IMMORTALS: The First Ten

Hello All! My new book Immortals: The First Ten is up for preorder and will release on April 20, 2022 everywhere books are sold. This one is darker than my usual comedic style and a bit more sci-fi, but it'll superglue you to the page. The sequel is already complete but still in the early stages. How soon the second Immortals book comes out, however, depends on entirely on demand. It's been a while since I've put anything out, so I have a mountain of work (marketing) to do and a bunch of titles waiting to be released. Sooo ... the bigger fit you throw, the sooner I get book two out. If things go well, Immortals: The First Ten will be the first of a series, so get your copy asap. Read it, love it, review it! DC

If I Could Spend A Week With ??? I Would Do It In A Heartbeat!

If I could have anything I wanted, it wouldn’t be a bunch of stuff on sale at half-price, shiny toys, or expensive cliche` vacations. The inner workings of my mind operate on a much different level. I want material—anything that will spark my imagination. My perfect vacation wouldn’t be a luxury cruise, it would be a week with:

A special force unit/black op team. Not for the classified, political, or shooty bloody stuff, but more for the camaraderie, the bond, the lifestyle, mindset, lingo, and point of view. It would be good exercise, too, and oh! the stories they could tell! Of course, this couldn’t be in some base or other civilized structure. I want the real deal! The field! I’m talking wearing soap on the way in and flies on the way out, training and wargames, stories of reckless insanity around a campfire, tasteless MREs, dune buggies, mosquito repellant, shovels.

A ghost. I would love to see our world from a totally different perspective as well as view people without their masks on. What better way than to move freely between this dimension and the hereafter wearing nothing but a shimmer? My problem would be the temptations. I can see it now: Some person has no idea I’m standing there and I have to make a choice—mischievous poltergeist or a guiding light. Hmm! Eenie, meenie, miney, BOO! I will say this, I hope they have books in the hereafter, because I’ll be busy when I get there—with or without the tour.

A warlord. Yuck! Are you serious, D.C.? Yep. Just so I could get into his head, decipher his distorted thinking and try to make sense out of it. What motivates a person to actively defy civilization, absorb power, and turn into a mindless politi . . . er, criminal. Is there any happiness in that tiny heart, any capacity to love, or true pleasure to be found in drawing forth misery from the innocent? Or does he exist in a cold, dark, lonely void in a desperate search for some nameless thing to fill the chasm? This inquiring mind wants to know.

A spy. How cool would that be? I’ve been told that the life of a spy is NOTHING like we see in the movies and I agree—James Bond and Mission Impossible do have the slight flavor of Hollywood. I don’t mean gadget watches with scaffolding hooks and emergency laser beams, and I’m also not talking about boring moles who work for years to reach an inner circle just to plant a single bug only to get whacked by the agency because he knew too much and developed a guilty conscious. Not him. I’m talking about the CIA airplane to nowhere with a crew of nobody taking a plane full of nothing to a place that doesn’t exist. THAT spy!

Ninja assassins. OMG! I could so totally use that! Throwing stars and, oh! some insane housewife tries to take the last box of cereal. I’d be like waaaaaaaaaaa yah!

A comedian. Brian Regan, Bill Engvall, or Jeff Foxworthy—any one of those. What fun!

Violinist David Garrett. I could listen to that all day long.

My mind is whirring now!

Tibetan monks, or, um … under the sea with a mermaid (the tail would take some getting used to), or a week in the company of a genie (preferably out of the bottle), on a submarine. ooh! with the gods on Mount Olympus. I could steal Cupid’s arrow …

ox, d.c.

A Scene is Born

questions from the readers: How do you create a scene?

Well … that depends on the scene. Sometimes it’s just a matter of reading the previous draft, bringing the heart rate up, and following a detailed outline. Other times—not so easy. Take the fight scenes, for instance. if you’ve never thrown a punch in your life, writing a detailed fight scene can be a very … inaccurate? … experience. So, I started sniffing around the martial arts world. Mere interviews wouldn’t do. I had to learn it myself. Problem was, there’s more than one style of fighting—self-defense, attack, ground—and I had plenty of characters (all of them) who had to know how to do it. So I signed up for kenpo karate, krav maga, and brazilian ju-jitsu. A few black eyes and some bruises later, I was writing away and Levi looked like a pro!

All those detailed scenes in the cargo plane? Yep! The Air Force calls it Spouse Day. I call it real-time research. I wasn’t fooling around! While the other wives were socializing, sleeping, vomiting, I was busily scrawling intimate details into a pilfered notepad with the general’s pen. I went home and wrote the scene in Entangled with Mandy in the cargo plane before Kiser so rudely throws her out. The scene  in The Devil’s Garden with the team on the flight deck wondering what the hell’s wrong with the airplane came from an invitation to my husband’s flight simulator training. To the benefit of my readers, we had a laid-back pilot who didn’t mind if I took the simulator plane for a whirl. The rest of the crew wasn’t in a hurry, sooo … I got the copilot seat! I’ve tried to secure a few minutes in the co-pilot seat on a real cargo plane, but to date the Air Force isn’t cooperating. For the record—I never did get airsick. I wear this tidbit like a badge of honor.

The Carson in the tropical pool scene: Ah, yes. Mandy with the eyes of an over-ripe potato. To her embarrassment and to our delight—yes, she did see Carson naked! [Fanning self] You probably noticed, this scene has the distinct flavor of a romance novel. What? You say. D.C.? Writing romance! I know, I know, it sounds crazy. So how did I do it? Easy. I consulted the romance expert—my sister/first-line beta reader. Like a big girl teaching a crying toddler to walk, she babied me through it. That includes kissing scenes, tender moments, and all those powerful looks. When you see love anywhere in The Entangled Series, thank Celeste.

