"Hey look, just like I said." The coffeeman was holding up the Canadian quarter he had retrieved from the coin slot.
"You'd make a good detective." said McCoy.
"Thanks, lieutenant."
"It's still sergeant!"
When Detective Sergeant Albert McCoy sat down at his desk, he found a fresh report on top of the normal clutter. It must have been dropped off by the midnight shift. There was a ring of keys and a note attached to it. The report was about an unidentified white male in his mid-thirties found lying in the roadway of Henry Street just north of the downtown area of Detroit. A cab driver reprted that he found the man lying partially under a parked car about one-twenty or so this morning. He radioed his dispatcher to notify the police and EMS and had stayed with the man until police arrived. The cab driver claimed he had not witnessed the beating. He said that he had just dropped off a fare, turned onto Henry Street and saw the man's legs sticking out from under a parked car. The injured man had no wallet on his person but had thirty-eight dollars in a money clip in a side pocket. There was about a half of a package of Camels in his shirt pocket and a Bic lighter in his jacket.
The officers that responded to the call noticed that there was a fairly new Chevy Blazer parked about twenty yards up the block. There was no one in the vehicle but the engine was running and it was unlocked with the driver's side window rolled down. They shut the engine off, removed the keys, and ran a check on the license plate number. The Blazer was registered to Michael O'Conner, male Caucasian: 33 yrs. Address in the twenty-five thousand block of W. Six Mile Rd. on Detroit's far west side. The physical description of the registered owner was close enough to that of the beating victim that the officers decided to have the Blazer impounded and send the keys along with an explanatory note in the report and let the detectives figure out if there was any connection. That's what detectives are paid to do.
Sgt. McCoy scanned the report almost casually. "This one shouldn't be too tough.", he thought. Probably some "john" from the outskirts of the city looking for some action and ran into some of the parasites who inhabit the seedy neighborhoods that spawn hookers and junkies.
The bitter cold weather of this particular February had done more to suppress street crime than any program the city council or Mayor's office had ever conceived. The hookers and the muggers were still out there, but their customers and victims were mostly hibernating, waiting for milder weather. In slow times like these, Sgt. McCoy enjoyed his job. He would conduct interviews, run background checks, request crime lab assistance, and file voluminous reports. Do all the things that detectives are supposed to do but never have time for. When the "closed" was stamped onto one of these cases, it was usually stamped on a very fat manila folder. And the name of Detective Sergeant Albert McCoy would be on the bottom line.
The attached medical report stated that the victim was still unconscious and was expected to remain that way until the brain swelling subsided, possibly within two or three days. The sergeant didn't like the idea of waiting until the man regained consciousness to ask him his name. After all, amnesia was certainly a possibility in cases that involved head injuries. Time lost now in establishing identity could be time lost forever. He decided to visit the hospital. He asked one of the records officers to run a check on a Michael O'Conner and left the building before receiving a response.
Downtown Receiving Hospital was only a few blocks from police headquarters at 1300 Beaubien, but Sgt. McCoy always drove his police car when going there. The neighborhood was tough and dangerous, even for a grizzled police detective. Today, however, the primary reason for driving was to avoid the biting winds. He parked the car in a No Parking zone and walked into the hospital.
"I'd like to see a patient in room 124. I believe he's listed as unknown male number twenty two." Sgt, McCoy held his wallet open in his right hand so the duty nurse could examine his I.D. card and his detectives shield. The nurse studied the credentials and then referred to her charts. "You may see him if you wish, but I'm afraid that's about all you'll be able to do. He's only been out of surgery for a few hours and isn't expected to be awake for some time."
"I know, but I'd like to see him just the same. It's part of our investigation."
What the detective saw in room 124 was somewhat disappointing, and alarming at the same time. McCoy’s heart jumped into his throat. Two short years ago, he had walked into a room in this very same hospital and had seen an accident victim bandaged in almost the very same way. Only then, it was his own kid brother lying there. Everything was so similar. McCoy wanted to turn and run. He remembered standing there helplessly and watching his baby brother die. He had to put the thought out of his mind. He had to be professional. Painfully, he got back to business.
The man lying dormant and wearing your basic pale green hospital gown was, except for his extensive bandaging, very ordinary looking. He appeared to be about 5' 9" or so and around 170 lbs. to the trained policemans eye. The occasional shock of hair that was exposed through the head bandages was sort of a mousey brown. The lips were badly swollen and partially open exposing what looked like very ordinary and slightly imperfect teeth. The left eye was mostly covered by a surgical dressing put there to protect the eighteen stitches it had taken to close the head wound. The disappointment came when the detective's gaze fell on the patient's hands. The right hand was in a plaster cast and the left was fully bandaged. Identification through fingerprints would be unlikely in the near future. So much for the scientific approach. It's back to old fashioned detective work. Maybe something would develop from the registration check on the seemingly abandoned vehicle that the patrol guys stumbled on last night, and don't forget the often overlooked missing persons reports. They could be a real pain in the ass. All precincts would need to be checked as well as the suburbs as far north as Flint and as far south as Monroe. Checking out all that shit could really bog down an investigation. Maybe he could just wait for the guy to wake up. Maybe he could lay back and see what the guy has to say; it could have been the result of a dispute between friends, even brothers. Maybe he should dig in the spurs and find out what happened, this could be a mob thing, the guy was worked over pretty thoroughly and was found in the right neighborhood. Maybe he's just a good guy who got in the way. Maybe he's a bad guy who got in the way. Maybe it's time for lunch, he thought as he walked out of the room and past the nurses' station.
"Did you find the patient in a talkative mood?" asked the duty nurse.
"Maybe"

Re-"Kindled" enthusiasm

2011-01-23T10:15:00.003-05:00

It's been slightly over a month since I uploaded two of my titles to Amazon's Kindle. To say that I'm pleased with the result would be a gross understatement. My first book, "The Unreal McCoy" had been out of print for over two years and Kindle gave it a new life. It hasn't made anybody's best seller list yet but the sales numbers have proved that the story was not ready for mothballs. "Turn Left at September" is selling solid numbers as well.
A recent report says that over forty-five million Kindles will be in the hands of the reading public in the next two to three years. What makes these numbers significant is that Kindles are only purchased by serious readers and readers are who buys books. The prospects are exciting especially after years of gloom and doom predictions for the publishing industry.
I have another manuscript ready for Kindle and I'm doing a little pre-publishing work on a marketing plan before I turn it loose.
Now it's time to get back to work on my current project. If Kindle works out as well as I hope it will, I'll want to try for two new titles a year. My enthusiasm for writing has just received a wonderful shot of adrenalin.

I've been Kindled

2010-12-08T09:21:00.004-05:00

This morning my first two titles became available in Amazon's Digital Format for Kindle and other electronic readers. It's my first venture into the world of electronic publishing. I decided to price them as attractively as possible and Amazon has a floor of $2.99... That's where they are.

I'm really hoping that this opens up the door to a whole new audience of young readers.

This is what The Unreal McCoy is all about:
Michael O’Conner began his career as a private investigator in a hospital bed. His very first attempt at surveillance resulted in a near fatal beating. Detective Sergeant Albert McCoy, assigned to investigate the assault is stunned by the remarkable resemblance that the rookie P.I. has to McCoy’s younger brother who was killed in a traffic accident two years ago. The scenario has a profound effect on McCoy and he resolves to teach the young man how to survive on the streets.
O’Conner has stumbled onto a major international jewelry theft and insurance fraud scheme that has been going on undetected for over a decade. The players aren’t about to allow anyone to expose their game and they won’t hesitate to murder anyone who gets in their way. As long as they remain at large, Michael O’Conner is a man with a target on his back.
While Michael O’Conner recovers from his wounds, Detective McCoy and his partner Otis Springfield sniff out clues from the sidewalks of Detroit to the snow covered Porcupine Mountains in Michigan’s upper peninsula.

Here's a brief description of what goes on in Turn Left at September:

Billy Bones is a born killer and he continually proves it. Billy runs the “Satan’s Disciples,” a drug dealing gang in Detroit. Monica Wilson, one of Billy’s street level dealers decides to leave the vile world of drugs behind and move into the mainstream of society. She has turned her natural singing talent into a promising career with an up and coming musical group. The entertainment world is tough but Monica sees a distinct possibility of beating the odds. She is working with an excellent band guided by a highly influential agent and producer. Things are looking up for Monica… until Billy Bones arrives on the scene to collect what he considers his personal property.
Detroit homicide detectives are investigating a couple of seemingly unrelated murders when the victim’s pasts showed ties to both Billy Bones and Monica Wilson. Billy is well known to the police but Monica Wilson is a new face in their books and needs a closer look.
The band is scheduled for a New Year’s Eve performance at a far northern Michigan ski lodge/casino entertainment complex. Monica receives a call from Billy saying that, unless his demands are met by New Year’s at midnight, horrible things will happen.
Billy seems to have gotten a head start when bodies begin to accumulate at the morgue. First it’s Monica’s best friend then a former band member. Next on the list is one of Billy’s own gang members who showed signs of weakness in front of the cops.
When Billy drops out of sight with only two days left in the year McCoy and Springfield know that they’d better head north if they entertain any hopes of saving Monica Wilson from being murdered at the stroke of midnight.

