The Mask at Ashley

It was the mask that called me to attention, halted my forward progress. So black and intricate, wrapped with exquisite precision around the head from front to back, a small equal splash of white at the edge on each side, the eyes lost somewhere in that amazingly seductive, majestic veil. The lines were crisp, the design mesmerizing as I stared up into the tree. Frozen.

We watched each other, at least I watched the mask. I sensed it watched me but I could not confirm eyes were behind that mask. It spied me with unflinching intensity; the svelte, sleek dirty yellow body positioned strategically about six feet above me. The high ground, a position of advantage.

Time felt stopped as we held our gaze, me, the mask, watching. Then came the small sequence of infinitesimal movements that precipitated the sudden bolt of action. The mask shifted its focus to my right, for just a second or two, low, apprehensively, anxiously then back to me. Testing, probing, exploring.

When I noticed the change in visual angulation of the mask, sensing the mask was watching something else besides me, I slowly reached for my pocket. The mask immediately perceived my movement, looked back to me from the previous focal point to my right, slightly in front of me, low to the ground. What was the mask so intently watching?

I refroze in place. We resumed our optical standoff. The mask looked on less intently now, perhaps a bit more relaxed and comfortable with the new normalcy of my presence, an acceptance of this new object of nature. To the mask, did I now appear to be as inanimate as the soil, rocks, branches and grass around me? Did my stillness invoke reassurance and safety?

The instant I felt our standoff had evolved into an understanding, the mask made its move. With grace and purpose and complete disregard for me, the mask darted from the tree to a small but sturdy and leafy stalk of vegetation slightly in front of me, to my right, about three feet tall.

Food. A meal. The standoff with the mask was all about food. Whatever was on that leafy, green sprig of summertime vegetation just off the gravel walkway was irresistible to the point where my presence would not detract the mask from snatching up that tasty little entomological morsel.

The black mask of the cedar waxwing lingered for just a second or two to secure his catch and off he went, his flight erratic, perhaps evasive, making his way to another tree further ahead closer to the water’s edge.

I never was able to retrieve the camera from my pocket in time to photograph this beguiling encounter with the mask but my memory will forever record yet another intriguing interaction with the natural world at the Ashley Reservoir!        

A Nod to Webmaster Kelly

I just want to thank Kelly for all the work she does on the blog. She is currently working on updating the Book Gallery page and has inserted placeholders for titles she doesn't yet have cover images for. We're having a scanner issue at the moment so several new titles are only in the gallery with place holders at this time.


If your cover art has changed (I am notorious for redesigning/revamping my covers- butterscotch receiving the latest updated cover-still awaiting a copy with new cover so it can be uploaded) and you want your new cover displayed in the gallery please send Kelly a quality image or get her a copy of your book to scan (returnable). We'd love to keep the book gallery up-to-date so viewers can see your work and link to your retail location and perhaps buy your book (-s).


Also, if there is any new info you want added to your bio on the Members page send it along to kellybuffumauthor@gmail.com


Great job, Kelly!

Doing Something Different

I have more or less been the Queen of self-publishing and, truthfully,a control freak, because I do not trust other people with my work...therefore, I have had to take a really deep breath here when making the decision to shop my one and only vampire novel to a publisher who is not me. I am working on the 4th print proof copy, making what I hope will be the final revisions and tweaks (after just over 2 years of laboring over this one) before sending off a cover letter with synopsis and author bio, and first three chapters.


Writing has always been my hobby. I've shared my stories with family and friends and few others. It was only two years ago, after so much arm twisting that it finally broke something stubborn and self-protective within me that I began "leaking" my accumulated work into public places.


I think the public aspect started with Blue Umbrella Books with Miss Peculiar's Haunting Tales Volume I and a Halloween-themed scavenger hunt in the store for Miss Peculiar's Curiosities. This led to an invitation to do Ghost Stories LIVE!...which I accepted (that first event was extremely nerve-wracking for me because I am not a public speaker, but I did thoroughly enjoy it once my reading was over and done with! I've since found it less traumatic to read in front of an audience and like coming up with new stories for the events because I've always liked a challenge.


I've made a few local author appearances, and people have now begun to recognize me...but more times than not I work all day, write all night, and miss a lot of opportunities to promote my books because of health issues and an essentially not very outgoing personality. I'm okay once I get to know someone, but I'm more of a thinker and doer than a talker and socializer.


