I Must Be Getting Old; I’ve Already Lost My Mind

Windows Phone_20141025_002 Windows Phone_20141025_001

Okay, the title is a bit overdramatic. But yesterday morning I had pretty good evidence of the deterioration of my mental faculties, or at least my perception.

As my son left for work, his dog, Rocco, came to visit me, as he does every morning. It was that time for the daily routine. He wanted to go for a walk in the neighborhood so that he can do what dogs normally do on walks.

Rocco likes sniffing everything and everywhere. He leaves his scent as if a calling card or a territorial proclamation for other neighborhood pets. Then, finally arriving at that perfect place to drop0off a few pups, I turn away with some indifference and respect for his privacy even out in the open, plastic bag stretched over my hand to wait. Afterwards, I dutifully pick up the evidence of his business transaction, tie a neat knot in the bag and carry it back to the house to deposit in the trash can. Garbage pick up is every Monday and Thursday, so I stuff it inside garbage bag to ensure its odor does not become too overwhelming whenever anyone steps out into the garage.

Rocco enjoys going on walks mainly because at the conclusion I give him a treat. A spoonful of peanut butter has been his favorite of late, but really, anything from a dog biscuit to chicken or beef jerky would suffice. I enjoy the walks because it gets my blood circulating first thing in the morning, even if lately its been chillier than I prefer, and quite chilly for Florida.


Yesterday morning’s routine was interrupted with the alarm of not being able to locate my shoes. Walking the dog in house slippers is out of the questions and flip flops at this time of year would be ludicrous, even if I wore white socks to prevent my tootsies from being overly chilled. I had to find my leather dockers – what I always wear.for walking the dog. But as I scanned the floor beside my bed, they simply were not there.

Nudging Rocco to one side as he eagerly awaited, even whining with his growing urgency, I stood and scooted the bed back to see if somehow I might have kicked the shoes under the edge. Nope, not there. I got down on hands and knees – for a man going on 59 that is something of a minor accomplishment though not nearly as much as getting back up afterwards – and confirmed there was nothing under the bed buta couple of fairly large dust bunnies. Certainly the greedy shoe eating ogre departed long ago. That’s not to say that the closet gnome wasn’t busy, though, as behind my back, while I was looking elsewhere, he must have deposited my missing shoes, the ones he’d hidden from me, directly where I had initially looked – the exact place I always leave them, beside my bed. And then, quickly he climbed over the piles of dirty laundry awaiting Saturday, laundry day, and burrowed into the shadowy places of his mysterious realm.


Well, it was either that of Rocco hid my shoes. I doubt that because he was the one eager to go for a walk and the delay, though possibly amusing, would have only made matter worse. Of course, there is also the obvious, alternative conclusion that I am losing what is left of my mind or at least getting old and forgetful.

Both craziness and forgetfulness run deep in my gene pool. And, on top of everything else, I’m a writer. So, the first thing that popped into my mind was to blame a host of unlikely and improbably culprits, contriving all sorts of conspiracy theories and such,  instead of admitting the simple fact that there is a blind spot that all humans have and it is directly in front of our noses.

#humor #dogs #DailyRoutine #Rocco


The Wolfcat Chronicles Book Nine Submitted


Yesterday evening I completed the revision of The Woflcat Chronicles Book 9 and submitted it to my publisher.  For those of you who were beta readers for the draft of the manuscript, I changed a few things – most of them in keeping with the new ending I envision for Book 10.

I am taking a bit of a break now. I promised to read a friend’s book and review it, so for the next few days, aside from working, I’ll be plowing through a spy thriller. It’s not a genre I follow all that often but I have read a few of Tom Clancy’s books. I started reading it last night and, so far, the book is intriguing – always a good start.

For Book Ten, I expect the first half to three quarters of the story to remain pretty much to same. There are places to be and battles to fight that are necessary to the overall story arc of the series and resolution of the tenth book’s plot. The last few chapters will be extensively rewritten, though, and one of them scrapped, for the most part. This will allow the story to better align with other related stories contained in other books, publishing and unpublished, including Fried Windows. I’m excited to get started on reworking Book Ten  but I’m a little apprehensive as well. Beta readers were about 50/50 on whether they liked the original ending. Personally, I wasn’t happy with it. It accomplished some things I wanted but not all. My hope is that I will make it an ending worth reading ten books in order to reach.

One of the difficulties of writing a book with feedback from readers is that everyone finds a favorite character – even relatively minor ones – and wants something different to happen with them. Sometimes that is just not possible within the constraints of a story. Yeah, I know I’m writing a fantasy where everything is possible, at least from a  creator’s perspective, but it isn’t quite a wide open to the imagination as one might think. When a fantasy world is created, if it is to be believed on any level, there must be rules established, laws of nature, as it were, and those become restrictions. I believe I’ve been pretty agile and adept at circumventing expectations and conventions as I write The Wolfcat Chronicles. Expect the unexpected has been my motto. But, still, there are some things that must happen in order to conclude the series properly.

Someone once asked me which of the many characters introduced throughout the series is my favorite. That’s tough to answer. As I write a scene there is a star and, for the duration, he or she must be my favorite to whom I pay the most attention. Overall, of course Ela’na and Rotor are favorites. Of the supporting characters, though, I really enjoyed writing the scenes with Swip’ter and Shealu in the One Pack section of the series, especially when they first meet. In the first two books, which comprise the Spectre of Dammerwald section, I enjoyed Grem and to a lesser extent Slammer. In the concluding section, The Last Wolfcat, I enjoyed writing about Mang.

I expect to be back to working on The Wolfcat Chronicles sometime next week, probably by Wednesday. It should take most of February and perhaps longer to finish. I’m not sure at this point. It’s been a long time since I was last here in the story.



#TheWolfcatChronicles #FriedWindows #Revising #Writing #Publishing



Throwback Thursday – Aerosmith’s Toys In The Attic


Formed in Boston 1971, Aerosmith featured Joe Perry (lead guitar), Tom Hamilton (bass guitar), Steve Tyler (lead vocals and harmonica), Joey Kramer (drums) and Brad Whitford (guitar) – who replaced Ray Tabano. They rapidly grew a local following playing clubs. A year later they signed with Columbia Records and produced the self titled first album in 1973 which peaked at #166 on Billboard, featuring the minor hit Dream On (peaked at #59) along with Mama Kin and a cover of Walking the Dog which became crowd favorites during concerts.


In 1974, Get Your Wings was released and the band began to receive national airplay for their cover of an old Yardbird’s hit Train Kept A Rollin’ and Same Old Song and Dance. The album continued the band’s fusing blues with hard rock and also produce other favorites Lord of The Thighs, S.O.S. Too Bad and Seasons of Wither.


The 1975 release of Toys in the Attic (the title is a euphemism for being crazy) became the band’s international breakthrough behind the power of the hits Sweet Emotion and Walk This Way. Following on the album’s success Dream On was also re-released to peak at #6 to become their best charting single in the 70’s. Later, Walk This Way was covered by Run DMC in 1986 supported by a music video featuring Aerosmith’s Steve Tyler and Joe Perry playing the song on the other side of a wall that the Hip-hoppers break through, giving Aerosmith a broadened fan base that spanned genres.

Aerosmith is sometimes referred to as the bad boys from Boston and reputedly the greatest American Rock band, but despite the band’s popularity int he 70’s, it wasn’t until the band’s resurgence int he late 80’s. largely due to they crossover hits on the pop charts along with the awards won for the Walk This Way collaboration with DMC that catapulted the group into another level of stardom. They were indicted in the Rock’n’Roll Hall of Fame in 2001.

#70sMusic #Aerosmith #SteveTyler #JoePerry #RunDMC



Humpday Special – Excerpt: Fried Windows Chapter One

FINAL Final Fried Windows Front Cover Only

The following is an excerpt from Fried Windows (In A Light White Sauce), published May 2014 by Pandamoon Publishing. It is offered here as a sample of the story.