It's official.. sort of... I think, anyway

2010-08-25T07:22:00.003-04:00

Back in the Summer of 1989 I emerged from my ten year hiatus as a hydroplane racer to compete in a regatta on the Detroit River. A friend of mine pulled his boat out of retirement to provide my ride. It was a 2.5 litre Modified Hydroplane built by legendary boat builder Henry Lauterbach in the great state of Virginia. What made the boat unique was that it was powered by a mid 1930's vintage Ford V8 60, an engine that was designed to produce 60 horsepower but became a favorite among midget auto racers who pumped a lot more from the little flathead. And this engine was heavily modified.

The "Flatheads" were pretty much gone by the late 1960's and as far as anyone in the boat racing world knew, this was the lone survivor and it had not seen competition in a decade.

The river was angry that day and there was a measure of concern about the pounding that the unforgiving Detroit River might inflict on an older hull. This boat was made entirely of wood and it was old wood. The driver was no spring chicken either.

I entered the course from a floating dock that was tehered to the seawall. I can't remember how many boats had been entered in that heat race but I was aware that at least two of them were state of the art hydros with big reputations and solid pedigrees. I knew that I couldn't challenge them. I made a less than decent start but as the laps fell behind me I began to feel that old adrenaline rush and started hunting for more throttle. The boat held together remarkably well, a tribute to its breeding. I barely felt the thump of the river and we crossed the finish line in third place. It gave the owner one last trophy for his brave little boat and sent me on my way to ten more years of driving.

Now that twenty some years have passed since that day, it can be assumed that I was the last person to drive a hydroplane powered by the once revered Ford Flathead in sanctioned competition. The old war horses live on as a part of the "Vintage" class of hydros but they're only driven in exhibitions these days. But as far as I know, I'm in the history books.

2010-05-03T19:34:00.000-04:00

The Civil War

I’ve been pondering this for some time and decided to make it a discussion topic on my blog. I’m sure that there are lots of different thoughts on the subject and I haven’t studied the events that led up to the war since I was in the tenth grade. These are just thoughts.

Could the American Civil War been avoided?

Seems to me that, prior to the conflict there had to have been plenty of people on both sides of the Mason-Dixon Line with the vision to see that slavery was well on its way to extinction. Oh, there would be that core group of hardliners who would insist that agriculture couldn’t possibly survive without slaves but most of them would have known, deep down that it was only a matter of time. Plantation owners already had the responsibility of feeding, clothing, and housing slaves, would it be that big of a step to convert that responsibility to a wage?

The Union government might have held a series of talks with the Confederacy seeking an amicable solution to the problem. It would be up to the north to take the lead and offer workable solutions as well as action plans. Temporary government subsidies would be needed and then a massive educational program developed to prepare the slaves for entry into mainstream society. The slaves themselves would be necessary partners in the negotiations. If talks were to succeed, all voices would need equal footing.

Perhaps I’m oversimplifying the situation but, in retrospect all I’m doing is trying to address the primary cause of the war and state my opinion that it simply wasn’t a valid enough reason to justify the bloodshed that it caused. Anybody, even in 1861 who couldn’t see the end of slavery as an inevitability was simply in denial.

Arguments against such a policy would likely begin with the cost but the expense of this transition would certainly pale compared to the price of war.

I welcome a lively discussion.

Latest Review

2010-01-11T12:43:00.001-05:00

Author Joyce Scarborough picked up a copy of my Turn Left at September and apparently thought enough of it to write this nice review over at Amazon.

If I didn't know better, I'd think the author of this book was a retired homicide detective. Every aspect of the main character and his partner rings true for cops--based on the many crime dramas I've read and watched--and the plot is well thought out and logical, but definitely not predictable. The ending will leave you with your mouth hanging open, but you'll also feel satisfied. The peripheral characters are also well developed and add dimension and flavor to the story. The description is hard-hitting but not gratuitiously graphic.

My only complaint is that I would've liked a bit more romance than the slowly developing attraction between McCoy and his immensely likable lady friend. But I guess there's time for that in the next book, which I'm really looking forward to reading!

Thanks Joyce

New writer's group forming

2009-11-11T07:55:00.002-05:00

If there's anybody from the thumb area of Michigan reading this, you're invited to join us at 7:00PM on Thursday November 19th at the Pigeon (MI) library. It will be our inaugural meeting, the first of two organizational meetings. The following is the press release that was sent out to the local newspapers and radio station.

PIGEON -
Writers from across the Thumb are encouraged to temporarily put down their pens or shut off their word processors and head for the Pigeon District Library for two upcoming meetings that will establish the Huron Area Writers Group.
The organizational meetings, which are set for 7 to 8 p.m. on Thursday, Nov. 19 and Thursday, Dec. 17, will help gauge the interest level in forming such an association. The meetings are open to writers at all levels.
The Huron Area Writers Group, or HAWG, is being formed by Dave Vizard, former editor of True North Magazine and News Editor of The Bay City Times, and Dennis Collins, author of two novels, The Unreal McCoy and Turn Left at September. Both writers live in Huron County and have long-standing ties to the Thumb.
"Given the number of Harleys, swine and voracious appetites for writing in the area, we thought HAWG was a fitting acronym for our group," said Vizard, who is writing a murder mystery that is solved by a newspaper reporter. "All writers want to get their work published, and that's what we plan to do with this organization. We will help each other with the idea that we can improve both writing skill and talent with an eye toward publication."
Collins, who has completed a third novel and has begun research on his fourth work of fiction, emphasized that the meetings will be open to all who have a common interest in creative writing.
"We want to encourage aspiring writers to embrace the challenge of writing and pursue their dreams," he said. "We want to open avenues of opportunity through information sharing and networking."
The organizational meetings will help set the direction of the group. Once established, the writers group would continue to meet on the Third Thursdays of each month in the Pigeon library.
For more information about the group or the meetings, Vizard can be reached at vizard@avci.net or (989) 553-4804.

Robert W. Walker Guest Blogger

2009-07-27T09:55:00.003-04:00

I was thrilled when Rob Walker accepted my invitation to stop by my blog and say a few words. Rob has an impressive repertoire of titles in his portfolio. I've read his work and can confirm that he is a master story teller.

With that, I'll hand him the microphone and surrender the podium.

Opening Lines & First Paragraphs Throughout the Novel

Rob Walker

When I begin a story, I work exceptionally hard on the opening scene, opening lines, and first paragraphs to draw the reader in and to fill that page with life and excitement, to in essence make it as compelling as I can. In fact, COMPELLING is a word carved into my forehead as I work…well, not literally but figuratively for sure. Next thing is to keep the five senses planted before you as you work. It may behoove a writer to place a listing of the five senses over his work station along with the word compelling…so as to never write a single page in the whole of the novel that does not triangulate at least three and maybe five of the senses, and perhaps that sixth sense as well—and to make it all forward moving, fast, compelling, drawing the reader ever onward.
I love it when the senses and the sense of a compelling story comes together, and I believe I’ve accomplished this with my novel Children of Salem, a romance in the time of the witch trials, which I have just put out as an original hystery-mystery romantic thriller E-book. The cover tells the story, that I worked tirelessly on the research for years upon years, but I dramatized the love story to become the forefront story. I know for a fact that I could not have written this version of Children of Salem had I not first written as many books before it, especially my historical novels of the Inspector Alastair Ransom Series begun with City for Ransom, which, with its sequels, Shadows in White City and City of the Absent have been put up as E-books as well.
I currently have ten books up that can be downloaded to the Kindle and other palm readers or to a PC. Children of Salem is my latest placed on Amazon for Kindle, all of which makes me a small press publisher! I managed it all through a visit to dtpamazon.com where a three-step process got me going about three weeks ago. This after JA Konrath got all over my head for not getting on top of this. Joe has himself placed over ten works up on Kindle.
But back to that business of craft and making opening lines and paragraphs compelling. I believe every scene, every chapter calls for a renewed exciting opening line and paragraphs. To this end I am attaching here the first page of each of the three separate “books” found in between the covers of Children of Salem. I think you will find it interesting to read the first page of each book in this 600 plus manuscript selling for 2.99 on Kindle now. Below are those three all-important opening pages. I hope they do as I preach:

