The sun shown down from a cloudless sky. Trees spread their empty branches like skeletal hands trying to reach for the light one last time. The ground was a light brown of dead grass, waiting for the spring. Two police cars, one in the gravel driveway, one against the curb, stood watch as uniformed officers used yellow crime-scene tape to surround a small forest-green house with tan trim. The two bedroom home’s door stood open to the unseasonably warm air as a third vehicle pulled up to the curb.

The stocky redhead that got out of the unmarked car gazed at the house for a moment, then closed the door with a thump. The nearest officer turned at the sound, then held up the tape.

“Morning sarge, what’s got you out here?”

The sergeant looked up at the taller beat officer. “I’m out here because I was told the circumstances are unusual.”

Sergeant O’Malley looked like a cop. Short auburn hair framed square pugnacious features. His light blue suit coat looked like it came off of the economy end of the local five and dime store. His white shirt looked starched, making the dark blue tie stand out against the pale background. Light khaki pants nearly concealed the black leather sneakers.

The officer holding the tape, let it drop then straightened to his six foot four height. He saluted smartly then said, “The new guys didn’t bring the barf bags like I told them. Watch yer step, ya short mick.”

O’Malley looked back up at the tall officer. “Yeah yeah, meaning you stepped in it ya tall pollack.” Officer Wojohowicz grinned and gave O’Malley a thumbs up. The banter sounded like old friends needling each other, which it was. They’d grown up on the same street. The north side was all Irish, the south side, Poles and Czechs. Rarely did the two sides interact, but Wojo and O’Malley had found a common ground.

The youth gangs that ran around found out quickly if you took on one, you had both to deal with. It was that way through school, and into college. Both went into law enforcement, like their parents. Wojohowicz’s temper had him busted back to beat cop after he’d gotten too enthusiastic going after a ghoul and got himself and two others sent to ICU at Boston General. The local supernatural community paid the politicians well to cover it up, but the event never was far out of Wojo’s, or O’Malley’s minds.

O’Malley flipped the collar of his suit coat up against the slight bite of the unseasonably cold weather. As he reached the wooden porch steps, the grumble of a four cylinder engine made him pause. A vintage Willys Jeep pulled in behind his old blue Taurus. The man that stepped out looked more like a GQ model. The black duster he wore draped open, showing off his impeccable black suit. A dark blue tie adorned the white shirt under the suit. Roger Reilly pulled a pair of fashionable sunglasses out, putting them on to cut the glare of the sun.

This is a sticking point with the previous story here. So I’m off trying to recapture the direction of the story to date. Random things keep firing in my mind as I’m trying to let this same mental morass clear the way for a continuation of the story. I had a thought that asked the question, ‘what would the world be like if a conspiracy like the Illuminati were real and they did conquer the world economically.’ What would society be like? How far out would the truth be known and how?

I think this is where the story’s looking at going, even though it’s simply supposed to be a alien invasion story. The twist being ‘what if the invasion is fake, so certain people are not looking at the right place and at the right time.’

Another post with a lag between. I apologize for that. I’ve started some stories, but haven’t found one yet that’s called me to finish it. It’s a bit like making characters in MMO games for me. There are times when the character swaggers out of the mists of creation fully formed, with a goal, a personality, and a full and rich background. Other times it make take rounds of play and many hours of pondering to finally piece together the character. And still, there are some that for whatever reason, are so vague, that no amount of creative brainstorming can seem to come up with a way to create a viable personality, and goal to make a character enjoyable.  When that happens, it’s laid aside, in hopes that something will give it the spark of life.  I keep my fingers crossed.

I find that when I’m working on a story, I get a snag trying to figure out where a scene is going.  If I can’t figure it out right away, I’ll start writing random words, or start a new story and give my mind a chance to try and unravel the knot.  I think this is why I have so many unfinished ones.  🙂

This question I’m sure comes up a lot for people to ask authors, and authors to answer.  “How did you write your book?”  I know with some authors, everything is sketched out beforehand, then elaborated and cleaned up as it is written.  Others, like me, tend to just start writing and the story goes where it will.  Both work.  Just because you can’t write like your favorite author should tell you something.  You’re not that person.  Write to tell a story your way.  It takes time and practice.  It’s worth it in the end.

I’ve found all the effort behind the scenes to be a real education.  The publishers asked, and helped me get these sites set up in Google+, Twitter, Facebook, and here.  The idea is to introduce myself, quirks and all, to people, and get you all curious about the crazy person behind the screen.  😉  Seriously though, publishing a book is a lot of work for all involved.  This is just one part, trying to create interest.  I freely admit to not being the best or most experienced poster.  So this is education in itself, which is exciting and frustrating for me.  I’m a very shy person in real life so getting me on something like this is akin to walking nude in public.  Anyways, to those who read this, thanks for sharing a bit of your day.  🙂