Perfect Prey first draft done!

Hunting Grounds for the Perfect Prey

Perfect Prey first draft

Perfect Prey first draftThe Perfect Prey first draft is done! Whoo Hoo! I’ve also completed reading it for continuity and fundamental grammar mistakes etc. Now I’m on to preliminary editing before I turn it over to my editor for in-depth review and corrections.

It’s been a long and weary battle, trying to get this book from concept to reality. The first book in the series was released last summer. I hadn’t intended to write a sequel, but honestly, I was overwhelmed by the feedback I received from my readers and followers, asking for more.

Really? I kept asking myself. You honestly want to know what happens to Avril, a prisoner, taken and abused by the whims of a sadistic tyrant? A monster who bought her and considers her his owned property? A man who may have fallen in love with the girl? A girl who suspects the truth and will do anything to stay alive, feed his passions to find a way to escape and maybe, at the same time, save thousands of others in the process?

With the Perfect Prey first draft completed, I’m well on the way to deliver it to you, my readers. I wonder how you will receive this next segment in Avril’s perilous dance with her owner and master. Before you ask whether there will be a third book in the series, of course. Her story is too intriguing to let it drop. But to get to a third one, you have to read Perfect Prey. It’ll be out this summer.

Storyboarding

Okay, it’s an intriguing concept. After months thinking about it, I came up with an idea. However, a single sequel wouldn’t do it justice. It would have to be at least a trilogy. Three full-length novels and possibly more to develop the storyline I have in mind.

Perfect Prey picks up about six months after the end of The Trafficking Consortium. If you have read that book, you know that the main character, Avril, had to make an impossible choice between life and death. Her faith in God made her decision for her. Choosing death, and in effect, she would be committing suicide, a mortal sin, forever condemning her immortal soul to suffer for eternity in hell.

By choosing life, she would condemn her physical body to a full lifetime of agonizing torment at the hands of her owner, while safeguarding her soul.

She negotiates a contract with her owner, walking a razor edge line with God, hoping for forgiveness, in an attempt to bring down the very organization that captured her and thousands every year, suffering the very torments she was an unwilling party too. Win or lose, will God forgive her for her attempt?

Looking over my shoulder

I have to admit after I wrote The Trafficking Consortium I started looking over my shoulder. Did I write and publish a novel that was too close to the truth? I don’t know. That novel simply came into being with a simple question waiting in a doctors office one day. I’ve written about it in previous blogs, so I won’t belabor the point. The question was.

Hunting Grounds“What could happen if the person behind the counter you’re freely giving all your personal information to is sharing it with some unknown person or agency who is not authorized to receive it.”

“What could possibly happen?”

That query developed into a world of intrigue filled with astonishing anguish, torment, and brutality that even I, the author, cringe at envisioning. How could I think up this shit? I have no idea. It merely comes to me and I write it down.

After publishing Trafficking Consortium, I began looking over my shoulder, wondering if someone was now watching me, wondering if I knew too much for my own good. I hope not. My stories are pure fiction. Hey out there, it’s all fiction. Do you hear me? Fiction. It’s all made up. Don’t blame me if I’m too close to the truth.

Where are they?

I wonder. In developed, first world countries, hundreds of thousands of adults reported to go missing and never found each year? So where do these people who go missing each year go? Granted, many go missing voluntarily and don’t want to be found. The rest disappear from the face of the earth and never seen again, or at least their bodies never recovered.

Stay tuned to see whether my stories have merit. I intend to keep writing. The writing bug is strong within me, and it just won’t stay silent. So, if I step on anyone’s toes, know this. It’s all FICTION, made up out of my feeble mind, on the fly, derived from stupid questions that begin with “What if?”

Thanks and keep tuned. With Perfect Prey first draft done, and it’s publication imminent, I can’t wait to get started on my next story. I have so many ideas for future novels, that I wonder whether I’ll ever get to them all. I hope so. Then again, with my luck, as I complete them, I’ll garner ideas for another ten books, so it may just be a losing battle.

This is your favorite author, Richard Verry, saying, have a great day and a better tomorrow.

Keep on reading.