But, I'm going to go out on a limb and pitch Out and see what happens. As they say, you won't know unless you try. I don't have nerves of steel, but after a smidge over two years, I have a relationship with the characters in this novel and feel an obligation not to fail them as their creator, so I am doing something different and not self-publishing this novel just yet.


If you want to read it, I can send it (to WhipCity Wordsmith members only as a beta read-message or email me if interested) as an attachment in its not quite up to my standards yet 4th incarnation. You probably heard me shouting in frustration when I began reading this proof copy this past Thursday night and found a little continuity issue in the very first chapter- it just took the rewording of one or two sentences to remedy, but it was like a chisel blow to my self-confidence just the same. Sometimes the littlest blows can open the largest cracks which in turn allows self doubt to invade a writer's psyche.


Sandy Sessler has the 3rd proof copy with all it's markings and yellow title. Green title (second proof) and red title (first proof) are practically unreadable with revisions, corrections, and tweaks, the green titled one especially!) The fourth cover is purple roses & title- which will be its final look if this all goes nowhere and I self-publish the book.


This all sounds both promising and grim- but the reality of being an author and writer is that there is often this duality of nature involved- the highs of having a project you love and have worked hard on and want to be successful with, and the lows of being consumed with self doubt, lack of self confidence, worries over the story not being as original and fresh as you hoped it would be, or not as good as you think it is...so, sometimes, I guess, you need to climb up to the highest platform and take the leap into what looks like a very small rectangle of water far below and hope for a decent score in the end.

I Hate it When...

I hate it when I'm halfway through writing a novel and another story DEMANDS my attention and then TOYS with me after I start writing it and it says, well, maybe it would be better this way, so I start again and it turns out it's not the same story at all, so where did THAT come from? Why does my brain jump track in the middle of something and then lead me on a merry romp on two different yet similar lines?

I am plodding (or should that be plotting) my way toward my next goal of 30 books self-published which is way excessive by anyone's standards except mine. The Fairlawn Investigation and The Victoria Wayfarer Investigation just got their final tweaking, and in the case of Fairlawn, another cover image change to avoid copyright infringement, and a credit and info for the photo used on the cover of Victoria Wayfarer after diligently tracking it down via several searches to make sure I was getting it right. There was no copyright info available, so the URL and info I found will have to suffice as photo credit. And then Out needed a final cover other than just black with the word Out in red- so deep purple roses now grace its cover with purple font on black. It's a vampire romance but it's also different in that while some horrific things occur in the book it's more about self discovery and tolerance than anything else.

I touched upon that theme, tolerance, in Black King Takes White Queen and Black Knight, White Rook- where vastly different witchcraft and magic practitioners had to set aside their differences and work together to defeat a truly evil black witch. The work Romney and Ivy started in Black King Takes White Queen continues in Black Knight, White Rook even as they deal with more evil doers who seek to tear them apart and destroy them. It is still about learning to live together and to respect one another's differences while finding unity in individual strengths.

So, while I sit at my kitchen table feeling guilty because the book Kelly wants me to write, The Lakeside Manor Investigation, (it will include several characters from her novel Parapsychology) simmers on the back burner while Archer Mills and Cherry Forbes allow me to tease out their true story from a hundred miles of knotted plot- I can't help but think that this was how my 2015 NaNo novel, Life Skills, started- with a binder full of short stories that explored Remy Bryce and Lissa Beresford's relationship- all of them scraped once NaNo rolled around and their real story emerged- which turned out to be a surprise even to me since I had no idea what the book was going to be about- I just wrote and wrote and wrote for 23 days (weekdays after work and more or less all day and into the night on weekends), then spent the rest of the month editing and revising the novel.

I suppose this happens to every writer- stories leap frogging over stories being written. It's like having a hundred young children all vying for your attention, but it's the quiet child in the corner you really ought to notice, that's the one who really has the best story to tell. Just getting to that child can be a struggle though...so, back to Archer and Cherry for now, while keeping an eye on that shadowy child holding her story close to the vest...one day I will reach her!

Predation on Alexander

The blur of black splashed across my peripheral vision. The squawking cries of the jay piqued my interest. They’re back, visiting the site of the atrocity, the scene of the crime, the marauders returning to the kill zone.

I live in what I consider a much gentrified, suburban section of Westfield where the manicured lawns are always green and plush from the incessant watering and the bushes and shrubs are meticulously trimmed and shaped. When I think of predation, images of wildebeests being mercilessly dragged to the ground by hungry lions or a zebra being ripped apart in a crocodile’s death roll immediately come to mind. Predation in Westfield? Oh yeah it happened, on Alexander!

