Top 10 songs (1968) for author Valerie Woods (Katrin's Chronicles)

Top 10 songs (1968) for author Valerie Woods (Katrin's Chronicles)

Today our guest is author, Valerie C. Woods. She is an accomplished writer for tv, film, and now she shares her novel with us. Check out her kindle giveaway at the bottom of the post, and let us know your favorite song from her top ten list.

I Wish it Would Rain - The Temptations

Light my Fire -Jose Feliciano

I Say a Little Prayer - Aretha Franklin

Hey Jude - The Beatles

Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay - Otis Redding

Mrs. Robinson - Simon & Garfunkel

Stoned Soul Picnic - The 5th Dimension

Grazing in the Grass - Hugh Masekela

Dance to the Music - Sly & The Family Stone

Do You Know the Way to San Jose - Dionne Warwick

About the Author

Valerie C. Woods is the author of the novella I Believe… A Ghost Story for the Holidays. She also wrote Something for Everyone (50 Original Monologues), offered by renowned play publishers, Samuel French, Inc. Ms. Woods continues to write for the entertainment industry. Her writing career began with her selection as a Walt Disney Screenwriting Fellow and continued with writing and producing for such network and cable dramas as Under One Roof, Touched By An Angel, Promised Land, Any Day Now and Soul Food. She has returned to her first love… writing fiction, in addition to developing future film and television projects.

13-year-old, Katrin DuBois decides it's never to soon to start an autobiography. She needs to set the record straight about the outrageous rumors concerning certain adventures that began when she was in 6th grade. That's when her elder sister, 8th grader J. Dyanne, began exhibiting extraordinary detecting powers. Volume 1 begins in the late summer of 1968 on the south side of Chicago, a turbulent time before cell phones, laptops and text messages became essential elements of pre-teen life. The girls manage to thrive in a world of social change with multi-generational family support, creative quick-thinking and fearless inquisitiveness. The dog days of August find them prohibited by their parents from visiting the Central Library downtown because of the riots during the Democratic Convention. However, there's plenty of adventure in their own neighborhood as they become swept up in family mysteries, neighborhood political schemes and discovery of a surprising legacy of psychic, even supernatural, talent.

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Chet Baker: The Missing Years: A Memoir by Artt Frank **Book Blitz**

 Chet Baker: 

The Missing Years: 

A Memoir by Artt Frank 

**Book Blitz**

"top ten list of beautiful, romantic ballads that I personally like, and

Chet used to sing and play most of these also"

1- 'My Foolish Heart.

 

2- My Funny Valentine

3-This Is Always

4- Someone To Watch Over Me

5- Living For You (or, Easy Living)

6-Everything  Happens To Me.

7-Bewitched, Bothered And  Bewildered

8-O' You Crazy Moon

9-I'm Old Fashioned

10-Young And Foolish

Oklahoma Jazz Hall of Fame Bop drummer, composer, lyricist, and vocalist Artt Frank is one of the few authentic bop musicians on the scene today. He is best known for his friendship and professional association with trumpet immortal, Chet Baker, with whom he worked for many years. Michael Armando, jazz musician and President of MJA Records, says of Chet Baker: The Missing Years: A Memoir by Artt Frank, “Artt tells it like it was, what it was like being a friend and a drummer for this great legend Chet Baker … When reading this book for the first time it is almost like you are being drawn into a time warp going back into time. Artt Frank takes you from the dark back alleys of drugs and despair to the shinning genius of Chet's playing smoke filled clubs and the streets … If you are a musician you will cherish it after reading it. Non-musicians will learn how great Chet Baker was and how great a friend drumming great Artt Frank was to Chet. The truth will set you free and Artt Frank has done this with his memoir. Amen... I give this book 10 stars...” As reviewed by premiere jazz journalist and critic, Doug Ramsey, this memoir “…shows us sides of the great trumpeter that few people knew. In gripping detail, he [Artt] tells of the well-known drama in Baker’s life—the sudden fame, the struggle with drugs, the effects of a beating that almost ended his career. But Artt gives us new insights into Chet’s warmth, his love of family, his steely determination and the early emergence of his astonishing talent…This is a book of revelations."

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Praise for Chet Baker: The Missing Years, A Memoir by Artt Frank

In August of 2012, jazz great Dave Brubeck gave the following review of Artt’s memoir:

“Artt Frank, the author of Chet Baker: The Missing Years is a devout Christian who practices what he preaches. His personal memoir of his meeting and subsequent friendship with the jazz genius of the trumpet is an unvarnished, honest portrayal of Chet Baker. In depicting Chet’s struggle to recovery, Artt reveals great compassion for a sensitive soul fighting for a life, and puts to rest the rumors and gossip that circulated about Chet’s ‘missing years.’”

– Dave Brubeck, Legendary Jazz Pianist and Composer

“About Chet a lot has been written, but alas, much of it is nonsense, repeating other nonsense. To get reliable information, we have to turn to the few people who actually knew him. Artt Frank not only knew Chet but kept in touch when it seems like the world had forgotten him; a period he calls 'the missing years,’ and rightfully so.''

Jeroen de Valk, author – Chet Baker: His Life and Music

“Chet Baker’s friend and drummer Artt Frank shows us sides of the great trumpeter that few people knew. In gripping detail, he tells of the well-known drama in Baker’s life—the sudden fame, the struggle with drugs, the effects of a beating that almost ended his career. But Artt gives us new insights into Chet’s warmth, his love of family, his steely determination and the early emergence of his astonishing talent. Frank’s photographic memory for conversations rivals Truman Capote’s. This is a book of revelations.”

–        Doug Ramsey, Author of Jazz Matters and

–        Take Five: The Public and Private Lives of Paul Desmond

“Chet Baker: The Missing Years is perhaps the most accurate account of Chet’s life and true spirit to date. Superbly written by Artt Frank ... the book gives fresh insight into the man behind the music. A must-read for everyone from the casual jazz fan to the serious student of jazz history.”

