ReStart

Hello out there to anyone who might still be vaguely interested in reading what I write here. First, I have to say I am sorry that I failed miserably the first time I tried to write this blog. Social media isn't really my thing, as most of you know. I hardly ever use Facebook, I never go on Twitter, I can't follow a blog for more than a day at a time with months and months between reading posts. I just don't find it interesting.

Well, I'm going to have to learn.

Lately I've been reading and researching a lot about self-publishing in the ebook market. It sounds simple enough, if not easy. So, I'm going to give it a try. However, in order to make any kind of success of it, I'm going to have to do some self-promotion and marketing. Bleck!

I'm told to use Facebook and Twitter and a blog to promote the books and stories that I publish. It makes sense, too. Free advertising space. You just have to get people reading about it. And the only way to do that is to "join the conversation" or else you'll basically just be spamming and no on likes that.

So here I am. restarting this blog. Trying to join the conversation.

Now, your next question might be, what am I going to talk about in this blog. The answer: I have no idea. I don't know if I want to put more fiction up, but I might. I'll likely talk about my experience with trying to self-publish and how successful/unsuccessful I am.

I can tell you that my goal is a long distance off. My plan is to start by publishing some short stories that I have had hanging around for a bit to try to build a following of some kind. But the end goal is the big story. Some of you may have heard about the story that I've written and am in the process of editing. It's called Saving Lives and I've been working on it for about 10 years now (give or take). I want to get to the point where I can publish that story (novel, book, whatever you want to call it) and have people want to read it. If that is through epublishing or traditional publishing, I don't really care anymore. I just want to get people reading.

If you're interested in epublishing yourself, check out Smashwords.com. They've got 3 free ebooks available and I've almost finished reading the second one. They are very informative and interesting. There's the Smashwords Style Guide, the Smashwords Book Marketing Guide, and The Secrets to Ebook Publishing Success.

Story Part 8

The next installment is now ready for viewing. I didn't post on Facebook last week, but I did post, so if you missed it, I would recommend reading that post before this one. Just to keep you informed of my progress, I have about 5 posts left of what I have written so far. Now that you know, I will have to write more, because I hope to have at least one more post ready before next week. (That means next week I should have another 5 posts left).

The list he gave her was long. There were so many charities in Vancouver and all of them had worthy causes. There were children charities, cancer charities, charities for homeless people, and battered women. There were charities for other diseases like AIDS and multiple sclerosis. There was no end to all the save the world charities like save the whales and save the trees. She tried to remember what Busby had told her in that she had enough money now to make some mistakes. And if her mistake was choosing a charity that wasn’t as important to her as another, that would be more than okay. There really were no wrong decisions in this case.

“What is this?” her mother asked as she came back from dropping the kids off at their house.

“Mr. Busby gave me a list of charities to look into. To help me figure out what I want to do. He also gave me some literature on the ones he thought I’d be most interested in with the promise that he could get more if another on the list strikes my fancy.”

“Which one do you think is most interesting so far?”

“Oh I don’t know, they’re all very worthy causes. And none of this has really touched my life before, so I’m not really emotionally attached to a particular cause the way some people are about say, breast cancer.” She held up the pink breast cancer foundation brochure that Busby had given her. “I was never abused, I’ve never had a disease that threatened my life, I’ve never known anyone like that either. I can see these are all really good causes and I’ve decided to make a donation to all of them over the next while, but none of them strike me emotionally. I want to find something that speaks to me, you know? Right here.” She pointed to her heart.

“You’ll find it, Syl. One day you’ll wake up and it’ll occur to you that it has been staring you in the face this whole time. You’ll wonder for a moment how you didn’t see it before and then you’ll figure out how you’re going to make it part of your life.”

Her mother went into the kitchen to see about dinner and Sylvia went back to the papers in front of her. There was something on the list or in the brochures that would strike her emotionally. And when it did, she would know what she was going to do with the rest of her life.

“We’re not getting anywhere.” She paced the bedroom in a sheer, white robe that enhanced her nudity rather than concealed it.

“Our PI is doing all he can, darling. Come lay down. Relax.”

