Friday, December 28, 2012

Story Behind my Novel "The Bellwether"

"You shouldn't shoot the birds," my dad said. I was about eleven years old, and had just gotten a brand new bb gun (my first and only) bought with the money from winning second place at the 4H Follies at Wahpeton North Dakota (1950s) for reciting the poem "Teaching a Calf to Drink." I still remember being up on that stage facing maybe a thousand people, except I don't remember seeing the people, just reciting the poem. This post is not about that poem, not about the bb gun, but what my dad said. He didn't specify about why I shouldn't shoot the birds, just that I shouldn't shoot them. I don't remember feeling let down.

The chattering, lecturing, Barn Swallow soon became one of my favorites. This photo  was captured  through the window of the second story of my house. Yes, I allow the birds to nest on the overhangs of my windows.
Maybe it was just the event I needed to awaken my lifelong love of nature. To solidify that love, my sister (five years older) soon gave me my first book of nature, the Golden Handbook of "Mammals," the first of many, many, books to follow. By the time I was fourteen I was reading the magazine National Wildlife, which later led to Natural History Magazine, The Nature Conservancy, National Audubon Society, which then soon led to writing letters to the editor of the local newspaper, and to federal senators and representatives.
But also, this post isn't really about nature per se, but my love for it, which I tried to portray somewhat in "The Bellwether," my very first novel, begun in the seventies, but not published until far past 2000.
Back in the seventies I had a small manual Smith-corona typewriter, where every mistake was laboriously corrected with a roll of Whiteout. As I recall I typed the entire original thousand pages twice, and sent a not-perfect copy to a lady who advertised in the back of Writer's Digest Magazine. I don't remember how much money I paid her, but that poor lady read the whole thing and commented with my first critique. Not exactly a pleasing one, but after I got over her words I bought an electric Smith-corona, and typed it out again. This time I had a cartridge for correcting mistakes, but still Whiteout. That copy I sent to an agent who also charged, and again I don't remember what I paid, only that he was more critical of my writing and not as nice about it as the lady had been. Sending a thousand pages with return postage was an ordeal, believe me. This critique, though, devastated me. I stopped writing for at least two years.
But, again, I eventually got over the critical criticism and typed the story out again, but this time on a computer, where I could correct mistakes with a simple "click!" Wow! I don't remember how many times I edited that story, but with a computer it didn't matter. The print-out was different, as, you see, it was one of the early computers. It actually was a typewriter with an adjacent screen. To print-out I still had to enter one sheet at a time into the typewriter part, but it printed out perfect copy. I didn't send it out again, though. This time I placed the finished manuscript into folders, and began a long process of writing letters to possible agents and publishers. As many other authors have said, I soon could paper my wall with rejection letters.
So, again, I placed The Bellwether on the shelf and began working on other projects.
Over the years I wrote three more novels and about thirty short stories, all on that first computer, which half the time was in the repair shop.
And the rejection letters continued to pour in.
In 2006 I bought my first laptop, and the internet.
Now I could send my work via email, but the rejections kept on and on and on, until I discovered CreateSpace.com. There I could self-publish my own work and sell it through Amazon, and later digitally through Kindle, where the reading public began to tell a much different story than I had grown accustomed to hearing from bona fide publishers, editors, and agents. The reading public "liked" my work.
So, again, out came The Bellwether. I spent two months transferring it from typing paper to my laptop. I was told I could have used a scanner for that transfer, but there would have gone the first chance for editing and updating. Even so, I spent another two months editing and updating to the new millennium.
I believe the agents, editors, publishers--and for sure the first readers--of the regular publishing world have an agenda (they know exactly what they want) and if your work does not please them, well, then you move on to the next, and the next, and the next, and, I plain got tired of it.
And, as I said, the reading public likes my work. Not everybody, of course, as I've gotten good reviews, great reviews, and some reviews that attempted to blow me right out of the water, but I take the bad with the good.
To get back to The Bellwether, nature didn't become a big part of the story, but I did try to include nature wherever I could, often just be a description of the landscape. Economics entered the story, as about that time the gas shortage hit us and we saw the first big increase in gasoline--Whoa! $1.25 for a gallon of gas? Nothing like today, of course, but it hit us hard back then. Drought hit us about then, too, and the American Indian Movement (AIM) began. With those three items: The gas shortage, the drought, and the Native American, my novel began to live and stayed long, really long. As one recent reviewer put it: "...a long story but "not" a slow read..."
Now for the main character's love interest: Aaron Hodges met Caroline Jentner just one time. He was eleven, she was nine. For their goodbye, he kissed her on the lips and never forgot her, and, as it turned out, she never forgot him either, but their re-connection years later came close to driving them both to distraction.

The scene on the cover shows the modern day mountain man character, Daniel Friskop, and his four animal companions. The distant army represents that the story does take place in contemporary times, (Friskop is a major character, but "not" the main one.)
Here is the Introduction to The Bellwether.

Think of the 1800s, the wagontrains, and the people who crossed the prairie looking for a better life. Now fast-forward to the new millennium and the worldwide economy totally crashing, causing unbelievable chaos and violence. Through Native American prophecy, Aaron Hodges sees it coming and envisions building a hidden colony to ride out the likely decades-long crisis.
When the crash came nobody could point a finger and blame a specific thing. The United States and the world were locked in drought, stagnant economy, and rampant pollution. Too many people were wasting too much, demanding too much standard of living, and too much money created too much free time and entertainment, for, as one height was reached boredom prevailed, and more and greater thrills were demanded.
More wood, more metal, more food and drink, and more oil.
The oil flow stopped.
Then the flow of supplies stopped. The civilized world found itself trapped inside a steel, concrete, and plastic wasteland with no utilities, no food, no water.
And no gasoline.
Set in the near future, novel runs for two years. The main theme is a modern-day wagontrain with over sixty people driving sixteen covered wagons pulled by four-horse teams for 30 days across 300 miles from southern Minnesota farming country to northern Minnesota wilderness, where they will build their colony. Background themes include the economy, environment, and a shadowy ‘master race’ organization out to eliminate the Native American. This novel is character-driven, just normal people loving and finding love, surviving, and reacting to circumstances as best they can. You will like the characters, you will care what happens to them, and at the end you will cheer.
That 300-mile trek I actually drove myself (by car, of course.) I started out down by Granite Falls, Minnesota, took notes of the landscape (fields, forest, prairie, towns and cities) and then attempted to follow the wagontrain's route all the way north. Up on the Gunflint Trail in Superior National Forest I ran out of road but the map showed where I wanted the migrants to end up.