–        JB Dyas, PhD, VP, Education and Curriculum

–        Development, Thelonious Monk Institute of Jazz

Artt Frank, bop drummer/composer, and author, is one of the few authentic bop musicians on the scene today. Born in the small paper mill town of Westbrook, Maine on March 9, 1933, Artt is best known for his long-term association with Chet Baker, with whom he collaborated for over 20 years. Artt has also been worked with an impressive list of jazz luminaries over the past sixty years including the great Charlie Parker, Tadd Dameron, Dexter Gordon, Sonny Stitt, Miles Davis, Bud Powell, Jimmy Heath, Al Cohn, Ted Curson, and many others, including one memorable night with the great singer, Billie Holiday

In 2004, Artt completed his book “Essentials for the Be Bop Drummer” with Pete Swan and published by Tim Schaffner, publisher (and drummer!) of Schaffner Press, Inc.

Artt Frank was inducted into the Oklahoma Jazz Hall of Fame in November, 2010.

He currently lives in Green Valley, Arizona with his wife, Lisa Frank.

To learn more about the author, visit: www.ArttFrank.com

AN EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT

Chapter  1 Our First Meeting

I met Chet Baker in March of 1954 in a Boston jazz club called, “Storyville.” But the first time I heard Chet’s music was over the Armed Forces radio aboard the USS Des Moines in ’53 toward the end of the Korean War. Listening to Chet’s trumpet on that radio, I cried inside, unable to understand how a trumpeter could affect a drummer so much. Right then, I sincerely sent up a prayer that I would get home safely and get a chance to meet and play with Chet Baker.

Since I was about six years old, I’d been playing drums on anything I could find. By the time I was in my teens, I tried to imitate the beats of my favorite drummer, Gene Krupa, on the tabletop at home in Westbrook, Maine. Still, the only other musician who had affected me the way Chet did, was when I first heard Charlie “Bird” Parker and the new form of jazz – Be Bop. At 17, I hitchhiked to New York City from Westbrook, just to hear Bird in person at The Royal Roost. And maybe get the courage to ask him if I could sit in. I did, and he and Max Roach were kind enough to let me play.

Now, at 21, the war was over, I was honorably discharged and home working at the paper mill, like my father and most everybody in Westbrook, and still in love with jazz and drumming.

Chet Baker had just won both the Downbeat and Metronome jazz magazine polls for America’s number one new jazz trumpeter. That night in ’54 when I got to Boston, the Storyville club was jam-packed. My first impression of him was not only was he gifted, but also he was a very handsome young man as evidenced by all the beautiful young girls surrounding him. I waited until most of the girls and fans left, then made my way over to the bandstand to say hello. I wanted to make him think we had met once before, so as I approached I extended my hand, and said, “Hi Chet, Art Frank. Remember me?”

He looked at me for what seemed an eternity, shook his head, and said, “No, no, I don’t remember you, man. Sorry.” He said it softly but directly. I learned right then and there that Chet was very quick, intent and painfully honest. He looked you in the eyes when he spoke. It seemed like he could pretty much read your thoughts on the spot. I got the feeling he’d tell you the truth even if it meant his losing a fan by doing so. Man, if Chet had been a gunfighter during the old Wild West days, he no doubt would have stared down Jesse James. That’s how intense he was. And conversely, he was quite approachable.

As I spoke, he studied me for another few seconds or so and asked when and where we were supposed to have met. Rather than continuing to lie, I confessed that I hadn’t really met him in person, but how terribly moved I’d been by his sound and the way he played when I’d first heard him on the radio aboard ship during the war. He smiled, obviously liking what I had said, and when he did, I couldn’t help notice that one of his upper front teeth was missing on the left side. I was about to ask him how he’d lost it when the bass player, Carson Smith came over and stopped my train of thought. Chet introduced us, and we shook hands briefly. Carson excused himself and walked off toward the bar area. Chet didn’t appear to be in any particular hurry to get rid of me, smiling and nodding at the beautiful young chicks as they walked by.

I went on to tell him about the prayer I’d made when I had first heard him play; that I’d be able to meet him one day, maybe even get the chance to play with him and his group. He studied me curiously and asked what instrument I played. I told him I was a drummer, and had sat in with Charlie Parker at the Royal Roost, and a lot of other great bop musicians along 52^nd Street. Bop drummer Stan Levey had also given me a lot of inside tips on how to play. Chet seemed impressed and smiled warmly. As far as getting the chance to play with him one day, he said in his soft, melodic voice, “One never knows, man… one never knows.”

Carson and Russ were on their way outside and asked Chet if he wanted to go out for a breath of fresh air. He nodded, excused himself and left me standing there. Much to my surprise though, he stopped, turned half way around and gestured for me to join him. I couldn’t believe it. Here was Chet Baker inviting me to join him. Once outside the club, I lit up a cigarette and offered one to Chet. He just shook his head and told me he didn’t smoke. He stood by watching the traffic whiz by. He had the interest and intensity of a little boy on some long ago Christmas morning watching his father operate a set of Lionel trains on a miniature set of tracks on a worn out linoleum covered floor.

After a minute or so, Russ and Carson told him they were going back inside the club, but Chet was too focused on watching all the cars go by and didn’t respond. They left and I don’t think Chet even realized I was standing there beside him until a minute or so later. He turned around and asked me where Russ and Carson had gone. When I told him what happened, his face lit up with a smile. He told me that whenever he watched a lot of cars speeding by, it brought to his mind one of the few things he would most like to do in life -- drive a race car at Le Mans and win. “What a thrill that would be, man,” he said, a kind of daydream look in his eyes.