“I can’t relax. William is in jail. He called her last night telling her to bail him out and the little tramp said no. Can you believe that? She said no. To William. If she said no to him, she’ll say no to any of us. What if I need something? Grandfather always bought me the nicest things when I asked him to. But she won’t even bail William out of jail.”

“You need to calm down, dear. You’re working yourself up and it’s not good to have a high stress level. Come here and I’ll rub the tension from your shoulders.”

She flopped down on the bed that she had recently gotten out of so that he could make her feel better, again. “I just want the money so we can get away from here. So we can be together and not have anyone look at us like we’re crazy.”

“I know, dear. I know. I want that too. We just have to be patient. Peter will come up with something. Everyone has skeletons in their closet. We’ll back her into a corner and she’ll have nowhere to run. She’ll have to give us the money we need.”

His hands gently rubbed her shoulders and she started to relax a bit.

“You’re right. Everyone has something. Except, Peter said she’d been poor most of her life. And poor people don’t make secrets the way rich people do.”

“Even if that’s true, she’s rich now, isn’t she? All we have to do is wait. She’ll do something, or has already done something and we’ll find a way to use it against her. She took everything from us, now we’ll have to take it back.”

His hands slipped down her arms and around to her breasts. He squeezed them gently in his hands, kneading the soft mounds.

“I thought you were giving me a shoulder massage.”

“You don’t want a shoulder massage. You want something else.”

“Maybe you’re right. A nice new Hermes bag would be nice. Those Louis Vuitton sunglasses I saw yesterday were to die for. A million dollars in my bank account would be a nice start.”

He pinched her nipple hard between his thumb and middle finger. She yelped and jumped but he held on. Finally, he loosened his grip and she sighed with satisfaction.

“Now what do you want?”

“I want you.”

He tore the expensive robe off of her and tossed it away.

“That’s right. And don’t forget it, either.”

Story Part 7

Here is the next installment of the story. Sorry for last week. I promise I'll get better.

The next day, Sylvia went to see Busby.

“Sylvia, how nice to see you.” Busby’s receptionist, Grace, greeted her enthusiastically. “It’s always nice to see you instead of another of the old men. That’s all who ever come in here is old men, and you know they never have anything interesting to talk about.”

Sylvia smiled at Grace. “Well, I’m afraid today, neither do I. Is Mr. Busby available?”

“I’m always available for you, Ms. Rowland,” Busby said from his office door. “Come into my office. Would you like a cup of coffee or tea?”

“Coffee would be nice, thank you.”

“Would you mind bringing some in, please, Grace.”

Sylvia followed Busby into his office while Grace went to get the coffee. The office was large. A huge oak desk took up space in the middle of the office. Busby’s black leather chair sat behind the oak desk and two comfortable, brown visitors’ chairs sat across from Busby’s usual spot. There was a large picture window to the right as they came into the office. Bright sunshine shone through the window making the office warm and cheery even though outside it was very cold and windy. But the item in the room that commanded the most attention was the large family portrait that hung behind Busby’s desk.

The dark oak frame matched the desk. It was the four people in the painting, though, that really made the piece fascinating. Busby stood at the back, slightly behind his wife. In front of them were their two children when they were about ten and twelve. All four of them seemed happy to be there, posing for the painting, and also just being together. Just looking at the painting, the viewer could see that Busby was proud of his family and that he loved his wife dearly. It was obvious that his wife loved him just as much as he loved her. And finally, their children’s personality also shone through the painting in a way that a photograph couldn’t have captured. His daughter, the older child, had a mischievous look in her eyes as though she was ready to get into trouble and have fun doing it. Busby’s younger child was pensive. For a ten year old boy, he was more serious than his older sister and always had his nose in a book. In fact, a small table stood next to him in the portrait with a book on it. His hand rested on it as though he’d just put it down and yet was about to pick it up again if only the painter would finish.

“What brings you to the office, Ms. Rowland?”

“I got a phone call last night. From Will Cassidy. He’s been arrested for fighting. He was allegedly in a bar fight and broke someone’s nose.”

