19 Days Left!

Happy Friday Bloggers and Fans!  We broke into the teens on the countdown to learn the first round results from Amazon's Breakthrough Novel Award for THE SAVANNAH SYNDROME (TSS)!  And we made it through the week, which means one more post tomorrow and we're off on Sunday!  Check back tomorrow for the Weekly Writer's Prompt from writersdigest.com, it's a doozy...  Check out my personal blog over at jzimmerman324.weebly.com to read the final two episodes of the short history of my life and what has led me to be a writer and, specifically, what led me to write TSS.  So here is page five from TSS, with prior pages being given in the previous blog posts.  Remember, for just $2.99 this wonderful story can be gracing your Kindle bookshelf and you can read it all at once!  To purchase your copy today, click here, otherwise, enjoy page five:

"undressed, flinging her previous days clothes in the growing pile near the door.  She brushed her hair and her teeth.  She had run out of toothpaste a few months ago but she still used the tooth brush to remove the feeling of plaque from her teeth.  She stared at the stranger before her.  She still refused to see herself as a “young woman,” some days she still felt like the ten-year old girl who had to learn to survive on her own when her mother never returned from that last trip to the city.  She no longer knew her age.  She had never worried about counting the days after she realized she was on her own.  She never really thought about it.  Each day was a blessing, a testament to her will to survive.  There were times when she felt isolated and lonely, but she had all her friends:  the trees, the grass, the sun, the wind, the walls of the fort, the bricks that would whisper their stories to her at night.  But she could not ignore the transformations that had overcome her body.  Her breasts had developed more than she ever thought they would on her diet, which consisted almost entirely of oysters, fish, berries, pecans and figs, and the occasional bird or squirrel.  She had long ago killed all the raccoons on the island.  She drank rain water for hydration.  That was it.  No dairy, no milk; which luckily she had drank plenty of those during the first half of her life so her bones developed somewhat strong.  She pulled the brown shirt over her shoulders and curves, down her thin waste.  The pants came up next and she noticed her legs were beginning to become stubbly again.  She still liked to keep her legs shaved, though the razor she used was pretty dull and it was a painful process.  She twisted her hair in a tight bun and secured it with a long metal pick.  It was sharp.  That was her last line of defense.  She hoped she would never have to use it, because she always feared the situation that would have to be unfolding for her to have to resort to that last desperate measure.  Her enemy would have to be practically on top of her for her to rely on that weapon.  She had subsequently forgotten about its effectiveness over the years of isolation.  That lack of discipline would cost her in the"

And yes, that was one long paragraph...

My favorite steeple in SAV, and the tower
the River Colony rings their alarm from, as
depicted in TSS.

20 Days and Counting!

Hello Bloggers and Fans!  I am already looking forward to tomorrow's post so I can put a number out of the twenties in the blog title!  Less than three weeks now and we will know the fate of THE SAVANNAH SYNDROME (TSS) in Amazon's Breakthrough Novel Award competition.  No word from the agent I queried about Vernan, the Vegan Vulture, but it's only been three days, so there is still hope.  With nothing else to report on this blog, I'll be continuing the brief history of my life at my personal blog, jzimmerman324.weebly.com.  So here is page four of TSS, followed by another picture of the great city of Savannah.  And remember, if you want to read all these pages together, just click here and, with a few easy steps, this wonderful story could be all yours!

"with a quick and filling morning supplement.  She had nicknamed the fig bush Esther, because within her roots held the secrets to save her people.  Of course, for Esther, the only person she had to worry about saving was the one who named her and loved her.

Good afternoon, Esther.

She kindly greeted the fig bush as she scouted a few ripened fruits that had fallen to the ground around the north side of the bush.

Hope you’re enjoying this cooler weather.

She picked up two figs and brushed them off on the cotton of her pants.

Thanks for breakfast.