Here is a short excerpt from C11 The Hallowed Courage Creek Affair Part 1


(Main character Aaron Hodges has arrived home from his travels, just in time to take part in the confrontation between the people who live in and love the valley and the contractor planning to build a dam.)
 (beginning of scene)
Aaron’s horse began sidestepping as the pickup roared toward them. All the horses did. They snorted and threw their heads up. One began rearing. The horses couldn’t know the speeding pickup would, likely, stop, eventually.
“Hold onto your horses, boys,” Aaron said uncertainly, “I can’t believe he’ll run us down…!”
“I hope Helm can’t believe it!” Kelly commented, “Whoa, boy!”
The profane voice became plain, “Those people want to fight,” Luther Helm was yelling, beating on the cab, “We’re sure as hell going to give it to’em!”
Violence.
“Head right at’em!”
The eyes of the younger man who looked like Helm were wide open, and almost appeared frightened. All four horses were straining to move, to run.
“Slam on the brakes!” Helm screamed.
The driver—Aaron recognized Mallory Spicer—eyes wide and wild-looking, hit the brakes. On the dewy grass the pickup went into a screeching skid and hit two of the horses. It happened unbelievably fast. Twenty-five feet past the horses the pickup finally stopped, was as if Luther Helm had actually planned the uncontrollable skid. Two horses down, Kelly and Simon both thrown. Aaron jumped off and held onto his frantic horse.
Kelly was up quickly, “Good Christ, Helm! What the hell you tryin’ to do?”
The hunched man jerked around, lower lip sticking out prominently, brown juice dribbling, catching in stubby gray chin whiskers. He spat in the direction of Aaron, ”I know you, Bolander!” he yelled, sounding something like a broken foghorn, “And I don’t mind seein’ you farmers so much, but who is that hippie-agitatin’ longhair?”

And four sample reviews:
One
Kingstonbears
Kingstonbears LIKES this book From Free E-books.net
Wow, what a read. By far the best I've downloaded on this site. Excellent plot and superb development of characters. A "can't put it down" book.

Two

5.0 out of 5 stars Really enjoyable story!, September 11, 2011
By Karen West - See all my reviews
Amazon Verified Purchase(What's this?) This review is from: The Bellwether (Kindle Edition)

This was a long book but not a slow read. Mr. Nelson has written a very enjoy story that he described in great detail in his synopsis. So many interesting people and events taking place that the story moves so quickly.
If you are a fan of romance, adventure and apocalypse you will not be disappointed in this book. After I finished the last page, I was left wanting more so I hope the author will continue the story with a sequel.
This was a true bargain and I think will remain as one of my favorite books.

Three

5.0 out of 5 stars Great Work Of Fiction Worth Reading!, November 14, 2011
By BookLoverRome - See all my reviews
This review is from: The Bellwether: The Mother of all Disasters (Paperback)
Great Work Of Fiction Worth Reading!
The Bellwether: The Mother of all Disasters is an exciting tale written by author James W. Nelson. Nelson's storyline and characterization are superb. The story is intriguing, yet full of reality. The Bellwether is a highly recommended read for fiction lovers.

Four

Good but Long, December 20, 2012
By LC - See all my reviews
This review is from: The Bellwether: The Mother of all Disasters (Paperback)
The Bellwether is an exciting novel that takes us on a wild ride through the end of the worldwide economy and one man's actions to get through it. If you like adventure with some romance thrown in, this book will capture your imagination.

The book started out a bit slow for me, but it picked up towards the middle and grew very exciting. There are many characters to become acquainted with but the author includes a character reference at the end that is very helpful. Although it is fairly long, the author does a good job of keeping the story moving and preventing the reader from getting bored. Overall, this book was a good read. If you want something that will keep you entertained, check out The Bellwether. I gave this book four stars.

From the author: Due to the length of this book, and the large number of characters and chapters, at the end I list all the characters and the main ones are described; also I list the chapters and give short synopses of each. Reason being the reader might like to look back to check something.

Thanks for reading

Contact

nelsonjamesw@hotmail.com                          email
http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004GW465S   Author page at Amazon
http://morningshinestories.com                       Website
http://morninginapril.blogspot.com                 Blog
https://www.facebook.com/#!/                         Facebook
http://subron7.hubpages.com/                          HubPages
Feel free to contact me. (Response is not guaranteed) (The world is full of psychos and wackos)
A reminder for when you go to Amazon to read digital books, mine and many other authors: Amazon has a free APP download that allows you to read your book on any electronic device, including PC, Mac, iPad, iPhone, Android, and Blackberry.

Occasionally I list one of my books as free for a day, sometimes more than a day. Look for those announcements on my blog, Twitter, Facebook, and Google+.
Beginning at midnight, Friday, actually December 29, 2012, Saturday, The Bellwether will be a free digital download for 24 hours.