C H I L D R E N of S A L E M

by Robert W. Walker

B O O K O N E

Prologue
Boston, March 5, 1692

“You want me to go into Salem Village Parish disguised as a man of the cloth and that doesn’t offend you?” Jeremiah Wakely hoped the level of his shock didn’t show on his face.
“Not in the least!” Reverend Cotton Mather fired back, registering the surprise on Wakely’s starkly handsome Black Irish features.
“Not in the least,” parroted Jeremiah in a near whisper, pushing aside a shock of raven-black hair.
“Not so long as it provides us with what we need, Brother Wakley.” The two men had walked the length of the public area of the great North Church of Boston from rear pew to altar. “Look here, Jeremiah, my friend, you’ll have no problem ingratiating yourself with this Reverend Samuel Parris.”
“I am not so sure, sir? Not from what I’ve seen of him in the court records your father provided me.”
B O O K T W O
Chapter One
Late evening, April 13,, 1692
“A challenge to every Puritan,” said Reverend Parris where he stood drinking ale at Ingersoll’s Inn. He’d come uncharacteristically late to the Inn. Ingersoll was in fact closing, but when he found the minister at his doorstep, he remained in business, his light on. He had poured a pint of ale for Parris, whose bill with Ingersoll had been settled recently with a bushel of beans and potatoes, goods others had paid the minister in. Parris had need of someone’s ear and Ingersoll had been elected. He informed Ingersoll of the truth of Jeremiah Wakely’s identity and his true purpose in the village, and that he’d been sent in to spy on the minister, and all those letters he asked you to post, Nathaniel—I was right to intercept them. He was a fraud from the beginning, and he thought I didn’t know.
Ingersoll solemnly nodded. “He is an arrogant scoundrel, that young pup.”
“It’s the same with the Falllen One.”
“Aye, he’s the ultimate arrogant angel.”
“What angel?” asked the carpenter, Zachariah Fiske, who’d seen the light on and had stopped in for a dram.
B O O K T H R E E

Chapter One

Circumstances in Salem and its environs moved rapidly during June, far too fast for Jeremy or anyone to make any further proper appeals. Twenty days after the hanging of Bridget Bishop, the cantankerous innkeeper with as foul a mouth as any sailor in Salem Harbor, five more accused, arrested women were judged guilty in the Court of Oyer & Terminer—among them, Rebecca Nurse.
The others on the June 30th list of recalcitrant guilty were Sarah Goode, to no one’s surprise, Susannah Martin of Amesbury, the vixen who’d caused Henry Carr to hang himself twenty years before—or so Anne Carr Putnam said; Elizabeth How of Ipswich, and Sarah Wilde of Topsfield. Along with the accusations of the Salem seers against her, Goode had been condemned on the word of her eight-year-old, mentally distracted child Dorcas. All of the other accused had stood adamant against the court as had Goode—most of them cursing the court, the judges, and their accusers in no uncertain terms.

NOW back to the blog: If you kindle or know anyone who does, I hope you will recommend Children of Salem, an in depth and complex historical novel that mixes romance with intrigue and the awful facts of what brings about enough hatred in people to hang thy neighbor. Thanks Dennis for having me as your guest! Perhaps if Children sells a mill as an E-Book, I can get a publisher to give it a serious read. There is method in my madness.

Rob Walker
www.robertwalkerbooks.com

Dan Poynter

2009-05-19T08:30:00.003-04:00

On May the 16th I had the pleasure of attending a conference sponsored by the "Upper Peninsula Publishers & Authors Association," in Marquette, Michigan. The keynote speaker was none other than self-publishing and promotion guru, Dan Poynter. And Michigan's northern peninsula didn't disappoint; it treated us to a taste of Mid-May snow.

Mr. Poynter is a man of amazing energy and enthusiasm. His lecture was full of facts and statistics that showed the many advantages and rewards of self-publishing. While he didn't understate the challenges, he helped take much of the fear out of the prospect of going it alone. Information is the best weapon you can have when moving forward. I'll add more to this in the next posting. Check it out at http://ParaPublishing.com

It was a particularly interesting encounter for me because I discovered that Mr. Poynter and me have shared a common hobby; Sport Parachuting, commonly known as "Skydiving." Although it has been a number of years since I made my last parachute jump, there is a certain brotherhood relationship that all skydivers share and Mr. Poynter made it a point to recognize me with a special ribbon that he attached to my name tag.

Canada, eh?

2009-04-23T16:07:00.002-04:00

On Saturday April 25th, I'll be attending "GenreCon 2009" in Sarnia, Ontario.

It's a multi-genre conference sponsored by the Lambton County Library in Sarnia. I'm not sure how many of these conferences have taken place but I do know that I've been part of every single one of them. Jeff Beeler and Ellen Dark do a great job of organizing this event every year. You can see more about it here: http://community.livejournal.com/penguicon/117225.html

Sarnia is directly across the St Clair River from Port Huron, Michigan and a short drive from Toronto or Detroit.

This year I get to kick off the early part of the conference as moderator of a "Mystery and Plotting" panel along with Jean Rae Baxter and Vicki Delaney, two very accomplished mystery writers. A couple of returning veterans are the always enthusiastic Jeff DeLuzio and Mowtown Writer star, Sylvia Hubbard.

Another fun part of the event is the dinner at "Ups n' Downs" Riverfront restaurant at the end of the day.

Rotary Club

2009-03-24T12:32:00.002-04:00

On Monday March 23rd I had the pleasure of addressing a Rotary Club luncheon. It was a pleasant afternoon spent with caring community leaders. I was impressed with their charitable efforts.

If there is a downside to a luncheon, it's the time constraints that are characteristic of workday events. I only had about thirty minutes to deliver my pitch and it's difficult to engage an audience in a short amount of time.

It was a well attended affair and the people were attentive and asked interesting and thoughtful questions. I enjoyed myself and the opportunity to get acquainted with members of my local community.

Back on the trail

2009-02-18T09:47:00.002-05:00

I'm heading back out for a little more promotion. On March 23, 2009 I'll be making a luncheon presentation at the Rotary Club in Pigeon, Michigan. It's a rather small event but it's my local community and I feel it's highly important to establish a local fan base. Besides, these small town events are almost always more friendly than their big city cousins and they're a darn site more relaxed.

After that I'm once again going international with my annual trek to Sarnia, Ontario for the 2009 edition of Genrecon on April 25th. I have attended every Genrecon since its inception about five or six years ago. It's a free one day conference held at the Lambton County Library in Sarnia. The focus is on fiction and it includes several genres like mysteries, horror, fantasy, and science fiction. From a writer's point of view, I like the variety. It's a great opportunity to harvest ideas from authors who have an entirely different perspective. I think it helps all of us.

Small town signing

2008-11-21T11:14:00.003-05:00

On November 20th I did a signing at the
Reading & Rhythm bookstore in Bad Axe, Michigan. Bad Axe is the seat of Huron County which includes the entire upper thumb of the mitten shaped silhouette known as Michigan. As signings go, it was on the quiet side. Only a few dozen people wandered in and not all of them wanted to buy books. But I'm not complaining, at least I made some new friends and even sold some books. The sad thing is that it will likely be the last signing that I do featuring Turn Left at September. It's no longer a fresh title and it may have run its course.

My old standby, The Unreal McCoy, has finally gone out of print and I'm considering doing a bit of re-writing and see if I can get it published by a new small press just to keep it available.

In the meantime I'm working furiously with an editor to clean up my latest manuscript, The First Domino, so that it's in presentable shape to hand over to a literary agent.

It's a tough business.

Ga-ga-googling

2008-09-20T11:46:00.003-04:00

Hmmmm.... I guess this has been floating around in cyberspace for five years now but I just found it the other day while "googling" my name. I've been told that it pays to check yourself out on the internet from time to time and I have done so at somewhat irregular and infrequent intervals. Not often enough, that's for sure. Maybe that's why I've missed this posting for half of a decade.

My first publisher, a thinly disguised POD house had apparently listened to my constant whining about their no return policy and obscene pricing schedule, and when my sales began to approach that of a legitimate author with a legitimate publisher, they decided to act. They introduced a brand new imprint called Independence Books and told me that I would be part of the inaugural run. What I didn't know was that I would be the first.

Well... nice try. Close but no cigar. There was no significant upswing in sales and no call from Oprah.

Here is their press release from 2003.

PublishAmerica Launches Independence Books with The Unreal McCoy
PublishAmerica has added Dennis Collins' The Unreal McCoy to its Independence Books Imprint.

