“What a long, strange trip it’s been’. That’s a
lyric from the Grateful Dead song, “Truckin’.
Seems like the perfect description for the last year. On March 19, 2020, I launched the
newsletter. 319 resonates with me, since
it ties into the title of the first Jefferson Chene mystery. Having the newsletter released on the 19th
of each month just sets it apart from so many others.
I’ll continue to share tidbits about my own writing,
a glimpse at my latest project, an interview with another author and of course,
music. So let’s get the party started.
Writing
As a young reader decades ago, I would occasionally
stumble upon a story that appeared interesting, but all of the characters
looked, acted and sounded the same. It was as if Ernie, the Keebler Elf, was
cranking out these players from the magic oven.
All the names were the same bland mixture. The story quickly bored me
and I tossed it aside.
“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any
other name would still smell as sweet.”
Shakespeare wrote that over 400 years ago in Romeo and Juliet. But the names of characters are vitally important.
Think of some of your favorite books, movies or TV shows. Each key player has a
distinctive name. That helps you to
identify and possibly connect with them.
I’ll usually pick a name for a character that may give the reader a clue as to how they may think or behave. Other times, it’s a little more challenging. Jefferson Chene, the protagonist in two novels so far (number three is under construction) is named for an intersection in Detroit. His backstory is that Chene was abandoned at birth and the cops inadvertently listed the corner where he was found on the paperwork as the infant’s name. Hence, the moniker stuck.
“What’s in a name?”
Anything and everything to help tell the story.
Work In Progress
Progress continues on the new Chene book. One of my favorite characters in this series is Captain Prescott “Pappy” Cantrell. I’ve heard from a number of readers that he’s the kind of boss they’d like to have. Pappy’s got his own moral code. His sense of honor motivates the squad.
(Here's a shot of what Pappy might look like.)
In this excerpt, Pappy and Chene first
get involved in the cold case.
Early Monday evening found me in Pappy’s
office. From the open casement window behind him, I could hear the ebb and flow
of traffic racing along Gratiot Avenue. For many people the workday was over,
which meant rush hour was winding down. In Motown, rush hour can last for two
hours on either end of the usual nine to five.
The rest of the squad was gone.
Cantrell and I were reviewing pending investigations. A month ago we’d
wrapped up a complicated homicide that uncovered almost half a million dollars
in precious gems, multiple extramarital affairs and involved more than a
hundred suspects. But that’s the kind of major case this team handles. Now we
were looking at a string of home invasion robberies, a series of luxury car
thefts and an extortion case with a local surgeon who may have been indiscreet.
“Don’t need the
hole squad on any of ‘em,” Cantrell muttered in his Southern drawl. “Y’all
probably crack the blackmail afore the weekend.”
“We can have
Kozlowski and Atwater run the home invasions.
I’ll take Suarez with me on the extortion.”
“Y’all droppin’
the girlie on the cars?”
I shook my head.
“Spears can review the files and look for a pattern. She did well with that on
the serial killer. If there’s a system in play, she’ll find it. Then I’ll take
her and Suarez to follow it up.”
Pappy grunted his
approval. A tilt of his head preceded a plume of cigarette smoke. It drifted out
the window. Smoking wasn’t allowed in public buildings in the state. Pappy
torched the memo. If he stepped outside every time the nicotine urge hit, his
office would have to be a lean-to in the parking lot.
“Thought you were
going on vacation,” I said.
“Yup. Leavin’
Friday. Two weeks in the Blue Ridge
Mountains. No Yankees allowed. Y’all on yer own. Think you can handle the
young’uns?”
“We got it
covered.”
“Lot can happen
inna few days.”
A knock on the
doorframe interrupted my response. The desk sergeant poked his head in the
room. “Sorry to bother you, Captain.
Chene has a very impatient visitor.”
“Expectin’
someone?”
I shook my head.
“You get a name, Burnley?”
The sergeant
nodded. “Not sure I believe it. Maximo Aurelio.”
I’d been slumped
in the chair, legs out and crossed at the ankles. Before I could move Cantrell
was at his computer, clicking buttons and pulling up the security camera that
focused on the lobby. “Fuck me hard,” he muttered.
Maximo Aurelio
was standing three feet from the reception desk. His hands were out, palms
open. He was looking right up at the camera.
“Hope y’all ain’t
got a date, Chene.”
I pushed out of
the chair. “I’ll go see what he wants.”
Pappy was right
beside me. “We go together.
Max greeted me
with a bone crushing handshake and a brief attempt at a grin. He and Cantrell
exchanged nods. We led him to the conference room and got settled around the
table. This was no social call. Just the idea of Max being here was enough to
put me on edge. No doubt he was as well.
Maximo Aurelio
was formerly a reputed lieutenant for one of the Detroit area’s largest
organized crime families. There was a
history of violence that many had tried to attribute to him over the years,
without success. Ten years ago, Max, who was also known as Maxie A, had gone
into retirement. The mob had changed a
lot in the 21st century. Max was supposedly living a quiet life,
spending a great deal of his free time with Leo Agonasti, a childhood
friend. If Max was a lieutenant, then Leo
was a captain. Our paths had crossed occasionally since I became a cop.