Thursday, December 20, 2012

Trust No One Part 3



To the normal American citizen: Does it occur to you that some very evil and very, very, powerful, force is at work in these mass shootings? I’m as heartbroken as anyone over Sandy Hook at Newtown, Connecticut. Every time I hear another story about those murdered children and teachers I shed more tears. Below I’m going to suggest what might be happening. Please open your mind and consider it. More importantly, what do/can we do about it?
The original Manchurian Candidate movie appeared in 1962, with Frank Sinatra and Lawrence Harvey. A Korean War POW, was brainwashed by the Communists to become a political assassin. Then a movie of the same name appeared in 2004, with Denzel Washington. Without expanding on either movie their premise was the same: Brainwashing, Politics, Assassinations.
Do I believe brainwashing can work? Yes I do, and with today’s technologies, drugs, and techniques, I really believe it.
Who is this evil and very powerful force? One name they go by is the Illuminati (the “shadow” government?) a group of people—top bankers, CEOs, politicians, generals, ETC.—who want to control the world, and through bloodlines and birthrights consider themselves elite above all others. Dictionary definition: Persons claiming to possess special knowledge or enlightenment.
This photo has little to do with the post, except, maybe, the sun setting on America?
In my research of conspiracy theories and the Illuminati, one story that stands out is the suggestion that the Illuminati abduct individuals with certain qualities—shyness, quiet, loner, Etc.—and brainwash them to become mass shooters. Think about it: Most of the shooters are either completely whacko, or, at the end of their killing spree they shoot themselves. Brainwashing could work in either case: The sound of approaching sirens becomes the click to become either whacko, or to self-destruct, giving law enforcement, basically, nothing for clues. Adam Lanza was whacko and shot himself, evidently when he heard the sirens (so was he really whacko as some are suggesting, or just following his brainwashed commands?) Finding a suicide note tells us nothing, and hate material on a computer—both can be planted—also tells us nothing, not if the perpetrator is being controlled from afar. (If Adam Lanza tried to destroy his computer hard drive, that maybe was another brainwash command.)
According to Conspiracy theorists, America is #1 on the Illuminati’s list to disarm the civilian. These mass shootings continue to escalate to worse and worse, but it will be difficult to get worse than murdering 20 innocent six and seven-year-old children and their beautiful teachers. The only way it can get worse is to continue killing children, until the President with the backing of the entire Congress orders the army to do a house-to-house search to confiscate all guns.
After the American civilian is disarmed, America herself will not stand long, and when America is defeated, the rest of the world will follow, obediently, into slavery. Without nationwide Minutemen, so to speak, to 'defend...,' well, think of Japanese Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto’s words, “You cannot invade America. There would be a rifle behind every blade of grass.” But, no more…?
More gun control laws will not prevent these tragedies. There, I said it: I’m pro-gun rights. That last sentence may lose me half my audience, but remember, I asked you to open your mind, to consider what I’m saying.
As a last word, the Illuminati—or whoever they are—have been striving toward world domination for generations, even hundreds of years. It probably isn't something that could happen overnight, but these increasing mass shootings suggest they are getting impatient. Plus the heavily-monied Super PACs, officially known as “independent-expenditure”-only, committees, may not make contributions directly to candidates or parties, but can spend independently, and can raise funds from anybody, without any limit on donation. In other words, the Super PACs, can, basically, through advertising, pay the public to elect who the Super PAC wants, from local, to Congress, to the Presidency, and do it anonymously. Doesn't this sound a bit suspicious? Doesn't it sound like a huge, powerful, possibly/probably, evil, force is out there…and pushing for total control? Please remember Nazi Germany and Communist Russia. Do you think such an evil force cannot happen again? It has happened again and again from time immemorial. We, today, no matter how smart we think we are with our electronic gadgets, are not immune from totalitarianism.
One last entry: There appeared in The Forum, Fargo, North Dakota, a letter-to-the-editor Wednesday (12-19-12) from Will Oremus, who writes for the Slate online magazine. The headline for the letter: “Maybe America can learn from Australia’s example.” It describes a mass shooting that happened in the state of Tasmania in 1996 where 35 people were killed and 22 wounded, the worst in Australia’s history. Twelve days later Australia’s government enacted sweeping gun-control measures. I won’t try to repeat that very long letter, except for (to me) the worst: “…required that gun buyers present a “genuine reason” for needing…at the time of purchase…” I wonder if target shooting and hunting are genuine reasons? And is it up to the sales clerk to decide? Thank God I don’t live in Australia. Maybe the Illuminati have already taken control of that country.
I know, that sounds highly paranoid. But what if the conspiracy theorists (and me) are correct?

In that vein, then, here is the second prologue to my unfinished and untitled novel.

