My thoughts on being an Indie whether you're an author, sculpture, painter or actor. Now is the time to take the bull by the horns and get it done! 

What a great way to start the morning. Received the first thoughts on Life's Spectrum Love, Loss, Miliatry,

This is your finest work - because....

it's the amazing song of your deepest inward soul-filled thoughts .... 
You have given - down to your shoelaces!  

We are honored to be a part of the military portion.  It must have touch your writing 
harp string.... And blended. 

I have a pile of wet tissues ! On the bed beside me.  

It is a tender touch you have - with pen in hand to pull the depths of your soul out and 
let us feel your tenderness and anguish and healing ..... 

Your world of readers - who we know at sometime in their experience have face the 
"why's" and the "where's" - will find great messages in your newest 
gift of Literature. This is a beautiful work of art.  

Thank you for sharing. 

Humbly, Doris Goff 
      
Please feel free to post - any or all of the message. 

Get a copy today! Life's Spectrum Love, Loss, Military 

To top that off Anne Vasquez is launching a new youtube site for Indie Authors. She's a film maker and the accomplished author for the YA book Doubt. Here is her new venture Fiction Frenzy. 

How's that for kicking off Sunday? 

Have a great day. 

Went live today!

Gunther Brown spent his hours recalling his grandfather’s stories how Germany should have won the war. He spent his free time poring over the failed tactics Hitler forced his generals to follow. He knew where the mistakes occurred and how, if given the chance, he could change the course of history. Instead of the brave soldiers of the Wehrmacht shivering and dying in the snow covered landscape around Moscow, with his intuition and tactics, they would spend the winter of 1941 in warm beds in the confines of the Kremlin.

His obsessions would thrust him back to October 2^nd, 1941 where he would join his comrades on their final attack on Moscow. For Gunther, it would be his final delivery of glory or death.

Click to purchase: Final Delivery

Good morning to all. What's going on? Let's see. I received a request this morning from Anne Vasquez, author of "Doubt" to do an author video. Sounds like a good idea with one problem, I'd be in it. Hmm. Might to find a stunt double. Seriously though, she and many associates are preparing to launch a Vlog for Indie authors. Pretty cool idea. Here's a link to her site: AR Films.

On another note, I've been busy writing and working on story in collaboration with J. J. Reinhardt, entitled, "Cracking Up." This is some really dark material. The story evolves around one, Joe Robertson, his wife Julie and Dr. Drew Waters.  No matter how hard Joe tried to keep his life on track, events beyond his control derailed his careers. He never thought it could get worse until Julie's terrible car crash. What happens next is beyond belief. Joe and Julie find themselves caught in a terrible love triangle. The story isn't for the faint of heart. When I read the next to last chapter, I had to take a shower. It was that nasty. The book is definitely full of adult content. Below is an excerpt. I don't think I've read a character more vile and repulsive then Joe Robertson. I asked J.J. how the idea came to light. The reply I received was, "My Chiropractor wanted me to write a love story. Not happening. I tend to stay on the dark side of the spectrum." That's exactly what this is—BLACK!

Excerpt: WARNING: If you don't like adult content, you might want to take a pass and move on. You've be warned.

                                                                         

          CHAPTER 1

WRECK

July 20^th, 2021

I watched the sun crest over the hot Texas horizon. The start of another endless, boring day. Each one is the same. Wake-up at 6:00am, dress, eat breakfast, go back to the room, eat lunch, back to the room, eat dinner, an hour in the sun, then lights out. It’d been the same routine for the last fifteen years. I spent the days recounting the events of a happier time. Well, they were happy for a few years. Married my dream girl, had a great job, good house and a loving family; until July 20, 2016. On that day, everything I held dear to heart began crumbling down.

If I had it to do again, would I react the same way? Probably. Were my actions justified? I thought so. Did it pain me I wouldn’t see my children grow into responsible adults? Of course. Would they ever be able to forgive their father? Doubtful. Yet, if they listened to any of my advice; I’m confident in time, they would understand why I acted the way I did. I guess the real gnawing question was, would I ever be able to forgive myself and even more importantly, could I eliminate the pain and grief I carried every day?

I’ll ponder that over breakfast. I grab one more look at the blazing ball of orange, watching it glisten off the metal bars. The calm, as usual, ruptured by the all too familiar words, “Joe Robertson, roll Call!”

* * *

July 20^th, 2019

Julie never saw the 2012, red, F-250 pickup careening down the road, until it slammed into the passenger door of her 2002 Acura. Instead, she was focused on her to do list as she entered the intersection:

1)         Drop off kids

2)         Hit the gym—one hour

3)         Call two clients

4)         Check with Sherry on pending appointments

5)         Call the contractors—verify status of each project

6)         Show Dan and Connie their dream home.