Pappy took his
usual spot at the head of the conference table. He turned his full attention on
Max. The idea of him sitting calmly in
the middle of state police post was not lost on any of us. Cantrell wagged a
finger back and forth, his variation of ‘get on with it’. Max sensed what it
meant.
“The FBI has an
arrest warrant out on Leo for murder,” Max said slowly, his gravelly voice
reaching even lower on the register than normal.
“Why come to us?”
I asked.
“Leo’s
instructions. When he heard the charges, he told his lawyer two words. ‘Get
Chene’. Far as I know, he’s not saying anything else. The lawyer called me. Guess she didn’t know
you.”
“Where’s Leo at?”
“Doing his
impersonation of Harry Houdini,” Max said.
“Who dat?”
Max swiveled
slightly to face Cantrell. “He disappeared. I think he’s still in the area, but
can’t even begin to guess where he’s at. Chances are he’s going to keep
moving.”
“Will Agonasti
try to leave the country?” I asked. “The FBI may be watching the airports. TSA
could have an alert already.”
“I don’t think
he’s running. Leo’s never been the type to run away. But he’s no murderer,
Chene. You gotta believe that.”
Pappy squinted at
Max. “We ain’t gotta believe nuthin’. We’re talkin’ ‘bout criminal activity.
Y’all ain’t exactly a couple a Girl Scouts sellin’ cookies.”
“Say whatever you
want, but Leo was a background guy. He’s not violent. Never was. He couldn’t
murder someone.”
“He had y’all for
that?”
Max clenched his
jaw before swinging to face me. “This isn’t about me. It’s about Leo. He needs your help, Chene. Can you at least
check into the warrant?”
My gaze flicked
to Cantrell. There was a miniscule nod in response. “The FBI does not normally handle homicide investigations.
Are you sure the information you got is accurate?”
Max slid a
business card across the table to me. It bore the FBI logo and contact
information for the Detroit office. I
turned it so Pappy could see it. His stare was burning through me. Getting
involved in an ongoing federal investigation was contrary to the way Cantrell
operated. There would be the question of
jurisdiction. The feds were rarely inclined to play nice with other agencies.
But I didn’t think walking away was an option.
“I’m going down
there.”
Pappy shook his
head. “Un nuh. We goin’.”
Author’s
Interview. J. Dianne Dotson
Through the wonders of technology and social media, I’ve
made connections with many authors over the years, from different genres and
different parts of the globe. This
month, it’s my pleasure to introduce you to J. Dianne Dotson.
Let’s get to know you a little. Where are you from?
I was born in Kingsport,
Tennessee, considered Southern Appalachia. I have lived in the Southeast,
Northwest, and Southwest.
What’s
your ‘someday’ or dream vacation spot and why?
There
are many places around the world I would like to visit, and follow in my dad’s
exploring footsteps. I would love to see Tromsø, Norway, islands in the South Pacific, Japan,
India, Ireland, Italy, and the UK, for starters, and the Universe-willing.
What’s
your favorite thing to do for relaxation?
That is one word this writer
does not have in my vocabulary! The best I can do is to go for brisk walks.
Any
favorite hobbies?
Other than writing stories?
I paint and illustrate, bake, hike, take road trips, birdwatch. I’ve been known
to fly-fish, and sometimes I play board games and puzzles.
How
long have you been writing?
I have been writing most of my life; as soon as I
could write, I began making poems and stories, illustrating some of them.
Are
you able to write full time or do you also have a job/career?
My career is three-pronged. I am a science and
content writer (currently for biotech/STEM), artist, and novelist.
Is there a particular genre that you write?
Or more than one? What led you there?
The Questrison
SagaÒ is science
fiction and fantasy; a space opera. I also write short stories in fantasy,
science fiction, horror, humor, and non-fiction. I have always been a nerd; Star
Wars was the first movie I remember seeing in theaters, at age three. I
wanted to invent my own space opera, so I began that at age 13. Those stories
built the series I have published today.
Do you use friends or family as characters in your work?
There are no direct copies
of people I know in my characters. Some are homages, some are amalgums, many
are just whole-cloth straight from my brain, pure distillate. Some of them came
to me in dreams (Aeriod, when I was a young teen, and Forster, as an adult, for
example).
What authors had an impact on you growing up and as an adult?
Growing
up, I read voraciously all of L. Frank Baum’s Oz books (there are 14). I also
read a fair amount of Ray Bradbury, Isaac Asimov, Frank Herbert, Lucy Maud
Montgomery, and Laura Ingalls Wilder.
As
an adult I have partcularly loved Philip Pullman’s books, especially His Dark
Materials.
I also like Joanne Harris, John Gierach (because I like to fish, and he’s
hilarious), and John Le Carré.