Several weeks ago I got a text message from my wife that a bird brawl broke out in our front yard. Robins vs. Jays … not baseball, birds! The robins built a nest in the crab apple tree in our front yard. Awesome construction quality, very poor site selection … far too low in the branch, so low I could easily reach up and touch the nest standing directly beneath the bough. I sensed vulnerability.

The jays and robins were screaming at each other and my wife went outside to break up the fight. Robins defending their turf, protecting the little ones in the nest from what she perceived as the aggressive blue jays she speculated. After a brief respite however, the yelling and screaming started up again. Shriller tones, different intensity, and higher frequency of distress … the ravens had descended upon the tree, one in the tree above the nest, one at the nest’s edge. The young robins were hauled away like the flying monkeys scooping up Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. I am certain the ending for the baby robins was considerable different than that of the Dorothy and her little dog!

Relative peace returned to our modest property of just under one acre surrounded by fairly dense woods that provide the illusion of country isolation when the foliage is plush. Despite the harsh realities of life and death playing out in the front yard, a pair of robins successfully nested under our deck off the rear of the house. The deck stands about twelve feet off the group and the nest location was perfect. Several years before, robins nested in the same location and successfully produced multiple generations of hatchlings. I watched the family of four baby birds grow to the point where half of their little bodies protruded above the top of the nest. Fledging was very near! All was well. Until it wasn’t.

One evening the birds were fine. The next morning the nest was on its side on the ground and no birds could be found except for a portion of a wing on the top step on the deck. Something struck during the night. Body parts marked the site of more predation.

Several weeks passed and to my surprise the robins are at it again, this time in the cone shaped dwarf spruce just outside our front door. I am unsure if it is the same couple who suffered the raven attack earlier in the season. This looks and feels like a great location to raise a new brood of American robins but … do the ravens know?

The flash of peripheral black I experienced while I sat in my office overlooking the front yard was a raven revisiting the robin’s nest in the crab apple tree plundered earlier in the spring. Did they expect the nest to be refilled? Can they sense the presence of baby robins someplace in the yard?

I’m concerned. It seems predation has taken up residence on Alexander this summer!

First Mother/Daughter Author Appearance Booked

Back in April, Bob Plasse invited me to be on his radio program on a Tuesday morning along with author Melissa Volker. He accidentally double booked the date in June that we were going to appear as local authors, friends, and strong supporters of one another's work, as well as supporters of other local authors.


Since then some things have shifted in my life. Kelly has self-published two novels, becoming the new author in the house. And she and I have established this group for writers and authors here in Westfield that has its official kickoff rapidly approaching in September 2017.


Bob threw out some dates that he had openings available for. This morning , after he accepted my revised proposal that Kelly and I appear together on his show because we both write and we're spearheading this group, and both she and I have some books dealing with the paranormal and supernatural (I have two new paranormal books coming out later this month and she was kicking around the idea of a sequel to Parapsychology the other night), we settled on Tuesday, October 24th as the date of our joint appearance on his radio program.


It ought to be interesting as neither one of us is especially extroverted, but we're better when we're together than when we are not. I've known Bob since I worked behind the counter at Conner's Inc. (1996-2007), and we got reacquainted during Articulture in 2016.


I don't know if there are any other mother/daughter authors in Westfield, but with 29 novels and story collections between us, we're probably the most prolific (numbers 28 & 29 are being released simultaneously later this month, number 30 is in the print proof stage, and 31 is currently about half written). Anyone visiting the house would probably be overwhelmed by all the manuscripts lying around in file boxes and milk crates, not to mention the three file cabinets in the den...I know I feel that way at times! There are a few gaps here and there...but not enough yet!


Anyway- get up early on October 24th to catch us on Bob's radio program broadcast from my alma mater WSU (where Lindsay Stenico will be starting this fall!)

The Dinner

I am late to the party on this one but I finally read The Dinner. You can check out my review on Goodreads.

Oh how I wish publishers would stop with the comparisons to Gone Girl to market books. STOP IT! But you already knew my feelings on this marketing ploy.

This was a nice little read that at the onset felt like an emotional exploration of the limits of parental morals when their children commit unlawful acts until it blossomed into a study of creepy, sinister psychopathology. Psychosis + nipping at the margin of morality = trouble!

With one hundred more pages and the drop of the Gone Girl comps this could have been a really great story for me. But is was good ...three stars!