She ate the first fig by the time she reached the restrooms in two bites.  The soft outer skin gave way to seedy meat, which grinded between her teeth.  She savored the mild, soft flavor of the figs.  In the first few seasons at the fort, the figs would painfully remind her of a time long ago, when she had first had a fig.  That one had been bought from a place called a grocery store, brought home in a little plastic container and kept in their refrigerator.  So her first memory of figs was of them being cold and refreshing.  It had been a challenge for her to push that memory aside, because with it came back all the memories of that forgotten life, of her parents, her beautiful mother and her loving father.  Those memories would bring great sadness upon her heart and darken her days.  But the fig tree gave her an easy source of energy each evening, so she forced herself to push those memories so far into her mind that she ate each fig without giving it a second thought, despite it being warm and no longer refreshing, but still filling.

     Leaving her clothes on the concrete walkway, with the second fig nestled on top; she made her way into the women’s restroom where she relieved herself in the third stall.  That one still had some toilet paper left.  There were still two stalls she had yet to occupy.  She moved from the women’s urine filled restroom to the better smelling men’s, grabbing her clothes and the second fig.  She ate the rest of her late lunch and"

From Kevin Barry's pub, upstairs in the Hall of Heroes,
keep talking smack N. Korea and expect a visit from these
fellows rather soon.

21 Days and Counting...

Hello Bloggers and fans.  Just three weeks away from learning if THE SAVANNAH SYNDROME (TSS) makes it through the initial round of Amazon's Breakthrough Novel Award contest and begins to gain more exposure.  No other news for the novel other than that.  Before I share page three of the book, and another picture of Savannah, I will use this blog to promote Fox's new show, The Following.  This is a new drama filling Fox's Monday night 9 pm slot.  I must say that the production value on this show is top notch.  Great acting, great cinematography, great sound, everything, but most importantly, great writing.  The pilot episode was gripping, and while somewhat predictable, I was left wanting so much more.  I will say that I do believe it is a little too violent for a network show in the 9 pm spot.  I was surprised Fox aired it with all the discussion about how television has become too violent and we are desensitizing our kids.  Of course, again, this is a show that parents need to be carefully monitoring their kids for, and keeping them away from watching it. A great show created to entertain adults.  Television has seen a surge in quality shows and writing, it was explored in great detail in the book The Revolution Was Televised.  Of course, with the soaring price of going to a movie and the high cost of cable, being able to sit at home and watch an entertaining show instead of shelling out extra money is the alluring draw to these better sitcoms and dramas.  So I highly recommend following The Following.  I am pretty sure I'll be referring to the show more to help make this blog a little more entertaining.  I guess I should confess the other shows that I regularly watch right now:  New Girl, The Mindy Project (only at the request of my girlfriend, but it is an okay show), Glee, Workaholics, South Park, The Daily Show, and The Colbert Report.  I know when I originally created the two blogs, this one and my personal blog, jzimmerman324.weebly.com, I said I would dedicate this one to only news surrounding the book and reviews of other books I read, but for now I'll share any forms of entertainment since they all involve great writers before can have great acting, great sets, great production, etc.  So now that we have that clarified, here is page three of TSS, page two can be found yesterday, and page one can be found a few days before.  Want to read all the pages together?  Well, then, just click here and purchase your copy of TSS today!  Until then, this is all you get....

"bastion.  She stopped just short of the southern door to grab a clean set of clothes.  Today she picked a pair of olive cargo pants from her stack of pants and a brown shirt from the stack of shirts.  She had cleaned her clothes last week so she still had a substantial set of pants and shirts.  There were no bright colors in either pile, mostly browns and greens.  With her set of clothes in hand she slipped her slender arm through the iron bars of the door.  Black paint, which had once been shiny and sleek, now sat chipped and scratched.  She easily unlocked her security measure and quickly unwrapped the heavy chain that lay twisted around the door and the corresponding wall as she did every morning.  She left the door open and the lock hanging in place.

She stepped from underneath the red bricked arches of the lower quarters and onto the warm tall grass of the parade ground.  It was indeed a beautiful day.  She could not see a cloud in the deep blue sky around her.  The wind was blowing at a sustained pace strong enough to bring her auburn hair to life and dance in the sunshine.  She ran her right hand through her shoulder length hair.  She kept it just long enough to wrap into a bun, less to brush and maintain.  She had to brush it at least twice a day to keep the salt, from the brackish waters she bathed in, from causing her hair to be matted and coarse.  The mouth of the Savannah River was not exactly her friend, unlike the three friends in front of her. 