My nephew—an artillery ground pounder visiting family between deployments—made the mistake of reminiscing about boot camp and a horrible drill sergeant in front of me. My brain snapped to Raul in The Devil’s Garden and my ears perked right up. The unsuspecting soldier starts explaining what it means to ‘get smoked’ in the military. Oh, happy day! Next thing my nephew knows, he’s demonstrating in detail each one (about six total), which included names like The Monkey F**er and Little Man in the Woods, while I sat on the floor taking notes on a notepad. His pitiful cries of ‘can't you write any faster?’ and ‘gimme a minute [pant, pant] to catch my breath’ and ‘I shouldn’t have said anything’ fell on deaf ears. By the time he stomped out of my house, I had pages of descriptions. I’m pleased to announce, The Little Man in the Woods made it into the final cut. This is a prime example of our fine military supporting its American authors. Thanks, John!

Alas, not all my research is pleasant. Some of it TOTALLY sucks! Fender and the spiders: internet at midnight—instant heeby-jeeby protocol (hair in a bun, fly swatter, and potent bug spray). Levi and the coconut grubs: the Discovery Channel on an empty stomach! Blegh! ox, dc

You %$#@ Jody!

Questions from the readers:

Levi calls Kiser a Jody. What the devil is a Jody?

A Jody is every military man's worst fear. The name refers to a soldier who sleeps with other men's wives/girlfriends while they are gone on a mission, deployed, or TDY. He's good-looking, muscular, has all his hair, drives an awesome car, and is very well endowed---a feature he doesn't waste.

How can you spot Jody?

Jody is the one standing, er . . . laughing, on the edge of the runway with champagne, Kleenex, and chocolate while a unit deploys to Timbuktu.

Do the absent soldiers know Jody?

If they have friends, co-workers, live on a base, or have ever laid eyes on another soldier, er . . . man, they do.

Does Jody refer only to men?

[Hysterical laughter] Um, no.

So being called a Jody is a bad thing, right?

That depends. Did your unit just deploy without you?

What happens when someone is called a Jody?

The typical reaction is back-slapping, hand-smacking appreciation for being labeled so pleasantly by one's acquaintances. Thanks all around and drinks on the house!

Wait! Is being called Jody an insult or is it a complement?

Yes.

Where is Jody now?

If you have to ask, you're not him.

So, uh, when exactly do you expect your man to return?

You %$#@ Jody!

Imagine This!

The title of the book ENTANGLED actually comes from the phenomenon of the same name according to quantum physics. The mechanics of this, of course, would take a scholar to explain. I do not claim to be a scholar by any stretch. In fact, I've spent many looong nights researching the subject only to wake the next morning with my laptop askew, some drool, and absolute lack of comprehension regarding anything to do with quantum physics. I do, however, know a quantum physicist personally and, therefore, feel I am qualified enough not only to write a book on the subject, but also to conduct an experiment---on you.

Take a moment to slip into Mandy and Levi's world. Try to imagine what it would be like for one day to have someone you've never met hearing your every thought---all of them, even the embarrassing ones. Imagine going through that same day being bombarded by the private thoughts of someone else. No lies, no secrets. At this point, you may include frustration.

Scholars believe entanglement such as this would drive you crazy. I find the idea intriguing. It would be noisy at first, but eventually it would be tolerable. During the experiment, please, please do not speak aloud, giggle incessantly, babble, and/or argue alone publicly or you may find yourself the center of unwanted attention.

Warning---schizophrenia can produce delusions that the sufferer is in telepathic communication with others; such delusions include thought broadcasting and thought extraction. This is dangerously close to what we're dealing with here. I urge caution.

Try next to imagine how hard it would be to perform simple tasks such as counting money while the other is dialing a phone number, or read an article while the other is singing in the shower. Imagine blurting someone else's conversation in the middle of your own. How might your life be disrupted? What if you didn't get along? Would you keep this a secret? How do you look in a straight jacket?

What would you do? xo, dc

Beginnings

Okay, okay, I've been properly convinced. I'm starting a blog. I'll begin with the history of ENTANGLED. It all began one dark, stormy night...

I'm teasing. actually, I had a bad dream. I woke up in the middle of the night positive someone had just spoken right into my ear. Scared the bad word out of me! I guess I must have been sleeping pretty hard, because it took a minute for me to realize there was no one in the room. Then, it occured to me that the voice had happened in my head. The very idea of being mentally locked with some strange man was horrifying, even though I knew it had only been a dream. By that evening, bizarre scenarios were building. I settled on the one involving strong, bad-ass commandos, of which I'm terribly fond by the way, and I ran with it. ENTANGLED was actually written about three times from front to back. The first time, the story was reeealy corny. I didn't have a clue how to write other than silly short stories I'd written as a child. I had to learn how to do it. All internet baby! Those websites at 3:am. The second time, I had to start researching my commandos in order to bring them to life. I'm a military wife and lived on an airforce/army base surrounded by them. Voila! Oh, and SEAL documentaries, escape evasion books, interviews with special forces, aviators, etc. then---here's the hardest part---I had to learn to think like a man! Wow. That was a challenge. I had to draw a difinitive line between male and female and then crash the two together. Did you know men don't say 'yuck'? I had to learn this. Unfortunately, it wasn't as easy as interviewing a man and asking him 'What are you thinking?' Quite the opposite! The amused responses to that question often led to very high eyebrows, wide eyes, and pink cheeks. So, armed with this new knowledge, I cleared my throat and got creative. For the record, men and women think very, very differently. The third and final time I wrote the story, I actually had awesome characters, months of research, my own new quirky writing style, and a farfetched goal in mind. So far, so good . . . xo, dc