Frederick, MD -- September 18, 2003 -- PublishAmerica is proud to announce that it will re-release The Unreal McCoy, by Dennis Collins, under the Independence Books imprint.
The Unreal McCoy is a well written and crafted contemporary fiction. Detroit police Detectives Albert McCoy and Otis Springfield take on the unlikely roles of guardian angels for rookie private investigator Michael OConner. OConners lack of street-smarts and inexperience land him in the hospital, a victim of a brutal beating. That is were Detective McCoy finds the private detective. While investigating the crime, the police detectives work to fill in the gaps in the ex-insurance investigator's real-world education. Battling a vicious murderer who is head of a ring of jewelry thieves involved in insurance fraud and OConners inexperience, the three are led to the woods of Northern Michigan and an unlikely suspect.

According to Editorial Director Miranda Prather, We were first drawn to The Unreal McCoy because of the sizable handicaps the characters must overcome to solve the case. PublishAmerica primarily publishes works by, for or about people who face a challenge in life, and who overcome it by turning stumbling blocks into stepping stones. In addition, we found that Mr. Collins fast-paced mystery had strong, believable characters and plenty of action to hold readers interest."
The Unreal McCoy was originally released by PublishAmerica in March of 2001. After showing strong sales and marketing potential, PublishAmerica chose Mr. Collins work for the new Independence Books imprint.
The Independence Books imprint was founded to recognize those PublishAmerica books that have achieved marketing success and sales milestones. Independence Books will initially feature softcover books with re-designed covers.
Most of PublishAmerica's books are written by new and previously undiscovered talent. A traditional publishing company, PublishAmerica pays advances and royalties while offering a distinct alternative to authors who would most likely be overlooked by larger, more commercial publishers simply due to their lack of experience in the industry. For more details about this book and author visit www.publishamerica.com.
For more information, please contact Miranda Prather at pratherm@publishamerica.com. You may also contact Dennis Collins at theunrealmccoy@aol.com

The Hardest Part of Writing

2008-08-23T15:57:00.004-04:00

Actually, once you get the hang of it, writing isn't really so hard. Well, good writing might take a little work but it's still the easy part.

Selling your work, now that's hard!

I was new and innocent when I sold "The Unreal McCoy," my first book. I had tried unsuccessfully to find an agent and so when I stumbled on a publisher who would deal directly with the author I began frothing at the mouth. An email query, request for manuscript, and acceptance took about a week. A couple months later I had a one dollar advance and a promise that my book would be available "From sea to shining sea." Of course they didn't tell me that the book would be obscenely overpriced, carry equally obscene shipping charges, be non-returnable, and edited with "Word spellcheck."

The burden of trying to sell a POD book from a publisher who is terminally slow in the shipping department and has a shoddy reputation among booksellers can be a very frustrating uphill battle. And you can forget about reviews in any major venue.

I was lucky though, because I was too naive to know just how impossible the task was. I somehow managed to sell over a thousand copies (didn't know I had that many friends) and, for a time I became the best seller out of that publisher's fifteen thousand title catalogue. By twisting a few arms, I was also able to get a few reviews, some of them even in newspapers. The critics were kind and very complimentary, however several of them mentioned the "second rate" publisher.

When my second book, "Turn Left at September," was finally ready I still couldn't get an agent to read even one word of my manuscript. I shopped it around for close to two years, learning as I went. I eventually quit mentioning my first book in my query letters because a POD credit can often be more of a detriment than a help.

I began networking and belonged to a few Internet writer's forums and it was at one of these sites that I found my next publisher. Still no agent! My new publisher was like a breath of fresh air. They did print runs like the big guys and followed standard industry pricing and marketing procedures. They even managed to get some advance reviews and a real live blurb from a successful author. Again, my work garnered praise from the critics. But it still isn't enough. My publisher's only problem is that they are a small house with just a handful of titles. Even though they do everything right, they can't begin to compete with the big New York boys for shelf space at Barnes & Noble or Borders. My book is available everywhere, but you have to order it.

With "The First Domino," in the can and at the advice a few writers whose opinions I respect, I'm going to make sure that this book is represented by an industry professional. I want a publisher like Simon & Schuster or Harper-Collins. The big publishing houses don't deal with authors. I must find an agent. And once again I am counting on the power of networking. I attend writer's conferences and sign up for pitch sessions with agents and I try to stay visible on the Internet. Oh yeah, and I lean on my friends.

I guess if you're gonna be a successful author, you gotta be willing to do the "Hard Part" of the writing business.

Are agents and editors too impatient?

2008-07-03T12:33:00.002-04:00

It seems to me that the reading public is generally willing to give a plot and a character time to develop but agents and editors need the instant gratification thing. I keep thinking that I'd be fine if only I could get past the agents and editors and get my books into the hands of readers.

At a recent writer's conference I heard an agent say that, because of the enormous volume of submissions, it was her job to find a reason to reject a manuscript. That kinda makes me think that they only read as far as they need to in order to find their reason. Often, the strength of the manuscript never gets read. It hardly seems like a fair chance. I'm sure that a lot of great stories never see the light of day because they just didn't enthrall the agent or editor in the first few paragraphs.

Perhaps that is why newer authors need small publishers, people who will take the time to get to know both the writer and his work. Maybe it's supposed to work like baseball's "farm" system; prove yourself in the minors and you just might get a major league shot. If an author can make any sort of impact, get good reviews, and show a knack and willingness to promote effectively with a small publisher, then just maybe an agent will take the time to get past the first thirty pages.

It certainly doesn't seem fair but it is a business and it's a business that is not lacking for quality material. Some will make it and some won't. You just gotta keep trying.

International Conference

2008-05-14T11:48:00.002-04:00

From left: Mystery writer Terry Carroll, Science fiction writer Suzanne Church, Sci-fi writer and aerospace engineer Eric Choi, and yours truly Dennis Collins. We are shown here sharing our experiences dealing with small publishers.

It was another successful year for the Lambton County Library's Genrecon. This year's guest of honor was mystery writer and musician Rick Blechta. Rick has written six mystery novels and all of them include some part of the music world. Rick is a friendly fellow with a great sense of humor and an easy smile. You can see more about him at www.rickblechta.com

I had the pleasure of participating in four of the panels that day. One of them was especially fun when the moderator (Jeff DeLuzio) assigned the audience the task of writing a paragraph or two based on selected photographs. Some of the offerings were professional quality.

After the conference we all gathered at a riverfront restaurant on the St. Clair River for cocktails and a fine dinner.

I'm looking forward to the first weekend in May next year when I can do it again.

Genrecon

2008-05-01T11:11:00.002-04:00

It's time once again for me to wander across the border into Ontario for a fun little conference known as "Genrecon." It's held at the Lambton County library in Sarnia on the first Saturday in May. It's small, informal, and free.

This year's guest of honor will be Rick Blechta, author and musician. I've had the pleasure of meeting Rick at past Genrecon's and can tell you that he's a talented, entertaining, and genuinely friendly sort of a guy who is quite serious about his writing as well as his music. I'm looking forward to hearing what he has to say.

GenreCon usually starts at 11 AM with a meet and greet reception and runs until library closing at 5:30. Attendees are then invited to join in a group dinner at a local restaurant.

Email infogenrecon@yahoo.ca is the best way to find out more.

Alternately, you can mail the organizers at:
Jeff Beeler or Ellen Dark,
The Reference Department, Sarnia Branch, Lambton County Library,
124 Christina St. South, Sarnia, Ontario N7T 8E1

Or call 519-337-3291

Mid Michigan Writer's Group

2008-04-04T12:08:00.002-04:00

On March 29th I had the privilege of addressing the Awards Banquet of the Mid-Michigan Writer's Group. We met in the restaurant of a Country Club where I had a chance to mingle as well as enjoy a wonderful meal.
This group of writers is most impressive. They are a serious and sophisticated bunch and their awards reflected not only literary accomplishments but acknowledged hard work and contributions to the organization. They've been together for thirty years now and show no signs of losing their enthusiasm. This dynamic society of writers has a bright future. I was proud to help them celebrate their anniversary.
The evening was made complete with a serenade from the very talented Sweet Adelines.

Writing workshop

2008-03-09T18:44:00.002-04:00

Beginning this Thursday, I will be conducting a three day class at Saginaw Valley State University's Osher Lifelong Learning Institute at the Caro, Michigan Campus. The idea is to make interested seniors aware of the many opportunities available for them to have their stories published.

I'm sure that there will be a number of people there who would just like to publish an official "Family History" for their descendants and I'm equally sure that there may be some who just have a story to tell. There may even be an old world war two veteran who spent time in a POW camp and wants the world to hear about it.