Anywhere, USA

Whit Malcolm’s day began like any other. He was just a normal twenty-two-year-old guy, nothing special about him except that he was shy and mostly kept to himself, but that’s what made him special, and another perfect choice. His sparse but well-kept room was three blocks from work so he always walked. The eastern sky was just beginning to lighten. He felt a prick on his buttocks and slapped at it. What he thought was a bee sting was his last cognizant thought. He didn't remember his quick decent to the sidewalk.
****
Whit wondered where he was, and what he was doing. He could hear two voices and could see two men—one older, one younger— talking before him. He thought they were speaking English but it sounded like gibberish. He managed to turn his head, both ways. There were two young men to his left and two young men and one young woman to his right. They were just sitting there, their eyes…he didn't know. Their eyes said nothing, like they were sleeping with their eyes open. Whit had occasionally done that too. Then he managed to look down. His hands were folded neatly on his lap. He tried moving the top one. It moved but barely, and in slow-motion.
A picture came into his head of him firing a weapon. He loved shooting guns, and loved the sound of the blasts. If he could do only one thing for the rest of his life it would be firing guns, all kinds, from the smallest .22 handgun to his favorite, a military M16, a weapon he had never touched. He even liked BB guns, but BB guns didn't make much noise.
He had never been in the military. He tried but it was discovered he had a heart murmur, whatever the hell that was. He felt nothing physically. According to Whit Malcolm he was one of the healthiest people around.
The gibberish voices intruded again. His mind picture disappeared as he focused on the two men…where are they? He thought the front of the room. There were two rows of chairs ahead of him. If he could just get closer maybe he could understand what they were saying. He told his legs to stand him up. Of course he didn't actually say anything to his legs; he just had the instinctive thought to stand and move. His legs did nothing. Whit realized that his legs did nothing, but he thought nothing out of the ordinary. He also realized that he didn't think being unable to move his legs was unusual. Basically he was there, and that was all he knew for sure.
****
“I like the new one for our next event,” the older man, about sixty, said, “His record says he spends every possible waking moment shooting. Unfortunately, the poor fellow has no weapons of his own, so has to rent them at the shooting range.”
“I have to agree,” the younger, maybe forty-five, said, “His friends and co-workers know that about him, so when he performs his mission, and his friends and co-workers are interviewed by the police, nobody will be surprised. In fact, some likely will say that they’re surprised Whit hadn't gone off the deep end long before.”
“What about our other subjects?”
“They’re coming along fine, in their…training. Two of the young men, though, we may have gone too far too quickly.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re exhibiting too much—for lack of a better word—whacko, in their day to day life. The people who know them best are beginning to wonder, maybe even are getting…nervous.”
“Do you mean family?”
“As required by our guidelines, we don’t choose people with good family ties. Mainly their co-workers and acquaintances are noticing. That would be OK if the subjects were farther along in their…training."
“ Doesn't matter. Our goal is to have as many mass shootings as possible. Even some of the staunch Republicans are beginning to take more gun control seriously, and after we turn our boy, Whit, here, loose, even the NRA might take notice. Hell, the President might even order the army to do a house-to-house confiscation of guns, and once the American civilians are disarmed, well, our plan can then move forward quite nicely.”
“So when is Whit’s mission planned?”
“Soon. After that first day of missed work, Whit has been showing up regularly for two weeks, and doing a better job. His superiors have noticed.”
“And his co-workers?”
“Most of them see him a little differently. They remember how he used to be, like his occasional rants about nothing important—which is what we want. His co-workers also continue to avoid him. With them it’s almost as if our boy, Whit, is a nonperson, which is also what we want. Just one more psycho with a gun. In another two or three days he will receive the weapons we've ordered for him, and he will not question their arrival.”
“And ammunition, high-capacity magazines, and a bullet-proof vest?”
“That will be along in another day or two after that.”
****
Whit’s thoughts and visions returned. He saw people falling, and screaming. He saw much blood spurting. He looked down. A gun. He was firing the gun that was causing all the screaming and blood.
He shook his head. He tried. His head barely shook, but enough to end that horrible scene. And what was that scene? Whit had enough mind left to realize that the scene was viciously violent, and something he would never, never, ever, do. So why was he dreaming that he would do it?
****
“You are coming along fine, too, my boy,” the older man said, patting the younger man’s shoulder, “If you keep performing your duties as well as you have you may just move up more quickly than others.”
“Thank you.”

From the author: So, are these mass shooters all brainwashed Manchurian Candidates? Think about it.

A repeat of the end-goal of the Illuminati: Extermination of 85% of not just America’s population, but the world’s, leaving 15% to slave and care for the elite: The Illuminati.
Not a pretty picture, is it?

Thanks for reading

Contact

nelsonjamesw@hotmail.com                          email
http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004GW465S   Author page at Amazon
http://morningshinestories.com                        Website
http://morninginapril.blogspot.com                   Blog
https://www.facebook.com/#!/                        Facebook
http://subron7.hubpages.com/                          HubPages
Feel free to contact me. (Response is not guaranteed) (The world is full of psychos and wackos)
A reminder for when you go to Amazon to read digital books, mine and many other authors: Amazon has a free APP download that allows you to read your book on any electronic device, including PC, Mac, iPad, iPhone, Android, and Blackberry.
Occasionally I list one of my books as free for a  day, sometimes more than a day. Look for those announcements on my blog, HubPages, Twitter, and Facebook


Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Story Behind my Novel, Winter in July

July 2, 1955, my family and I experienced a vicious tornado that completely destroyed our farm. This blog posting is not about that tornado (see the chapter "Tornado" in my memoirs "Dying to Live.") No, this posting is about how that tornado affected the psyche of a ten-year-old boy: Me. For months I was afraid--scared!--of many things not associated with the weather. Today, when children are exposed to disaster and/or violence, councilors arrive on the scene quickly. In 1955 there were no councilors, or, if there were, I don't remember. What I remember is being scared.
During the 1950s the Cold War was raging. We expected the Great Bear to invade us at any time. One day I saw something on television that really scared me. I can still see that screen: Bombers streaking toward me and the announcer saying something like... "...Russian bombers could be anywhere in the United States..." Well, the fact that the announcer was saying that they 'could' be anywhere, meant nothing to this ten-year-old boy. To me, they 'were' anywhere. For all I knew they were already in North Dakota. I was the only one in the room. Nobody else in my family saw that particular scene, or maybe the TV was simply advertising something. I don't know, but so began my long history of watching the Evening News every day to see what the Russians were doing.
I spent the first eight years of my education in a one-room country schoolhouse. One day a military jet went over and broke the sound barrier, causing a sonic boom, and one kid said, "God, don't drop a bomb!" This kid was three years younger than me, so, yes, we could add the possibility of war to our fears.
A few miles south was another one-room schoolhouse. We were the north school and they were the south school. We were a Republican neighborhood and they were a Democratic neighborhood...in other words, 'they' were communists. Remember, this time-period was also the McCarthy era, when communists were being drug out of their hidey-holes in droves, or so they say. More than once I asked my parents something like "...are my friends down in the south school really communists?" Their answer: "That's what people say."
What 'people' they were talking about I don't know.
As I grew older most of my fears began to dissipate. At seventeen, in 1962, I enlisted in the United States Navy (also well covered in my memoirs) and ended up in the submarine service. During my four-year hitch and two six-month Western Pacific cruises, the only Russian ships I saw were the so-called Russian trawlers (according to us those ships were rigged with spy-electronics, not fishing gear, and Russia was now the Soviet Union.)
By the 1980s, with two Strategic Air Command (SAC) air force bases, each including 300 Minuteman Intercontinental Ballistic Missile silos and I don't know how many B52 Bombers, North Dakota had achieved what all the kids on the block wanted: Number Three Nuclear Power in the world. And all through my twenties, thirties and forties I was definitely a war hawk, so the 'premise' for a novel was born. But as I began to research nuclear war--and the horrors of such--my attitude began to change, which may have affected the development of the main character, Kirby Yates. He did not become a super hero, but quite the opposite, just a regular guy who got caught up in events and had no choice but to deal with them as they arose, but not in a super hero kind of way. In fact, four of my Amazon reviewers are quite put off by, as they described him (weakling, whiney, crybaby.) Other reviewers saw him quite differently. My favorite review appears at the end of this post. All reviews are available to read at http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004GW465S
For nearly two years I lived and worked at Grand Forks, North Dakota, at the time home to one of the SAC bases (today the base has lost it's nuclear status and pursues other services for the air force.) But there is where I worked on researching and writing nuclear war novel. One night I went to a 'peace' meeting, and personally witnessed the documentary that became Chapter 3 "Nuclear Sanity." 
The important thing, while I was there, where "Winter in July" was born, the city of Grand Forks was definitely within the radius of Ground Zero. At night I would have my radio on (right next to my bed) and would listen to music before going to sleep. One night I forgot to turn it off and was awakened by...what? A siren? I didn't know, but the hum/whine, however I can describe it, just kept on and on, or so it seemed. So, I decided This is it: Vaporization is going to happen in the next milisecond.
But it didn't happen. So what was the sound that woke me? A guitar, the end of a very great sound by the artist, Prince. I've always liked that song, especially that ending. If Winter in July is ever made into a movie, that song has to be a part of it.
What appears on the cover is a scene we hope never to see....