The book is currently available at Amazon in Kindle and paperback formats – http://www.amazon.com/Fried-Windows-Light-White-Sauce-ebook/dp/B00KM6MXI4/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

Copyright 2014 Elgon Williams All Rights Reserved

1 The Problem Delivery

Mrs. Fields’s twisted directions were just that— twisted. I couldn’t figure them out. There was a computer system to deliver, and the schedule was tight . There was nothing new about that. My frustration and sense of urgency rose as none of the directions on the paper made sense. The street names were real but how could reality be bent to fit these convoluted directions?

Three days before, Mrs. Fields popped in to the computer store where I worked looking for a computer system. There was no salesperson available to help her, so she went to the tech shop where I worked in the store and asked me. Fine. She said she needed delivery and set up, and since that would likely be me anyway, I figured I could take a little break from what I was doing.

She was a chunky, elderly lady about five-foot nothing with short cropped hair that sort of looked silver and sort of looked white depending on how the light hit it. At six-foot two, I towered over her.

After spending an hour showing her systems and asking her questions I determined she wasn’t at all savvy and mostly incapable of talking coherently. That became very clear when giving me directions to her house. She didn’t know her exact address.

“You can’t possibly miss it, dearie,” she assured me as she jotted down the directions. “It’s the only place out that way.”

So, I let it go. I thought I’d find the road she lived on and it would be the only house, just like she said.

After scrabbling with those directions for nearly an hour and still being lost, my options narrowed to one. Driving to an area that I thought was at least close, I looked for a letter carrier. One was parked at the side of the street, just before the edge of downtown, enjoying his lunch. I wished I had time to enjoy lunch. I had lost ten pounds in the two weeks of non-stop deliveries during a special promotion. Being built mostly like a scarecrow, it wasn’t like I had the weight to spare. Anyway, I apologized for interrupting the man’s lunch. Then, I asked for help deciphering the cryptic directions.

“Oh— oh, yes, Mrs. Fields,” he said. This was good; I was making headway. Apparently, he recognized not only the name, but also seemed to know the lady as well. I was sure I’d be receiving precise directions any moment now.

“Am I getting close at least?”

“No closer than you were to begin with. You see if you’re here, you’re still lost. I used to deliver mail to her,” he explained.

I listened patiently even though panic was starting to seep in. At least he knew where she lived, so I kept listening. The letter carrier fancied himself a storyteller, though, and finally, I had to interrupt him.

“I’m sorry, but I have a lot of things to do today. All I need is for you to point me in the right direction. What’s confusing is that she told me to drive to the edge of downtown and then up the hill. This is the only hill I know of. I mean, I’ve only lived here for a few years but I haven’t seen any other hills around, not in this part of Florida, anyway.”

“This is the only hill in town,” he confirmed.

“And the directions say, just before I reached the hilltop, make a U-turn and look for a street on the right. When I find it, turn left, not the first left but the second left, and take the more crooked road of the two.”

“Yes, and you drive straight down that road,” he said with a laugh. “She’s telling you exactly how she gets there, obviously. That’s how she drives.”

“Straight down a crooked road?”

“Yes, precisely,” he confirmed. “She gave you the right directions. The second road is crooked, but it is the most direct way to get to her house. I think that’s what she meant by ‘straight’.”

“Okay.” Glancing down at the directions, I tried for a little more clarity. “She says to look for a farmhouse where there is no barn. It has a large front door and a small front porch but no windows.”

“Yep, that’s her place. That’s it to a ‘T’.”

“She lives in a house with no windows?”

“Well, as I understand it, there was a tough season a while back. The crops were not up to expectations and money was hard to come by.”

“What does that have to do with why there are no windows in the house? Did she have to sell them?”

“No. According to her, she actually ate‘em.”

Did I misunderstand? “She ate the windows?”

“Fried‘em up and served them in a light white sauce,” he said and then laughed. “That’s what she told me, anyway.”

“That’s crazy!”

“Before you pass judgment, get to know Mrs. Fields. She’s a gem. She has a story to tell everyone and anyone, but the story she tells is always intended just for you.”

“I really don’t have the time to . . .”

“You should make the time, Brent,” he said, stealing my name with a brief glance at my name badge. “It’d be well worth the effort. Just have an open mind— a wide-open mind. She has a rare gift, but you really gotta wanna receive it.”

“And she eats windows?”

“Well, I don’t know that for a fact. It’s what she told me, though. Maybe she wanted to make me laugh. Her sense of humor is a little bizarre. Still, the fact remains that her house has no windows. Once you get to know her, none of that will bother you as much as it does now. Trust me on that. You’ll never look at the world in the same way.”

“If that’s intended as a sales pitch, it’s not working.”

“Hey, you make your own decisions, guy,” he said. “Do you think you can find it now?”

“I’ll give it a shot, I guess.” My confidence was at an all time low.

“When you feel like you’re lost you’re probably getting close. Drive until the glare of the afternoon sun is so bad that it blinds you. Pull over to the side of the road and look through the haze, and you’ll be there.”

“You’re as crazy as she is.” He laughed.

“Like you’re not?”

“Well, I have my doubts some times. Everyone does.”

“You think everyone’s crazy. In fact, mostly we are. We differ by degrees, I suppose. But this is truth, my friend. If you want to learn something different, you can’t keep looking in the same place and expect to find anything but what you already know. If you think about it, being crazy isn’t such a bad place to start when you need some novelty in your life.”

“I have enough trouble dealing with the things the way they are. I’m certain I don’t want to learn anything from a lady who eats windows and gives strange directions to her house.”

“Look, others don’t measure up to your expectations and they probably never will. But that’s okay because you don’t measure up to their standards either. So why judge anybody? Once you get past judging others, amazing things can happen,” he said with a wink.

“It doesn’t make sense.”

“Of course it doesn’t. Look, people like to think they’re being logical. And logic can be useful in understanding some things. But it can also restrict you from going places and finding what you’re looking for. That’s what I learned from Mrs. Fields.”

“You speak as if she was your teacher.”

“Mentor is a better word. Here’s the fact. I used to be frustrated. My job is important and I get that. People depend on the prompt delivery of their mail. But I was upset because I always wanted to be something else. Never in my wildest, youthful dreams did I think that when I grew-up, I’d fight in a strange foreign war that we couldn’t win, and afterwards, I’d end up delivering the mail in some sleepy little coastal town in Florida. I was going to be a police officer, a fire fighter, a cowboy, or one of the astronauts they shoot into space from the Cape— you know, a real hero, somebody others look up to. Then, after I connected with Mrs. Fields, I understood that everything I ever desired was still inside of me from when I was a kid. The little things I do everyday make me a hero to someone and that’s probably as good as it gets most of the time— at least on this side of reality. She told me that as I grew older, I misplaced some dreams. That’s all. They were still there. It’s just— other things got put in front of them. Priorities, you know? If your mind is open to all possibilities, you can find the dreams you lost. When you do, you’ll be forever young where it counts.” He tapped his index finger to his temple for emphasis.

Staring at him as much as he stared back at me, one of us was waiting for some sort of sign, I guess. But if he was waiting for me to get his point, that wasn’t about to happen. He saw me shrug, so he nodded, and turned the key to start his jeep. There was nothing else he needed to say to me. What did he really care if I understood or believed? If I found the house— fine. Otherwise, I’d just continue being as lost as I ever was.

After he pulled away, I watched him continuing on up the street to the base of the hill. I didn’t know exactly what to do. I got back in my delivery truck , pulled out onto the street, and took my best shot at following Mrs. Fields’s peculiar directions. I drove up the hill, and close to the top, I made a U-turn and came back downhill, looking for the street on the right. Then, I turned left on the second of two streets. At first, it appeared to be the straighter of the two, but when my choice proved to be a crooked road, I felt better about it. Maybe this was the right way. I imagined arriving soon, setting up the computer, and going on to my next delivery. My kids might see their father for once and receive some help with their homework.