But the point is that they all have something they'd like to say; something that is important to them and may possibly have meaning for others. I consider this a wonderful opportunity to help someone fulfill a lifelong dream.

When I first accepted the offer I was concerned about finding enough material to fill three, two hour sessions but after a couple of months of putting ideas together I find myself having to trim a tidbit here and there, deciding what to keep in the class and what I won't be able to include.

This is my first chance to actually help others like this and I'm really looking forward to it.

Uno

2008-02-13T08:41:00.002-05:00

The feel good story of the year has to be the news coming out of the Westminster dog show. After decades of overprimped, overpermed, snooty dogs prancing around the ring with their powdered noses in the air, a real dog has won it all.

Past winners have always given me the impression that, if they could talk, they wouldn't speak to me. Some of them have been so refined they even chew with their mouths closed.

Uno is a real homeboy. He's a hound and he's proud of it. Uno is the kind of guy who gets his kicks trying to run down Br'er Rabbit and doesn't mind picking up a few burrs in the briar patch. When he's on the trail he howls like somebody is twisting his leg and makes no apologies for his display of emotion.

I enjoyed watching him nonchalantly cruise around the judges ring, winking at all the cute Poodles and Shih Tzu's knowing that they all envied him. He's the first tobacco chewing, line dancing, country boy to ever win the prestigious "Best in Show" title and it couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.

On a mission

2008-01-29T10:59:00.000-05:00

On Thursday Jan. 31 I'll be shoving off for the Windy City and the "Love is Murder," mystery writer's conference. It's about a 6-1/2 hour drive from my house and the weather is always a concern at this time of year. I'm going with some specific objectives in mind.
I have appointments scheduled with two publishers and two literary agencies who will be taking pitches at the conference. The first challenge is that I will have somewhere around five minutes with each representative to convince them that my manuscript is worthy of their consideration. While I'm there I'll be participating in three discussion panels and displaying a large poster in the book vendor section to show the agents/editors that I'm serious about my writing and eager to promote my work.
If any of the agents or editors invite me to submit my story, I'll mail it to them and then bite my nails for up to six months waiting for the verdict.
Conferences are unquestionably the best places to break the ice with agents, after all they're there to find new talent. Established literary agents are the key to major publishing houses, as a matter of fact agents are the only avenue to New York.
My current publisher is a small company in California and while they're quite aggressive and seem to do most things right, they're up against the machine that runs the industry. The major booksellers like Borders and B&N are pretty much locked in to the major New York publishers.
Wish me luck.

Huron Daily Tribune

2008-01-18T15:17:00.000-05:00

On Friday January 18, the Huron Daily Tribune published a really nice feature about my writing and a little about my personal life. This article was really put together in a hurry because the interview had taken place only one day earlier.

Tribune staff writer Kate Hessling was kind and complimentary in the article and seemed genuinely interested in the entire picture. She even requested photos of all of my hobbies and included several of them in the article. They gave me at least 3/4 of the page. Wow!

I'm not sure what the circulation of the newspaper is but Huron County has somewhere around 35,000 residents. Surrounded on three sides by the waters of Saginaw Bay and Lake Huron, the county is a blend of agricultural and resort neighborhoods with a little industry sprinkled here and there. It's also my home.

Love is Murder

2008-01-02T08:55:00.000-05:00

I will be spending the first weekend in February (Superbowl weekend, Grrrrr.) at the Love is Murder mystery writer's conference in Chicago.

This is one conference that has really learned how to effectively mix pleasure with business. The discussion panels address serious issues while the evenings offer banquets and things like Scotch tasting.

I'll be taking part in three panels, one of which I will be moderating.

The affair will be held at the Wyndham O'Hare and their website http://www.loveismurder.net has all the details.

Internet and cell phone scam

2007-12-20T16:30:00.000-05:00

When I got my cell phone bill last month I noticed a charge of somewhere around thirty bucks for some sort of subscription. I called the cell phone customer service department to see what it was all about. They told me that the charge was for my subscription dues for www.bid4prizes.com I've never heard of this outfit.

I got the bid4prizes phone number and contacted them. A guy named Anthony told me that I had submitted my cell phone number on their website and that they had sent me a text message which I acknowledged.

None of this is true!!! While it's possible that somebody could have submitted my cell phone number without my knowledge, saying that I acknowledged a text message is a bald faced lie. No one but me has access to my cell phone and I never, EVER acknowledged any message from any internet auction service.

I said that I wanted my money refunded and Anthony (1-800 -861-7414 ext.201) informed me that that was not possible.

What this means is that www.bid4prizes.com scammed me out of money, admitted that they had taken it, and refused to give it back and believe that there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.

Ever wonder why some people get tipped over the edge?

Turn Left at September

2007-12-12T19:10:00.000-05:00

Here is the first chapter of "Turn Left at September."

CHAPTER 1

All of the stars were present tonight, none absent, none tardy. It was New Year’s Eve, eleven forty-five to be exact, only fifteen minutes left in the year. The northern Michigan winter had been colder than normal and tonight in this remote timberland it seemed to be the clearest and coldest so far. Michael O'Conner stood outside his ‘fortress’ in his thermal underwear, pissing in the snow. He was taking advantage of the holiday season for a vacation from his private detective business, a little well deserved time to himself. Tonight was his night to drink beer and watch the giant screen as the big red ball in Times Square descended to welcome in the new year. In a few minutes all of the horses in the world would be celebrating their birthdays.
It would have been a little more enjoyable if McCoy and Otis, his two good friends from the Detroit Police Department could have been here, but Michael had spent other New Year’s Eves alone, he could handle this one too.
With the moon reflecting off the snow, the beauty of this pristine hideaway never ceased to stir a sensation of awe in Michael. And it was all his, the deed inherited from his father but the soul of this land chose its own partners and Michael knew that he belonged here. The concrete block building behind him may have looked out of place when the Army first built it as part of the war effort back in the forties, but nature has a way of overwhelming and absorbing intruders. The ivy had done it’s job, slowly climbing the sheer concrete walls until the building had lost it’s harsh shape and surrendered to the power of the forest.
Any mechanical sound in this desolate woodland has to be considered unusual and the faint hum that Michael was hearing was definitely a man-made noise. At first he thought it might be the mammoth Pelton-wheel hydroelectric generator that magically converted the fast-moving river into enough electricity to power a small village. But after listening for a few seconds, it became obvious that the ringety-bang sound in the distance was that of a two cycle gasoline engine and it was getting closer. Michael was beginning to feel the bite of the five degree temperature through his long johns and turned toward his lodge. He was thinking that he would illuminate the place with the floodlights in case the snowmobiler, or whoever it was, needed a beacon to follow. It might be Harley Charley. Charlie Whitepigeon, the Chippewa biker lived over in that direction, but Charlie’s not the type to go joyriding on his snowmobile in the dark. Michael concluded that it must be someone lost or confused, probably from the new casino/ski club resort six miles away on the other side of the hills. Nobody would come this far off the groomed trails on purpose, especially at night. As he reached for the door, he heard the pitch of the engine change. It was gasping, sucking in air devoid of any fuel. The machine was running out of gas. He looked in the direction of the asthmatic sound and saw the hesitant, uncertain flicker of a dimming headlight among the naked trees at the top of a hill about a half a mile away. The scene reminded him of an old movie, like the flame in a lantern dancing as some spirit carried it through an obscure and forgotten graveyard. He hurried back to his ‘fortress.’
It took the rest of the year for him to wiggle into his snowmobile suit and get the cutter hooked up behind his Polaris. Clancy, the two year old Llewellin setter was already sitting in the cutter in anticipation of one of his favorite activities, a moonlight ride through the jack pines, birch, and scrub oaks, his big tail wagging so hard that it rocked the sled.
The search took almost three hours. There were no real roads or trails in the area and choices could get quite random when all the terrain looks the same, even with the bright moonlight.
He found the abandoned Ski-Doo midway through the second hour but there were no footprints leading away from it. Maybe they faded into the deep track left by the snowmobile. Michael had criss-crossed the same general area four times, stopping every few hundred feet to sweep the landscape with his powerful flashlight. Finally, he parked the snow machine and shut off the engine so that he could hear any sounds of distress or calls for help in the still night air. Clancy got up off his haunches and sniffed all the points of the compass, as if wishing for even a slight breeze to bring him a scent. After a few moments, he seemed to get excited and jumped out of the cutter. The big dog doubled back down the path , following his nose and ignoring the meaningless tracks. He stopped suddenly about fifty yards back, his head moving rapidly in frantic, jerky motions as he sniffed the pockmarked snow for a few seconds then disappeared into the trees. It took Michael at least five long minutes to get his rig turned around and by that time he could hear the dog barking and yelping as if he had a coon treed, or was in some kind of pain.
Michael’s flashlight lit up a bright blue snowmobile suit curled up at the base of an old sugar maple. There was no response when Michael called to the body in the snow so he grabbed the shoulder of the snowmobile suit and rolled the lifeless torso onto its back. It looked like a young boy, small and frail. The heat generated by the beam of the five cell Maglight, produced diminutive vapor at the nostrils of the victim. At least he was still breathing. Speaking to nobody, Michael said aloud, “What’s a kid doing all alone in a place like this?” Michael picked up the small body and struggled through the knee deep snow to deposit him in the cutter. The dog instinctively jumped in with the slight figure and curled around him in order to share his body heat. Michael fired up the snowmobile and cut a trail for home, he didn't want to waste any time.
Inside the lodge, Michael had an easier time handling the limp body. He carried it up the stairs from the garage and laid it on the guest room bed. The first order of business was to turn on the electric blanket and crank the heat control all the way to the ten. As he surveyed the scene, Michael realized that the insulated snowmobile suit would slow the warming process. He pulled off the boots and was surprised to see pink socks. For the first time he took a good look at the person in his guest room. It wasn't a young boy at all. It was a girl! More accurately, a young woman. He was a little more gentle now, stripping off the outer clothing but carefully leaving the expensive looking, Victoria’s Secret, undergarments untouched. There wasn't any evidence of frostbite that he could see and though the breathing was still shallow, it seemed to be regular, as if she were just asleep. He pulled the covers up around her chin and hurried back downstairs to his living room to look up hypothermia in his medical encyclopedia.
The book wasn't as much help as he had hoped it would be... The body temperature is lowered, metabolism is slowed, and the blood flow to the brain can be interrupted. One statement caught his attention. "Internal warming may be necessary. How the hell do you do that? Chicken soup?” He considered trying to get her into town where a real doctor could treat her but the only ways out of here this time of year were snowmobile or down the river in the inflatable boat. Neither option seemed desirable.
Michael was wishing that his buddies, McCoy and Springfield, could have accepted his invitation to join him on this New Year’s, but it seems that holidays are a particularly busy time for cops, especially in Detroit. Those two would know what to do, or at least be able to figure it out.
Tonight though, Michael was on his own. Perhaps he could call Harley Charlie, that ex-marine seemed to always have the answers, ever cool under fire. Michael had met Charlie quite a few years ago, back when Michael was young and his father had just bought this place. They hit it off as friends right away, explored the woods, caught fish, hunted partridge, the way that unburdened teenagers do. As with most childhood chums, they eventually pushed on in different directions, Michael enrolling in college while Charlie enlisted in the Marines. It was only a year or two ago that they renewed their friendship. Charlie had developed a passion for motorcycling and had become, “Harley Charley”.
“Hell, it was a natural, the long hair, the leather fringe, the headband, they were all already a part of my culture. All I needed was the bike.” The hearty smile made his huge size seem less threatening.
Charley was also probably the best electrician in the county, running a very successful contracting business. He had made some very wise educational choices while serving in the Marine Corps.
But it wouldn’t be fair to burden him with a medical emergency. Charlie was probably getting ready for his New Year’s Day appearance at the big celebration at the community center, all dressed up in his traditional Tribal gear. Charlie’s muscular six foot, seven inch frame and classic chiseled native features could be quite imposing in warpaint and feathers.
Maybe Michael could get a doctor to come out here. He picked up the cellular phone and tried to dial the sheriff’s number but nothing happened. The battery indicator told him that he was running on empty. Michael couldn’t remember when he last charged it and he didn’t have a backup battery with him. He jammed the telephone into the charger on the kitchen counter. But for now, he was out of business and completely cut off from the outside world. Happy New Year.

