Happy New Year! I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season. It’s that time of year again where everything is renewed and refreshed, reset for another push. Things that went unaccomplished last year can be accomplished this year. New resolutions, new frames of mind, new attitudes.
My wife and I had a lovely holiday spent with family and friends filled with good food and good times. Our beloved Buckeyes lost to Michigan State and were eliminated from the playoffs but they beat Michigan so all is right with the world. Our Browns blew it up again, I find myself doubting they will ever get it right. It’s like a cosmic joke, but no one here is laughing. It seems statistically impossible that they could screw up so completely in all the same ways so consistently. But they have made and art form of getting it wrong. There is some type of Karmic force at work here, and until the scales are balanced, I suppose they will continue to suck. Oh well. There’s always next year.
For those of you who follow the blog but not my Twitter feed, (you can follow @stevecarter1,) I have finished the first draft of GERM LINE: REVOLUTION and am working on the rewrite. YAY!
What?! you’re wondering. Yes… I did start this blog entry about a month and a half ago. Fun flies when you’re having time. To catch you up, I’ve been very busy at work. Clients want new commercials for the new year and that has kept me hopping, leaving little room for much else.
After I finished the first draft (I was so happy to just get it all down on ((digital)) paper) I needed a break. So I took a little time off and during my down time I wrote a couple of short stories. The two stories are actually entires in the Writer’s Digest Short Story Contest, you can get information about that here: Writer’s Digest Competitions. They are interesting in the fact that the stories are restricted to 1500 words. No more. So you must be very frugal with language, yet still tell a complete story. It’s quite a challenged. I did enjoy it very much though, and the experience reminded me how much I enjoyed writing short stories. If you’re interested in reading them you can check them out here: Short Stories or click on the link at the top of the page. I would love to get your feedback on them if you have a minute.
The first rewrite of GERM LINE: REVOLUTION is coming along. I have just started on chapter twelve. If I haven’t mentioned this before, there are twenty-seven chapters total, not including the prologue and epilogue. As of this writing, it comes in at just over 71,000 words (for those who care about word count). I imagine it will top out at around 80,000.
I got stuck on chapter eleven. I have a logic issue that I need to work out, and have addressed it somewhat, but I am not entirely satisfied. I decided to move on and address it later, hoping that something will come up in the rewriting process that will help me to solve the issue.
Regarding publishing, self-publishing, promotion, agent hunting and so forth, I have been completely overwhelmed by all the information that is out there. There are so many options. Too many, if you ask me. It is very difficult to settle on a direction. Eventually, once I finish the book, I’ll be forced to decide on which direction I'll take. Hopefully I’ll make wise choices. I’ve been promoting the book through this blog and on Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn, but real interest is probably limited to about fifty or sixty people. Perhaps that will grow once it’s published (God willing) but you never know. The reality is, that cannot and will not prevent me from completing and publishing the novel.
I believe I will also try to raise money for start-up, publishing and promotion costs through some type of crowd funding. There are very real costs associated with publishing a book, like hiring an editor and printing hard copies, even if it's only a few for family, friends and promotion. Taken as a whole, those costs are too hefty for me to handle alone. I know many authors publish on a shoestring budget with little to no money, but I really would like to give this book every possible advantage. Worst case scenario, I simply publish the ebook cheaply and see what happens, but before I do that I will attempt to raise funding.
If you haven’t read the prologue yet, you can check out the original here: GERM LINE: REVOLUTION Prologue
Below is the edited version, feel free to read them both if you would like to compare the two. Here is the edited version:
Prologue
Veronica Stark pulled her three-year-old Nissan into the garage of their modest Valley ranch home, and immediately tapped the remote hanging from her visor, closing the door behind her. The sonorous rumble of the rollers on their tracks was oddly assuring. As a cop's wife she knew the drill, "Be aware, look strong, stay in the light." She knew very well that she was supposed to close and lock the doors behind her, stay on the main roads, and shout "Fire" instead of "Help" if she ever got into a jam. She was also very aware that she had been drilled in these precautions out of love, and that they weren't simply lip-flap platitudes because bad things did happen to good people.
