There is no mystery: we know what has happened from the very beginning, even if not all the characters share in this knowledge.
There is a crime committed, but as is the case in real life these days, the crime becomes secondary to the reality of media coverage.
The truth becomes sound bites and the faces of the talking heads giving credence to the facts they want to assume are in evidence.
No crime in the 21st century is truly complete without a media tour and a spokesperson.
Justified offers all that plus a road trip that transports the freak show from Brooklyn, NY under the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge, to Los Angeles and then San Francisco, under the shadow of the Golden Gate Bridge.
Justified also offers a diverse cast of characters from the Colombian sexpot, to the angry African American lady, to the queer anti-hero and the Israeli commando with the faint Southern drawl…
The book also savages two special cameos by media stars (both old and young), and how we treat crime stories differently on a generational level—but always in the interest of selling soap and bigger ratings.
Is morality dead or does it manifest differently to accommodate the ridiculous times we live in?
Race, religion, and politics all play a role in the story Justified tells, but it’s the characters that will stay with you: from the police detectives investigating the story, to the opportunist lawyer trying to cash in on the action, and especially Edmond Styles, the protagonist, who is a whole lot more than the quiet, aging civil servant everyone assumes him to be.
What makes this good summer reading? The scandal!
The raw element of reality (as well as our own guilty pleasure and our part in the conspiracy as we follow the details, the blood trail, the facts that lead to the inevitable end).
And it is an inevitable end, because at heart, Justified is a conventional story of the good triumphing over evil despite our basest instincts.
Sex, murder, violence, and objectionable language: it’s all there! The only thing missing is a car chase, but there is a scene in a crazy cab in San Francisco that fills in for it.
More than that, Justified has heart, passion, and laughter. And in the end, you'll also learn what a manly haiku is all about.
These are the choices from Amapola Press to start your summer reading: a collection of vignettes of a dozen women taking the reins of their own destinies or the story of a queer man from humble beginnings to a life of civil servitude in Brooklyn, to a life of crime and a road trip and instant fame... Slices of life, rolling out of the pages and inviting you into a dozen different worlds, or one strange trip. Short stories or satire.
Of course, the Kindle version is also available at Amazon, but some people have a pathological need to lick a finger to flick a page and to dogear the corner of a page. Some people get a special satisfaction to carrying a small paperback with them to the beach or the pool or a lake... And their predilection for paper is okay.
In fact, if I could get myself doodling again, I was thinking of putting together a coloring book for the bored.
Justified,
the crime drama that follows unassuming Edmond Styles after an
incident at gun point. He quickly becomes a household name and a
media sensation. He goes on a road trip and his private life becomes
part of the nation's vernacular. Part parody and satire, part pulp,
this is all about murder and mayhem and manly haikus.
BecauseShe Was A Woman
is a collection of a dozen vignettes, a quick read but certainly not
a simple one. Each story introduces a new woman living as best she
can in a variety of situations.
The
second editions are different in different ways. Justified
was edited for further clarity. BSWAW
was also edited for clarity, but mostly it was improved by adding “A
Quiet Stroll” – a moody little story – replacing “The Next IT
Couple” (which sadly was the weakest of the original vignettes.
To
celebrate the Summer Solstice, Amazon Prime subscribers may obtain
these titles for free and there will be promotional pricing in the US
and UK until June 21.
In
an effort to improve the online catalogue, several titles have been
unpublished (or placed in that “out of print” limbo were its
glory remains in yesterday but no more).
In
the Culinary section: The Food Goddess
is available as the combination Volumes 1 and 2.
In
Fiction: the first edition of Justified
and Because She Was A Woman,
are no longer available at Amazon. Putting May to
Rest
will be discontinued as a stand-alone story.
(Smashwords
and other retailers will soon follow; retailers such as Sony, Kobo,
iBooks may carry these titles a little longer).
The
Amapola Press website will reflect these changes.
Paperbacks
will be similarly revised and updated in the next few weeks.
Summer is rapidly descending upon us and it seemed like
a perfect opportunity to clean up the old offerings and relaunch them as second
editions.
The second edition of Justified is a tighter
story and I fixed a couple of errors that no one else noticed but nagged at me.
Because
She Was a Woman is losing its weakest story and gaining at
least one new one – which I suspect will be a trimmed version of Magic
Stilettos.
Scent
of Honeysuckle probably requires no tweaking, but as I am in
edit mode I probably will give it a glance and decide whether to revise it.
One
Night with B.B.has
done very well and introduced many to my writings. I may revise it slightly (if
nothing else to update the back matter).
Some titles will disappear as stand-alones and will now
be part of anthologies only (such as Putting May to Rest/El Velorio de Maya).