The road meandered without any logic. The ground was tabletop flat, mostly free of obstruction, or contour. There was no apparent reason for the original planners to create such a crooked course. At one point, the road split into two lanes to avoid a stand of several towering palm trees around a large stone monument. Obviously, the monument had some significance to force the road builders to surround it.

Driving for a fairly long time without result, my confidence dwindled again. Could Mrs. Fields have forgotten to mention some key landmark or turn in her directions? She didn’t seem like she was all there after all. Had I driven past the house? Then, I wondered how anybody could not notice a house with no windows.

Maybe I should turn back. Exasperated, I pulled over to the side of the road and looked down at the paper with the warped directions. When I looked up from my clipboard, the glare from the afternoon sun struck my eyes. Shading them with my hand so I could see, inexplicably, there it was. Through the afternoon haze, directly ahead of where I pulled over to the side of the road, was a house surrounded by fields of tall grass gently swaying in the breeze. It had a massive front door and tiny porch but absolutely no windows.

My heart jumped. Tentatively, I opened the truck door, telling myself this didn’t make any sense. Why hadn’t I seen the house while driving? Seeing it now conjured up all sorts of intimidating and frightening possibilities and explanations. Most of those worried me.

Back to the matter at hand, I had to deliver a computer system and set it up in a house with no windows. That was all that mattered. I stepped out onto the pavement, crossed the road, and marched up to the front door. Already running way behind schedule, I intended to ring the bell, knock, yell, or use any other means available to communicate my presence. Having spent too much time finding the place, I was determined to wrap up this delivery as quickly as possible and be on my way to the next customer.


As I reached for the large brass doorknocker that adorned the front door, there was rustling in the bushes to my right. Distracted, I turned without bothering to knock. There before me on the ground below the lip of the porch a petite young lady was picking flowers. I walked to the edge of the porch where I got a better look at her. When she looked up at me with eyes that seemed to sparkle and change colors, her smile made me feel at ease.

For whatever reason, when I first noticed her, I thought she might be a child. But as she appeared to be in her late teens or early twenties with shoulder-length, auburn hair, fair skin with a few freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose, I decided she had a natural sort of cuteness the defied showing her age. She was pretty, not needing any cosmetic amendment. She wore loose fitting work clothes, a tee shirt that came down to mid thigh, and jeans that were rolled up to her knees. The overall effect made her look even thinner.

“Hello there,” I said. “I’m here to . . .”

“I know. And it’s wonderful to see you again,” she replied with her bright, perfect smile that dazzled me as much as her eyes.

“Again?” I asked.

“There should never be a first time for anything, so that there’ll never need to be a last, especially when saying hello . This time, you’re from that computer place, right?”

“Uh, yes, Digital World HQ.”

“That’s the one. Strawb asked me to wait here for your arrival. And so, while I was waiting here, I thought I’d tend to the flowerbeds and pick some fresh flowers to take inside the house. Aren’t they pretty?” She held up the bouquet she’d assembled. “Strawb’s waiting for you in the backyard.”

“Who is Strawb?”

“Mrs. Fields,” the young lady said with some impatience.

“You really have forgotten much,” she said as she hopped up onto the
porch, proving that my estimation of her height was actually generous, as she came up to about my chest.

She looked up into my eyes. “You know, of course, Mrs. Fields is not her real name. If you recall, that was what Johnny and Paul started calling her. She rather liked it, as well as the fine story behind the name, so it stuck,” she explained as if she really expected me to recall. “I hope you remember me, at least.”

Somehow, I didn’t want to disappoint her, but I had to confess as I shook my head, “I— don’t recall us having ever met.”

“It’s such a pity. We were always such famous friends. I’m Lucy,” she offered with her biggest smile yet, as her eyes reflected the blue of the sky and reminded me of gemstones twinkling in the light.

“Brent,” I gave her my name, as I pointed to my nametag. I accepted her delicate hand and we shook.

“Brent, among other names.” Lucy laughed. “Strawb said you were very nice to her at the store, but she warned me that you didn’t recognize her. That happens sometimes when we pretend too hard to be who we’re not.”

“I’m nice to everyone, I guess. I mean I try to be,” I said. “I try not to pretend.”

“It’s good you’re nice, but it’s a shame you don’t pretend. Why, pretending is the best way to play, I think.”

“I’m really sorry but I have no recollection of ever having met either of you, other than talking to Mrs. Fields in the store, of course.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll remember everything, eventually. It’s rare to my experience that anyone doesn’t remember once they are here and the confusion settles. The best times are always within reach, if you allow them to return. The way to see things most clearly is to close your eyes. But everyone is in such a hurry, and afraid to look away for even a moment because they think they might miss something, when all they might miss is more distractions.”

“Maybe you have a point, there.”

“Oh. I know I’m right about that.” Her eyes continued to invite me to explore their depths, probing me in the process as if she was waiting for a sudden flash of remembrance. Then she sighed. “Strawb said you took the time and patiently asked all the right questions. She felt comfortably confident that you recommended the right solution, even if you forgot about her— about us and all this,” she made a sweeping gesture with her arm. “That’s why she requested that you make the delivery personally. She was hoping to return your kindness with the gift of reconnection so that maybe we could help you, and you could help us in the process.”

“I’d be glad to help. But what is this reconnection?”

“With your past and your imagination, of course.”

“My past is forgettable and my imagination is just fine.”

“Maybe that’s the case. But I’ll bet you try too hard to ignore both. The past is as unavoidable as the future, and imagination is something that if you don’t use it you lose it.”

“Like a foreign language.”

“It’s nothing like a foreign language at all. If it seems to be, then that’s part of your problem.” She shook her head. “Try not to be difficult, please.”

“Look, it was a fluke that I was selling computers last Sunday. I usually don’t sell them. I just make deliveries and repair them when they break.”

“Well, we are all the more grateful for your efforts, then.”

“The store depends on repeat business, and referrals, of course. I try to satisfy every customer.”

“Then, you must be very successful.”

“We do okay.”

“What about you, personally?”

“I do okay, too.”

“If it’s just okay, then you aren’t properly rewarded for your efforts.”

“Do you know where Mrs. Fields wants the computer set up?” I was growing impatient and it was getting later by the moment.

“Where else would she want it? In the backyard.”

“The backyard?”

“It’s where everyone comes to play, now isn’t it? The computer is intended for the children, all of them, but especially Haim. So it needs to be there.”

“I strongly recommend against setting up a computer outdoors. It’s a highly complicated electronic device that will not appreciate getting wet when it rains.”

“Okay,” Lucy said. “Hmmm, well then, I suppose we’ll just have to make do without rain, at least where the computer is.”


“Come, I’ll show you the way,” Lucy said.

“Let me get the hand-truck and bring the computer with me. I’m on a tight schedule.”

“I’ll put these flowers in a vase and I’ll meet you back here.”

By the time I loaded up all the boxes containing the computer components, Lucy was waiting for me at the front corner of the house. As I walked toward her, she came to the edge of the road to meet me. She pointed the way to a tall shadow-box wood fence and an open gate at the side of the house that she’d left open for us.

Once inside, the fenced-in yard seemed an immense parcel of real estate. And yet, everything there appeared designed for amusement. A huge playground with two sandboxes, multiple swing sets with spiral slides, places to climb, benches to sit for resting, and tables for children to sit and eat snacks, or have lunch. Around the perimeter and outside the fence were several tall trees with their branches extended over the playground, though they didn’t appear to be giving much shade for the time of day. It reminded me more of a public park than the backyard of a residence.

“Are you in the daycare business?” I asked, making small talk as I carefully carted the boxes over the grass, holding one hand on the stack to keep them from sliding or falling off.

“Daycare? What is that?” Lucy asked.