5-Star Review
Buy! -- an unusual, introspective take on the apocalyptic / post-apocalyptic tale, May 5, 2012
Amazon Verified Purchase(What's this?) This review is from: Winter in July (Kindle Edition)
     Kirby Yates lives in a part of the country where there are almost as many nuclear missiles as there are people. The small little town he calls home is filled with lonely people making their way through silent lives. They would be mere numbers waiting to be dumped onto a casualty list if it wasn't for the fact that their exact location is just beyond the range of total destruction by any enemy missiles aimed at the American bases a short drive across the prairie. Even so, Yates would be nothing among them in the eyes of planners, but for the fact that he happens to have a combination of basic military experience, a quiet competence for planting and managing landscapes, and a bit more intelligence than most -- common enough throughout the world, but rare in that particular spot. He's chosen to prepare for and participate in any nuclear exchange without being informed of the fact until it's too late to quit, although he is bright enough to realize it before. Ironically, he realizes, he is preparing the stage for the tragedy that has given him nightmares since discovering a secret stash of materials in his grandfather's house. His artist's vision, which he keeps hidden from others, makes his sense of what may be coming only more vivid.

    The author achieves something rare, if not indeed unique, with a work of fiction that not only broadens the reach of its particular sub-genre but doubles as a commentary on that sub-genre in itself. Certainly, this is the first of the A/PA novels I've read that explores the reason I am compelled to read so many. The protagonist grew up with the same obsessive sense of impending nuclear doom that vested in so many of us at a certain age, thanks to countless drills at school, those ridiculous films in class, and any number of black-and-white movies on TV. While some reviewers here are put off by Kirby Yates' initial, relative immaturity -- brilliantly and incisively detailed for him halfway through by a woman explaining why they can not be together -- readers more accustomed to novels that aren't purely action-driven will enjoy following his maturation, complete at the end of the book.

    I'm not knocking action books, or those who enjoy them, I'm simply making the distinction so you can choose whether you personally might enjoy the book or not. I like action books; I also like this one. This is a book about a man, not a war, albeit a man preparing for the most terrifying of wars; and it's a book about a real man, not a caricature.

    I recommend BUY as someone who enjoyed the tension as the subtle shifts in his relationships, always driven by an artist's appreciation for the insanity of nuclear war, was also balanced by an appreciation for the need for "adults" (as Yates puts it in his musings) who deal with insanity as something that is never going away. The struggle to achieve some sort of mature balance within himself as between those two impulses are what drive his decisions throughout the book. The ending is so satisfying because he finds that balance under the most surprising of circumstances -- or perhaps the only situation in which he might have stumbled onto it. In any event, it's his decisive action that wins him his "adulthood," and brings the security he's always sought to himself and those for whom he cares.



Biography

James W. Nelson was born in a farmhouse in eastern North Dakota in 1944. Some doctors made house calls back in those days. He remembers kerosene lamps, bathing in a large galvanized tub, and their phone number was a long ring followed by four short ones, and everybody else in the neighborhood could rubberneck. (Imagine that today!)
He was living in that same house on the land originally homesteaded by his great grandfather, when a savage tornado hit in 1955 and destroyed everything. They rebuilt and his family remained until the early nineteen-seventies when diversified farming began changing to industrial agribusiness (not exactly a good thing.) He spent four years in the US Navy, worked many jobs and finally has settled on a few acres exactly two and one half miles straight west of  the original farmstead, ironically likely the very spot where the 1955 tornado first struck, which sometimes gives him a spooky feeling.
James has been telling stories most of his life. Some of his first memories happened during recess in a one-room country schoolhouse near WalcottND. His little friends, eyes wide, would gather round and listen to every hastily-imagined word.  It was a beginning.  Fascinated by the world beginning to open, he remembers listening to the teacher read to all twelve kids in the eight grades. Other than school papers, though, his writing held off until the navy, where he kept a sparse journal.  But the memory banks were beginning to fill.

Books by James W. Nelson
(All books digital downloads are $0.99)
(Paperbacks vary in price)
From the author: (Subject matter varies greatly in these books, from war to sex and romance to humor to horror to fantasy to science fiction to adventure, Etc., so please don’t read one book and think another one will be similar.)