Moving right along

2007-10-24T08:42:00.000-04:00

Well, back to writing and such...

On October 22, I addressed a division of the Michigan Court System Mediation Services way up north in Gaylord, Michigan. They were having their annual mediation awards dinner and asked me to be their guest speaker. Now my books have very little to do with mediating but they were looking for entertainment. I sure wish that I knew more jokes.

It was a fun evening with a great meal and sinful desserts. The audience had several attornies and even a couple of judges. The education level of the crowd provided a more lively than usual question and answer period at the end.

All in all it was fun and I even signed a few books. Now it's on to Standish, MI next Saturday, Otober 27, for "Gateway to Writing."

Ellen DeGeneres

2007-10-18T12:45:00.000-04:00

I'm not a big fan of Ellen DeGeneres, I barely know who she is. My life is too full to waste in front of a TV.

But this whole dog adoption thing has kinda caught my interest. In my 67+ years in this life I've had plenty of dogs; still got one, a seventeen year old mongrel who I inherited from my youngest son. There's nobody on God's green earth gonna tell me any more than I already know about the relationship between a child and his/her dog. By the time I was fourteen I knew all about it. I knew about the unconditional love and I knew about the "til death do us part," loyalty.

I suppose it's a noble thing to take on the responsibility of protecting animals from abuse. Mutts & Moms says that children under the age of fourteen are too irresponsible to give proper care to animals. What??? Where did this data come from? I'm sure that there are cases that would bear out this airheaded allegation but my guess is that it would be less than .00001%, about the same as with kids over the age of fourteen.

It is my firm belief that the welfare of the dog had very little to do with the action. It's absolutely certain that the welfare of the kids was never considered. "PRIORITIES."

In my opinion the little minds that run "Mutts & Moms" wanted to flex big muscles and show that they're just as important as someone who has a successful career.

"The hell with the kids!!!"

Gateway to Writing

2007-10-10T14:09:00.000-04:00

On Saturday, October 27th the Mid-Michigan Writers, Inc. along with the Northeast Michigan Arts Council will be presenting their 3rd annual Fall Writing Workshop. It's being held in the Northeast Arts Council Building in Standish, Michigan on the corner of US 23 and Grove Rd.

Registration kicks off at 9:00AM and I'll be there to deliver my keynote address at 9:30AM. After a short break at 10:15AM activities will continue with a panel discussion at 10:30. We'll have lunch at 11:30AM and the workshops will continue at 12:20PM. Everything is expected to wrap up by 3:15PM.

The cost for the whole day is only $20.00. You can get more information by calling (989)846-8211 or (989) 846-6546.

It should be a day of fun and learning. I'm really looking forward to it.

Stay tuned

2007-09-26T12:18:00.000-04:00

I've been invited to give the keynote presentation at the Mid-Michigan Writer's Conference in Standish, MI on Saturday October 27. I'll be involved in other parts of the day's activities as well, moderating a workshop on writing techniques and plots.

I don't have any more details at this time but I expect to hear from the committee as soon as they tie up all the loose ends. Hopefully I'll be able to post a flyer right here on my blog.

I've done lots of presentations for both large and small groups but keynote speeches are a different animal. Normally I'm just pitching my books and telling everyone why they'd enjoy reading them. In a Keynote you're supposed to inform, educate, or just plain entertain your audience. Of the keynote speeches that I've attended, it's the humorous ones that I most remember. But I'm told that the group that I will be addressing is thirsty for information on how to get published so I'd better be bringing more than a stand-up routine along.

I'll keep you posted as soon as I hear more.

Invitation

2007-08-18T09:58:00.000-04:00

I've been quiet for a couple of weeks partly because the lakefront resort community that I call home has been holding their ten-day long summer festival. The affair is called "Cheeseburger." Not exactly an exotic sounding name but it changes the town of Caseville, Michigan into a Caribbean Island for a few days each summer. Everything takes on a tropical flavor and there are Raggae, Calypso, and Steel Drum bands playing in several different parks at all times of the day and night. Seems like every "Parrothead" in the country makes the pilgrimage. It's a really busy and fun time highlighted by the "Parade of Tropical Fools."
But back to writing for a moment. I've been invited to give the keynote address at a mid-Michigan Writer's Conference. It ain't Bouchercon but that doesn't diminish the passion or sincerity of the attendees.
I've given lots and lots of presentations trying to peddle my work but keynote speeches are different. They're supposed to be supportive, educational, or just plain entertaining. I've never even thought about being a keynote speaker.
As I look back at the dinner speeches that I've attended, it occurs to me that the most memorable ones were the light and humorous talks. Now I just have to think of some clever things to say.
"But it's a real cutie; a Mexican beauty. How it got here I haven't a clue."

Unbelievable weekend

2007-07-31T08:05:00.000-04:00

The H.O.G. chapter that I belong to has one huge event annually and that is our "Mystery Ride." We have a motorcycle raffle in conjunction with this event and the proceeds from the weekend provide most of the operating capitol that sustains our chapter all year long. We also try to make a substantial donation to local charity and this year we were able to kick in a three thousand dollar contribution to the "Johnny Burke Children's Foundation." Johnny and his wife Genevieve were there to ride the ride with us and accept the check. It was a special moment for all of us.