While I stood there listening to him, it occurred to me that I was talking to the nation’s number one trumpet player, and he’s telling me how he’d like to be a racecar driver. I told him he could probably do anything he set his mind to. Where I came from in Maine, racing cars against each other was what most of the young guys did every night and weekends for excitement. Hearing that brought another smile. He told me that most of the young cats in L.A. were doing the same thing. I guess it must have been pretty much the same way in every city and town across the country.

I asked him where he and his group were going after they left Boston. He said they would be doing back-to-back gigs in different cities before winding up doing a full month at “Birdland,” the world-renowned jazz club in New York City. The first two weeks of that gig he would play opposite sets with Dizzy Gillespie’s group, and the following two weeks, opposite sets with Miles Davis’ group. He was real excited about the prospect of that. He was gracious and told me that if I could make it down during one of those weeks, I’d more than likely get the chance to sit in with him. I was ecstatic when he said that, and told him I’d do my damnedest to make it down on one of the nights he’d be sharing the stand with Miles Davis. He said he hoped so, and I believe he genuinely meant it.

I knew he had other things to do, and I didn’t want to get off to a bad start by taking up any more of his time. He still had another set to play, and I had a hundred and five mile drive back to Westbrook, Maine. Also, I had to be at work at the paper mill by 6 a.m. the following morning. I worked the ‘swing shift.’ One week I’d work the 6 a.m. to 12 p.m. shift, the following week I’d work from 12 p.m. to 6 p.m., the next week I’d work from 6 p.m. to midnight, and finally, I’d work the graveyard shift, from midnight to 6 a.m. I hated the swing shift because it was very difficult to make plans to do anything. I really didn’t want to leave the club, but knew I had to. I shook Chet’s hand and told him I hoped to see him again when he played Birdland, and left the club reluctant, but elated.

Almost as soon as I had driven out of Boston, a mixture of snow and rain started to fall softly, causing the roads to be a bit slippery, not the least unusual in early spring. But I didn’t care. I was absolutely ecstatic because I had finally met and talked with my main inspiration in jazz, Chet Baker, and he’d been very warm toward me. I praised and thanked God for hearing my prayers about meeting Chet.

The snow continued to fall but it never really amounted to anything, at least until I hit Route 1 in Maine, where the road became even more slippery. I made it home just before 5:00am, about the time my father would be getting up. He had to get up at that time each morning to get the wood stove fire going so he could make his ‘Eight O’Clock’ brand coffee. He’d have to do this in the spring, summer, fall and winter because we only had one wood-burning stove in the house and that was in the kitchen. Whenever I’d get home late, as I did in this case, I’d come upstairs very quietly so I wouldn’t awaken him. But lo and behold, there he was, already up, dressed and sitting at the table waiting for the coffee to finish perking.

It seemed that every winter morning in Maine was a particularly cold one, and this March morning was no different. My father busied himself putting pieces of wood into the stove in order to have it warm for my mother and the other kids who’d soon be getting up. I swear, every other room in that apartment was freezing and the floors were as cold as glaciers. There was absolutely no insulation or storm windows, no central heating system nor even running hot water. In order to have hot water, we would have to fill a pan with water and heat it on the front of the stove.

This was a routine my father did each and every morning before he would sit down and enjoy his cup of coffee - after which, he’d put on his light weight frock coat, a railroad cap, leave the house and go out into the freezing cold. Not having a car, he’d walk the mile and a half through deep snow to get to work at the local paper mill. But God bless his heart, he was happy for me when I told him about the whole episode of meeting Chet. My dad played a C Melody sax, which is comparable to a soprano saxophone, but he never really got the opportunity to play in any of the nightclubs in nearby Portland. He was too busy working seven days of every week to support seven of us kids.

While we sat there talking, my mother woke up and joined us. Still being excited, I went over the whole story again, filling in each and every little detail, and later the same day, I relived it again with my three brothers and three sisters. I know it sounds crazy, but that’s how important it was for me to have met Chet Baker.

My mother, having a ‘steel trap’ memory, recalled how I’d bought a record by Chet the year before, the day after my discharge, and wanted me to play it. I got the turntable from my room and played it for them. Hell, all I did for weeks and weeks was play The Lamp is Low on that Chet Baker record until I nearly wore the grooves out. There was something in Chet’s music that got to me. I was so excited about the possibility of seeing Chet again that I wanted to share his music with everybody. I’d open the windows and play his record so the neighbors next door would be able to hear the sounds too. Some of them didn’t mind. But there were a few others who always squawked. They were too square, but I played the records anyway!

As luck would have it though, when it came time for Chet and his quartet to begin his month at Birdland, I was working the top part of the swing shift, 6 a.m. to 12 pm - which meant that by the time it came around for Chet to be playing his two weeks opposite Miles Davis, I’d be working the 6 p.m. to midnight the first week and the midnight to 6 a.m. shift the second week. Unless I could find someone to swap shifts, I’d not only miss the chance to see Chet again, but also miss the chance to sit in and play with him and his group. To say that I was frantic would be an understatement. I called the other two guys who worked the swing shift, and asked each one if they’d be willing to swap their shifts with me for the last two weeks of the month, but unfortunately for me, they could not for each had made plans of their own. So that March night of 1954 in Boston turned out to be the last time I would see Chet for the next fourteen years.

#  #  #

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An Interview with Author, Deborah Coonts

An Interview with 

Author, Deborah Coonts

Today we are featuring Deborah Coonts, the author of the Lucky series. First, let's learn a bit about her background.