Daydreamer and a Night Thinker

Daydreamer - nightthinker

Daydreamer Night Thinker

Hello, my readers and fans of my books, I’m going to write about being a daydreamer night thinker. But first, I have to say this. I’ve been thinking about you a lot, knowing that I haven’t reached out to you lately. I’m sorry about that. I could tell you several reasons why but really, do you care? I doubt it. Besides still recovering from the holidays, dealing with my post-concussion syndrome (yes, it’s still an issue), and other things, I have been working hard on finishing up the sequel to ‘The Trafficking Consortium.’ I have maybe four or so chapters to write in the first draft.The Trafficking Consortium

Of course, you writers out there know that a book doesn’t stop there. The author must go through it many times cleaning up action sequences, dialog, inconsistencies, and basic grammar. Then, it’s off to an independent editor who will do it all again, shredding it and putting it back together. While that is going on, it’s getting your beta readers to read it and give you feedback. Once done, then it’s on to formatting the manuscript into something suitable for submission. It all takes time. Anyhoo, I’m working hard, and hopefully, I can finish the first draft this month. Knock on wood.

Daydreamer and a Night Thinker

My incredible girlfriend, patient as she is (not), supports my writing efforts and looks for ways to help me when she can. Over the years, she has heard the stories of how I wake up in the wee hours of the morning, dreaming up dialog and scenes to incorporate into my stories. She also is well aware of the imagery that flows through my head during the day, as I try them out on her or when they end up on my canvas or drawing pad.

Daydreamer Night Thinker

She found and gifted me for Christmas a pillow that has the phrase, “I’m a daydreamer and a night thinker” on it. How appropriate.

This is precisely who I am. By day, I’m the mild manner daydreamer, dreaming up stories, scenarios, and images that I can incorporate into my writing and painting. At night, I’m a night thinker. In my half away, half-asleep state, I write dialog in my head, fitting it into the scenes I daydreamed about over the past.

The pillow sits on my bed after I make it in the morning, and when I am asleep, it sits next to me on the floor where I can see it when reflecting upon my storylines in the middle of the night.

Honey, I love the sentiment and the journey it took to come to me. Thank you.

While I’m in a thanking mood, thank you also to my beta readers, and my friends that encourage and otherwise support me.

p.s.

Of course, while I was searching for an appropriate image, I discovered that this phrase is used quite commonly across the globe. Of course, in my little corner of the world, I had never come across it. Damn, now I have to be careful I don’t plagiarize someone. I hope I got it right. You’ll forgive me if didn’t. Right?

Of course, check out my companion site, maggicalexpressions.wordpress.com where I display my visual representations of my daydreaming night thinking turned into reality.

 

Famous Quotes to Write By

Quotes by Roald Dahl

Recently, I saw the email signature of one of my co-workers that includes the following quote. She is a career librarian and knowing her; the quote suits her.

(Librarians) “are subversive. You think they’re just sitting there at the desk, all quiet and everything. They’re like plotting the revolution, man. I wouldn’t mess with them.” ~ Michael Moore, author/filmmaker.

When I first read the quote, all I could think of was rubbing my hands together in a nefarious way and grin an evil smile. However, the quote got me thinking. Perhaps, I should change my author signature. So, I went looking for one. I came up with several, but so far, the one I found that suits me, is:

Roald Dahl
Roald Dahl

“I don’t care if a reader hates one of my stories, just as long as they finish the book.”
~Roald Dahl

That is exactly how I feel. I write my stories for fun. I don’t care if you love or hate them. I write for the joy of it, transferring images from my brain to the blank white screen of my writing program. If a reader doesn’t like the story, they are welcome to their viewpoint. I won’t deny them their right to their opinion.

At first, I deeply cared whenever I read a poor review of one of my books. All of them talked about the story itself, how it was not their cup of tea or some such thing. What they never wrote was that it was poorly written, filled with grammatical errors and the like.

I fretted over the reviews. That is until I realized that all of the reviewers read the entire book. They didn’t just abandon it halfway through. They chose to read it to the end. That tells me they liked the story enough to take it to its conclusion.

Success!

Over the past couple of years, I’ve taken a lot of grief about the subject matter of my stories. They are often gruesome and horrendous. I can’t tell you how many times people have asked me, “How do you think of the stuff you write about?” or “Is what you write about, something you did or wish you could do?”

How aberrant do you think I am? Okay, don’t answer that.