7)         Call the bank on the two pending contract…

 The force of the impact pushed her car two hundred feet down the road. Her Acura resembled a broken “U” instead of the sleek, well tended vehicle she loved. 

She could hear voices yelling, commands being issued, but she didn’t understand why. She tried to move her hands with no response. Next she tried her legs. They too were unreceptive. Panic gripped her mind and body. She needed to see why her well-toned body wouldn’t react. She willed her eyes to open, with no luck. They felt glued shut. Her level of panic increased. Her heart-beat accelerated. Her blood pressure rose. She had to know what was happening. Her fear forced her torso to twist to the left. She passed out from the searing pain registering in her brain.

“Jim. Get me the jaws of life. She’s still alive! It’s okay ma’am. We’re going to get you out. You’ll be okay.” He recited those words time after time in his ten years as a paramedic to patients caught in horrific crashes.

Jim appeared with the device. “Here you go Dave. You sure she’s still alive?”

“She let a blood curdling scream, just a minute ago.”

“Doesn’t look like she’s moving now.”

“Jim, it’s our job to save people. No matter how hopeless it seems.”

“I didn’t mean any offense Dave, but if looks are any indication, I’d say she’s in for one long rehab.”

“Let the doc’s worry about that. Our job is to get her out so they can do their thing.”

“Okay, boss.”

The jaws slid in between the door and doorframe. The pinchers clawed and groaned forcing the door open. Even though the frame had sprung, the door clung tight. Dave readjusted for another bite. He could see her chest moving up and down, but much too slow. Her head was gashed open when the windshield exploded inward. It was only a superficial wound, but the amount of blood pumping out of the wound, provided a gruesome site.

Julie heard the sounds of metal and plastic shattering. What’s happening? She dared not move her body. Her last attempt ignited pain beyond her comprehension. She didn’t want to repeat the feeling. Her voice. She hadn’t tried her voice yet. The thought of pain enveloping her body if she tried to talk held her back. The sounds surrounding her convinced her she was alive. Maybe she was dead and her spirit was still trapped inside. A tear slid down her face as her mind filled with sorrow. What would happen to her children? Did she tell Jimmy and Janny she loved them before dropping them off at school?  How would Joe deal with her loss? Would he grieve? Would he remarry?

 She had to know. She took in a deep breath. The pain welled in her stomach, creeping towards her lungs. She would have to force the words out before blacking out again. Vocal chords trembled as air from her bruised lungs moved up; the pain close behind. Beads of sweat bubbled out of her pores. Her mind detected the raging fire in her spinal cord. She had to speak. She had to know she was alive. She willed her hands into a fist, or so she thought, attempting to suppress the building pain. She opened her mouth, more like cracked her lips open—“Help.”

“We’re coming lady. Hang on. We’re coming.”

“Dammit Jim. She’s still alive. The door won’t open. We need to do this the old fashion way. Back up the rig and grab a chain. We’re going to yank this damn door off before we lose this gal.”

“The chief isn’t going to like this. You know that’s against the safety guidelines.”

“I also know letting a patient die isn’t in the manual either. Just do it.”

He turned his attention back to the trapped woman. “Don’t give up on me. We’ll have you out in a few minutes.”

He saw her lips attempt a small simple smile. “That’s it. You just hang in there. Jim. Where’s that chain?”

She heard desperation in his words. At least I’m alive, for the moment.

Dave wrapped the chain around the bent door, then attached it to the bumper of the bus.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing Johnson?” shouted Chief Ramsey. “You aren’t about to do what I think you’re going to do, are you?”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“Johnson, I gave explicit instructions at the last safety meeting concerning the proper use of chains. You will take it off and follow procedures.”

“Sir, Jim and I tried it by the book and the door won’t release. This is the only way to free the victim.”

“Johnson, if you continue with your insolent attitude, I’ll write you up myself.”

“Well then get a pen and paper and start writing. I have a patient to free.”

He looked into the crushed car. “She’s still alive?”

“Brilliant observation Holmes, but if we don’t get her out soon, she won’t make it.”

“Alright Johnson, I’ll let it slide this time.” He looked back at the battered woman. “Rivers, what’s the hold up? Secure the chain and let’s get the damn door off!”

“Yes, sir.”