Novels
Winter in July (65,500 words) (nuclear war drama) (the doomsday clock is ticking; it will reach midnight)
Callipygia (66,100 words) (romantic drama) (the Utopian world of Callipygia…just a legend?) (love, sex, violence) Callipygia is a place, or maybe just a state of mind, for if you go there, and partake, you will become changed…forever.
Experiments (82,500 words) (medical mystery drama) (pharmacological research gone berserk)
Daughters (40,200 words) (the heartbreak of human trafficking)
Boat Sailors (29,700 words) (Vietnam War action by fleet submarines)
The Bellwether (229,000 words)(economic & environmental meltdown) (the mother of all disasters) (love, sex, violence, drama, adventure)
The Light at the End of the Tunnel (68,600 words) (one theory of reincarnation) (horror, crime, drama)

Short Stories
Strange & Weird Stories (43,500 words) (the unknown: as close as beside you)
A Collection of Short Contemporary Stories (48,200) (Stories about people just like you.)

Nonfiction
Dying to Live (58,400 words) (autobiography) (the life & times of Jimmy Nelson)

Thanks for reading

Contact

nelsonjamesw@hotmail.com                          email
http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004GW465S   Author page at Amazon
http://morningshinestories.com                       Website
http://morninginapril.blogspot.com                 Blog
https://www.facebook.com/#!/                         Facebook
http://subron7.hubpages.com/                          HubPages
Feel free to contact me. (Response is not guaranteed) (The world is full of psychos and wackos)
A reminder for when you go to Amazon to read digital books, mine and many other authors: Amazon has a free APP download that allows you to read your book on any electronic device, including PC, Mac, iPad, iPhone, Android, and Blackberry.
Occasionally I list one of my books as free for a  day, sometimes more than a day. Look for those announcements on my blog, HubPages, Twitter, and Facebook

Starting at midnight, Thursday, December 20, 2012, Winter in July will be a free download for 24 hours. After that $0.99, and can be borrowed anytime with a Kindle Prime Membership.


Tuesday, December 18, 2012

The Story Behind my Book "Daughters"

About twenty years ago, while I still lived in a very small town, I often would work outside in my yard with flowers, tree-trimming, mowing, you name it. I love gardening. I was in my mid-thirties at the time. A young girl (I'll call her Margo) about nine years old began stopping. (Margo is short for Margaret: Greek, meaning pearl, and this girl was a true 'pearl.') We would visit, sometimes for several minutes, and I have no memory about what we talked about, but, evidently, she wanted to talk. So, I allowed it. God, that sounds ...how? Self-important? No, that's not what I meant, but I felt uncomfortable. (More about that later.) Anyway, she continued stopping and visiting, and began stopping more often. Now comes the reason I 'stopped' 'allowing' her visits.
Her very first visit was fine, but as time went on I began to get nervous. What if someone saw us? Here is a guy in his thirties, a single white male, spending time with a very young girl. Why? Is he also molesting her? Or maybe he's trying to talk her into something? This is what I began to fear: That people might be noticing and begin suspecting 'something' is going on. People maybe weren't thinking such yet, if anybody actually even noticed, but in a small town....
Anyway, I asked her to not stop anymore.
She gave me my wish: She stopped visiting. I never saw her again.
Years later I found out--maybe--why she was stopping and wanting to talk. She was getting molested by not only her step-father but one, maybe both, of her step-brothers. So, years later, way too late to help her, I'm thinking she just wanted to talk to somebody, in hopes of getting help. I don't know how little girls think. She never gave me a clue. But, as a mature man, I should have seen the signs, but I saw no signs, and I don't, to this day, know what those signs would/should be.
I failed her.
I'm sorry, Margo, I hope you are doing well today, I hope you were strong enough to persevere in your trials and come out far ahead of the people who abused you.
Many, many, years later there came another young girl into my life for a short time, but under much different circumstances. (I'll call her Nola, which is Celtic, for noble.) Things happened and we lost contact. Mostly I gave up dealing with her main caregiver and walked away.
So I failed Nola too.
I apologize to you, too, Nola.
More years later, after Nola grew up, I found out that she had once run away from home, but came back.
I thank God she came back.
But I then thought: What if? What if she hadn't came back? What might have happened to her?
So now comes that bottomless pit of the internet. That sounds negative (bottomless pit?) I say that because the internet holds unbounded information, from the sublime, to the very worst of human activity. And it's all there for anyone to see.
Some of the search words I used: Missing children. Runaways. Prostitution. Sex slaves. Human-trafficking. Abduction. And each search term led to literally hundreds, maybe/probably thousands, of pages.
I chose the photograph below for the cover of my book to illustrate how women and girls are still treated, even here in the good old USA, even with all our equal rights, etcetera, etcetera. It's obvious the girl in the photograph is out-of-focus, meaning she is unimportant, just an entity to be used.
I found out how many missing children there are, yearly, in the United States, and the world. The number is hard to believe (rather than trying to find the same information I will just say this number is somewhere in my book.) Also, I found out how long it takes for a young girl or boy to enter prostitution after they run away, and, I might add, what other choice do they have? At the age of nine to eleven--and much younger, so don't kid yourselves--(and that's a favorite age for the perverts and pimps.)  Anyway, a girl or boy that age is not going to find a job. They have to eat. A pervert or a pimp finds them, they're hungry, they're cold, they're scared...so they take the offer of friendship and the promise of care.
The most (what should I say: 'disappointing?') fact I found (not that I hadn't yet heard of it) was that it's not just stepfathers, step-brothers, other relatives, strangers, who molest children, but often actual fathers. In other words, some men molest their own children, boys and girls both.
In my novel "Daughters" the main character eighteen-year-old "Emma" is abducted, transported across many state lines to reach Las Vegas, is forcibly-trained during the trip and after, then is locked in a house with other young girl prostitutes, who most nights get transported to a hotel where the slaver owns part of one whole floor to supply his rich clients who want sex with no problems.
So, Margo and Nola, two young girls who I failed, "Daughters" is about you and dedicated--here--to you. The actual book is dedicated to mothers and daughters everywhere. Of course you won't recognize yourselves because those are fake names, but I will always know who you are.
I pray you are both happy and doing well.