“The amusements, they’re for children aren’t they?”

“Oh, those. Yes, this is a place for the young, but not necessarily just kids. Youth is an attitude as much as a perspective. Everyone who comes is youthful but not necessarily a child.”

“But it’s a playground, right?”

“We all play here, yes. Deep inside, everyone is a five-year-old or six tops. That’s the age we’re intended to be. Everything is marvelous and amusing to us then. Nothing about the world is boring. We discover and invent. We imagine and create. When we are five or six, we are connected to everything around us but also innocent and willing to discover everything about anything, aren’t we?”

“I guess so. I mean, sometimes I think about when I was a kid,” I admitted.

“Good, then you haven’t lost your way, you just need directions to get back on course.”

“About that, I almost didn’t find this place.”

“Until you did, and that’s all that matters. Now we’re here, together again. So, relax, be yourself, and be happy you made it back.” She twirled around as if inspired to dance.

“As attractive as that thought might be, we still live in the real world.”

“Well, if you like the real world, you can have it. It’s a choice you make. Here we choose not to be miserable.”

“I’m not miserable.” I leaned against the handle of the hand truck as I temporarily parked it at the back corner of the house, waiting for further directions.

“If you’re in the real world and say you’re not miserable, then you’re deceiving yourself,” Lucy said. “Anyone who is not here is lost.”

“Well, I’m not lost.”

“Because you’re here. You get bored with the outside world and want to escape its pressures, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s true of everyone.”

“Doesn’t that make you miserable?”

“Sometimes, I guess it does.”

“So, you see, you lie to yourself, saying you’re not miserable when really you are. You never lied to yourself before when you were here. You couldn’t because no one taught you how.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Why, the difference is everything, isn’t it?” Then she cleared her throat. “It’s everything and nothing, same as anything else. All you need to do is decide to be young and everything else follows from that. To be young is what it was like before you started acting old.”

Copyright 2014 Elgon Williams All Rights Reserved



#FriedWindows #Published #PandamoonPublishing #Writing #Excerpt #Sample



Excerpt From The Wolfcat Chronicles – Book One Chapter One



The following is an excerpt from Chapter One of Book One of The Wolfcat Chronicles manuscript. As it is not yet published and has yet to go through the editing processes, it is not a finished version of the story and may be subject to change. It is offered here as an example of what the story is about and an introduction to the fantasy world I began to create in May of 2000. The Wolfcat Chronicles is a ten book series in three master volumes and in total is over 3000 pages.

Scanned Image 2-1

1. Ela’na and Rotor

Ela’na woke at the dawning of the first sun. Already the first rays of the new c’eun crested the mountaintops and dimly lit the world outside of the caverns of Mt. Belkul. It was an enchanted morning, she already decided, freshly made and presented especially for her personal approval and perfectly suited for playing with her friends. For now, her formal education was finished. She could continue to enjoy her holiday along with her friends before official training began at the beginning of the next season in anticipation of their becoming adults.

Still warm and comfortable in the shadows of her cozy notch she stretched and yawned lingering in her bedding awaiting the return of Tharr, her father, from the night’s hunt. Sniffing for any scent of his approach, finding only the smells of other wolves, none of them hunters, she fell back resting on her side and extending the retractable cat-like claws scratching against the granite walls of her alcove.

Ela’na’s most urgent and important plans always involved the Pack’s other wolfcat pups. She cherished the time they spent together and the adventures they shared exploring the great forest, Dammerwald, relishing their mutual friendship. Each morning they planned to play, as was expected of second season pups. She didn’t remember whether it was her turn to play hunter or if, yet again, she would have to be the hunted. Whichever it was, she didn’t much care. Sharing fun times with all of her friends was what mattered.

When Ela’na got-up from bed of freshly gathered leaves and grass she recalled the story her father told her just before she fell asleep. She had fought to keep her eyes open but it proved impossible as Tharr needed to get to the hunt. He owed her the rest of that story and she couldn’t wait to hear it. Of course she’d heard about the tragic death of her ancestor, Eltath, but there were no stories or songs taught to pups about that.

It seemed that every time Tharr told her tales of the great wolves and wolfcats of the old, she got sleepy before she learned how everything turned out. Sometimes, when she fell asleep during the telling she wondered if her father bothered to continue telling the story past his noticing she had fallen asleep. Perhaps he did, for it seemed to her that every good story deserved to be told to its conclusion whether anyone heard it.

She loved nuzzling into her father’s side as he recounted his own stories as well as the legends of the Pack. To her Tharr’s deeds were as great as any of those of their important ancestors. Her father made history come to life even if it was only in her imagination. She fancied herself a great warrior princess who would become the Wolfcat like Eltath. After all, didn’t she have the same dark brown fur and a white star emblazoned on the breast. Everyone pointed that out. She had heard speculation that she might be Eltath reincarnate. To her that did not matter as much as the speculation about what her own future in the Pack would be.

The time she spent with her father before he went on the evening hunt was the best part of any c’eun. As lead hunter Tharr was a very important member of the Pack, but then he always had been. Previously he was a member of Old Tull’s private guard. She understood sharing him with the other wolves for everyone depended on his hunting skills, providing not only for her but also for the entire Pack.

Even though she was extremely proud of Tharr she missed him whenever she awakened in the evening and he was already out and about the Pack’s business. It never felt proper unless he told her a bedtime story before departing. And when she woke in the morning she knew he would be somewhere about. She might see him but only in passing. Understanding her father’s duty, often as not, her father was dealing with the needs of the Pack even when he was not hunting.

As she tidied up her part of her father’s quarters she hoped rain would not ruin her plans. If it did she knew Rotor, her hun, would insist on playing his silly little game of ‘pulling twigs’. Even though he had not invented it, he had learned it well enough to be its master. Only he ever won. Then again did it really matter who won? It was playing together with all her friends that mattered. That was all her life needed to be about.

If the suns were shining, they could play ‘hunter and hunted’ in the forest. She preferred to be the hunter, of course. Any young wolf or wolfcat would. In her lineage were Pack leaders and honored warriors, amongst them were some of the greatest hunters remembered in wolf lore. In past times males and female hunted side-by-side in search of prey and it was well known that the females were the finest hunters of all. But the mothers of pups had more important duties to raise their young and so, over time, the Pack had given males most of the responsibilities for feeding everyone.

Ela’na never mentioned her heritage to her playmates. The point was moot as every wolfcat shared many of the same ancestors. She treasured her friends too much to pretend she was better than them. Amongst the wolfcat pups at least everyone played together fairly, taking turns at leading their mock hunts.

In her mind her father was the best and bravest wolf that had ever lived. It was true that he could have easily been the Alpha Male had it not been for his lifelong devotion in service to Old Tull. In fact many wolves thought about challenging the venerable leader of the Pack but never followed through simply because of Tharr’s support and stalwart defense of the elderly Alpha.

Since Tharr had taken charge of the hunters they had never once failed the Pack in harvesting the bounty of the plains to the south of Dammerwald and for that reason there was little discontent with the present Pack leadership. Despite her pride in her father’s accomplishments Ela’na was still jealous of the time that he spent away from her.

In the quiet of the evening, when it was just the two of them, she sometimes fell asleep before telling him just how much she adored and idolized him. He might already know that he was like a god to her, but even so, she would always promise to remember to tell him the next time they were alone. Sometimes she did.

To wake with the rising of the first sun wanting food was nothing new, but now she forced herself to be more patient. She was becoming a lady. No longer did she mewl like a drooling first-season pup complaining if demands for instant gratification went unmet. Usually she waited with her friends and they ate together but for the past few c’eun she had been eating with the adults.

Her father taught her well. The youngest of the weaned pups always got the first right after Old Tull and the Wolfcat Mentha honored the achievement of the hunters and blessed the kill. She understood respect for tradition. The ceremony meant to honor the efforts of the hunters, so the leaders never did more than sink their fangs into a carcass or tear it open so that the very young that still bore their milk teeth might partake, acquiring the taste for the fruit of the hunt.