Kali:
The Food Goddess cookbook series will become one volume and
it will include new entries from the new Food
Goddess blog. Individual volumes will be discontinued.
A
Quiet Stroll may make it into the BSWAW anthology of short
stories as the baker’s dozen and it may also be produced as an audio book (a
test). The stand-alone version will remain a freebie.
Any e-books that go into a second edition will also be
released as a second edition as paperbacks (for continuity).
Why relaunch? To keep things fresh. The basic premise of
each book and story will remain the same, but as I hone my craft, I can revise
and make the writing tighter. This also serves to recognize some of the stories
that need not become part of a back-catalogue. A relaunch makes your final
product better because it seeks to offer excellence to your readers.
This is a good thing.
Stay tuned for more news about our relaunch! There will
be an opportunity to obtain free and review copies for those who’d like to
upgrade your previously purchased versions of my work.
Quotation in this post are all Maya Angelou's words.
“Words
mean more than what is set down on paper. It takes the human voice to
infuse them with shades of deeper meaning.”
I
once told my Mother, “Ugh, I hate jazz!” and I even made a
face. She rolled her eyes, but she was more annoyed than horrified.
She later told me she knew I'd fall on the right side of reason
because I am, after all, her child...
I
do love jazz in many of its styles. Moreover, despite my childish
rejection of it on that one terrible occasion, the truth is that
under the right kind of questioning it turned out that I had been
exposed to and already liked a great variety of jazz styles – it's
just that I had been under the false impression that this music was
“something else.”
And
it was not cool. Nope!
Anything but cool.
At
some point, I was indoctrinated into believing that “jazz”
included ragtime and avant garde
styles – but irrelevant without context and not as sexy as bebop or
Latin jazz, and completely oblivious of fusion forms.
I
tend to make the same noises about poets and poetry. “Ugh!” and
the face.
That
tends to be crap too. The biggest killer of a love for poetry is the
education system in this country. I don't mind admitting that I got
suicidal during an extended reading of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. I wanted
to jump into the pages, shoot the albatross and beat the old guy with
the dead bird (half to death and drown him!). It was not my finest scholastic moment.
A
good poet has an expert understanding of words, and music, and color
and texture and taste, of language to a degree that it evokes the
divine.
Poets
aren't necessarily good writers beyond poetry. I note Canadian dynamo
Margaret Atwood as an outstanding example of a great writer. Even as
she can weave an interesting yarn, what I remember most about reading
one of my favorite books, The
Handmaid's Tale, was the cadence.
So
expert at writing poetry, her sentences were short and packed with
meaning, and as you read, their delicate simplicity invited you to
read faster to meet the story sooner until it left your brain and soul breathless
and dizzy, thirsty, hungry, and exhausted!
Then
there was Maya Angelou.
“If
we lose love and self respect for each other, this is how we finally
die.”
She
was a youthful kinda of 86 in an old-soul package. I cannot say I
loved every piece of work the woman produced, but I appreciated the
loving craft she put into every word she shared. There was something
almost divine in the way she treated words.
“Love
is that condition in the human spirit so profound that it allows me
to survive, and better than that, to thrive with passion, compassion,
and style.”
She
lived a remarkable life (good, bad, spectacular, dramatic and
tragic); and I hope that her legacy has the endurance the work and
the woman truly deserves. To her, with her, in
her existed a certain magic in her use of language, she loved word so
that every one she spoke and each word she wrote she created and
delivered with a metaphysical caress.
“Words
mean more than what is set down on paper. It takes the human voice to
infuse them with shades of deeper meaning.”
She
released her words with love, pure and unadulterated love. Sometimes
there was passion, and sometimes wisdom, some humor, the odd moment
of regret; but above all, there was love: of life, of learning, of
being a woman, despite it all!
“I
love to see a young girl go out and grab the world by the lapels.
Life's a bitch. You've got to go out and kick ass.”
An
artist may finish a piece and its beauty is plain for all to see, on
their own terms. And so the finality of death completes the artwork
of one life. But much like art, the beauty of the piece is rarely
immediate. Beauty depends as much on endurance and environment as it
does on those admiring it. And therein lies immortality.
That is where she exists now...
“If
you find it in your heart to care for somebody else,you will have
succeeded.”
Good
night, you honey-tongued ebony queen!
And
finally, words that I feel deeply:
“There
is no agony like bearing an untold story inside of you.”
In
response, as I mourned the passing of one of our literary living
legends, I wrote 339 words in three acts (morning, mid and late
afternoon). My words may never reach the quality of some of her best
work, but I aspire to greatness and will rise to the challenge every
time. I cannot compete, but I can learn from her passion.
