BLOG INTERACTION -- IT'S A GOOD THING.

THIS BLOG WILL BECOME THE PIVOT POINT FOR MY NOVEL PROMOTION.   OVER THE COMING MONTHS I WILL BE OFFERING SOME OF MY WORKS FOR FREE ON A LIMITED BASIS.
 In order to make that happen, we need to develop more interaction.  Here is how it will work.  Each post has a section for comments.  These comments are moderated.  That means the comment will be sent to me for editing and approval.  When I offer a book for free, you have to be a member of my blog to obtain the unit.  Joining my blog is easy and costs nothing but it's the prerequisite to obtaining my work -- gratis. 

ARE YOU OLD ENOUGH TO ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS?

“Where were you and what were you doing when President Kennedy was killed? What were your thoughts at that moment?”

 

I HAVE JUST COMPLETED THE FIRST DRAFT OF MY THIRTEENTH NOVEL, SHOOTER!

This novel contains a lot of the details about the JFK assignation in Dallas, Texas.  November 22, 1963.

  In the author footnote of my new novel, I am including a section called REMEMBERANCES.  I was surprised at the number of people I have spoken with over this last year of research who told me what they doing when they heard of the assassination.  Without an exception, most people respond with clear and detailed memories of what they were doing when they learned JFK was assassinated.  So, keeping this in mind, I would like to ask you to send me a short and concise statement as to following set of questions. I will include it in the REMEMBERANCES section of SHOOTER.

 

 

“Where were you and what were you doing when President Kennedy was killed? What were your thoughts at that moment?”

 

1.     Join my blog -- http://blair-pacificpublishing.blogspot.com/

 

2.     In the comments section of the current post leave your name and a valid e-mail address.

3.     Send me the answer to the questions above.  Your response is permission for me to use the inclusion in my novel, SHOOTER 

4.     I will publish your comment ON MY BLOG POSTING (without the e-mail) and gift you a copy of my bestselling novel, ALASKA BE DAMNED. 

5.     I will also place your contact information on my list for those who will be issued a FREE copy this newest novel SHOOTER when it becomes available sometime in October, 2013.

 

 

 

 

FREE TODAY – 1ST 100 DOWNLOADS

HALF-BREED – BACK-STORY

Back when I owned one of my weekly newspapers, (over my career I owned 8) I was sent an article about an Apache half-breed named Chato who was murdered in the streets of Tombstone in 1880. I researched the event and couldn’t find any record of the crime. I handed it off to my editor and he couldn’t verify the story either.   

At the time I was reluctant to run the piece because my policy was to print news and features; not fiction.  A few years later while researching something else, I saw a short blurb on the ‘Chato Affair’.  It had occurred in the streets of Tucson – not Tombstone. By this time I had sold the newspaper and had moved on.  I looked into the Chato killing and discovered it was indeed a true occurrence in 1866; the year Arizona territory was established. I also learned there were no laws on the books at that time (1860’s) to punish those that murdered an Indian or half-breed. I advanced the story to the late 1880’s, fictionalized the events surrounding the killing of Chato and wrote my period novella, HALF-BREED. 

 

 

During my research I discovered the law enforcement of that era was marginal at best.  In addition, Tucson was very corrupt and some of the law enforcement officials were in the pockets of the Tucson Mob. Most ranchers took the law into their own hands to prevent and punish thieves.  This was one of the elements that prevented Arizona Territory from becoming a state of the union until 1912; the last of the contiguous states to be admitted.

 

 

GOLFITO MARINA VISTA VILLAS

 

The purpose of a vacation is to relax, to unwind, and to focus on what’s important; yourself. Usually a person has to escape the mundane of their day to day world to do this.

Since I live in Panama, I seldom need to go very far to change my environment; less than an hour to beach, mountains, jungle or swamps.  However, we have such good communications, I can never be totally out of touch.  SO -- Once in a while I head west; to Costa Rica.  Golfito is my favorite destination – close by but not tied to my personal grid. 

I spent several days away from my phone the internet and my writing.  I arranged deluxe accommodations offered by Golfito Marina Vista Villas. www.golfitocostarica.com

Wow! What a fine surprise.  I was living in a furnished home; called a suite.  The third tier of a modern suite; totally furnished right down to the coffee and sugar. Absolutely 5 stars!

 

The views were superb, it is an easy walk to the center of town and most importantly -- EVERYTHING WORKS!

 

I could watch the happenings on the bay, on the street and the wildlife in the jungle behind me.