Soon enough the hunters would return to the commons at the base of the caverns beneath Mt. Belkul. Bearing the bounty they claimed from the fertile southern plains where most recently they had found the greatest success in their hunts, their arrival would signal her father’s return as well. She knew that as soon as Tharr reported to the Alpha Male and the Wolfcat, she might see him for a few moments.

This morning, Ela’na was up and about a little later than usual. As the first sun brightened the skies outside of the mouth of the caverns, she realized that the hunters were unusually late in their return. It worried her a little. Usually it meant the evening’s hunt was difficult. But being out at night on the plains was a dangerous endeavor and wolves had been known to die. For that reason her concern grew the longer her father was away from her. Who would care for her if anything ever happened to him?

She paced nervously, hoping nothing was wrong. She sniffed again for the first scent of her father, confident in her keen sense that she could detect the faintest hint. She trusted her natural gifts as every wolf and wolfcat must but her sense of smell was more finely honed as any other wolfcat her age with only one exception, her best friend of all, Rotor.

Even now she knew, for example, that her playmates were already awake and preparing to depart the caverns as soon as they had eaten a little something. She drew some small relief from hearing the off duty guards departing the caverns in anticipation of the hunters’ imminent return. They would help convey the carcasses of the kill to the caverns.

Stretching and yawning as she lingered just inside the threshold of her father’s quarters, she waited impatiently for Rotor, her faithful escort. Tharr did not want her to leave his quarters without his permission or a proper escort. It wouldn’t do well for Rotor to know she was waiting specifically for him, though. When she sensed Rotor’s approach, she would pretend to still be getting ready. It irritated Rotor, which was precisely why she did it.

Already Rotor was gaining quite a reputation. Although he was nearly the same age as she, he had grown well, albeit awkwardly, into his oversized paws. He was stronger and faster than any other pup their age. Because of his acute sense of smell, many a wolf had predicted that one c’eun he would lead the hunt. Some had speculated a greater destiny. Though among the pups of his birth season, he was often teased and taunted for being a rare, all-white wolfcat and for being unusual and awkward,

Ela’na knew from overhearing Tharr talking to his father, Ronin, that her best friend might begin official training for the hunt much earlier than normal. Rotor’s father was second in command of the hunters and, along with Tharr, was pushing for a waiver as it was otherwise considered inappropriate for a second season wolf to train as an adult.

Whatever the outcome, whenever the time came for Rotor’s training, she would miss playing with him. He alone amongst the young wolfcats was the greatest challenge to her. As the only male wolfcat of their season, Ela’na was positive he would one day lead the Pack. Even Tharr allowed for that possibility.

As was the case with all male wolfcats, Rotor’s traits were already favoring the lupine side of his heritage. Female wolfcats favored the feline. Ela’na found his wolf-like traits immensely attractive. But she also a little jealous that the other females shared her interest in him. First and foremost he seemed to acknowledge her, though. So, she did not care so much about the flirtatious overtures of others as long as his eyes were focused on her.

For her part, Ela’na liked the fact that sometimes she mostly resembled a cat. It was the clearest sign that he was descended from Druella, the revered Wolfcat Goddess. Some suggested that she might be her reincarnation, but Tharr always told her to discount such idle notions. He told her to always be Ela’na and never feel obligated to live anyone else’s fantasies but her own.

There were very few disadvantages to the cat heritage in her blood. She could climb trees with far greater ease than any ordinary wolf. Her agility embarrassed the common wolf pups of her season as sometimes they playfully tried to pursue her. Despite the wolf pups’ attempts to show some interest in her, she could usually avoid their silly little traps – that is, if she chose to.

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Finally her friend arrived. Rotor growled low with some authority, as was his way of expressing his displeasure with her for not being ready.

“What’s wrong?” She feigned innocence knowing full well without being told.

“Just once, it’d be nice to find you waiting for me. I know you’re just as hungry as me. And you’re as eager as the rest of us to go out and play.” He rested on his haunches to wait

She pretended to be busy tidying up Tharr’s quarters as she growled back. “Be patient, will you?” Amused at his taking offense, with her back turned to him she smiled. “Anyway, you are hardly ever on time and this c’eun is no different.”

He responded with a whimper that caused her to soften a bit.

“It’s nice of you to treat me so very special.” She added a flirtatious wink for emphasis as she turned toward him. “It makes me happy.”

“You’re the Princess of the Pack, like everyone says,” Rotor chided. And then he chuckled. “I figure I may as well worship you, too.”

“You make it sound like a chore.” She shook her head. “Anyway, it isn’t like anyone seriously believes that.”

“Well, I do.” Rotor replied, punctuating it with a return wink.

Ela’na licked his snout as she finally greeted him at the threshold, but then quickly looked around to make sure that no one saw the untoward display of affection that was inappropriate between pups so young.

Immediately she thought she had acquired the scent of Tharr’s return. Sniffing to confirm it before she darted out into the main corridor toward the cavern’s mouth she left Rotor behind as she ran out the main entrance to greet her father and the other hunters.

She no longer needed to wait for Rotor’s escort. Her father was home. Even so, Rotor followed her and stepped back as Tharr nodded acknowledgment in passing. Ela’na followed, insisting that he tell her all about the hunt. Rotor turned away as he wondered whether he would ever be truly important to her, enough that he might gain her undivided attention. He provided escort as a courtesy and she claimed to appreciate it, but as soon as anyone else was near, she completely ignored him. Of course he was jealous of the attention that others gave to her, but mainly he wanted as much consideration in return for the attention he paid.

Rotor followed behind Ela’na and her father down into the caverns where Mentha and Old Tull presided over the ceremonial blessing of the hunt. Even after the youngest pups had eaten, Ela’na and Rotor remained back, letting others of their season take their turns before them. They would eat along with the adults, something they hoped to signal to their elders their readiness to become adults as they neared the end of their second season as pups.

When the two young wolfcats had eaten their fill, Rotor again offered his services to escort Ela’na. She accepted but continued to probe the gathering of wolves in the commons for their friends. She saw them eating only moments before yet could no longer see them amongst the younger members of the Pack. So, side-by-side Ela’na and Rotor ascended the corridor to the threshold of the caverns, still looking for their friends.

As they reached the mouth, she darted off with blazing speed, almost instantly down the hill and through the town before Rotor could give pursuit. Already a good distance behind, he shook his head in amazement and followed at a more leisurely pace, observing where his best friend went as she headed toward the edge of the forest in quest of the other young wolfcats. She could win her silly personal rivalries for now, though it irritated him that at every opportunity she embarrassed him. He knew he could not only run faster but also sustain his speed for a much greater distance than Ela’na ever could. He had nothing to prove to anyone, especially her. What impressed him about her, though, was that instinctively she knew the precise location and relative proximity of their other wolfcat playmates. He envied her that and wondered if it was something only females of their species could do.

He should have anticipated that once she knew where the others were she would go directly toward them. He shared her motivation and was also happy to see the other wolfcats. Even if the morning was still very young, every moment of playtime was precious to all of them. All of them were more than ready to get started except that lately none of them were in the mood to play the same old games. And it was that lack of exuberance that bothered him. These were his lifelong friends. He suspected in some very real ways they might always be his only true friends. He never quite fit in with the wolf pups and generally preferred not playing with them. Now that the other wolfcats were disinterested in what he wanted to play and, at the moment, seemed to be ignoring him, all he had was Ela’na’s fickle attention.

He knew the others regarded him as devoted to her. That was obvious. Although he was fine with it, maybe that was why the others hardly paid anything but polite attention to him and only whenever it was absolutely necessary. Just as long as Ela’na acknowledged him, what did it matter whether the others knew he existed? What bothered him, though, was lately she was beginning to act more like the others.