Every
other day a line comes to me and I document it, but at this rate I
will be in my 90's before I finish the story.
At
first I thought that I was unfocused because stress was building up –
as my situation has not improved yet and perhaps deep down I am a
little disappointed that I cannot push it along. If will alone could
reverse this period, I'd be in heaven, but patience must rule until
every other factor that is not under my control meets at the center
and creates a perfect opportunity.
Several
weeks of misery did not awaken that Dark Muse that rules the other
world where the story originates. Apparently, my ability to write is
not necessarily dependent upon a tortured soul.
I
thought that perhaps this was a mild case of writer's block that came
and went like some teenage love affair (the type that lasts exactly
24 hours and dies a swift death at the hands of a killer smile).
But
that is not true: my imaginary friends still share bits of story. In fact, I dream of the story, but not the main character
and I am starting to believe she is the weak link in the whole deal!
I see scenes and I document each bit.
It
makes me wonder whether this is not meant to be a novella but rather
a screenplay... Perhaps Magic Stilettos is meant to be committed to film (perhaps an animated project?).
The one
thing I have learned from this period of relative sadness is that I
have been wasting my time, filling up my free moments on nothing but
smoke and mirrors. Mostly smoke!
It was
an interesting experience, but I believe my time would be better
spent learning something new. Tomorrow, I start catching up on my
reading. And this week, probably after Wednesday, I will look into
adding another skill to my arsenal.
The
biggest seller in the book world says that an idle mind is the
devil's playground. Well, he can stop by to tell me funny stories,
but he is not welcome to stay. That giant, strange landscape
is my playground alone!
My goal
is to have at least a short film written by summer's end. At any rate, things are changing here, they have to. I'm shedding unnecessary things and loads of smoke.
I'm
keeping a list, separate from the current writing projects, of ideas
that I'd like to explore in writing at some point. These are seeds
rather than fully-formed concepts. Some may even be more interesting
as morsels for conversation but not necessarily as foundations to a
story.
I
have not started a new project, per se, but I am thinking that out of
these ideas I may come up with a theme for the next volume of short
stories. The first volume, Because She Was a Woman,
was based on a conversation about a song and followed from a line in
a poem a friend had shared with me years ago.
Occasionally
I try to broach one of these topics in my Facebook page, but it is
not always a success.
Words
are funny things. They are easily misconstrued, especially online
where they seem to take a life of their own and in unexpected ways.
Things
break. Some, delicate little things, can not be glued back together.
You may pretend you cannot see the cracks by squinting or dimming the
lights. You may pretend its surface is still smooth and beautiful
even as your finger bleeds, jagged glass ripping the skin apart. It
is still irrevocably broken. You can't unshatter it. Is the value of
the thing entirely in what it brought to your life? Do you keep the
broken artifact for sentimental reasons or do you accept it is no
longer the thing you once loved, let it go and dump it -- live off
the memories and not the reality?
I
am not entirely sure that everyone who participated in the ensuing
discussion understood the deeper meaning of the words in the same way
– which is the beauty of it because that makes each answer nuanced
and personal. Each perception then becomes a different story – if
the exercise is successful.
I
didn't explain it beyond that and I received a variety of responses. The
eternal optimist that believes anything can be fixed. The more
pragmatic realist that recognized that sometimes you need to let go,
but also that some times you must ease yourself into that state. The
eternal romantic that feels that there is an almost metaphysical
relationship where an understanding is achieved... (I admit being
completely ignorant of such things and missing the point almost
entirely, luckily my stupidity in matter of the heart doesn't affect our friendship.) And finally, the beautiful mind that introduced me to the
concept of kintsugi and added a classical elegance to the
conversation.
And
this is precisely what I wanted to see, a network of ideas springing
from a single thought and growing into as many possibilities as
varied as the minds and voices added to it.
The
inspiration for the original thought? An extended and unstructured
journey through Pinterest that lead to re-purposed
antiques -- people using damaged porcelain and glassware to make new
works of art and jewelry. I wondered if these pieces of discarded
heirlooms would, in turn, become heirlooms to a new generation in
their newest guise.
A
simple thought gave way to a larger conversation with far more
possibilities than the story of a single mosaic pin made out of a
broken tea cup. But even if no other stories come of this specific
exercise, what interesting ideas come from it and what a perfect
opportunity to learn something new – about history, life, and the
people that populate your life!
Race, religion, and politics all play a role in the story Justified tells, but it’s the characters that will stay with you: from the police detectives investigating the story, to the opportunist lawyer trying to cash in on the action, and especially Edmond Styles, the protagonist, who is a whole lot more than the quiet, aging civil servant everyone assumes him to be.