Has
anyone in your life influenced you or encouraged you to pursue your interests
of writing? (teacher, family member, friend)
Most
of my elementary teachers saw quickly that I was a writer, and encouraged that
track. My father, Fred Gammon, was a constant storyteller, and wrote his own
poems and books as well.
My
8th grade English teacher, Mrs. Phillips (I meantion her in the
acknowledgements for Heliopause) absolutely believed in my work. The first book I
finished, while in her class, she encouraged me to approach publishing companies
about. She helped me to do that, and some even responded. I did not pursue
publication then, as I was too young, but that book became the basis for my
current series.
Numerous
friends have always encouraged my writing. Nathan Camp aka “The Man Who Saved Heliopause” is a dear friend who
pushed me to finish that book in 2017.
What
is your favorite aspect of writing? Your least favorite?
To me, writing is as
elemental as breathing. There is no chosing favorites. It is simply what I do.
Even if there is no pen or keyboard close by, I am always writing in my mind.
What
aspect of writing would you most like to improve on?
I do wish I wasn’t so
fond of the adrenaline I get from procrastinating.
Do
you have any “must haves” with you while you’re writing?
I
need quiet. No music playing. My left-hand desk drawer holds dark chocolate.
Is
there a common theme or item that appears in each of your work?
I
like to have a bit of fun, a wink-wink at things. Sometimes I slip in puns,
which I love to make. I also like there to be a dreamlike quality, so that if
you lowered your eyelids just right, you might actually believe that what I
wrote did, in fact, happen in reality.
What
have you learned the most from being in the writing business?
The business of writing is far different from the
art of it. Being an indie author means I am the writer, publisher, producer, promoter,
head designer, etc. and I have a very particular vision about how I want my
books to look, feel, and where they sell. I have learned that you really do
have to invest in professionals to help you. It’s worth it.
Tell
us about the series:
The Questrison SagaÒ begins with Heliopause, set in the late 23rd Century on Mandira Research Station at the edge of interstellar space (the heliopause). Forster sees flashes of light that no one else can, and soon a ship en route to the station is attacked by an invisible foe. This entity may be responsible for a missing daughter of his coworker Meredith. An enigmatic crew member, Efron, knows more than he at first reveals about this invader, and Forster demonstrates a latent ability he didn’t know he had. A dramatic showdown changes everyone’s lives at the station forever, as they try to stop the enemy from entering the rest of the solar system.
The second book, Ephemeris, take place before, during, and after Heliopause. Impetuous Galla-Deia, who looks human but is not, was raised in a star-city of androids. She is chosen as a Representative of humans by the galactic governing body, the Associates. The malignant entity Paosh Tohon extends its reach, seeking telepaths and lackeys to do its bidding. Galla is one of the only beings in the galaxy who can repel this enemy, but she must grow as a commander of humans and aliens, and discover her own abilities to join the fight.
Accretion, the penultimate, third book, sees Galla-Deia and her team facing a galactic natural disaster, the Event, which she must try to stop. Paosh Tohon feeds on the suffering caused by the Event, growing ever stronger to attempt to take over the galaxy. This is punishing chapter for the heroes and all they have built.
In Book Four (title reveal and cover coming in April 2021), the galaxy
has been brought to the brink of destruction by Paosh Tohon, and all worlds are
in battle, defense, or defeat, except for one: a hidden planet. There resides
the last bastions of hope for the galaxy, if they can escape the mercurial
planet and its own defenses and mysteries, to face the monster in the void.
The Questrison Saga trademark is registered by J. Dianne Dotson
How did you decide on your story plot?
I came up with Book Four first, when I was 13 years old, back in 1987. I knew the endgame well ahead of time, and the steps to get there. I worked retroactively to polish this series over time, and to introduce humans to the galaxy writ large.
Describe how this method works best for you. Outline or ‘seat of the
pants’?
Everything
is in my head. I just get it out!
Do
you have a favorite scene you’ve written? What makes it special?
I have so many favorite
scenes, in each book! Book Four has many of my favorites. There are scenes in
Book Four that are extremely intimate (some even steamy), while others are
heartwarming, others still are terrifying, and some are just full of insane set
pieces that are really fun to visualize.
You can find out more about
all of my books at jdiannedotson.com/books.
Social media links:
Twitter/Instagram:
@jdiannedotson
Facebook:
@jdiannedotsonwriter
Music
I’m a sucker for the streaming music services like Pandora
and Youtube. Sometimes I pick a genre,
others I’ll just let the favorites roll on.
Lately there has been a lot of hits from The Eagles, both as a group and
individually.
After starting out as a back up band for Linda Ronstandt,
The Eagles began recording in 1971 and have remained popular ever since. Even
after a sabbatical for more than a dozen years they returned to the studios and
concert halls. Elected to the Rock and
Roll Hall of Fame, The Eagles have sold more than 200 million records
worldwide.
Here’s my top five
favorites.
The Heat is On (Glenn Frey)
Heartache Tonight
Life in the Fast Lane
Already Gone
All She Wants to Do is Dance
(Don Henley)