DEBORAH COONTS BIO

My mother tells me I was born a very long time ago, but I’m not so sure—my mother can’t be trusted.  These things I do know:  I was raised in Texas on barbeque, Mexican food and beer.  I am the author of WANNA GET LUCKY? (A NY Times Notable Crime Novel and double RITA™ Finalist), its five sequels, LUCKY CATCH, being the latest, and four between-the-books novellas.  Currently I’m stretching my writer muscles working on a women’s fiction/contemporary romance series set in Napa, a dark thriller, as well as the next Lucky adventure, LUCKY BREAK, due out November 20, 2015—all very different projects. So, if you see me with a glass of Champagne in hand, you’ll understand.  I can usually be found at the bar, but also at www.deborahcoonts.com.

Where are you from?

Born and groomed in Texas; it’s the South, you know.  But I’m pretty much from wherever my imagination and my credit card can take me.    Wanderlust is embedded in my DNA.

What inspired you to write your first book?

A borderline personality disorder and too much wine. 

Turns out, I LOVE stories—I was a lawyer for many years, so I told a lot of stories!  The leap to making up the facts and characters as well as weaving the story wasn’t too wide to take in a giant stride.  But the craft!  Now that took some time.  Can you imagine a novel written in the same tone as a legal brief.  Oh dear!  I’d be out of publishing before I got startedJ

Do you write full-time or part-time? How do you balance your writing life with your family/work life?

I am lucky enough to write full-time.  Balance?  What’s that?  I am a triple Type-A and my hobbies are all aspects of my writing career—so I’m a one-trick pony.  Every now and again my family will force me out of my cave into the light.  And then, there is that travel bug thing.  But, that is one of the ways I refill the story well.  As a writer, I need an every changing landscape outside my window.  Yes, in case you are wondering, my son is grownJ

What book are you reading now?

I’m writing two and editing two—that’s enough folks in my head all talking at once!

Are there any new authors that have grasped your interest?

Sure.  Tons.  So many fabulous writers.  I absolutely loved Deborah Harkness’s sAll-Souls Trilogy.  I 4ead across genre:  Nora Robert’s for description and a love, Allison Brennan, Catherin Coulter because they are awesome, Josie Brown to make me laugh and give me a wild ride;  Kendra Elliot just because (I love her stories).  The list is endless.

What are your current projects?

I’ve just finished a dark psychological thriller and am going through edits now.  The first in a new series, CRUSHED, is done but for a few tweaks and will launch in January.  Friends, food, wine, and dishy men, what’s not to like?  I’m scribbling away on the first in a romantic suspense series titled DEEP WATER, and featuring a female helicopter pilot and a Coast Guard Commander AND the second book to follow CRUSHED, AGED.   Then the next Lucky…..

Does anyone out there have enough stroke with the Powers That Be to get another 24 hours added to each day?  I’d really appreciate that!

If you had to do it all over again, would you change anything in your latest book?

Wow, it just came out so I haven’t had time to pick it apart yet.  There are always things I’d change, but not necessarily things that would make the story better.  Moving words around doesn’t help that much.  To be honest, I really like how LUCKY BREAK came together.  It has the elements I wanted.  Hope others agree.

Can you share a little of your current work with us?

Not yet…..

How do you overcome writer’s block?

I don’t really have this problem. If I get stuck on a plot point or something, I find a way to take my mind off of it, go play.  Usually somewhere in the playtime the answer rises to the surface.  My subconscious is often a better writer than the me who whispers in my ear all the time

What was the most fun part of writing your book?

Lucky, Vegas, Lucky’s mother, Mona, Teddie, Jean-Charles… and a very nasty old nemesis—all of that is great fun!

What was the hardest part of writing your book?

Quitting for the day.  I love playing in Lucky’s world.

Did you learn anything from writing your book and what was it?

I learn something from each book.  Hopefully I grow in my craft and my storytelling, but, some books are easier to write than others.  LUCKY BREAK was one of the easier ones—I’d had it in mind for a long time, so that helped.  I think though the main lesson I’ve learned along this path is to just do it—to trust myself, my story and to have fun.  Yep, I’ve killed my internal editor.  That’s not to say that I don’t go back through the sories multiple times, hired editors and proofreaders—I do all of that.  But I let myself have fun and play while I’m writing the first draft.  After that I can make it pretty.

Do you have any advice for other writers?

Write every day.  Never quite.  Have fun!

Do you have anything specific that you want to say to your readers?

Thank you!  A million times thank you!  Because of you I get to make stuff up for a living.  How incredibly wonderful is that?  I pinch myself every morning.

What do you think about e-publishing versus technical publishing?

I’m a HUGE fan of e-publishing.  I have a foot in both worlds, and they both have their pluses and minues.  BUT, the advent of digital publishing finally gave authors a choice…and with choices comes power.  This is a very good thing. 

Do you have an agent or publisher? How did you go about finding one?

Yes, I have an agent.  I found him at ThrillerFest.  I would recommend going to conferences and networking as the best way to find an agent.

If you could live anywhere, where would it be?

San Francisco.  With a month or two a year sampling other places.  I’m a dreamerJ 

But, if you don’t dream then they can’t become reality.

If you could have any super power, what would it be?

To fly.  I’m a pilot and that’s the closest I’ve gotten.

Publisher’s Weekly calls the Lucky books “Evanovich with a dose of CSI.”

A light-hearted romantic mystery set in Las Vegas where FUN is the name of the game.

With Christmas a few days away, Lucky O’Toole, Vice President of Customer Relations for the Babylon, Las Vegas’s premier Strip casino resort, is in a festive mood. The upcoming wedding of her assistant to the Beautiful Jeremy Whitlock and her own engagement to her delish French Chef, Jean-Charles Bouclet have Lucky in full holiday cheer.

And even bigger celebrations are afoot. The national media is focused on the grand opening of Jean-Charles’s restaurant atop Lucky’s very own slice-of-heaven hotel. The opening gets a boost when Holt Box, a retired country-western singing legend lends a hand in the kitchen, adding mega-watt celebrity buzz.

Lucky’s life is humming.