Dave directed Jimmy forward till the chain drew taut. He knew why the chief outlawed chains. A month ago, another team tried the same maneuver. The driver was young and inexperienced. His partner told him to go. The site of the dead couple in the car had unnerved him. Instead of easing ahead slowly, he hit the gas. The chain went taut too fast. His partner tried to get him to slow down with no success. The chain couldn’t hold the tension and snapped. It whipped around and tore off his partner’s leg. He was dismissed from the service, but the damage was done. His partner would be out of commission at least a year, if not longer.

“That’s it Jimmy. Okay, it’s tight. Let me get everyone clear. Chief, stand back. We’re ready.”

“Go ahead Rivers. Area is clear.”

Jimmy started depressing the accelerator. He could feel the chain holding the bus. He applied more gas. The tires began slipping on the wet pavement. The door moved a few inches, but fought to stay with the car. “A little more Jimmy. Give it a little more gas.”

What’s taking so long? Why can’t they get me out? She felt herself getting weaker with each passing minute.

“One more Jimmy. Gun it!”

Jimmy slammed the pedal down. Dave ducked as the door burst from its confines and ricocheted into the rear doors, scraping paint, busting the windows and impaling four inch dents in the doors. No one cared about the damage. It could be repaired.

The men could now examine the woman. Pulse 45, B/P 90/55, respiration 10. If her vital sign weren’t bad enough, the site of the selector shift impaling her side about three inches caused grave concern. Damage to her spleen, intestines, kidney and maybe spinal damage; were all possibilities.

“Chief, she’s going to go into shock any minute. Dave start an IV. I’m going to grab the bolt-cutters.”

Jimmy displayed a confused look. “Why?”

“I’m going to cut the selector shaft. If we remove it, we could kill her.”

Chief Ramsey agreed.

Oh God! Oh God it hurts! Please, no more! No more!

“Get her on the gurney and transport immediately.” Instructed Chief Ramsey. “Dave, Jimmy, good work.”

“Thank you Chief, we’re gone.”

Chief Ramsey turned to examine the carnage. They found the driver’s phone twenty feet from the crash-site. From what they could surmise, the driver of the truck was texting a message to his girlfriend. The message on the phone was OH baby! I love it when you sext me. I can’t wait to feel your hot, wet lips, sucking my…” He shook his head as the coroner’s men shoved his partially decapitated head back through the windshield so they could gather the body and transport it to the medical examiners.

Chief Ramsey walked away shaking his head. “Sorry son, but that’s a blow-job you’ll never enjoy.”

Okay, it's time to get back to work.  I need to get a grouping of reviews together and get back to writing. Watch for more Vlogs and excerpt from past and upcoming works. 

If you're a football fan, watch for "Irving Titans." Release date is May The much anticipated second book in the Occupation series, "Sabotage" and the third book in the Gateway series, "Target Berlin should also be released in May. When those are completed, I'll be working on a book of humor, "Redneck Randy." It was a story I told my kids when we traveled to Tulsa. And the final item is a novel surrounding the battle of Kursk. 

To all, Have a GREAT week! 

A little ditty. We were given an assignment this month to write a poem which was based on actual events. Now, it didn't have to be completely true, just partially. I'll let the readers decide which is which.

Was she?

I can still see the moon

Glistening off her sweat

laden body.

The movie, don’t ask.

Never saw it.

I do know, it was a double feature,

I think?

 The months passed,

and our passion grew.

Being apart was difficult

Being together, utter bliss.

I swept her off her feet

and promptly dropped her.

She looked up and smiled.

Was she gaining weight?

Nah, must have been too

many tacos, pizzas or burgers.

Something’s a amiss.

But wait! She ate like a bird.

I stood in shock.

She looked up with love.

Before I could say sorry,

She replied,

“Hey dummy, it’s okay. We’re fine.”

What? We’re fine? Oh,… hell!

Jeff  Dawson

Copyright@2014 LDDJ Enterprises Publishing

Have a great week!

It took over two years to finish this project, but it was worth it. If you're a fan of poetry covering a host of topics:  loss, love, baseball and military topics, you'll enjoy this collection. Like all of my works, I don't stick with one style. Most of them are free verse with a sprinkling of Spoon River and Dramatic Monologue. I believe my favorite topic is the Spoon River. It allows the poet to see life through the eyes of those who have passed on. The baseball poems and some of the military ones are written from their viewpoint. December 18,1944, is another one of my favorites. Why? Imagining myself as General George Patton addressing his staff in the heat of the Ardennes Offensive was very exciting.

Happy reading!

Click on the link to get your copy today: Life's Spectrum

For a very limited time, your favorite works are FREE till March 8th on Smashwords.

Now is the time to dowload your copies today. Go to Smashwords Promotion and start reading today!
Have a great week.