The photos speak for themselves.
(506) 2775-1614 or
8886-9360

 

Tres Piedras – Back-Story

TRES PIEDRAS IS FREE TOMORROW, 8/22/13, TO THE FIRST 50 DOWNLOADS.

My latest novel has been getting a lot of attention.  I suspect it is because it is way out of my normal genre and style. 

I just finished this book. I couldn't put it down. This book kept me so excited to I couldn't put it down. A little graphic for me at times but it was needed to complete the story. Good book Robert, now I start UNTAMED.

This was written by a friend that went to high school with me.  I haven’t seen her since 1960. She’s one of the few that will post on my FB page.  Most readers won’t post a review.  Instead, they find my address on this blog and send me a private note.  Some even point out a typo or misspelled word.  (That hasn’t happened often since I discovered Melissa Gray, my new editor.) I get a dozen private emails (always positive) to every posted review on Amazon. It’s rewarding to receive so many positive comments; especially from old friends and associates. However, the private e-mails don’t advance my standing with Amazon.  Only multiple sales with positive reviews will increase one’s ranking. 

TRES PIEDRAS was inspired by my lady friend but the idea for the title and the overall story line was formulated in my mind while visiting an archeological site here in Panama.

Inspecting the tools of the pre-Colombians and then witnessing the current culture, it occurred to me that not much has changed in the cooking department.  In the cities, the Panamanian ladies have mostly modern kitchens.  In the country and even the small towns, they still use open fires outside under a thatched roof ‘rancho’ or bohio if you prefer.  A stand made of concrete blocks or stones raised the fire pit to counter height.  It’s the only improvement they’ve made since man discovered fire.  Panamanian kitchens often are so sparse that it takes them two hours to prepare a simple meal and up to four hours for a multiple course dinner. Some only use the TRES PIEDRAS and open fires for special events or special dishes; like their version of the tamale.  Other folks like the employees on some of the farms and the indigenous on the reservations (carmaca), have very little choice.  Their cooking occurs in the same fashion as it did thousands of years ago.

One of the reasons given by Panamanians is that cooking outside keeps their homes cooler.  The same reason they give for not having ovens; just 2-4 burner propane burners. So basically there is very little baking done in the more ‘traditional’ homes.  I personally don’t understand this problem.  My ancestors have been using outside ovens for centuries.  The Mexicans use ceramic ovens outside.  Woodstoves placed in these bohio’s would be so much more efficient.  They wouldn’t rust out if maintained correctly.  As an alternative, they could use a buried cast iron pan.  I have used the old fashioned “Dutch Ovens” for years.  I’m about to introduce the method to a few of my Panamanian friends.

My brother sent me some of my belongings he had stored in his basement.  One of them was a large Dutch oven. It was necessary to remove all the rust and take the unit back to almost bare metal.  Then I ‘seasoned’ it in a campfire, cleaned it again with a solution of Hydrogen peroxide and baking soda.  Then it was baked for several hours.  I baked a loaf of bread in the unit a couple of days ago and a double batch today.

My next step is take the unit to my lady friend’s farm, start a campfire, dig a hole next to the fire and once the bread has risen in the Dutch oven, I’ll shovel some coals into the hole, lower the Dutch oven into the hole, shovel more coals on to the lid and around the sides and cover the unit with a banana leaf.  Placing a layer of dirt on top of that will finalize the ‘cowboy oven’. TRES PIEDRAS – enhanced!

I’ll use this unit sparingly.  I have a first rate bread machine and a Crockpot.

Over the years I’ve cooked everything imaginable in this ‘cowboy cook pot’. This is the original slow cooker.  Biscuits, bread, lamb stew, venison and elk roasts, beef stew & roasts and my favorite; cowboy chili. While fishing in Alaska, a similar in size Dutch oven without the tripod legs, resided on my diesel stove; It was cooking 24/7; crab, halibut, shrimp, salmon, ling cod, black cod, and even venison or moose stew once in a while.

This quite a segue from the back story of TRES PIEDRAS and yet it isn’t. Backward thinking is the primary reason we have so many wars in the world; the reason many cultures don’t advance and consequently become extinct.  Look at the Native American Indian.  They were introduced to the wheel by the Spaniards.  The never adopted it and continued to transverse the countryside’s with dogs and women packing their stuff.  They did adopt the horse as a means of transportation.  Then they let the horse pull a travois.