     Two tall pecan trees stretched high above the upper tier of the fort.  Around their bases more pecans than she could ever eat sat on the shaded soil.  She had named those two Ruth and Beth.  The cool finger tips of fall rustled their leaves and they sang a sweet song toward her.  Those deep green leaves sang triumphantly, ready to enter the final stages of their short lives, ready to splash the canvas with a bold brown, before they fell heroically and heralded the coming winter.  She loved her tall pecan trees, but she absolutely adored their nearby neighbor.  Just south of them was her favorite staple:  figs.  The fruit from the fig bush did not have a great flavor, but they were enjoyable and, especially this summer, provided her"

Another shot of River Street, before the fall of the
free world, as depicted in TSS.

 

Beginning the countdown...

Happy Tuesday Bloggers and Fans!  Well, after yesterday's newsworthy post, I am left standing in a void of nothingness, having no news to add about THE SAVANNAH SYNDROME (TSS).  No crazy sale numbers, no surprise reviews left.  There's a growing number of customers who have bought the book, and have grown incredibly quiet, which I am not sure how to take.  I do realize a lot of people are busy, but if TSS is as good as I thought, and hope, it is, it would be engaging enough to draw people in and hold them hostage until they finish reading.  Because of this lack of exciting things to report on, I am beginning a countdown everyday from now until February 13, unless they release the results of the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award's first round sooner.  So as of today, we're 22 LONG days away from learning the fate of TSS, so expect that in each blog's title from here on out, unless something big happens.  I guess there is a little bit of news to report.  I shopped Vernan, the Vegan Vulture  to an agent who writersdigest.com listed as seeking new clients, but she's an agent who will respond only if she's interested, so I will put my faith in her response in the same countdown as the TSS's.  To fill the void I am going to share the second page of the story.  If you are looking for page one,  I believe I shared that three posts ago.  And remember to follow this author's blog over at jzimmerman324.weebly.com!  But here is page 2 and another pic of the beautiful city of Savannah:

above her, she would have spent the early evening gathering fresh rain water, filling up her spare plastic bottles, glass jars, and anything else she had on hand to collect the one supply she could never have enough of.  At the very least, if there had been rain, she would have been in the safety of her quarters and, perhaps, in a position to defend herself.

But none of those things happened as they could have, perhaps should have.  Instead, when she had awakened, it was the most breathtakingly beautiful day since the summer had chased away the coolness of spring.  And despite still having meat left over from her most recent kill, she had decided it was a good day to go to the river.

She rose from the bed, where years before, she had pushed two of the wooden bunks together and removed the outer boards to give herself a bigger sleeping area.  She used the queen mattress with a worn blue blanket from the Commanding Officer’s exhibit across the parade ground.  She had spent a few years sleeping in the Commanding Officer’s room, which still contained furniture from Colonel Brown’s wife:  a large wooden spinning wheel and a round wooden table complete with four wrought iron chairs.

     Those were her early days at the Fort.  She would eventually begin to distrust her safety of the open glass windows of the room.  Once she had acquired a pair of locks, with keys, of course, and a solid chain during one of her scavenging trips to the island called Tybee, she moved her sleeping quarters to the eastern side of Fort Pulaski and into the prison casemates.  There she felt safer locking herself behind the iron bars.  The prison area had two sets of doors.  She had found the locks still in their packages on a nearly empty convenient store shelf.  Luckily for her, during the Dividing War, the displaced citizens of Tybee Island had not seen the need for looting all the locks out of one of the shops called a Pharmacy.  Of course, she had taken the last two from the looted, lonely store.  She grabbed her set of keys, one marked with an ‘N’ and the other with an ‘S’ in worn permanent marker.  Her spare set was hidden in the southwest 

River Street, before the fall of society, as depicted in TSS.