But the weekend held some significant surprises for me as well. On Saturday my fiance and I chipped in five bucks apiece to by some 50/50 raffle tickets and we won $109. And then on Sunday morning we took up a pool to guess the total number of paid registrants for our "Mystery Ride." It was a winner-take-all affair with everything going to whoever could come closest to the actual number. We had 683 folks show up for our ride and I guessed 684 and won another $55. But the real shocker came when they announced the winner of the 2007 Harley Davidson ElectraGlide Motorcycle; It was my sweetheart, Dianne. She's been a rider for many years and currently owns a 2006 Harley Davidson Sportster. Now she has gone from the smallest Harley in the stable to the biggest HOG dresser out there. What a thrill!!!

PR and such

2007-07-26T12:15:00.000-04:00

This morning I accompanied the spokesperson for our upcoming H.O.G. (Harley Owner's Group) event to the studios of WHNN 96.1FM to be with Johnny and Blondie on the "Johnny Burke and the Morning Crew" drive time radio show. It's a very popular mid-Michigan oldies station and the morning show has the largest listening audience of any southeast Michigan FM station.

We were there to promote our July 28-29 weekend bike show and Mystery Ride. A total of five different charities will share in the proceeds from the weekend and the largest portion will be presented to the Johnny Burke Children's Foundation.

We were greeted at the door by none other than Blondie, the very clever co-host of the show and perfect foil for Johnny's sometimes sarcastic humor. The studio was small but comfortable and our hosts were friendly and very helpful. The interview went extremely well and Johnny's knack for bringing out the important facts made it easy on us. It was a great experience and I know that it reached a wide audience. I just hope that it leads to a significant increase in attendance. Johnny and his wife will be riding with us and enjoying the sunshine.

A day at the track

2007-07-24T08:08:00.000-04:00

Well, I had my day in the sun at Michigan International Speedway. Last Christmas my kids gave me a gift certificate for a three lap "ride-along" in a genuine NASCAR race car. So this past Sunday I arrived at the track early and watched all of the cars go round and round. After some very careful observation (and a hint from one of the track workers) I determined that the fastest vehicle out there was the little Craftsman Truck and was told that the driver was a guy named Bill Eversole who happens to be a genuine ARCA driver.

So the truck was my choice!

Three laps goes pretty quick when you're moving at 150+mph. I wasn't disappointed. The driver was out there for fun too so we did a little dicing with some of the other cars. We ran within inches of the rear bumper of another vehicle as we drafted him down the straightaway and then dove below him as we entered the turn. Nobody passed us during our time on the track. Fun!!!

The "G" forces in the turns were considerable, more than I had expected but tolerable. The ride was very smooth (but loud). All in all it was a great experience.

The world's most prestigious powerboat event

2007-07-16T19:24:00.000-04:00

Well, I survived three very long days of standing on a dock on the Detroit River in the blazing sun. It was supposed to be a perk filled weekend spent shaking hands and chatting with old boat racing buddies at the APBA Gold Cup Regatta for Unlimited Hydroplanes but it didn't exactly turn out that way.

For over twenty years I chaired the launch committee for this race and two years ago I retired, leaving these chores in the extremely capable hands of the experienced launch crew. But this year attrition had taken it's toll and they found themselves a little short handed.

A tap on the shoulder and I turned around. An official handed me a radio and a headset and said, "You're officially un-retired. Go to work."

I was somewhat concerned because I had a guest with me, an adventurous lady who had been to the Iditarod but had never been to a hydroplane race. I would have to leave her alone to deal with the barely controlled mayhem of the hot pits. I was worried but she did fine; even managed to take a few photos.

Within a few hours it was as if I'd never left the old launch gang. We were wise-cracking and harassing one another as the launch went on flawlessly.

The only anxious moments of the weekend came when Mike Allen had a blow-over accident in the Team Formula U-1 boat. The former Miss Budweiser was extensively damaged but Mike escaped with very minor injuries.

2007-07-08T13:28:00.000-04:00

The H.O.G. rally is behind us and it's safe to say that a good time was had by all. The weather remained sunny and very warm throughout the weekend. As always the Saturday dinner provided by our H.O.G. chapter was excellent; prime rib and baked potatoes accompanied by a salad and choice of veggies and topped off with a delcious slice of cake, Nobody went away hungry. The evening entertainment was top notch and the ice cream cones were huge.

After a couple day's rest I'll be headed off to the Gold Cup Regatta for Unlimited Hydroplanes (Think, Miss Budweiser) on the Detroit River. About six years ago, after a thirty year career, I retired from owning and driving the automotive powered version of these circle racers. And two years ago I stepped down after more than twenty years of chairing the launch committee and serving on the board for the big race in Detroit.
Last year I had the honor of being inducted into the "Detroit River Racing Legends," and now I qualify for all of those perks that they give the old timers. It begins with a luncheon at Sindbads riverfront restaurant honoring the late George Simon, one of the pioneers of powerboat racing and owner of the hometown favorite Gold Cup winner, "The U2, Miss U.S."
Then on Sunday us "Legends" will be part of the opening ceremonies for the championship heats of racing. Don't have a clue what that will consist of but I'll be smiling.

July

2007-07-03T08:58:00.000-04:00

July will be the busiest month of the year for me. It starts with the Michigan H.O.G. Rally on July 6,7,8 and is followed up by the APBA Gold Cup Regatta for Unlimited Hydroplanes on the Detroit River on July 13,14,15. Then on July 22, I will be going to the Michigan International Speedway for a three lap ride in a real NASCAR car at racing speeds. The month winds up on July 28,29 with my home (Shiawassee, Michigan) H.O.G. chapter's "Mystery Ride," our biggest event of the season.

I think I'll sleep through August.

The first event, The Michigan Harley Dealers Association and Harley Owners Group Annual Rally will be held at the Ionia, Michigan County Fairgrounds and will probably attract around four thousand motorcycles. It's an activity filled weekend geared toward family fun. There are vendors, demonstrations, seminars, displays, fireworks, entertainment (The Guess Who), and there's even a clergyman on duty at the fairgrounds wedding chapel if you'd like to get married. The weekend is capped off with a ride to an MDA camp where some of our members with sidecars attached to their bikes give rides to the kids.

Summertime

2007-06-30T09:53:00.000-04:00

Well, it's summer and that usually means that I'll be spending less time at the keyboard and more time in the saddle. And then there's Lake Huron always tempting me just outside my front window.

Actually I'm not entirely at a standstill on the writing front. Right now I'm waiting for an answer from a literary agent to see if she's willing to represent my latest effort, The First Domino. This book takes one of my detectives all the way to Florence, Italy in pursuit of a cop-killer. It's a great story and I'm hoping it will be picked up by one of the major New York publishers. I've got three more stories under construction at the moment and they're begging to be finished.

GenreCon

2007-05-10T18:37:00.000-04:00

On Saturday May 12, 2007 the Sarnia branch of the Lambton County library will be presenting GenreCon, their annual writer and fan conference.

Things will kick off around 1o:00AM with Science Fiction writer and guest of honor Robert J. Sawyer. At noon the discussion panels will begin and run until about 5:00PM. Then we all generally head for one of the beautiful riverfront restaurants for some food and refreshment.

It's a relaxed little conference chocked full of great information and insight into the world of publishing. And it's FREE

See you there.

124 Christina St South
Sarnia, Ontario

Check out their website...
http://www.lclmg.org/lclmg/YourLibrary/GenreCon/tabid/241/Default.aspx

Long time, no see

2007-05-01T12:10:00.000-04:00

Wow! Have I ever been lax about keeping this thing up to date. I apologize.

Since the last time I was here I enjoyed a wonderful evening with some nice folks in West Branch, Michigan. We chatted for about an hour and I (hopefully) answered a few questions that people had regarding the publishing business. The great Pizza at "G's" restaurant was a bonus.

This past weekend I volunteered to help out the Shiawassee Sports Center, my favorite Harley-Davidson dealer by escorting demonstration rides during their annual "demo-days" weekend. Friday was sort of a washout with an all day drizzle but Saturday and Sunday were sunny and warm providing some great riding weather for anyone who wanted to try out the latest Milwaukee Iron.

Wednesday, May 2 begins the Shiawassee H.O.G. (Harley Owner's Group) summer riding season with a kick-off dinner ride. Yeeehahh!!!!

West Branch

2007-03-28T13:14:00.000-04:00

I'm going to have the opportunity to meet some of the fine people in the West Branch, Michigan area.