Ela’na had just reached the others with Rotor trotting along a short distance behind taking his time so as to not seem too eager or let anyone see how much Ela’na’s indifference was annoying him. But as he drew closer he scented others. Pausing, sniffing the air to be certain, he stepped back, recognizing the scents he could associate with names. There were older wolf pups around and about, probably tracking Ela’na as if she were their prey. It wasn’t the first time he’d noticed them doing that. Irritated, he growled but only to himself, not knowing what he could do about it.

The wolf pups were at the edge of Dammerwald just past the ravine that formed the natural amphitheater that the Pack used for the largest assemblies and celebrations. Oblivious to the deception, Ela’na focused on the other wolfcats who were some distance ahead on the path that led deeper into the forest. The pranksters were drawing closer. Some of them were now concealed amongst the brambles and brush in the shadowy places downwind just as stalkers would do.

As she ran past them, the young wolves sprang out from all sides, startling her as they quickly and completely surrounded her. Taunting her, playfully attempting to impress her with their hunting skills, they acted in concert to attack their mock prey.

“Do you intend to eat me?” She sat back on her haunches, fluttered her eyes and teased them with as much sarcasm as she could manage.

They were wolves, only a single season older than she, but considered nearly adults as the completion of their pup training ended with their current season. Therefore, they were already accomplished in the art of deception and the hunt and almost ready to commence their final training before becoming full-fledged members of the Pack.

Obviously, at least some of them were good. They tracked a second season wolfcat that should have known better than to fall prey. Why they chose hunting her irritated almost as much as it amused her. She sensed they liked her, especially Scooter and Tekno. They were two wolves she had met personally and she considered both of them handsome. She’d mentioned it to Rotor, though her intention was mainly to annoy him more than to express any real interest in either of the young wolves.

She was just about ready to prove her agility in escaping them when abruptly, Rotor leapt from the shadows surprising all. Displaying his superior agility, he landed squarely in front of her, positioned directly between her and the would-be assailants. His hackles raised in anger, fangs bared as he circled, protecting her, demonstrating his intention to defend her to the death, even against a small pack of slightly older wolves. Snarling and snapping at any perceived advance or threat. The young wolves stood their ground though they were wary of Rotor’s sharp fangs.

“What is this?” Scooter laughed in an attempt to conceal his fright.

“It looks like a pup who’s finally tired of playing with the she-wolves,” Slammer jeered, daring one step forward.

“Either that or he’s lost,” Tekno said. “Why don’t you go back to playing with the lady wolfcats, Rotor? They’re just a little ways ahead.”

“I could direct you to them if you need help locating them,” Slammer added.

Rotor changed his focus to Slammer and growled low and deep, in the threatening way that only a male wolfcat could possibly muster.

“Oh, well now, am I supposed to be so-o-o-o afraid that I turn tail and run away?” Slammer laughed even though he took up a defensive posture just in case the threat was not a bluff. Although Slammer was a season older, Rotor was already grown to rival his size. He was a step quicker and he possessed the deadly retractable claws that made a wolfcat an adversary to be respected if not feared.

“Why are you messing with Ela’na?” Rotor challenged with determination in his deep voice, demanding an answer.

“Why don’t you go chase your tail?” Slammer responded, hearkening back to a time when Rotor was much younger.

“Better yet, do you still have that piece of cloth,” Tekno suggested. “Do you remember that, Slammer?”

“Yes, of course I do. Old Tull named him after that sound he was making going round and round trying to attack it. It was exactly the same sound he made whenever he was chasing his tail.”

“It was so-o-o-o cute,” Haplo said with a good deal of disdain for Rotor as he came up from behind in support of his friends.

“There will come a time that you will not be so eager to pick a fight with Rotor,” Ela’na warned, countering in support of her best friend.

“Well, well, so it’s Ela’na that speaks on behalf of her supposed protector,” Haplo mused as he stood beside Slammer.

“I think they’re sweet on each other.” Dire approached from the other side of his twin brother Slammer.

“Do you think so?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Scooter asked, rhetorically.

The brush behind the attackers rustled, calling everyone’s attention toward it as it parted and suddenly two adults emerged. “Well, well, well. What have we here?” One forceful voice asked.

“It’s just pups at play, Red,” Grem said, punctuating it with a laugh as he focused on Rotor.

“They’re not all that intelligent, if you ask me,” Red said. “I don’t like the odds. Let’s see. Six wolf pups against two wolfcat pups, how do you think that’s going to turn out, Grem?”

“There’ll be six very embarrassed wolf pups. That’s just a guess, though.” Grem chuckled, but then he directed to the wolves. “You pups are in way over your heads and more greatly outnumbered than you could possibly imagine. You go on home before any of you gets hurt.”

Slammer began to growl in challenge to Grem, but as the adult wolfcat turned on him Slammer thought better of it. Although Slammer was solidly built still, he was somewhat smaller than Grem yet almost Red’s size. Even though Slammer felt that he could maybe take Grem in a fair fight, there was always Red – the intangible. He would surely come to Grem’s aid. Despite Red’s size he had never been defeated in challenge, even against wolfcats. As one of the instructors in the art of defense, even if he was getting on in age, Red was well respected. Not even Damon, Old Tull’s great nephew and likely successor to the Alpha Male, would not think of challenging Red.

Nevertheless, when Slammer was a little more mature and had the fullness of growth, he promised himself he would remember this affront. That self-deception satisfied him for the time being as he stepped back, yielding to his elders.

“We were just playing,” Scooter offered an excuse.

“Well, go play somewhere else,” Red growled. “This Pack doesn’t attack its own.”

“C’mon, Scoots,” Haplo said. “Let’s go down to the river and swim.”

“Yeah,” Scooter concurred. “I could use a bath.”

“We know,” Jus’tin said in jest.

“You were reading my mind,” Dire agreed.

Slammer glared at Rotor for one last time before he turned away and joined the others. Most of the sextet sauntered off through the brush and trees toward the nearest of the three rivers that ran through Dammerwald. Only Tekno lingered for a moment. He grinned at Ela’na before he too turned to hurry off, catching up with the others.

When the young wolves were gone, Ela’na expressed her gratitude to Red and Grem.

“Anytime, little lady,” Red said adding the gesture of a polite bow.

“Not that your boyfriend here didn’t have the situation well in control.” Grem winked at Rotor.

“I’m not her boyfriend,” Rotor denied, but then he looked away, not wanting his eyes betray his little lie.

“We’re merely good friends,” Ela’na reinforced in confirmation. “Rotor always protects me.”

“As well he should,” Grem said as he laid a paw on Rotor’s shoulders. “I think that very soon you’ll be ready for official training. Even if it is a season earlier than normal, I don’t see why we can’t start some of that before your advanced studies in wolf lore begin, We’ve had our eyes on you for many roles that you may serve.”

“You have the necessary size and strength for the training,” Red concurred. “And your tutors have told us that other than Ela’na here you are were their best student. Your ability to acquire scent even at a great distance is already well known. So I don’t see why we shouldn’t give you a little physical training before your studies resume next season.”

“Will the High Council allow that?” Rotor asked.

“Well, they are a stubborn lot and overly cautious at times but there was ways around the rules.” Red replied. “And I’m sure your father wouldn’t want you to ignore your lessons, but what is the harm of taking advantage of the free time you have, and the weather while it is still warm. If that’s okay with you?”

“Sure,” Rotor agreed eagerly. “That would be great!”

“Good, then we’ll discuss it with your father and Old Tull,” Grem said. “I know Tharr and Ronin have proposed a waiver of some sort already.”

“Thank you. Thank you both.”

“Meet us tomorrow, first light of the first sun at the base of the clearing at the edge of the forest,” Red said. “Even if Old Tull says no, what would it hurt for a pup to learn a few things about self defense from a couple of trainers?”