Happy Martin Luther King, Jr. Day!

It is hard to find a salutation worthy of addressing an audience, no matter how small, on a day as momentous as today.  As the country remembers the words and passion of one man's dream, we see the swearing in of our President, a man of shared race, just 45 short years after the brutal slaying of that great man.  Indeed, the United States of America has made great strides in race relations in these last five decades.  In the 1960's, an African-American man would never think the dream of becoming the President of this great country would even be possible.  Sure, it was nice to vision, to stand upon a podium and preach out to a crowd of thousands, but to actually see happen, in "white" America, was surely still 100 years away.  Lucky for America, the country got, not just an African-American as President, but a genuinely good man in the White House.  A man who was not judged by the color of his skin, but by the content of his character.  A man who could inspire anyone with sound judgement, and a decent heart, to want change across our country.  A man who's own agenda is to reach out and lift up the lowest ends of our society and get them working and on their feet (no matter if you call that socialism or not, it's the right thing to do, because it is what Jesus, and all the greatest philosophers throughout time, would do).

Today should be a day of somber reflection and appreciation.  Appreciation for how far our country has come, but a day of reflection as we still have a long way to go.  America still sees the world through a colored lens, as we continue to see in news organisations commentaries as President Obama is constantly labeled as "black."  Mainstream news loves to throw out those two main color labels:  "white" and "black," and then sit back and wonder why the country is still polarized.  So, although (pardon the pun) the "colorfulness" of the words we use to describe one another has died down over the years, we still love to label the opposite race.  And now I feel it is being done in equal offenses on both sides.  We still view each other by the color of our skin.  It's not even an accurate color reference, as most "blacks" are more of a brown, or a mocha, so, yes, calling an African-American "black," is still racist, just as calling Caucasians as "white" is equally offensive.  Although, this is much better than some of the slang that is still, incredibly, used by people today.

I bring all this up, of course, because it strikes a very specific tone in the book THE SAVANNAH SYNDROME (TSS).  While I have only lived in a true "southern" state for less than a year, I can feel the racial tensions still present in a lot of areas.  And it comes from both sides, tell me how many cross-looks I would get if I took a stroll through the strictly African-American parts of town as a "white" male.  So, yes, when I thought about a future where America fell into a second Civil War as the setting in TSS, I believe the survivors would eventually be pulled to their polar ends and a race war would eventually ensue, without a Federal Government, or any government there to stop both sides from trying to kill each other.  Basically, to show the world what would happen when words evolved to action.  And I did decide to use the label "Black" as the racial slur being thrown around the most, because I really hate that we seem to have progressed back to this color label.  While we have come a long way, we still have a long way to go, before everyone is viewed by what is under the surface, and not just the color that sits on top.  

Weekly Writing Prompt

Happy Saturday Everyone!  A couple things before I get to the writersdigest.com Weekly Writer's Prompt.  Yes, I missed my blog update yesterday, had some important things to do in my "other" life.  I'll fill anyone interested in on the blog of me over at jzimmerman324.weebly.com.  THE SAVANNAH SYNDROME has had its final, final, FINAL edit.  My mom, of all people, has a keen eye for grammar and typing errors, and I have been awaiting her edit of my final edit.  She completed it and I've made the corrections and updated both the paperback version and the Kindle Version.  So all copies sold from here on out should be error free!  I apologize to the dozens of readers who had to labor through all my mistakes, misused words, and missing punctuation.  But somehow, I still keep getting good feedback.  I received a surprise message from a retired Director of Joint Public Affairs for the Tennessee National Guard, who left a message on my FACEBOOK page saying:

"Just finished it. Good stuff!!! Good job Jason!"

Wow!  That was great to hear coming from someone of such stature!  Just when I start to get down about sales lagging and the mistakes I still missed, I get a response like that and I'm back in the game!  That being said, it's on to this week's Weekly Writing Prompt.  As I discussed earlier this week, this was the prompt from writersdigest.com:

"Pretend you are a recovering alcoholic who falls off the wagon while attending your high school reunion. Start your story with “I hadn’t had a drink in nearly 10 years” and end it with “If only I could remember where I left my pants.”