Having a horse pack some belongings is akin to moving the fire pit from the ground up to counter height.  A small advance but still really archaic thinking.  That’s the premise behind my novel.  TRES PIEDRAS thinking – in a modern romance. The action adventure of this novel is just my imagination embellishing my own personal experiences.

The boat trip from Oregon to Panama is a composite of several voyages on several different boats.

  Years ago I’d met a guy on a dock in Anacortes, Washington who looking for a deckhand for his 46’ sailboat.  He needed to move it from Seattle to Newport, Oregon.  My big boat was in dry dock getting a new Garber seam and some additional ironbark added to the hull. I had time to kill so I decided to join him in his adventure.

Over the years, this friend and I stayed in touch and each time he needed to make a passage, I was able to help him move his boat further and further south.  We finally ended up in Boca Chica, Panama, fifteen years later.    

ExPat, BACK-STORY REVISITED

Since ExPat is free for to the 1^st 100 downloads tomorrow, I decided to run the back-story again.  This is NOT a travelogue about some retired guy living in Mexico or Panama and dealing with bad water and barred windows. It’s a caper novel with a lot of twists and turns.  Take advantage of the offer – FREE!

****

While commercial fishing in Alaska, I often sought the warmth of Mexico during the winter months.  Then I got hooked into skiing and didn’t visit very often.  I bought a place midway between Smithers and Fort Saint James in British Columbia and spent my winters on the slopes.  However, once I exited the Alaska fishery scene I sold my place in Canada and ventured south.   I bought a place near Williams, AZ with my fishbucks.  It was 40 acres in the wilderness.  I started building a self sufficient place off the grid.  I was about half way through the project when I met this guy in Flagstaff that was headed south in his Motor home.  At one time he had fished Alaska, too.  He was a mechanic in Flagstaff and we seemed to hit it off.  He had the nicest girlfriend.  She was sweet & petite – but uglier than homemade soap and very mercenary. My friend loved her dearly but she had one of those “for rent to the highest bidder”, mentality.  She saw me as a guy with deep pockets and made her play before we reached our destination of Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.  I declined her offer and decided it was time to strike out on my own.  I paid my share of the expenses, grabbed my gear, and stayed a couple of nights in a roadside cantina.  It was ‘bedbug city’ but the food and drink and was good and the waitress was friendly.  I entered a couple of late evening card games and was able to break even for my entertainment.  My waitress friend decided to be my personal tour guide. We made a couple of side trips; I learned firsthand how Tequila was made and my ‘tour guide’ and I found a saddle shop.  I spent hours watching the guys plait rawhide reins and riatas. My guide needed to get back to her village and I needed to start my journey back to Arizona.  I took a series of buses and finally arrived in Puerto Vallarta. Their airport was under repair so most international flights had been cancelled.  I began looking for alternate transportation. Once I had the bus scheduled in my fist I decided to explore the tourist city,

For me -- As usual, the docks of any community are a magnet.  Puerto Vallarta was no different.  From my cowboy background; lariats, reins and spurs being fabricated to the lure of the sirens of the deep.  I walked the docks and finally ran into several statesider couples; four different boats all from the west coast of the USA.  All but one was for sale.  The fourth told me they’d sell if the price was right. So, I decided it was the right place to hear some stories of the sea.  However, most of the tales were about why they were in Mexico. I suspect one of the couples…the one that wasn’t for sale, was on the run from the IRS, an ex-partner or both. Later in the day, a single guy that had his boat on the hook in the harbor joined me for a late lunch and a few beers.  He hailed from Newport, Oregon and we began discovering all the people we knew in common.

Glenn steered his sailboat toward the transient dock at Puerto Vallarta’s downtown marina.  Being hailed by the local yacht broker and told that someone wanted to inspect his boat, Glenn fired the engines immediately and ordered his deckhand, Jimmy, to haul anchor.  This was do or die for Glenn.  He was broke and had to sell the boat soon, or it would be confiscated.  It was all he had left.  Six years of scrimping and saving, putting his life at risk as a deckhand on a leaky, ill equipped drag boat out of Newport Oregon, and two years chasing tuna all over the Pacific coast, had netted him only the boat.  A year earlier he had single-handedly sailed the Northern Yankee from Newport to Cabo San Lucas to keep it from the hands of his creditors. A rough, dangerous, but exciting, passage. 

Two men and a woman were standing on the dock awaiting his arrival.  The taller man, without instruction, took the line tossed by Jimmy and gave him a spring line.  The smaller man caught the stern line and had his boat tied hard and fast with two half-hitches on the dock cleat.  The taller man did the same amidships, and stood ready for another bow-line.  It was apparent to Glenn these guys were seamen.  The beautiful woman was just a spectator; standing back as the men did the work.