The only sour note is her former lover, Teddie.

Teddie claims Lucky’s father, the Big Boss, has put an end to his return to the Las Vegas stage by handing that stage to Holt Box. Box is returning from retirement, a comeback of epic magnitude that will give the Babylon—and Lucky’s career—an incredible boost.

Taken by surprise, Lucky takes the high road. Or rather, she does what she always does when life overwhelms… She ignores it.

Until she finds Teddie and her father, bloodied and angry, standing over the lifeless body of Holt Box, a dagger in Teddie’s fist.

The media sharks are circling. A Macau heavy-hitter in town, flying under the radar but making his presence felt. An old nemesis of Lucky’s is out of prison and salivating for revenge. Lucky’s mother is ramping up her political campaign while juggling her new twins, who still don’t have names. And Christmas is racing toward a crescendo.

Time is short as Lucky must discover whether Teddie is a killer.

And why she still cares.

What folks say about the Lucky Series:

With Christmas a few days away, Lucky O’Toole, Vice President of Customer Relations for the Babylon, Las Vegas’s premier Strip casino resort, is in a festive mood. The upcoming wedding of her assistant to the Beautiful Jeremy Whitlock and her own engagement to her delish French Chef, Jean-Charles Bouclet have Lucky in full holiday cheer.

And even bigger celebrations are afoot. The national media is focused on the grand opening of Jean-Charles’s restaurant atop Lucky’s very own slice-of-heaven hotel. The opening gets a boost when Holt Box, a retired country-western singing legend lends a hand in the kitchen, adding mega-watt celebrity buzz.

Lucky’s life is humming.

The only sour note is her former lover, Teddie.

Teddie claims Lucky’s father, the Big Boss, has put an end to his return to the Las Vegas stage by handing that stage to Holt Box. Box is returning from retirement, a comeback of epic magnitude that will give the Babylon—and Lucky’s career—an incredible boost.

Taken by surprise, Lucky takes the high road. Or rather, she does what she always does when life overwhelms… She ignores it.

Until she finds Teddie and her father, bloodied and angry, standing over the lifeless body of Holt Box, a dagger in Teddie’s fist.

The media sharks are circling. A Macau heavy-hitter in town, flying under the radar but making his presence felt. An old nemesis of Lucky’s is out of prison and salivating for revenge. Lucky’s mother is ramping up her political campaign while juggling her new twins, who still don’t have names. And Christmas is racing toward a crescendo.

Time is short as Lucky must discover whether Teddie is a killer.

And why she still cares.

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Connect with Deborah

Facebook:   https://www.facebook.com/deborahcoonts/

Twitter:  @DeborahCoonts

Instagram:  https://www.instagram.com/deborahcoonts/

Pinterest:  https://www.pinterest.com/debcoonts/

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An Interview with Shirley Sacks ~The Fablis Life of Bella Mellman Blog Tour~

1.       When did you know you wanted to be a writer?

I used to want to be a painter, and have a degree in Fine Arts and have shown my work at various galleries. But once I began to write seriously, in my early forties, I loved the process so much. I continued doing both and make art occassionally but I much prefer writing. I have illustrated my first book myself; so the two can work together. 

2.       Do you write full time?

I write almost every day. It’s not a chore. When I can’t write, I don’t like it.

3.       How does this book differ from your other series’?

This is my first book in a series; The Fabliss Life of Bella Mellman Book Two is well on its way.

4.       Describe your main character?

 Bella Mellman is almost seventy. She’s had a full, rich life. She is opinionated, passionate and energetic. She hates being told she looks good for her age. She lives on her own and cherishes that she doesn’t have to share her life with anyone irritating (like one of her ex husbands or boyfriends).

5.       Who would you choose to play that character in the movie version?

There are so many wonderful actresses who are older. I adore Angelic Huston, Helen Mirren (my publisher loves her best).  Jacqueline Bisset suddenly came to mind. She’d maybe too gorgeous (for any age). Rene Russo was Fabliss in Night Stalker. I like Diahann Carroll and Pam Grier, but Bella’s supposed to be white. Still Hollywood can fix that.  Dianne Keaton … maybe? Jean Smart? Joan Collins (I think too old now). Bette Midler … love her!

6.       Who is your favorite author?

 I do not have a favorite author. I like reading books in which I learn something. This makes for many authors, as so many write about things I don’t know. I am not the kind of person who re-reads books or goes to movies more than once. I know that every single person who manages to write a book does something that is difficult and brave. Especially brave.

7.       Do you have any advice for other authors?

I think the hardest thing is to find out what you want to write about, especially if you love the process of writing. But you can always begin writing about yourself, what you feel and think and your interests or passions, and that can segue into something different. That’s how Bella began, with a memoir that segued into a character that segued into a whole Fabliss Life. A novel, NOT a memoir. 

8.       Anything you’d like to say to your fans?

I love you all. Anyone who likes me and my books  … love you!!

9.   What’s next for you?

 I am writing The Fabliss Life of Bella Mellman Book Two and it’s well on its way.

10.   If you could live anywhere, where would that be?

As I have moved around the world a few times, I am always thinking of other places to live that might be nicer than Los Angeles.  Los Angeles is too hot, too dry and has too much traffic although the pending El Nino might change the dry part. When I went on vacation to The Big Island of Hawaii about ten years ago, I fell in love with the place. I even went to look at property to rent or buy, but my daughter, with whom I am very close, wasn’t as struck. I like living close to my family and they all live near me in LA. But if I win the lottery or have my book bought by a movie or TV studio and make a fortune, I’d like a holiday home in either Hawaii or The French Riviera. There is good reason so many rich people – through the ages – like the Riviera; it’s heavenly. But you have to speak French. And despite having French lessons for years at The Alliance Francais, I can’t understand hardly a word when French people talk. And with my accent they probably won’t be able to understand me that well either. And seeing as language is very important to me, I think I’d have to live in an English speaking country. Maybe back to live in England, not London, but somewhere in the gorgeously green country (it’s green because it rains a lot).

