As an avid reader across the board, my favorite genre is Fictional Mystery. Love the suspense. Over the years, my preference is less gore and more focus on the whodunnits. When first introduced to cozy mysteries, it took a moment to get into the simplicity of the stories.
As you already know, choosing books is like choosing the right pair of shoes. They must look good, fit and feel good. Mind you, I never gave up on my serious mystery-thrillers, but for a change enjoy the company of an everyday normal protagonist with zany associates, their humorous events and blunders while connecting puzzles to a crime (without my losing sleep over graphic details for a change). It’s like the friends you choose and draw close to, I find myself meeting new imaginary friends of mystery series after series. Perhaps I’ve become an official cozy junkie and loving it.
Oddly, I haven’t tried my hand in writing mystery. Perhaps my stories and their dramas are a handful enough, yet I find reading mysteries are a welcoming diversion for me.
What is your relaxing genre?
I am so delighted and honored to have received this thoughtful review by Michelle Cornwell-Jordan.
When I was told of her upcoming review, I couldn’t sleep for days.😱
Wow, what a pleasant surprise! I’m on Cloud-9 y’all. Now I gotta find my spokes-kid, Joseph Land, and share the good news. ☺️❤️
“Mr. S, what about the people? There are still a few stragglers.”
“What do you think?” Dominick replied. “Their instincts will kick in—live or die. They have places to go to or they’ll run to the nearest brush and later relocate like the rest of the homeless. If they don’t move, do what I pay you to do, Rand.” He looked up with a menacing stare.
“Got it,” Rand replied.
The contractor left the room, not without feeling guilty for what he was ordered to do. But Mr. S. wasn’t one to reason with. They had a deadline before they could forge ahead with the new complex, Dominion Estates.
Most of the residents evacuated from the Poplar Valley community. Mostly elderly. As much as he needed the money, Rand realized he had signed up with a heartless monster. If he could get out of this he would. Except Serpentyne was no one to back off on.
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“Just as my son would have been a good father, Chastity would be a wonderful mother. That’s what my Madison loved about her—her goodness. Oh, how I’m gonna miss that girl. She was such a wonderful daughter-in-law—actually a daughter to me.
GIVE her the strength to endure this loss. My going right after Madison will be hard on her. We were so close, Lord.
Like that young spirited sapling of yesteryear, she’ll become the strong oak and matriarch-elect of our family, with my cousins Eevie and Erlene guiding her along.
I slowly closed my eyes as I inhaled a sweet pleasant odor. Lavender. That’s what I smelled. Roses too. I heard voices in the distance. Is it time? Am I ﬁnally going to see Your beautiful promised land?
Indulge me with the sound of your wondrous voice, Oh Lord.
‘Eden, Eden! Edie. Can you hear me? Who in the world are you talking to, chile? Worryin’ me to death. If you think you’re talking to the Lord, ask Him to send you back one minute so I can kill you myself!’“
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Today is the last day of 2019. Just when I thought this year would never end, it’s over! I really underestimated the flight of time, because it was a rough year for me and my family.
I can only smile at the arduous months recovering physically, mentally and spiritually before finally reclaiming my passion for writing. I missed it so much. I shared my concerns with fellow authors and welcomed their wisdom. So, now I share with you, dear ones.
Whether through traditional or independent publishing, offering ones art of expression requires faith, practice, patience and endurance.
When consumed with a story, we’re in a zone of oblivion. We don’t dwell on writing supplies or time ticking by. No more than would a painter hesitate to replenish his/her paints, canvass, brushes and more to finish their masterpiece. Or a dancer and singer who both spend endless hours of practice before curtain call. (Yes, it can be costly and time consuming, but somehow we manage to get through without losing track of our momentum.) Get the picture?
Let’s not leave out the ANTICIPATION that awaits us after presenting our gifts to the world. Will they feel, see and hear what we wish to share or portray? Hopefully. Were the critics harsh or constructive? Yes, maybe. Did we receive the numerous cheers we hoped to expect? Perhaps not. Should we stop. Definitely not.
Our joy and devotion to our craft was presented as a gift to us first. Someone, far higher than we are, believed in us and rewarded each of us with the the gift of expression. Over the years, when we eventually give out or retire, our gifts will never leave our hearts. We would then smile at our achievements–big or small.
To put a monetary tag on our work can be illusional and discouraging, because our gifts–like life–are priceless. The satisfaction in reaching people who understand and admire our art is immeasurable. Compensation will often follow.
Also, one cannot compare with others the timetable of success. For some artists it’s years, and others overnight (it seems). Success always has a beginning. It’s up to us how to develop it, to master it. It becomes our generous gift to those who receive and welcome it from our heart to theirs.
As mentioned earlier, the art of storytelling encompasses the writer’s flow of much thought, emotion and more. The end result– JOY!
Relish what you have, water it, nourish it and make it grow. First, however, you enjoy it and then happily share. That’s our choice, fellow scribes, and our readers’ privilege.
See you in 2020!
J. Hale Turner