 

 

I paid him for bed and board and stayed with him on his boat for almost a week. He was headed south.  I was tempted to take him up on his offer to sail to Costa Rica but instead took a series of 10^th rate buses to Mexico City and flew back to Arizona, via Vegas.

My novel, EXPat, was spawned while making the arduous journey from PV to Mexico City. Too much windshield time and too much imagination. Most of the time I was the only one who spoke English and my Spanish was so poor all I had were the thoughts rattling around in my head to entertain myself.  

The plot of ExPat was adjusted when I arrived in the states and read a news story about some poker player getting stabbed and robbed in Las Vegas; he’d taken his winnings in cash to impress some woman.

I set the novel aside and did some exciting things with my life; NOT -- I went back into business.

In 2003 I took a trip to Puerto Vallarta on Southwest Airlines and stayed a week as a tourist.  I flew from there to San Jose, Costa Rica via Mexico City and then on to Golfito, CR to visit friends.  I was able to finalize the ExPat story during this 5 week vacation.

 

        

PRICE /PERFORMANCE vs PERCEPTION

Indie authors historically feel the pinch of summer months in their sales.  Sometimes their writing gets derailed as well. We often over promote to compensate for the slowdown in sales.  Shoot… we’re not going to change people’s habits by sending out twenty more tweets a day.  It’s summer.  Even my most loyal readers are outside enjoying the weather; fishing, hiking, gardening, or mowing their yard.  Keeping in mind there are some who do not partake of the outdoors and still like to read, I’ll continue to post erratically to my blog and toss out a tweet or two.  Hell, I think maybe I should go outside, too.  Maybe to the beach or a quick dash across the border to Costa Rica with my camera to snap some photos for my novel I’m writing.

I don’t believe over promoting helps.  In fact it may hurt sales.  A site that is ‘shopworn’ can produce negativity. Watch TV some evening.  There will be some products or services advertised that you wouldn’t buy even if you had a desperate need.  Just because of their disgusting advertising.

Indie authors still have the same basic costs of a publishing house; the editor needs to get paid, the cover designer gets paid, the formatter gets paid, the US government gets paid (copyright), the people that issue the ISBN get paid.  – It’s the same for the indie as any other publisher.  If the book is printed, a few more folks get paid. – ALL OF THESE EXPENSES OCCUR BEFORE ONE BOOK IS SOLD!

My expenses when I tried selling my novels for 99 cents were the same as when I sell the same novel for $2.99 or more.  The difference in income is HUGE!  Not in the price but in the royalty received from Amazon.  A 99 cent sale represents 34 cents to the author   A $2.99 sale receives a 70% royalty instead of the 35%. (if the sale happens within the USA).

Pricing is a personal choice for authors.  I decided to take a business approach to my book sales and not be stampeded by trends in the industry. This is my standard pricing formula; I estimate what the price of the book would sell for if it was printed in ‘trade back’ format. (soft cover 4X6). I’ll consider the word count, the number of pages, and the overall theme of the novel.  That estimated price will be divided by four.  In essence I sell my e-books for ¼ the price of a printed novel.  One little caveat; I refuse to price my work for less than a gallon of diesel.  In Panama that averages around $5.00. No more sales.  I refuse to price my novels for 99c, less than the price of a package of gum.  My minimum price is $4.99.

Occasionally I will offer my novels for free.  I have this option with Amazon.  I will always limit the number I offer on a given day.  It weeds out the hoarders and gives the perception of value.  I’m beginning to rethink this method as well.  It’s nice to increase one’s readership but people that get something for free usually misuse.  Most readers in the past were like me. If I didn’t like the work, I set it aside and continued with my life.  If I liked the work I would post a positive review…always 5 stars.  Since I began offering free novels, a lot of mean-spirited people have downloaded my work and if it wasn’t what they expected or something they didn’t care for… they left horrible reviews – mean and vile! I never had this happen when I didn’t offer free books.  Other authors tell me this is normal.  Perhaps I should take their advice and ignore those who write stupid remarks about my work and live with the lowering of my review ratings.

  I’m not of that category. I’m researching all of those mean spirited readers who purposely wrote negative remarks and will expose them for who they are in an upcoming blog. In the meantime, perhaps I will rethink those ‘freebies’.   

THE LAST FRUIT STAND ON GUAM -- BACK STORY

This novel is FREE to the first 50 downloads.  I’ve included the back-story again for those who didn’t catch it when it was posted . 