11.   If you could choose a super power, what would that be?

 I would like to live forever. I would like to see how my grand children and their children grow and so on and on.  Or maybe to fly like a bird? I love birds, and find them so fascinating. They are much smarter than we think. In fact they are probably smarter that we are, in their birdy ways.

Biography

Born in South Africa, married, two children, divorced.
Off to London, back to South Africa, mistakenly and briefly married.
The: 1987 to The United States, landing in Beverly Hills.
Writes, paints, knits, re-arranges decor, cooks, exercise a bit, reads a lot.
Loves animals and abhors animal cruelty!
Interested in just about everything except sport.
Has opinions about everything including sports.
Loves friends old and new, family near and afar.
Love ... the answer.
_____________________________

Education: Fine Arts Degree, University of The Witwatersrand.
Showed art at various galleries in Johannesburg, London and Los Angeles.
Advertising copywriter, Johannesburg.

Twitter @shirleymsacks

Website http://www.shirleysacks.com/
Amazon Author Page http://www.amazon.com/Shirley-Sacks/e/B017ZH6FKY

The Fabliss Life Of Bella Mellman spins a bold tale of a savvy woman of the world who gives a rollicking social commentary on life in the flats of Beverly Hills, men, “mature” dating habits, and the odd complexities of love, sociopaths, marriage, divorce, and living a creative life. The book also looks at the role of the older woman, her place in the sexual panoply, which has been so horribly simplified. Bella Mellman, a transplanted South African artist and writer, lives a ‘fabliss’ life (as her 8-year-old grand-daughter tells it) in the flats of Beverly Hills. A long-time divorcee nearing the seventh decade of a very full life, Bella is constantly annoyed when friends, and even strangers, ask the impertinent question of “Why, don’t you have a partner?” Followed by the hated phrase: “You look quite good for a woman your age.” The only thing to do, Bella realizes, is to write a book that explains once and for all, her satisfaction with being older and single.

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Exclusive Excerpt from Getting Back to Me by, Scottie Jeanette Madden

Exclusive Excerpt from 

Getting Back to Me 

by, Scottie Jeanette Madden

Today we feature an author who sheds light on life as a successful television producer and what it's like to be transgender female in a male dominated world, and finding the courage to be who she really is. We have an exclusive excerpt that is quite literally some of the best writing I've seen in a while. It's all about the author's voice. Try not to be completely consumed by this passage.

It's riveting. 

Exclusive Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
DUDE, YOU’RE SCREWED

Written at 35,000 feet, between sleeping strangers:

Exhausted. . . been on the road for almost 3 years straight . . .  not freakin’ kidding! When we tabulated my “days out of town” for our taxes last year, it was easier to add up the days I was home, fifteen! This year we’re on track for even fewer. I did eight countries on four continents in three months. It’s not a record we can be proud of, my crew is toast, and I’m feeling like I barely got them out alive. Tempers are frayed, and our sense of accomplishment is more like survivor’s guilt. It’s not how I like to run a show.

Feeling defeated when I should be elated: a hit show! Broke my second season curse and the shows are going to look amazing. We hit that magic point in a TV show’s life when the cast is getting recognized in airports - we almost missed connections as they signed autographs and posed for pictures in JoBerg (South Africa) Norway and Romania. As we say on my crew, “First world problems!”

Heck yes, I’m proud of what we built, but I can’t help feeling like this is the end. The network is in turmoil, (they never knew what to do with us, and they have a problem making “intellevision.” (Shows that require an IQ higher than a network suit.) We are one of the most expensive shows they have. My cast has not been treated well by our overlords and our pride of ownership is all we got left; it hurts my heart that we are living up to our name.

I say “my,” as in my crew, my cast, my show because, even though this show was not my idea, I can say without reservation or challenge that I am the mother bear of our little cub. I will confess that I had nothing to do with the title, “Dude, You’re Screwed” but I was the one who insured that a show where “boys will be boys” would not only redefine the survival genre, it would make for a fun ride. As comes with the territory, I take responsibility for the things that didn’t work (there were a few) as much as the things that did. I also confess to pushing, pulling, dragging and nagging, and when required, being such a pain in the butt there was no choice but to grant our wishes, so we could make a show that would be worthy of the insane effort my cast and crew put into every moment. As my dad would say, lead, follow or get the hell out of the way. So, I created and fostered a take-no-prisoners, us against the world, give-us-what-we-want-and-no-one-gets-hurt environment. . .

Did I say I was the Showrunner? 

This is technically a nickname for my position. I am a Co-EP, which in reality television is the title for the one “Executive Producer” who was actually producing the television series. At the top of every show (the beginning) there is a list of Executive Producers who made the deal that made the show you are watching. These people are my bosses; I’m the one who is making the show they all promised to deliver.

I’m both the lead storyteller (creative) and business person (management) on the set. As my friend John Hudson RAF says, I’m “the adult.” It’s my name that gets approved by the network, a name built in the adventure doc-reality sect.

This probably the most übermale of the genres: remote, harsh locations and conditions that stretch personnel and equipment to their limits. In my career, I’ve lead crews into the amazon jungle (gold mining), the South Pacific (surfing), Iceland, Chile, Alaska, Nicaragua, the Arctic circle twice (survival). I’ve spent a summer chasing catfish noodlers (believe me they’re not hard to catch, the noodlers I mean) in Oklahoma’s Red River, and a hurricane season with Shrimpers on the Gulf of Mexico.

Not bad for a girl.