Thanks for reading
Contact
nelsonjamesw@hotmail.com                           email
http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004GW465S    Author page at Amazon
http://morningshinestories.com                         Website
http://morninginapril.blogspot.com                    Blog
https://www.facebook.com/#!/                         Facebook
http://subron7.hubpages.com/                           HubPages
Feel free to contact me. (Response is not guaranteed) (The world is full of psychos and wackos)
A reminder for when you go to Amazon to read digital books, mine and many other authors: Amazon has a free APP download that allows you to read your book on any electronic device, including PC, Mac, iPad, iPhone, Android, and Blackberry.
Occasionally I list one of my books as free for a  day, sometimes more than a day. Look for those announcements on my blog, HubPages, Twitter, and Facebook.

Starting at midnight, December 19, 2012, "Daughters" will be a free download for 24 hours.

Saturday, December 15, 2012

People Want to Know

What do they want to know? Well, from me they want to know what makes me tick. During autograph sessions I'm asked questions, like: What are you working on? Where do you get your ideas? How long have you been writing? Did you just one day decide to start writing?
When you get to my answer for the first question, at the end of this post, hang onto your hat!
The answer to the last question: No. From one of my farthest back memories I have wanted to share my imagination, and that's what a lot of it is: Imagination. Sure, with my characters I will cast and describe people I know, people I've met, and people I've just seen in the distance, and for things that happen in my fiction I quite often will describe a live scene I've witnessed, but most of the time it's pure imagination.
In my fiction, that is.
In my memoirs Dying to Live it's all true. For many of the people I mention I use only their first names. For the five men who threw up the original four walls and the rafters of my new house in one day I give their full name as I thank them. My best friends also got their full name, and the four young boys who became men who served during Vietnam, along with me, also got their full names. Those four were Army, two Marine Corp, and air force, and served in-country. Another good friend (army) was killed. May he be now at peace.
The answer to the third question is much of my life, but I didn't really start actually trying to write until my four years in the navy. There I kept a very vague and short journal. However, my mind was filling with the material that now fills my memoirs.
The above photograph (and the cover for my memoirs) is a view from my front step. It illustrates that I live somewhat as a homesteader, and also shows the four most important events in my life. Three of those events, the 1955 tornado, the skydive/parachute jump, and my most meaningful romance, all have one chapter. The submarine represents my navy experience, which includes several chapters.

Dying to Live (the life & times of Jimmy Nelson)
(my memoirs) (58,400 words)
 My true account of growing up on a storybook farm, experiencing a killer tornado, surviving teenage confusion, an adventurous four-year ride on a submarine, a skydive, not maturing into your regular adult, discovering the world is not a bowl of cherries, a crash to the bottom, and, finally, accepting that the only person responsible for me, is me. But first I had to descend into the deep depths of the emotional chasm.
 Chapters
Prologue
Many Beginnings
ICU Diary
Many Beginnings Continued
Hell’s Island
Company 311
Tornado
Class A School
First Duty
Skydive!
USS Carbonero
Julia’s Story
Yokosuka
Travels & Philosophies
USS Archerfish
Test of Will Power
Sydney
The Bottom
Home Again
The fiction: Waiting to Die (most recent short story)

Dying to Live is my only nonfiction. However, a second one is in the works...if I ever get time to work on it....
The other nine books are fiction. Seven novels and two books of short stories. At this time I'm 32,000 words into my eighth novel but taking a breather.
To answer the second question I've decided to take the novels one at a time and describe how I got the idea and any other event that came about at the same time. They will appear on my blog as I finish them. Daughters (the heartbreak of human trafficking) likely will be first.
Then probably Winter in July (nuclear war drama) (the doomsday clock is ticking; it will reach midnight.)
After that The Bellwether (the mother of all disasters) (environmental and economic drama)
Experiments (medical mystery drama) (pharmacological research gone berserk)
Callipygia (the Utopian world of Callipygia...just a legend?) (A story of two women) (rated very, very, strong R) (Callipygia is a place, or maybe just a state of mind, for if you go there, and partake, you will become changed...forever.
The Light at the End of the Tunnel (one theory of reincarnation) (how reincarnation might relate to the death penalty) (includes also a fictional look at the foster care system)
Boat Sailors (Vietnam War action by fleet submarines)
And the eighth novel which yet does not have a title and likely is several months away. It will include the Illuminati, another name for The New World Order, or the 'Shadow' government, which conspiracy  theorists contend are the real people in charge: The bankers and top CEO's. So far in the novel there's been an abduction, a sacrifice, a deception, and many, many, people have died. But, if the conspiracy theorists are correct, these are very bad people, so innocent people will die. We will see where internet research and my imagination takes me.
Finally, the answer to the first question, the one where people ask me what I'm working on, is a little harder to answer. So, often I just hedge around answering. But now, with the Illuminati, I ask "Have you heard of the Illuminati?" and then I list the similar entities. Nobody has heard of them. I've been "aware" of them for years, but have never researched them. What I'm getting to, if people haven't heard of these groups, "why" haven't they? The end goal of the Illuminati is extermination of 85% of the earth's population, so it would seem pretty important to have at least heard of them. The remaining 15% would be used as slaves to care for the so-called elite, the Illuminati. But if almost nobody has heard of these evil people, it would seem to me--and with today's technology--that the planned extermination in the new millennium of the world's population, will/would go much more efficiently then the attempt in the 1940's by madman Hitler.
The other day I asked a friend, "What do you think of the fiscal cliff?" "The what?" he answered.
He had not even heard of it. This irony/sarcasm is not directed at my friend, but, come on, people: Stop living in a bubble!
Then there are my two books of 13 short stories each.
Strange & Weird Stories (the unknown...as close as beside you)
A Collection of Short Contemporary Stories (stories about people just like you)
I haven't decided how to approach announcing them on my blog. We will see.