THE LAST FRUIT STAND ON GUAM

BACK-STORY

In the late 1980’s I was on a long voyage into the South Pacific. I moored my boat for over three months in Guam to avoid being out in the open ocean during typhoon season. I had lived on Guam back in the early 1960’s and received most of my University education at the College of Guam.(back then it was an affiliate of Ohio State University)  I had passed through the island several times transiting to and from Vietnam and the Philippines a few years later. 

When I arrived in the late 1980’s the sleepy little island I had experienced in 1960-1963 was no longer. It had been invaded by the Japanese. (again)  In twenty-five years, the Japanese had recaptured the island by purchasing the beachfront real estate and building high-rise hotels and resorts. They controlled the economy.

I was appalled at first and then humored after I looked more closely. The Guamanian culture had changed drastically. What was once a laid-back Polynesian lifestyle was only evident in some of the villages in the countryside and a long way away from the hub of Agana.  Many of the land owners had become millionaires.  Their huts near the beaches were selling at downtown New York prices. Everyone had jumped on the ‘tourist’ bandwagon.

The tourists were predictably humorous, too. Since Guam was the closest tropical “foreign island” to Japan, the younger generations flocked to the US possession by the thousands.  On any given week-day the tourist population from Japan usually numbered almost sixty thousand people.   The guys wanted to shoot guns, eat steak and partake of the ‘pay-as-you-go-lust’.   Massage parlors were located on every corner and in most strip malls near Tumon Bay.

The young Japanese women wanted to shop, spend time on the beaches, and sample the men; any men except the Japanese men.  It’s true.  I’ve never seen so many horny tourists in my entire life.

My eighteen year old son, who normally repelled women like a puddle of fresh puke, was able to get laid more than once.  Of course he fell love right off and whined like a puppy when his Japanese squeeze climbed on a plane and flew back to her boyfriend and job in Tokyo.  It took him a month to ‘get it’ and by then I was ready to continue our voyage. Mother Nature interrupted my plans; the late arrival of a typhoon that came close to our route south; so I waited another 30 days to get shed of Guam. 

I finished the outline and began the novel, THE LAST FRUIT STAND ON GUAM, while waiting for my son to play out his string with the Japanese chicks. As it turned out this sexual anomaly was the only opportunity my boy had at ‘swinging’. He returned to the ‘puddle of puke’.

When I’d lived on the island in the early 60’s, I survived one of the island’s worst typhoons in history.  In the fall of 1962, typhoon Karen devastated the island.  There was considerable loss of life, the entire infrastructure was down for months, and many people went crazy. 

One had to be ‘off’ a bit just to survive the small island’s quirks.  Sane people were soon sent over the bank.  Being confined to a piece of dirt only thirty miles long and six miles wide at the widest part made for interesting character adjustments.

I have to admit when I first arrived on Guam, I was spooked with the knowing I was trapped on a small island.  I borrowed my dad’s car and circumvented the island.  I made one lap in less time than it took me to pass security at the Naval base. It gave me the heebe jeebies. I didn’t go ding-bat crazy but the knowledge of how small the land mass was -- gave me pause and certain claustrophobic tendencies.  I immediately enrolled in the University, got involved in scuba diving and created a salvage business.  Those activities plus the exotic women – diversions – probably kept me somewhat sane.

The people I witnessed coming to the island in the late 1980’s were suffering the same malady or worse; instant insanity.  This mental condition, referred to as Island Fever, is prevalent in many Hawaiian communities as well.  On Guam, however it reaches an acute stage when it’s coupled with a natural disaster; like a typhoon or a tsunami.  I know I experienced it! (Sustaining winds of 180 knots with gusts to 250 knots) I witnessed firsthand how some people react when faced with danger of imminent death. I didn’t like what I saw for the most part.  People I had held in high esteem acted cowardly and petty when the danger was near.  Other’s who didn’t seem the type, rose to the challenges at hand and ‘glared back at the face of death’.  I was fortunate to be included in the second category.  

I started outlining and writing THE LAST FRUIT STAND ON GUAM while on the island and during our journey.  I had to set it aside on and off and finally finished the first draft two years later while commercial fishing in Alaska. It’s a big book – 102,000 words; pared down from the original 160,000. It’s racy, bawdy, irreverent, and laced with dark humor.  A lot happens during the few weeks chronicled by the novel. I hope you enjoy THE LAST FRUIT STAND ON GUAM.