Wait. That was a cheap shot. I guess I’ll leave it in, because it illustrates what’s going on. . .  I’m changing. I can’t even say the same jokes anymore. Count me in the-best-man-for-a-job-is-a-woman club. As cool as this whole life sounds, the glory is dimming. I don’t feel comfortable even seeing pictures of myself as a “dude.” 

I haven’t referred to myself as anything male or masculine for the past year. What’s odd is that I don’t seem to have any control over what’s happening to me and, stranger still, is that:

~ I don’t want control over these changes.

~ I like what’s happening.

~ I won’t do anything to stop the flow.

I will say it hasn’t been easy these last few months. The schedule was brutal and I shined because of it in some areas, taking care of my crew (as Tezzer says, “Nobody got hurt, nobody got pregnant, nobody went to jail, it was a successful mission.”) But there were more than a few “explosions” and despite the fact that not a jury in the world would convict me (the above itinerary, plus a wife going thru chemo for the second time, and oh yeah, my gender dysphoria – the cool medical term for the psychological distress and trauma that occurs when your biology and your identity don’t match) that I’m not proud of. My rep as an unflappable Zen master; cool in the chaos, fun to be with and, more importantly, the one who brings home the story and a happy crew, was in jeopardy.

I am the showrunner for arguably the most testosterone fueled, “über-alpha-male-fest” on TV. The only thing more masculine than us is the NFL. I’ve got an active duty Green Beret Master Sargent, an RAF Elite SERE Instructor (Survive Evade Resist (as in torture) & Escape), and a former navy SEAL, now college football coach, plus a revolving cast that include a Grizzly Bear tracker and other outdoorsmen.

I wish I could tell the world that this Ultra Boys club is run by a girl.

I wish I could tell my cast & crew.

And I feel like I need to hurry. My body is trying like hell to out me. My hair is past my shoulders and I get daily flak from the “dudes” for my girlie earrings (okay, everyone gets flak from them for anything). I’ve had to wear a jog bra all season long because “the girls” have grown two cup sizes (this is without hormones) and I can’t go swimming without a shirt. The SEAL noticed and announced at every watering hole, “Why does the boss-man always wear a shirt in the swimming pool?”

At this point, I had no clue what was about to happen. I didn’t know it yet, but a lifelong struggle was ending and happening so quietly, so gently, that there was nothing to resist. Oddly, in the same way that I have been complicit in my own imprisonment, I’m looking the other way as the She in me files the bars of her cell for the jailbreak.

All I do know, as I feel the airplane cabin pressurize, is that I’m going home. Finally. It’s bitter sweet. I’m so homesick, I miss Mylove so bad, I’m literally walking into walls; you know that feeling you get when you haven’t eaten in so long that you don’t even know you’re starving? I’m numb. I’m so mentally fried, I can barely function, and I’m so sad. We’re not even thru post, the shows haven’t hit the air yet, and though I have nothing to base it on, I can feel it all ending. 

As I sit on the plane, (I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve made sure my seatback and folding tray table were in the full and upright positions) my head is spinning. Numb as I am, I’m also oddly disoriented. A mental picture haunts me as I close my eyes: warning lights blink dully on the control panel of a ship already underwater. . . a ghostly warning that the ship went down before anyone could respond. . .  I’m drifting as the bridge fills with cold murky ocean, I can sense I should care, that something vague is wrong, but, I’m lulled. . . the sense of falling, slowly, into intense silence, threatens to. . . SHIT! I sit bolt upright. It’s freakin’ true! It really happened! Courtney outted me! WTF!

Courtney is my dear friend and the Line Producer (she’s the money girl) on my show. We’ve become very close over the last three years. I call her “Mom” and even though she works under me, she’s the inside girl for the production company. She keeps track of the money I decide we’re spending. We are a great team. She’s the one who has our backs back at HQ, while I’m running through malaria, customs and freezing cold.

But as we sat waiting for our wrap party to begin last night, enjoying a margarita and a brief moment of quiet before our crew arrived, we recounted the year that just streaked past us both; Robin Williams had just passed, (among other real events) and Courtney lamented that “The World According to Garp” was her favorite Robin movie, that she could totally relate to it. Now maybe it was the margarita talking, but I replied, “Me, too.”

 (And, of course I pictured John Lithgow’s portrayal of the NFL tight end turned transsexual, Roberta

Muldoon.) What the hell am I doing? Warning lights! Sirens! Deflector Shields impotently sliding down their tracks, too late to stop the launch!

Courtney smiled as she sipped and said, “Oh I bet you did.”

GOD SHE. . . KNOWS!

DIVERT ALL POWER TO THE FORWARD THRUSTERS, REVERSE ENGINES!

I tried to be cool, but I was trapped, or was I? Is this really happening, I asked myself? Or am I freaking out for nothing. Calm down!

I croaked, “What do you mean by that?”

Courtney is a gentle soul, never confrontational, I’m the passionate one, I have to coach her to stick up for herself. She leaned in, eyes unwavering and whispered, “What do you mean, what do I mean?”

I tried to shake it off. Was I making this up? Why was the air being sucked out of my lungs? 

“I mean. . .  Courtney, what are you saying?”

She gently grabbed my trembling hand, “Sweetheart, I know.”

Time stopped. The shattering sound of cosmic airbrakes arresting the planet’s orbit. In an instant, everything would be flung into space and chaos.

My life had begun to revolve around this company, my new Denver family, and I loved them and loved being in charge of their most challenging, highest profile show. Only recently, had I begun to feel my place there was wobbly. I would always be the outsider; a “Hollywood” philosophy was a gamble in the Mile High City, (as it is in any city outside the 30 mile zone) and I couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. Because of my take no prisoner’s ethic, I could be more trouble than I was worth to some, and who wouldn’t want to step into my place, take over the coolest show in house, the crown jewel of the company, especially now, that I had figured it out for them, if I gave them half a chance?

