16 Days and Counting!

Good morning fellow Bloggers and Fans!  The week is starting out on a high note.  Grabbed another sale over the weekend for THE SAVANNAH SYNDROME(TSS).  This is another sale by a word of mouth recommendation.  Got my blog stats for my first month of blogging for both this site and my personal one over at jzimmerman324.weebly.com and I'm getting some pretty big numbers.  It would be amazing if all those page views were to each buy a copy of TSS, and I'd be off and running.  But instead, it's all up to the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award and where TSS goes in that competition.  All I need is for it to get through the second round and the book will sell itself!  The submission period has officially ended and over the weekend an optimistic thought came to me (and this is a rare occurrence lately).  I realized that my book did not have to be the most outstanding piece of literature ever written, because it is far from that.  As much as I admire Hemingway, I still cannot hold a flame to his talent.  But my book doesn't have to be that good.  It just has to be better then every other submission in the contest, this year.  So here's to a bunch of crappy self-published novels put together in 2012!  Here is page six of TSS.  Get your copy now while it's still cheap.  If it proves to be the best story of 2012, a major publisher will surely jack the price up!

Enjoy:

"coming hours.  But for now, the pick was just a pick, and held her hair nicely in place.

She grabbed her razor from the sink next to where she prepared herself each day and night, tucking it into her right pocket.  She stopped near the pile of dirty clothes and grabbed the pair of muddy sneakers that sat against the wall.  She slipped them on, lacing them tight and giving them a quick double knot to make sure the laces stayed in place.  She wished she could find a pair of combat boots somewhere, but she would need socks again and those would be as hard to come by as the boots.  Socks were the one item she wore through constantly.  The sneakers were much more comfortable then boots without socks.  Her last pair of boots had lasted her through three winters before they had begun to lose their function with the soles beginning to come apart.  Her sneakers were her final pair of foot protection.  She reminded herself she would have to go on a scavenger trip to the main island or the main land as she exited the bathroom.  The sun was out of view now, above the western edge of the brick overhead.  She figured it was close to 1630, maybe even nearing 1700.  She closed her eyes and breathed in the cooling air.  Her sneakers quietly trod on the dirty concrete, which had once been kept meticulously clean.  Now, after years of rain, mud, and the traffic of her feet and boots, the concrete walkway along the gorge wall had a soft carpet of dirt on it.  She reached the northeast corner and slipped around the tall brick protrusion and into the magazine room.

     The room was beginning to lose its natural lighting as the sun slipped further down the western sky.  Not that she needed it.  She could find her necessary barrels in the dark.  In fact, she had done it several times when she went fishing at night.  A narrow, but tall archway led into a tight room full of replica gun powder barrels.  The room was divided in two, with two sets of barrels lying end to end across the width and those four stacks running the length of the room.  On top of the first layer of barrels, reading “No Smith & Rand Co. Powder 1861” in white stencil on the black caps, sat a second" 

William Gordon's monument in Wright Square.
Gordon is the founder and former President of
Georgia's major railroad line, Central Railroad,
which still runs today.  He is also the grandfather,
of one Juliette Gordon Low, the founder of the
Girl Scouts.