Grem grinned and winked again, but this time Ela’na was the intended recipient. She returned a smile to Grem. She understood that her uncle intended to make certain that her best friend would become the great wolfcat that she desired him to be.

As Grem and Red continued on their way, Jade and Alina approached side-by-side down the trail with Saffron and Tweety only a little ways behind. Ela’na had wanted to start the morning off with a swim. It was a good way to remove scent prior to a game of ‘hunter and hunted’ so it tended to make the game a lot more interesting. But with the older, very rude wolves already at the river she did not think it was wise. They would just have to find other diversions to pass time.

Ela’na glanced at Rotor. She was concerned that he was still agitated over the confrontation with the older wolves and especially Slammer. That rage would need some time to dissipate. She understood that. Even so, she sensed it went far deeper than anyone else might suspect. It was an acknowledgment that regardless of how much they felt that they belonged to the Pack, as true wolfcats they were a distinct minority. Wolfcats were admired and respected as adults but it was very hard to be a pup growing up amongst wolves while constantly reminded of the differences.

“Are you okay?” she asked as she came over to where Rotor sat on his haunches.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” Eyes of concern met his and in that instant she felt the deeper bond between them. It frightened her a little as it might anyone as young as she, but she did not turn away.

“You don’t understand,” Rotor said.

“I think I do,” she said as she extended one of her claws and with his turned his chin upward so that he could no longer avoid her eyes. “Sometimes, I think it would be better if I was just another wolf. But I’m not, Rotor and neither are you. That’s why I need you to be my friend.”

“I’m already that,” he responded even as he continued to allow their eyes to connect but only then he looked away and stood on all fours.

Ela’na brushed against him in a provocative way as she passed by him.

“Are you coming?” she asked.

Almost instantly he darted past her and toward the others, meeting them a little ways down the path, leaving her to pursue him for once.

Copyright 2015 Elgon Williams – All Rights Reserved

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On A Personal Note

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It’s been a while since I devoted a blog post to what’s going on in my personal life. There’s a reason for that. Mostly, it’s no one’s business. Also my personal life tends to be boring from other people’s perspective, I think. I’m okay with that. It’s my life, not yours. Anyway, pretty much, I work. Whether it’s related to my writing, being a publicist or working in a retail store, it is what I doddering my waking hours. Working retail is and has always been from the outset a temporary thing for me, though. Although I like interacting with the public and find it a great change of pace when compared to the solitude of writing, foremost, I am an author.

Since late September I have been staying with my son. Those of you who have followed my blog for a while will recall that in pursuit of my writing career I adopted an austere lifestyle and have been fairly nomadic, at least within the state of Florida. I have stayed with relatives, mostly, though I did rent a room for a while with strangers who became friends. I’m okay with living this way, but again, it’s a temporary thing as my personal life passes through this period of transition.

The goal is to be a full time writer, not necessarily to become wealthy but it is necessary to become at least moderately famous in the process of selling books. I’ve been using my experience and expertise in marketing and business to assist other authors with publicity. I’m compensated for my efforts. Though it is certainly not enough to pay my bills, it contributes to the cause.


My usual day goes like this:

Wake up between 3AM and 5AM, depending on when I went to bed and what is on the new day’s agenda. I don’t often use an alarm as I am accustomed to waking early.

Search the Internet for news stories of interest. Post a few things on social media that may or may not be book related. Depending on the day of the week I may post to my blog as I am doing now, or post things to my publisher’s social media relating to the goings on in the author’s public lives.

Around 7 to 7:30AM have breakfast. Usually I eat cereal. It depends on what cereal was on ad recent as to which brand and what kind I eat. I like Honey Nut Cheerios and Raisin Bran but I have been known to eat Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Honey Bunches of Oats (various Flavors), Total (especially the raisin bran variety), Special K (nearly all flavors, Life, Oatmeal (various flavors). Usually I eat yogurt as well. I prefer blueberry and cherry Greek yogurt. Again the brand depends on what is on ad. I am not brand loyal as a rule. When I have them, I’ll also eat a couple of Halo Mandarin oranges.

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After breakfast I take my son’s dog, Rocco, for a walk. When I return I take a bike ride. Often this also coincides with going to the grocery store if I need to pick up something like almond milk, more yogurt, cereal, etc. When I return I write, revise or edit until around 2PM. Then it’s time to take Rocco for another walk. He reminds me of the time, trust me on that. Sometimes we go to the dog park, depending on the weather.

When we return from the afternoon walk, Rocco usually keeps me company while I resume writing, revising or editing. Around 5PM or so I feed him. He is always pushing for that from around 4PM on. He also whines for a treat from time to time. After he eats he returns to my room which is located in the front of the house where he maintains a vigil over the window watching for my son to return home. If my son runs late Rocco may take a nap on the floor in my room.

If I’m scheduled to work I set out on my bike about a hour or so before I am scheduled. It takes between 30 and 40 minutes to arrive, depending on headwinds. As I mentioned in a previous blog, riding a bike is always into he wind because the act of riding generate a headwind equal to the speed one travels. However, it seems that there is always a stronger headwind that I have to pedal into and it usually happens not he stretches of road that are slightly up-grade. Not sure how that works.

My work shifts vary. Sometimes I work in the morning but as my store has more business at night, usually I’m schedule in the afternoon or evening. On those days I arrange my other responsibilities and writing around work. If I’m not working I eat an evening meal. If I work, I eat whenever I get home.

I don’t watch TV per se. We don’t have Cable TV where I live but we have the Internet, of course. Otherwise, it would be difficult for me to post things, now wouldn’t it? I do follow a couple of TV shows via Hulu and sometimes watch other shows or movies with my son. Otherwise, I’m not a fan of TV. My set broke in 2007 and I never replaced it – and never really missed it.

News programming I avoid. I get my news from the Internet, various sources and I attempt to achieve some balance with those. So, I dare say I know what is going on in the world and perhaps have a better than average grasp on current events when compared with those  who watch network or watch one cable news channel. I have found that taking my news this way gives me the ability to select multiple points of view on news stories of interest to me. I also feel less stress in my life as I am not as subject to the biases of news organizations and their slanting of the news to incite public reaction.

If you think that doesn’t happen, stop watching news for a while – say a year or so. Read the news from he Internet. And then watch news channels elected at random along with network news. You will see each channels particular bias and also be very aware of the real story because, having read different sources for the same story, you have a more balanced and sometimes international perspective on events.

I write something everyday, regardless of what it is or how long. That is an absolute necessity for a writer. Also, I read a lot. There is a variety of course, from current events, social media posts, non-fiction (usually history or science) and fiction (whatever other author’s work I am reading at the time). I don’t have a lot of spare time and so I’m rarely bored. I chat with my publicist, Christine, from time to time, usually everyday. I also follow a couple of writers’ posts to the FanStory website.

I haven’t owned a car since 2010. I ride a bike nearly everywhere I go unless it is out of my immediate area (five mile radius of where I live) and then I arrange something with my son. I stay in touch with my daughters via text messages, private messages via Facebook and occasional phone calls. I also text or PM with my sister from time to time. At irregular intervals via Facebook I catch up with a few friends from school with whom I’ve reconnected and some fellow authors. I meet new people frequently whether in person or online. For an author that comes with the profession. I always enjoy hearing from people who have read my stories. It is important feedback because otherwise I’m not sure how well I write.

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#writing #author #lifestyle #routine



Update on The Wolfcat Chronicles Book 9


The revision for Book 9 of The Wolfcat Chronicles started yesterday – well, actually the previous night but I only did a couple of pages. So far, so good. I reviewed the first chapter twice and decided to flip chapter one and chapter two. Now the flow is better. I’ve made it to page 70 and, if things progress as well as they have thus far, I should finish the revisions this next week, which would put me a month ahead of schedule – sort of. It’s my schedule, anyway, and therefore, open to revision.