Veronica, (Ronnie to her friends,) was one of the good people. She recycled and lived as greenly as possible without seeming ridiculous to her friends and family. She also volunteered at the Lutheran Food Bank twice a week, helped out their neighbors whenever the need arose, and kept a kind word for almost everyone. Of course, as a bright and intelligent women, she was perfectly capable of telling some douchebag asshole to fuck off in thorough, explicit and colorful terms if he or she justly warranted the Viper Tongue.
Generally, most people liked her and liked being around her. Those who didn't were likely jealous of her easy manner and wholesome good looks. Her blue eyes sparkled warmth and humor, she kept an open mind, and she took excellent care of her body, working out every other day at the Bally's on Victory and running an average of thirty miles a week. On the superficial side, she paid top dollar to have her nails done once a week and had artificially highlighted hair. At thirty-two, she also had a superbly shaped, drum-tight ass she that was secretly proud of and that her husband adored, (sometimes caressing and speaking to it as though it were a separate entity, much to her outward annoyance but secret delight).
As a couple they didn't pull down a ton of money by L.A. standards, but that didn't matter because on most days they were happy. She worked part time at the library, (though her hours were dwindling as budget cuts took effect,) and her husband only made ninety grand a year before overtime as a detective second grade with the LAPD. Combined, they netted about a eighty thousand after taxes. It seemed like a lot when you said it out loud but in an area where the average home price was five hundred thousand dollars, the money didn't go all that far. They were constantly struggling to save for things like vacations and home improvements and, with a two thousand dollar a month mortgage and two car payments, they were lucky to put away a steady ten percent for retirement. But that was law.
On this particularly hot and sunny Valley day, the coolness of the garage was a welcome relief as she climbed from her Murano. Veronica didn't run the A/C very often in order to save gas, and today was no different. She had money on the brain as she locked the car door, the alarm chirping reassuringly.
She was so preoccupied that she barely registered the fact that, on the other side of the door separating the garage from the house, Samantha, their Border Collie, was barking like her tail was on fire. With so much on Veronica's mind it was merely itch at the back of her brain. Samantha was, however, quite insistent that Veronica hurry up, and finally got her point across.
"I'm coming, Sammy! Knock it off,” Veronica shouted.
She normally didn’t yell at her dog but she was nervous. She was also simultaneously excited, scared, thrilled, and filled with wonder because she had just received big news. Big News, capital B, capital N. She had peed on the stick the night before, (so she had some idea that it was coming,) but it wasn't until her doctor had read her the results of the blood test that it actually registered that they were going to have a baby.
They were going to be parents. They were. Finally. After ten years. She was still marveling at the idea of it. At this point it almost seemed ridiculous. She had met and married her husband fresh out of the academy, and they had tried to get pregnant from the moment they hit their honeymoon suite overlooking the cerulean blue waters of Maui. They had continued to try when they got home from their honeymoon, and every night after that, and sometimes during his lunch breaks. They had even sacrificed several mornings a week, forgoing the most important meal of the day, in pursuit of parenthood.
Both she and her husband were only children, and they had decided before taking their vows that they wanted a house full of kids. If not enough for an entire baseball team, at least enough for a solid infield. She knew in her heart that Adrian would be a great father, one of those super-dads who always said just the right thing, knew how to build tree houses, and showed up at all the important events whenever he could. The Job, with a capital J, was important to him, but family came first whenever possible.
As cop-wives went, she was one of the lucky ones. He didn't drink, (except modestly at parties,) came straight home after work and he left the stresses of the office at the office. Beyond all that, after a decade of marriage, they were still hopelessly in love.
After five years and no still bundle of joy, it had seemed as if Veronica and Adrian were destined to remain childless. They had discussed other options: adoption, surrogacy, foster care, but there always seemed to be some excuse for putting off the next step. After eight years they had stopped talking about it. After ten, they just forgot about it and went on with their lives.
But now…
She could not wait to break the news. She had resisted telling her husband, even after the stick had revealed the parallel pink lines, because she wanted to make certain there were no mistakes. Now, with her ducklings all in a row, she could plan the perfect evening. She had stopped at Ralph’s and purchased all the necessary ingredients for the perfect meal: chicken Marsala, garlic mashed potatoes and cinnamon sweet carrots, with a glass of Moscato for Adrian and sparkling water for her. He would wonder about the wine and inquire as to the occasion but she would deflect, then deliver the news over crème brûlée.