Thanks for reading

Contact

nelsonjamesw@hotmail.com                          email
http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004GW465S   Author page at Amazon
http://morningshinestories.com                        Website
http://morninginapril.blogspot.com                   Blog
https://www.facebook.com/#!/                        Facebook
http://subron7.hubpages.com/                          HubPages
Feel free to contact me. (Response is not guaranteed) (The world is full of psychos and wackos)
A reminder for when you go to Amazon to read digital books, mine and many other authors: Amazon has a free APP download that allows you to read your book on any electronic device, including PC, Mac, iPad, iPhone, Android, and Blackberry.
Another reminder, any of my books can be "borrowed" any time, also for free.
Occasionally I list one of my books as free for a  day, sometimes more than a day. Look for those announcements on my blog, HubPages, Twitter, and Facebook.

Last week Amazon informed me that my memoirs had appeared "for free" elsewhere on the web. Consequently I can't include on KDP until I can find that thievin' website and ask them to remove. Don't know how that happened.
Anyway I had it listed for free this coming Saturday and Sunday (12-15 & 16.) So, if you want, take a look for free, or, pay just $0.99.




Monday, December 10, 2012

New World Order Rising Book 1: An Excerpt


The photograph has little to do with this post, but it does add interest for the reader. Also, if one looks closely one can make out two eyes, a nose, and a mouth...the Illuminati? Watching us? Deciding who will live and who will die? Am I getting a bit paranoid, daring to write about such a subject? Will the men-in-black soon be at my door?
 According to conspiracy theorists (and there are a lot of them) the Illuminati--the elite of the world, the New World Order, the so-called "shadow" government, meaning the bankers and corporate CEOs--are the true power brokers of our world.

A repeat from my last posting, their ultimate goal is exterminating 85% of the world's human population, leaving 15% to be slaves to care for the elite.

New World Order Rising Book 1

 (Story takes place in America, not Europe.)

Prologue
An isolated island in the Mediterranean


The old man stopped before one of the huge mirrors that graced most walls in his home. He looked at himself, looked into his gray eyes, at his blue-gray hair. Yes, he was old, but the lines on his face—to him—showed his life, the high and low points, the triumphs and failures, but most of all his rise to near the top of the pyramid. He looked at his nametag. No, it was not made from plastic and pinned to his suit; rather it was part of his suit.

It read Masters.

A good name for one of the elite of the world.
New World Order Rising Book 1

He moved onto his balcony. Still chilly, but the view of the sunrise was most beautiful there. He walked to the table and set his drink down, then moved on to the wall overlooking the bay. The eastern sky was brightening; it wouldn’t be long. He stood there quietly, thinking…the man from the United States would be arriving later, with, he hoped, good news. Something he had waited for all his life. Running his bank and his company, both of which supplied all sides and elements of war, had been good to him. Financially he had wanted for nothing, emotionally his life was empty. Any time he wanted a woman, though, after one phone call usually only ten or fifteen minutes would pass and she would be there, at his beckoning, for whatever he wanted. They all were good, adept at their trade but lacking in true emotion.

That’s what his life had need of: True love. Meaningful emotion. Honesty. Certainly, his servants all did their best; they all pleased him, and they all took their money and went to their own homes at night.

Then the phone call came from the United States, and the message that the man had what he wanted: A female of the purest beauty and innocence. Someone he could train to love him.

He returned to the table and sat down. The sun cracked the horizon. He took a drink. Vodka especially warmed him in the morning. He watched as the blazing orb left the water of the bay and lifted into low hanging clouds. Then, as if a curtain falling, the clouds reached the water and obscured the fire, but they had not prevented the sunrise. So often it happened in that way.

He smiled.

An hour passed. He heard his cook moving about in the kitchen. He heard his maid straightening up…whatever: Nothing was ever out of place. He heard the doorbell chimes and heard his butler open the door and speak to the visitor.

Another moment passed.

“Sir…?” came the voice of the butler, “Your visitor from the United States is here.”

“Thank you. Show him to the den please.”

“As you wish, sir.”

The old man returned to his balcony and gazed toward the mainland, toward where the masses lived and bred and dirtied their environment. Humanity was destroying the earth. Soon the destruction would stop. Soon the elite would assume their supreme destiny, as guardians and benefactors of the earth. He waited five more minutes, savoring his anticipation, then moved to the door to the den, and opened it.

The man from the United States was still standing, almost at attention. Masters didn’t know him, just knew he was good at what he did. The elite always knew the best to hire for whatever job was needed. The man held up a CD. The old man indicated the CD player. The man inserted the CD.

A few seconds passed, then, on a huge wall screen appeared a child, a girl child with hair the color of the richest raw oil. She looked at the camera. Her blue eyes brightened the entire room. She was the epitome of the purest beauty and charm, and more beautiful than the sky and the earth together.

"How old is she?"
"She just passed her sixth birthday, sir."
Then the girl looked behind her. The camera moved to include the mother, also the rarest of beauty.
"Do you know them?" the old man asked.
"Yes."
"Are they friends?"
"They were, in the past."
"But no longer." The old man observed the younger man, watching for any sign of falsehood. There appeared to be none. "What happened?"
"We grew apart."
"Yes, so many times that happens to childhood friends."
"Yes."
"So you have no qualms?"
"No."
"Good. I want the child,” the old man said, “Do as you wish with the mother.”


Thanks for reading

Contact

nelsonjamesw@hotmail.com                          email
http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004GW465S   Author page at Amazon
http://morningshinestories.com                        Website
http://morninginapril.blogspot.com                   Blog
https://www.facebook.com/#!/                        Facebook
http://subron7.hubpages.com/                          HubPages
Feel free to contact me. (Response is not guaranteed) (The world is full of psychos and wackos)
A reminder for when you go to Amazon to read digital books, mine and many other authors: Amazon has a free APP download that allows you to read your book on any electronic device, including PC, Mac, iPad, iPhone, Android, and Blackberry.
Occasionally I list one of my books as free for a  day, sometimes more than a day. Look for those announcements on my blog, HubPages, Twitter, and Facebook