“I see. And he called you because he wanted you to pay the bail.”

Sylvia nodded as Grace came in with the coffee. “Will you need anything else?”

“No, thank you, Grace. Please hold my calls.”

“Of course, sir.” She left the office, closing the door behind her.

Busby removed his glasses and set them on the table. “I have received calls from the Cassidys in the past, even when James was alive. They are always asking for money. I hoped that since they had never met you before the funeral, or really at the reading of the will since I’m sure they didn’t introduce themselves at the funeral, that they would leave you in peace. I’m afraid that the only way you will be able to get them to stop asking for money is if you move to a place where they don’t know you’ve gone. Maybe even leave the Lower Mainland.”

“So they’ll keep asking for money?”

Busby nodded. “It’s likely. There’s something you should know about the Cassidy family. James has a drinking problem. William has a gambling problem. Clare and Vanessa both have shopping problems. And then there’s the next generation. They all have spending problems. Gordon has had his license revoked because of excessive speeding. On numerous occasions.”

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “There was a reason that James left everything to you. He knew that they would drain the bank accounts dry within a year. Two at the most. He didn’t want his hard work to go to people who didn’t appreciate it.”

“So what should I do?”

Busby laughed. “I think you should ignore them. I told James the same thing. He asked me years ago what I thought he should do about them. I told him then that the only way they’d learn is if he stopped rescuing them. He grew up poor. His family was very large and there was never enough money to feed and clothe everyone properly. He turns nothing into millions and he and Ruth lived well. Their kids wanted for nothing. Unfortunately, he continued to give them everything they asked for when they should have been getting things for themselves.

“I heard that Jim Pattison has three children. He told them all that his estate was not going to be broken up when he dies. He would leave the whole estate to only one of his three children. He said that the child who had the largest net worth would be the one who inherits everything. And now, not one of his children need his estate. They’re all incredibly wealthy in their own right.

“James Cassidy’s children on the other hand have been living on scraps from their father’s estate for their entire lives.”

Sylvia nodded. “I understand. So what should we do about Will?”

“Leave him to rot in jail. He’ll be out of your hair if he’s in jail.”

“Maybe I should do something. I could bring them all together and give them something from the estate and tell them that there won’t be any more if they run through it.”

Busby shook his head. “I don’t think it would be a good idea. It’s like the saying, give them and inch and they’ll take a mile. In this case it’s more like give them a dollar and they’ll take a million. They should have been cut off years ago.”

“It’s just hard. I shouldn’t have any of what he gave me. They should have it. Or a charity. And so when they ask for money, I want to give it to them. I don’t feel like it’s mine. There are nights I lie awake and think I should give it all away. And then there are times when I think that I can do something really good with it, I just need to figure out what that is. I just don’t know –” Her voice broke and she had to swallow past the tears that had formed in her eyes to finish. “What to do.”

“You are an extraordinary person, Ms. Rowland. Most people would think of this as though they had won the lottery. They wouldn’t be kept awake at night and crying because they don’t know how to make the world a better place now that they are able.”

“People who win the lottery know there’s a chance that it can happen. It’s something that they hope will happen. I didn’t even know I could hope for this. I didn’t buy a lottery ticket for it. It doesn’t feel like it’s mine.”

Busby sighed and stood up. He moved around his desk and sat in the other visitor’s chair. He reached for the box of tissues on his desk and held it out to Sylvia. “Ms. Rowland. Sylvia. It is yours. I understand your desire to give it all away. But that’s not what James wanted for you. He chose you because he knew that you would do what was right. I know that that is a lot to ask of you, but he did. And right now, you don’t know if you can do it. But James knew you could. And from the short time that I have known you, I know you can do it as well.”

Sylvia took a tissue and wiped her eyes. Then she gave him a wobbly smile. “My mom also says I can do it. I just need to believe it as well, I guess. I just don’t want to make a mistake.”

Busby laughed. “The good thing about getting James’ whole estate is that you can afford to make a mistake or two and get away with it. If you want, I can put together a list of charities that you can donate to and possibly become involved with.”

“That would help, I think.”