What is important is, these are just fictional stories. I get my inspiration from everyday life, and I let my imagination go wild. That’s exactly how my book ‘The Trafficking Consortium’ came to life. I sat in a doctor’s waiting room, watching people being checked in and asked myself “What would happen if that person behind the desk sent the patient’s file off to someone with no rights to have it?” Within minutes, the entire framework of the book appeared in my head. I spent the next six weeks writing the first draft. The rest is history.

Need I say more?

Labor Day weekend in the United States

Wistful Look

Good afternoon all. It’s the Sunday before Labor Day here in the United States. For those who don’t know, Labor Day is a holiday celebrating the workers in America. It is always on the first Monday in September. It is also the unofficial end of the summer season.

Wistful Look
Source: portrait-photos.org

Just yesterday, I noticed fall and Halloween decor in the stores. Damn, I commented to myself. My full-time job gives me little time to enjoy the summers. For the last month, I worked my ass off getting ready for next week. It’s not important as to why, but trust me, it was.

On July 31, I was sweating bullets thinking that I couldn’t get all my work done in time. I was distraught that there was just too much to do. Somehow, along with my co-workers, we pulled it off.

When my shift ended on Friday, I was content. What I needed to do had the big [ DONE ] stamp on it with big RED letters. Whew.

So, now, I’m enjoying the time off. I’ve slept in both days, and I plan on doing it again tomorrow. I met with friends on Friday night, had a couple of beers over good food and great conversation. Yesterday, I caught up at home, sweeping the floors, dusting, and well, all of that housekeeping that no one wants to do but we have to do anyway.

I also wrote a scene for my next book, and since I couldn’t stop there, and did some massive editing. By the end of the day, I had written and edited 6,800 words, in a scene that I absolutely love. Chatting about it with my girlfriend, she’s excited and can’t wait to read the final version of the book. I’m excited about this book, and I believe you will be too.

This morning, I wrote another 2,800 words in an initial draft of another scene. It’s unrefined and choppy, but it is just an initial draft. When incorporated into the book, I will flesh it out and use it to draw the reader into the character. Her name is Misty, and her life is about to take a sharp left turn. I’m smiling as I write this.

Later, I am meeting another pair of friends for dinner, which promises to be fun. Tomorrow, I plan on sleeping in again, shake off the hangover from tonight, and write some more. Then, there is my new website design. I like it, but I don’t like it enough. I’m debating about releasing it now and then updating it again, or work on the design more and release it later. I’m leaning towards the former, but we’ll see. My job and my writing are my focus at the moment.

Have a great day and a better tomorrow.

Until next time, Ciao.

Rich

A nice Sunday afternoon

beach walking in a bikini

I just asked my girlfriend what I should write about in this iteration of my blog. I hadn’t a clue. Why?

I’m spending the day in the warm sun, sitting on my porch, writing scenes and character bios for my next book. No, I’m not letting the cat out of the bag just yet. It’s too early in the process to tell you that. Who knows, it might never come to pass.

beach walking in a bikiniHowever, writing is what I’m doing, as well as catching up on email, social media, connecting with friends and, of course, day dreaming. I’m feeling better, and while my left over concussion headache is still with me, like a squatter who refuses eviction, I have my creative steam back. Ideas are appearing in my head, creating scene after scene that I want to capture, whether for this new book or another. It’s maddening sometimes, I can’t catch them any faster, so I lose them before I can write them down. Damn! I wish I could type at the speed of light.

Speaking of which my typing sucks at the moment. I think of a sentence I want to type, and after I type it, I find that several words are mistyped, often so badly that even the word processor doesn’t know what to do with them. Fsxk. See what I mean? Fuckk, oh fuck it already.

Frosty beer mugHere in the United States, we are having our unofficial last week of summer. For those that know our holidays, next week we celebrate the holiday known as labor day, a day set aside to honor the workers of the country. Workers who get things done, often at the behest of others. I count myself in their ranks, never reaching the heights of the one percenters.

Not that I care. For the most part, I liked my life, and I am enjoying my current life. The only way it could be better is that I get a movie deal from one of my books, and earn enough to buy that beach house, with an attached pool, and paint and write full-time, all while scanning the young bikini clad lovelies walking along the ocean and enjoying afternoon delights with my girlfriend before retiring to my hammock with a drink in my hand. Okay, that last sentence was wordy. Fuck it and go have another drink.

Cheers,
Rich