On April 18th at 6:30PM I'll be at "G's" Pizzeria at 200 W. Houghton Ave. in West Branch to chat about my work and answer a few questions from anyone who happens to be curious.

I especially enjoy these types of events because it gives me a chance to get close to the people in a relaxed and informal setting.

Can anyone help?

2007-03-15T09:52:00.000-04:00

From time to time I monitor the traffic visiting my website at www.theunrealmccoy.com and noticed a significant spike in visitors starting on March 5, of this year. The surge lasted a few days and has now begun to taper off. If any of you who pop in here occasionally were among that crowd checking out my website, how about letting me in on what it was that prompted you to stop by.

Change of pace

2007-02-19T08:47:00.000-05:00

I thought I'd try moving to a new theme for a while and see if anybody has any comments. I want to tell you about an experience that I had on eBay.

I've been a member of eBay for quite a while, doing a fair amount of both buying and selling. I had always been proud of the fact that the comments in my feedback file were 100% positive.

And then one day I entered as bid on a shirt that I wanted. The auction ended about a week later with no other bids and so an invoice for the item popped up in my email. I followed the prompts in the email and paid for the shirt using my online PayPal account.

After about ten days with no response I sent a note to the seller asking if everything was okay. The woman (seller) answered that she had refunded my money because I did not include enough to cover the shipping. I checked my invoice and it said that I owed $2.00 for shipping and that's what I had paid. When I inquired the woman said that eBay had listed the wrong amount for shipping and that the actual cost was $7.00. I discovered that she had made that change the day AFTER I had placed my bid.

I wrote to eBay and asked what I should do and they told me that the seller had violated eBay policy by altering financial information after the bidding had begun therefore I was not required to complete the transaction.

Then I sent another letter to the seller explaining eBay's position and offering a compromise on the shipping cost if she wished to continue the sale. She replied in such a hostile and accusatory fashion that I decided to back out of the deal.

Then she left a highly inflammatory negative comment on my eBay feedback record.

I once again contacted eBay and they basically told me not to bother them; that negative feedback could be left by anybody with whom I had completed a transaction. I tried to tell them that it was eBay who gave me permission to withdraw from the deal but they kept responding with the same form letter.

I then demanded to speak with a supervisor and the response was just the same form letter... at least ten times.

Conferences

2007-02-08T09:37:00.000-05:00

I usually try to attend at least four or five writer's conferences every year.
From mid 2006 to the early part of 2007 I was struggling with some health problems and the treatment schedule interfered with my conference activity. Now that I have a green light I intend to resume my conference activity beginning with "GenreCon" in Sarnia, Ontario in early May.
Each conference seems to offer something different but they're all valuable for their own purposes. These conferences all seem to have enticing titles.
"Sleuthfest," in south Florida is very much a "writer's" conference with intense seminars on techniques, plot evolution, character development, and so on.
In the fall, "Magna cum Murder," sponsored by Ball State University in Muncie, Indiana appeals to both writers and fans. Its party atmosphere doesn't interfere with its business mission though. It's a wonderful, fun, and informative conference. It often occurs on Halloween weekend.
"Love is Murder," is always the first weekend in Chicago and has recently combined with another Chicago standard, "Of Dark and Stormy Nights" to make it an extremely powerful event. A signature of this conference is their increasingly popular "pitch" sessions where authors can sign up for one-on-one interviews with publishers, editors, or literary agents to pitch their next project. Many writers score huge successes because of these sessions.
There are many other conferences available throughout the country like "Mayhem in the Midlands," "Left Coast Crime," and the biggest of them all, "Bouchercon."
Each conference has its own personality and addresses its own piece of the business of writing but they all share the common immeasurable benefit of networking, rubbing elbows or schmoozing with established and successful authors. The writing community is very friendly and extremely supportive, making conferences one of the most valuable tools in the fledgling authors warchest.

Merry Christmas

2006-12-26T18:34:00.000-05:00

It's my blog and I can say Merry Christmas if I want to!

I had a fun time over at "Way Station" books last Thursday. I was there pretty much all day with a short break in the afternoon for a quick bowl of chili. I had the chance to meet a lot of the fine people from the Lansing area and sold a few books along the way.

My next public activity hasn't been firmed up yet but it looks like another group signing in the Lansing area. I'm working on trying to set up a signing at the Barnes & Noble in Flint as well. And then there's my "International" appearance at the Lambton County Library in Sarnia, Ontario coming up in early April.

Right now it's time to think about getting the motorcycle ready for the next riding season. I hope to do some engine upgrading over the winter. My bike is a 2004 Harley ElectraGlide Ultra-Classic and it has a shade over 80,000 miles on it. I was lucky enough to win the high mileage award in my HOG chapter with just a whisper over 26,000 miles.

A fun time in Bad Axe

2006-12-15T10:07:00.000-05:00

Last night I had a wonderful time with the friendly people of Bad Axe, Michigan. We met at the Bad Axe public library for some cookies, coffee, and a little book talk. I even ran into an old friend who I haven't seen in decades.

I really enjoy these intimate get-togethers and view them as an opportunity to become acquainted with my neighbors and to join the community. I must say that I was impressed with all of the thoughtful comments and introspective questions.

All I can say is thank you Bad Axe for your hospitality and friendship.

Christmas gift suggestions

2006-12-04T16:25:00.000-05:00

One of the things that authors learn early on is that success doesn't come easy. Just writing a dynamite book isn't nearly enough. Most publishers, even the big ones rely on the author to promote and market their books. For many writers the challenge of publicizing their work is far more intimidating than the actual writing of the book. It's like being in two businesses at once. The writer needs to be a determined and dedicated wordsmith, carefully crafting a compelling story and once the work is finished he must become a huckster and salesman. I call it phase one and phase two.

I know a number of extremely talented authors who admit to being absolutely terrified at the prospect of facing an audience to talk about their books. They do it anyway because the only way to get the word out on a personal level is through presentations and appearances.

Maybe I had a bit of an advantage in this area because in my pre-author life I was required to conduct weekly meetings with employe groups. Perhaps that's what helped me conquer stagefright.

Now that Christmas season is here I'm trying to pack in a couple of appearances in December. Books make great Christmas gifts. Maybe a personally autographed copy of a mystery novel is just the thing for that, hard to buy for Uncle Mort or maybe even the boss. It's cheap, easy, and not too personal.

I'll be appearing at the Bad Axe Public library in Bad Axe, MI at 7:00PM on December 14th and on December 21st I'll be at Way Station Books & Stuff, 223 South Washington Square in Lansing, MI. My hours there will be 11:00AM - 2:00PM and 5:00PM - 7:00PM.

Upcoming presentation

2006-11-14T13:29:00.000-05:00

For anyone in the thumb area of Michigan I will be giving a presentation and answering questions at the Bad Axe Public Library at 7:00PM on Thursday December 14, 2006. I'll have a few books on hand if someone should want one... Be happy to sign 'em too.

I love doing these local events because it gives me a chance to meet the community and let them know what I'm all about. I don't usually show up with a prepared speech. I like to get a little feel for what the audience wants to hear about and then bend things in that direction. Most times it seems to work out with very little stuttering and I promise not to end every sentence with the words, "Ya know."

It would be great to see you there.

Myshelf.com

2006-10-24T19:46:00.000-04:00

I review mystery novels for a literary website known as www.myshelf.com I was invited to join the group about two years ago when they were just blossoming. It's been fun to be part of the maturing process.

When I first signed on I was reviewing mostly first time authors from small publishing houses but the site has grown and they now have numerous requests from many of the heavyweights. The next three authors on my review list are Elmore Leonard, Walter Mosely, and Michael Connely. I like to reserve a few spots a year, however for the undiscovered superstar of tomorrow.

Booked for Lunch

2006-10-12T07:08:00.000-04:00

I had a terrific time as the presenter at the Bay City YWCA "Booked for Lunch" series last Friday. Bay3TV was there to film the whole hour and I understand that it will be aired on their community TV channel for five days beginning today October 12.

I'll be doing another event at the Alice and Jack Wirt public library, 500 Center Ave. in Bay City, Michigan on Saturday October 14 from 10:00AM to 4:00PM. I'll be there along with 24 other writers as part of the Bay County Library's "Author Day" experience. If you're in the neighborhood, stop in and say hi.

2006-10-05T11:08:00.000-04:00

Greetings... I'm new to blogging and just learning my way. I'm a writer with a couple of mystery novels published and at least four more on the way. The two books currently available are The Unreal McCoy and Turn Left at September. My interests extend far beyond the keyboard though. I have a passion for Harleys and I'm a serious rider. I hope to hear from you.

2006-09-30T18:51:00.000-04:00

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