Ryan Long Trolls Therapy

 Don't worry about lock-downs and life. You're free of blame!

Ryan Long

Book Review: Furious Hours: Murder, Fraud, and The Last Trial of Harper Lee

 

Furious Hours: Murder, Fraud, and the Last Trial of Harper Lee by Casey Cep
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

A man stands accused of murdering a suspected serial killer before over 300 witnesses. His charming attorney often defended the deceased. Now he defends the killer. A famous author is present in the Alabama courtroom, observing the trial. She researches material for a new book. On such a premise rests Casey Cep's non-fiction tale.

Back in the 1960s-70s, the Reverend Willie Maxwell was a big believer in insurance. He took out policies on his wives, relatives, and neighbors. The fast-spending Reverend was also the beneficiary. A gruesome pattern ensued in which the newly insured perished in ways most suspicious while Reverend Maxwell collected the settlements. Attempts to bring him to justice always foundered on the rock of Tom Radney.

A liberal Kennedy-loving lawyer in a Wallace-loving state Radney was a "Casanova of the court room . . . His juries might not have always liked his clients, but they sure liked him." Known as "Big Tom, Radney frequently defended the Reverend Maxwell.

Until the Reverend's death by gunfire at the funeral of one of his victims. At that point Big Tom took up the case of murder suspect Robert Burns.

Divided into three parts, the book focuses on Maxwell, Radney, Harper Lee. Sadly, this fusion of southern justice and the debilitating perfectionism of a famous author blends less well on the page than in the title. The fascinating trial was a short book in itself, with Harper Lee's presence providing an interesting footnote. Without weaving Lee's literary struggles into the trial narrative, her section reads more like a biography than a part of a whole.

Still, the malevolent Reverend and the courtroom antics of Radney are worth the read.

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Comparing a Proofread to a Copy Edit

Amazon

My eyes ache from this task. I published Hallow Mass in 2016. Having since excised around 4K words, I commissioned a new proofread and a copyedit. Typos were still found. Hopefully, this tidy version with hot new cover art will set the stage for Volume 2. I hope to promo soon and release mid-summer. Other than that, life fortunately continues. I'm grateful.

Author JP Mac After Writing All Day

 Sad, but true. After five or six pages, the steel balls are never far from my grasp.

GroupAACSCLW5510

Self-Publishing, Magical Realism, and the Slippery Slope

crownofcompassion

I wanted so little: a new cover for my horror novel, Hallow Mass. But then I needed a page count for the cover artist. That led me to glance over the manuscript and notice several errors. This led to a brief rewrite which, in turn, led to a longer rewrite, which resulted in my cutting over 4k words. 

This, then, led to my sending the manuscript out to a proofreader. In the meantime, I've acquired the new ebook cover from the artist who is holding onto the paperback cover until I present a final page count. In the meantime, I attemptted to format the paperback interior myself. Several days were eaten up as one step forward often led to three steps backwards and one hop to the side.

Great work by the proofreader, but my production manager—also my wife—rarely sees a free moment these days from her technical writing job. Unable to do the task herself, she suggested a copywriter to supply the manuscript with a high-gloss finish. 

So I offered the job on Reedsy to five of their curated editors. So far, one passed and another wanted twice as much as I could afford. Meanwhile, I've contacted a company in Australia for the formatting. Great price, but I need the copywriting completed first, as well as adding ISBNs, before I can receive the final pdfs. 

Bowker, which handles American ISBNs, presents one with an unforgiving interface. I checked a box by mistake, couldn't undo it, and must now call Bowker and seek their help.

My to-do list now looks like a rough draft for the Peace of Westphalia. And all I desired was a new cover.

Next time, I'll desire differently. 

The Church of the Woke

Ryan Long once again as he harvests the low-hanging comedic fruit. Everyone else is so frightened, that Long shares the orchard with no one.

Ryan Long

Death Honk Promotion at Reedsy

Snappy ebook/paperback

 Oh?

Yes. Tomorrow, or as many have taken to calling it, Friday, Feb. 5 @ReedsyDiscovery promotes my collection of nine short stories ranging from crime to the strange and eerie. Stop by Reedsy and view this personally pleasing promotion and avail yourself of a copy or two. More, if you wish, no one will chide you.

Ryan Long Sings His Lock-Down Songs

 Ballads to while away your shut-in hours. 

Ryan Long

New Hallow Mass Cover

Amazon

 How New Is This Cover You Speak Of?

Quite new. For now, I present only the ebook version. But the paperback cover awaits the formatting of a manuscript I like to call Edition Two. 

I've trimmed about 4k words from the 2016 book and think it reads considerably quicker. 

Why Go To All This Trouble?

Excellent point. As of today, I'm writing the second volume of a trilogy. I hope to have it up in ebook and paperback by June. Afterwards, I intend to dash off the third volume. That should see the light of day by Christmas. Ambitious? Well, I'm nothing if not that. 

In any case, I desired a uniform look for the covers. Progress continues. 

Running Once Again

 

dailyencouragement

Back in November, I really hurt my knees. Overtaining and incorrect running form combined to knock me onto the couch for two months. Last week, I was able to slowly run three times. Humbling. And not like I haven't been here before. Naturally, my weight ballooned thanks to a combination of relentless work load and no exercise. 

Lost ground must be recovered gradually or I repeat the whole discouraging process once again. 

USMC and the Yellow Footprints

USMC League

MCRD San Diego Back in the Day

Everything must begin somewhere. And in the United States Marine Corps, my enlisted tour commenced with yellow footprints. Drawn on the asphalt of the recruit depot with heels close together and toes angled out to 45 degrees, they are where I, along with seven other guys from our suburban Chicago neighborhood, stood to begin military service. Then we marched somewhere, boxed up our clothes and mailed them home, coming to the realization that our new life would be different from drinking beer behind a bowling alley.

The Vietnam War was winding down, at least for the United States, though the North Vietnamese would launch a huge attack against South Vietnam toward the end of March as we conducted infantry training at Camp Pendlelton. (In September, now a Private First Class, I would find myself in an Army hospital called Camp Kue on Okinawa, sharing  a ward with American advisors who'd been wounded helping the South Vietnamese forces stop the communists.)

In 1991, I visited the footprints on a vacation to San Diego with my girlfriend. (Now My Fine Wife or MFW.)

In 2002, I stood on a hill in Vietnam called Con Thien with a Vietnamese guide who told me about the obliteration of his village by B52s, bombing the NVA advance.

In 2008, I was back at MCRD finishing up a marathon with Team in Training.

But on a Friday night, January 14, 1972, I stood on yellow footprints. Oh, right before we boxed up our clothes, this happened:
(The following scene is rather accurate, except there's no C&W music. Just buzzzzzzz.)

h/t: amp1776

Note 2020:

On this 48th anniversary of my enlistment, I pay my respects to Tom Poto and Steve Lovell, two of my comrades who are no longer with us. RIP, bros. Hard to believe we were once young together.

Note: 2021

Yikes! 49 years ago; one removed from a half-century. I'll write no more on the subject.