It turned out that Courtney had always known I was transgender. She thought it was obvious and never thought she knew a “secret” about me, just who I was. Just Scott being Scott.

She said that every time she booked my air travel, it broke her heart to check the “M” box (under Gender) because it had to match my passport, even though it wasn’t true. I started to cry, which made her tear up, too. God bless this woman, I was going miss her terribly. She snuck one last comment in before the rest of our crew arrived. . .

“Besides, I thought your Google plus announcement confirmed it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“When you changed your gender on your profile to “Female” Google plus sent out an announcement to all of your contacts.  I thought, good for her, she’s officially coming out.”

This is so not good. Could it be true? Why would she lie? As I sat with the shrapnel of this bomb all around me, the crew started filing in, and we had to shelve this for now.

I snuck into the bathroom and feverishly checked on my iPhone, sure enough, of the ten or so fields under profile, I had filled in only two: my birthdate & my gender: FEMALE!

I had unconsciously “ousted myself.” After almost 40 years of clandestine spycraft worthy of CIA deep cover to conceal my true identity, I had ousted myself with one keystroke. Seriously? Really? Seriously. Really.

As alarming as that should have been, I was. . . excited, and SCARED OUT OF MY MIND! I tried to talk it away, nobody pays that much attention to lil ‘ol me, right?

Courtney had. 

That was last night, and now I’m on this plane. . . buzzing. Sinking, too tired to fight and too anxious. It feels almost like excitement, but without the adrenaline. What now?

I will dive into home. Time to be with her. Time to rest & heal. Time to… Time to… be me?

That’s right, I’ve been promising myself that I would have “it” figured out by now. I have been dodging Mylove’s inquiries for months. And to keep both our sanity, it is time.

Even if I’m not ready, I don’t have a choice anymore.  As we say on DYS, “That train left the dock.”               

Author: Scottie Jeanette Madden

 

About the Author

Though this is Ms. Madden’s first book, she is no stranger to the craft, with credits for creating and writing children's television (Pug & Zero’s Field Trip), feature film (the kiss), gameshows (Do You Trust Me? Duel, On the Cover and Last to Survive), primetime (Blood of Queens, The Other Woman, Out of the Wild, Dude, You're Screwed), and award winning screenplays (The Babe on Sunset, the kiss). Ms. Madden balances her time between being writing and producer/showrunner in the adventure documentary world. Known for her engaging storytelling and bold visual style, Scottie has over 30 years in the trenches. Rising through the technical ranks as camera operator and editor, she brings front line experience to her work as writer, director and showrunner. Her feature writing and directing debut, the kiss, was decorated in film festivals and was featured at AFM. As showrunner, Her recent work, Discovery’s Land Rush and the legendary Dude, You’re Screwed (Suvive That! Internationally) and Nat Geo’s The Ark.  Her directing credits include Hot Tamales Live! and The Best of It’s Showtime at the Apollo comedy series.

To learn more about the author, visit zuzubean.com/authors

About the Book:

The realtime account of the coming out of a respected adventure survival filmmaker, taken from her journal entries as she leaves behind fear and “white male privilege” to embrace truth, grace and womanhood. Her gut-wrenching journey of love, acceptance and honesty becomes the ultimate survival show. 

Scottie didn’t make it easy on herself. Like many late-stage trans women, Scottie had made one helluva guy; succeeding as a husband of 26 years, the only son, the big brother to three sisters and the legendary adventurer uncle to their children. Everything in her life screamed Alpha Male, Ultimate Man, Best Boy, the dude, and the man. 

No one could guess that Scottie, a top survival showrunner for Discovery Channel and the History Channel, known for leading über-male productions in the world’s most dangerous locations, was losing a lifelong battle for her soul. 

It takes true love from her wife of 26 years, for Scottie to shake off fifty years of expectations from her family, society and herself. But first, she must face her own denial to dismantle the walls of a self imposed prison. 

Scottie’s articulate and insightful perspective shines new light on the transgender experience, but it's her deeply personal confession told with unflinching clarity, inspiring courage, and engaging humor, that makes her story a must read for any human, of any persuasion. Hers is a love story that will inspire and affirm everyone.

Amazon link http://www.amazon.com/Getting-Back-Me-woman-fifty-ebook/dp/B017SGBS7M

Twitter @scottiejeanette @zuzubeanpress

Facebook www.facebook.com/zuzubeanpress

WILL ANSWER ALL YOUR QUESTIONS ABOUT GENDER TRANSFORMATION AND MORE

5 STAR REVIEW

By Sally J. Rubin on November 10, 2015

Format: Paperback

A MUST-READ if you know and love someone or know someone who knows and cares about someone facing gender transformation. This book is a jaw-dropping page-turner and will answer most (if not, all) questions that come up.

Scottie brings you along her ride of hiding from herself (and everyone she loves) the deepest disconnect of her life and the intense longing to make it right. The question is ever-present: Will I still be loved, if I make this change? Will I hurt the one(s) I love the most? Am I letting the people who know and count on me down? Will I end up rejected and alone?

Scottie's journey shows the complicated, heart-rending effort and courage it takes for an individual facing gender-dysphoria in him- or herself. And it's not "just a change," she characterizes it more accurately as a deep reunion with her soul. Having faced *that one*... the next hurdle...coming out to family, friends, co-workers...and facing their responses. It would be enough to stop anyone were it not for the power of love at work.

In Scottie's case, thankfully, love triumphs. But whose love triumphs? Having gone from super-hip-cool-dude to soft-warm-lovely-woman, her journey (pardon the pun) engenders an exemplary compassion within her for both herself and for the struggles of others. This transformation, in short, makes her a better person. By the time you finish reading this book, you will not only have gone on the wild ride from Scott-to-Scottie, but you will know and love Scottie Jeanette Madden.