There's some pretty decent short stories on the blog for this prompt.  Most people took it more seriously then I thought.  But I don't think any of them went as dark as I did.  I went way over the word limit, again, but why cut a short story to absolute bare bones, when you can still have a good SHORT story at just over 1,000 words.  So here's this week's free writing sample.  Enjoy:

I hadn’t had a drink in nearly 10 years.  In fact, the last time I let that disease consume me had been a few weeks before my high school’s ten year reunion.  I had gone out on what I had planned as a week-long preparation to increase my tolerance for alcohol before the magical night when I had been sure I would be consuming massive amounts of celebratory shots and drinking away memories.  I went a little too hard that first night and was awoken by a police officer with my BMW in a ditch.  I was booked because I knew better to blow.  The judge still threw the books at me.  This was my third disputed DUI and despite knowing my rights, I am a lawyer, the judge drew a line and hit me with the hardest fines he could without solid evidence of my blood-alcohol level.  I had my bar license stripped from me, my driving privileges suspended, and forced to pay fines.  The wake-up call was the loss of my ability to practice the job I had struggled so hard to obtain.  And it became an even greater struggle to get my license to defend back.  Two years of AA, rehab and kissing the judges ass got me that chance.  And now I was never going to fall off that wagon again.  Never.  Again.

As I ordered water from the bar, I felt great, no longer getting the cold, clammy hands I used to when standing by a full assortment of alcohol.  Still, her hand on my shoulder caused me to jump.

“Jonathan Henry Barth.”

There was only one girl in my graduating class who had ever had privilege in knowing my middle name.  Hearing her say it now brought back hot afternoons in Kansas corn fields where her hand would be squeezing my neck and whispering my name, my whole name, over and over again.

I turned, looking down, then quickly back up.  Audrey Michelle, whatever her last name is now, had hit another growth spurt since we graduated high school.  She must have stood 5’10”, maybe 5’11,” no longer sitting at chest level to me as she had done when we had fallen in young love.

“Hello Audrey,” I said and smiled warmly at her.  Her big brown eyes were filled with cunning thoughts.  Her mouth opened up to a crooked smile revealing a gorgeous row of pearly whites.

“I missed you at our ten-year reunion,” she said sultry.  She held up her right hand signaling for two drinks.  She ordered “Jack and coke, but easy on the coke,” just like I used to pour them when we would drink out of the bed of my truck.

“Your husband like Jack too?”  That was a loaded question, but I had to ask, as I could not help but notice the rings.

“Don’t be silly Johnny, that drink’s for you,” she put her slender right hand on my broad chest and winked at me.  “And I would never bring my husband to an event like this.”

I felt a flurry of activity around my loins.  Luckily for my conscious, I had never bothered with marriage.  And I really lacked a conscious, which was a sad thing for Audrey’s husband.  And while I was not going to worry about the moral ramifications of fornicating with a married woman, I would be doing it stone-cold-sober.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t drink.  At all,” I said confidently and smiled at her brightly.

“I think you can splurge just this one night.”

“Last time I splurged it almost cost me my career.”

“This won’t cost you anything.  I’ll take care of you if you get drunk.”

“Really, Audrey, I appreciate the offer, and that you still remember my drink.”

“Our drink.”

“Yes,” I found myself suddenly blushing at her and her uncompromising stare.  “Our drink.  But I can’t.  I won’t.  Let’s just mingle and see what everyone else is up to.”  By now the barkeep had slid the two drinks in front of her and she grabbed them and turned to me, presenting my drink with her right hand.  She used the drink in her left hand to block my view of the huge rock and sparkling wedding band.  She smiled a smile I knew all too well, it was the smile that I used to get when she asked for “help with her homework.”

“Just one drink,” Audrey said.  Her adult voice melting away to sound more and more like that young, fiery 17 year-old who had taught me so much about life.  “For the memories.”

Just one drink.  My hand reached out and grasped the cold condensation on the outside of the cocktail glass.  I shook my head at her and we clinked glasses.  I brought the smooth glass edge to my mouth.  It tasted so good.