As she was raising the hatch to pull her groceries from the back of her car, the thought struck her that they would need to come up with the money to build out the nursery. They would probably have to dig into their savings, but wasn't that what it was there for—
Movement in the shadows where Adrian kept his golf clubs caused Veronica to drop her keys. They lay forgotten as the man stepped into the light.
Veronica knew this man from somewhere but couldn't quite place him. He obviously wasn't a neighbor and he didn't visit the library. He was wearing an orange jump suit, which was odd because only detainees in county lock-up usually wore the orange jump suits. She had seen young people wear them as fashion statements, but he was her age, maybe even a year or two older. He was Hispanic, with an oily, pockmarked complexion and two days worth of facial hair. She didn’t think he was just trying to be cool.
"You dropped something, mamacita." He slid around the car with cat-like grace, his eyes locked to hers predator to prey.
"What are you doing in here - my husband is a police officer, I think you'll want to be leaving now."
She wasn't scared, not yet exactly. She was mostly pissed. She had shit to do. She needed to get the groceries inside, start prepping for supper. She didn't have time for this.
"I know your husband, bitch. He that stupid mother-fucker think actions got no consequences.”
His tone was calm but his gaze was fiery. He closed the gap between them with two easy strides.
Phantom icy fingers squeezed her intestines as she fully realized who this man was. She had just watched him on television as he was being perp-walked into the station house by her husband. She and Adrian had seen the footage on the news while snuggled in bed two nights ago. According to Adrian, he was a shit-bag rapist who has escalated to a half dozen killings in the north valley. Adrian had hunted him down, taken him without a fight, and escorted him to jail where he belonged. His name was Victor Jorge Sanchez, and he was standing in her garage.
Veronica needed her keys. The garage remote was on the key chain. It didn't matter who he was, or why he was there, she just needed to get out. She needed to open the garage door and run as fast as she could, yelling, "Fire! Fire! Fire!"
Survival instinct took over. In a blink, without taking her eyes off of him, Veronica squatted and felt for her keys; they were just to the left of her searching hand.
He was on her in an instant, grabbing her ponytail. She forgot about the keys and stood straight up, her powerful thighs driving her compact body upward like pistons. She caught him under the chin with the top of her head, knocking him backward, forcing him to release her hair.
She bolted for the door to the kitchen, knowing it was locked, hoping she had forgotten, certain she hadn't. She gave the knob a desperate twist - it didn't budge.
On the other side of the door, Sammy was going nuts. A thought flitted through Veronica's mind, "He better not touch my dog!"
She bolted for the garage door, thinking, "Scoop up the keys--"
She heard them skitter across the concrete a beat after registering the impact on the toe of her Asics. They were now somewhere under the Murano, where they remained until forensics put them in a plastic bag nine hours later.
The garage door had an emergency switch, just in case you somehow got locked in the garage without the remote. Where was it? On the wall. Which side? There was also a quick-release handle. Veronica couldn't remember where that was either. Shit! She and Adrian had gone over all this when he had the new motor installed three years ago. They couldn't afford it, but when it had malfunctioned and closed on his Explorer, that had ended the discussion—
There! She grabbed it—
Her arms were suddenly wrenched backward, white-hot spears of pain shot through her shoulder sockets, causing her to cry out. She was swung around and slammed face first into the hatch door of the Nissan. Blood filled her mouth as her front tooth pierced her lip. She saw stars and darkness explored the edges of her consciousness.
Her left arm was twisted up behind her until she thought it would snap. She felt her shorts being ripped down to her ankles. She let loose an involuntary guttural grunt as she was entered from behind. Tears streamed down her face as she struggled, ineffectually, unable to find leverage. Her last thoughts were of her baby.
*
Detective Adrian Stark found his wife's body six and a half hours later lying by the rear tire of her car. Her shorts were around her ankles and her throat had been slashed. He didn't know at the time that she was carrying their only child. Even so, all he could do was sit beside her holding her hand, his body wracked with deep, gut wrenching sobs.
The next-door neighbor, who happened to be passing by with his Pekingese, was the one who called 911.
I hope you enjoyed it. Stay tuned. In an upcoming entry I will post the heart pounding first chapter.
As always, I welcome your questions and comments.