Yesterday, I also wrote a rough outline for a companion piece that would probably be released shortly after Book 8. There are some references to events mentioned in the companion piece appearing in Book 9. You see, the ideas and the plot are nothing new, just something that was never fleshed out in story form. The companion piece also leads into The Power of X just as the conclusion to that book leads into Book 10 of The Wolfcat Chronicles. However, reading The Power of X is not required prior to reading any of The Wolfcat Chronicles. In fact, it would likely be best to read The Wolfcat Chronicles before The Power of X. And since that book does not yet appear anywhere, potential problem averted – except for the couple of dozen beta readers who read The Power of X on Fan Story a couple of years ago.

Since some of the characters from One Over X appear in The Wolfcat Chronicles, I have been asked if it is advisable to read the first two books of One Over X. It’s not necessary unless you want to know where Andy Hunter, Terry Harper and Brent Woods come from. The event stream of One Over X is actually separate from  The Wolfcat Chronicles, due to the concept of concurrent time. Brent Woods also appears in Fried Windows, which technically takes place after The Wolfcat Chronicles.

Now that I’ve thoroughly confused everyone, let me make it clear. You do not have to read anything else to understand what is going on in The Wolfcat Chronicles. However, there is more background material forthcoming through other manuscripts that will be published int he future. That’s how you build a universe, one book at a time.

Now, back to work.

#revisions #TheWolfcatChronicles #FriedWindows #OneOverX #writing #publishing



Throwback Thursday – Jethro Tull’s – Aqualung


As much as I might like to say I was a fan of Jethro Tull from the band’s beginning, I had not heard of them before the hit song Living In The Past began receiving airplay. I dare say others who were my age were a lot like me. The band went through a number of changes in their musical style as well as personnel over the years, Ian Anderson (lead vocals, guitar and flute) being the only member involved in every iteration of the band.


Still, I wasn’t a fan of the group until, while visiting my sister at Wittenberg University, I accompanied her to a coffee house that was featuring a guitar toting folk singer. He played a cover of Cross-eyed Mary, a song that, at the time, I had never heard, and so I believed wrongly that it was an original composition. Afterward, I went up to the singer and complimented him, particularly on that song. He told me he loved doing Jethro Tull songs. And so, I knew I needed to do a little more research into the group’s musical library.

At least I knew the band’s name did not refer to any member of the group. That has always irked me when someone says of Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd or Jethro Tull, “Oh yeah, he’s good.” Anyway, I located the then recently released album containing the song Cross-eyed Mary and purchased it. What I discovered was that I liked the whole album, especially Locomotive Breath and Hymn 43.

Although the album is regarded as a concept album about the distinction between religion and God, Ian Anderson refused that label. In fact, in response to so many calling it a concept album, he wrong and record what he termed the ‘mother of all concept albums ‘Thick As A Brick’, an album which is essentially one song spanning both side of the LP record.


Aqualung was a different listening experience, from the musical style to the controversial views expressed in the lyrics – essentially saying that religion is not a necessary intermediary to have a personal relationship with the Divine aspect in nature. That might seem radical concept to a teen who had been brought up in a conservative Baptist household, except it was very close to what I personally believed.

The album also touched on other themes such a man’s inhumanity featured several characters portraying the human condition and what is commonly called the ‘rat race’.

Jethro Tull released a number of successful albums in the 70’s, several generated hit songs and received airplay as the band defined a unique niche in progressive rock that fused folk and blues with a harder edge rock. In its many different lineups the band received several gold and platinum album awards and even a surprise Grammy in the late 80’s that is often cited by purists as evidence of how out of touch the award had become. Jethro Tull beat out favorite Metallica for the best Heavy Metal album of the year. The band’s management advised members that they had no chance of winning the award and so they were not in attendance for the ceremony.

#70sMusic #JethroTull #IanAnderson #Aqualung #ThickAsABrick


Revisions Complete on The Wolfcat Chronicles Book 8


Judging from how the past few weeks have gone with revisions to The Wolfcat Chronicles, I’m not promising a finished by date for the upcoming Book 9 experience. It could come sooner than later, but realistically I believe the end of February might be an accurate target.

Book 8 has been revised and submitted. The first half or so went smoothly, but I slowed down toward the middle as there were several rewrites necessary for the book to function as a part of the series and lead up to the conclusion I plan for Book 10. I’m figuring Book 9 is more like the last half of Book 8 in terms of its need for rewrites. That will significantly slowdown the process. Also, I’m expecting Book 10 to be more of the same up to the point requiring a complete rewrite. The good news is there is plenty of time for me to accomplish that well before the release of the first book of the series.

I don’t have a timetable yet for the releases of the books. That will depend on when the books emerge from substantive editing. I’m hopeful that the first of the series will make it through the process quickly, but we will see once I’ve responded to sub-edits. Also , in the background I’ll be writing a supplementary piece that will fill in some of the details that happen outside of the point of view of The Wolfcat Chronicles. Several beta readers have requested that. I won’t know how long that piece will be until I begin writing it, but at this point I doubt it will be novel length.

For the past two weeks I have been squeezing in revisions between working my day job and functioning as a publicist. That’s been a challenge. I have not been able to read draft material my friends post on FanStory. So, I plan to do some catching up tomorrow before diving into Book 9.

Photo on 3-8-14 at 12.07 PM


#revising #writing #TheWolfcatChronicles



If The Government Really Wants to Help College Students…


As I am collecting the documents and such in anticipation of the annual filing of a tax return, I was reminded that some of income requires a 1099, since I made over $500 as an author and publicist. The reason that struck me as odd was not that I would owe taxes, but that the basement amount one can earn without filing taxes has not changed since I was a kid. years ago when I worked for my dad on his farm and he paid me a whole dollar an hour – same as he paid any of his hired hands – I asked him if I had to file income tax. He told me no, that I didn’t need to file since I only earned about $40 a week before overtime whenever it was hay baling season in the summer. At no time, as a kid, did I ever reach $500 income in a calendar year.


It just strikes me as odd, though, that some fifty years later that base amount of earning before being required to file has never changed. Obviously, the government wants to tax nearly everyone – or more accurately use everyone’s withholding taxes interest free for a calendar year (or more) before having to return the money – which is actually worth less than when you earned it because of inflation. So, the next time the government talks about paying your fair share, that is what they mean. The 1 or 2% of tho highest income earners do not pay taxes at anything like the same rates imposed on the middle class. That has been institutionalized into our taxation system. And those with illegal or under the table income don’t even contribute withholding taxes. The Federal bureaucracy is largely balanced not he backs of the working poor and the middle class, using withholding taxes in order to keep everything rolling along from one year to the next. They actually use the revenues generated from 2015 income withholding taxes to pay the 2014 tax refunds.


I figure that since my made $1 an hour inflation has increased tenfold – at least. As i now make a little less than $10 an hour working at a part time job alongside entry level workers, retired people and college students, I figure the job I now how would have paid $1 an hour back in the day. So, Im guessing that if everything were fairly adjusted, the $500 limit the IRS allows on income should probably have adjusted up to around $5000 by 2014. The reason it has not is, again, the governments desire to use your withholding tax revenue to keep things going. And that is because they do not require the top wage earners to actually pay their fair share.

So instead of offering free tuition for community colleges, perhaps a better idea would be to allow college students to keep they money that make up to $5000. Heck, the IRS doesn’t require any special paperwork for any cash transaction less than $10,000. So why not let everyone off the hook for up to $10,000? Again the reason is that the top 1 or 2% don’t pay their fair share.

So instead of bankrupting the government to pay for free college tuition, allow the students to save more of their money to pay for it. That makes sense. In order to do that, the tax code needs to be redone to assess taxes at the same rates paid by the middle class to everyone who makes more than $10,000  year.

Don’t expect that to happen anytime soon, though because it makes too much sense. The government is not in the business of making sense.

#Taxes #IncomeRates #FairShare #IRS #Withholding