The water was cold and shocking.  I could not tell up from down.  I was in complete darkness.  In water.  Out of air.  I swam, kicking my feet and my arms.  Somehow I found my way to the surface just as my lungs could hold out no more.  I took a mouthful of water and began coughing.  My mind swirled around me.  I was really drunk, but the cold water had brought me out of the fog of forgetfulness.  I was in a pond, or a lake, or something.  The water wasn’t as deep as it had originally felt.  The rear wheels of my upside down car were slowly spinning to a stop.  Another BMW.  I pulled myself to the shore and my heart stopped.  I stared ahead at the scene in front of me as I heard voices calling to me from behind, asking if I was okay, saying the police were on the way.  There, floating next to the passenger side of my flipped car, were a pair of hands.  I could recognize the pair of rings on the left hand.  I momentarily thought about fleeing, but one thought keep me from running.  If it wasn’t for this one thought I would have fled, reported my car stolen, and hoped no one saw us leaving together.  But I was stuck.  My life was over, but not as much as Audrey’s.  If only I could remember where I left my pants. 

It's Thursday, Weekend Is Almost Here!

Hello Bloggers and Fans.  Well, to be honest, I'm not feeling very inspired this morning to compile anything witty or fun to share.  No new reviews.  No new sales.  Waiting on my "editor" to finish her final edit of THE SAVANNAH SYNDROME (TSS).  She is on Chapter 12, and is still catching a few things I did not catch in my final edit.  Luckily, most of the worst mistakes I already saw and fixed.  I looked at the Writer's Digest Weekly Writer's Prompt and not sure I really like this week's.  I do believe it will test my skills as it is meant to be written as a comedy, and I'm definitely not the funniest guy in person, so I'm far from a funny writer.  Writing humor is a real challenge, so I usually stray far from it, but we'll see what I can come up with.  I will say now, that starting a prompt with the lines "Pretend you are a recovering alcoholic" isn't very sensitive to real-life alcoholics, and the disease addiction can cause a person.  So, who knows, maybe I'll twist this into a sobering reflection on the power of alcohol.  Depends on my mood Saturday morning, or Friday night, whenever I write it.  I actually have to work on Saturday...Boo.  This is what I meant when I said this month would take FOREVER to learn if I made it through the first round of the ABNA competition.  So what I'll do is give you readers the first page of TSS.  Yes, I know you can get this on Amazon anyway, so nothing new here, but I am not going to post the entire Amazon preview at once and extra material henceforth.  So if you haven't grabbed your copy of TSS yet, in either paperback or Kindle version, here is the first page.  Hopefully, it's all you'll need to pique your curiosity...

"CHAPTER 1

They betrayed her.  She had thought they were all her friends, but they betrayed her.  Every.  Last.  One.

It began with the sun, which had initiated its downward descent over the western edge of the island.  When she had risen from her daily slumber, the sun was shining brightly.  That great orange ball of gas so far away spoke cheerfully to her.  The sun beckoned her to rise and stretch; to glorify a beautiful day coming to an end.  That sinister sun had also enlisted the help of a cool wind that found its way into her sleeping quarters.  She took a deep breath of the fresh air, and even the crispness of the troposphere would prove to be a deceitful trick.  An unexpected chill had arrived at the beginning of dusk, which was another betrayal she would have never expected.  The coming seasonal transition always brought her nothing but joy and serenity.  But today, those soft fingertips of fall would turn into sharp nails digging in her back.

      Had she woke up and the sun been unforgivingly bright and intense, she may have abandoned her decision to make it a day for fishing and hunting.  Or even if the sun had been less intense, perhaps the sky filled with clouds, she may have slept through until night.  If the sky had gathered great rain storms"

This is from the paperback version, so it's even shorter than the Kindle version.  As promised, here is another picture of the beautiful city of Savannah.  And don't forget to follow my other blog over at jzimmerman324.weebly.com!  Have a great Thursday y'all!

Love this house and the vine facade.