As I was writing the character of Darrell Beals, I knew that he had to be a successful man. Once he started coming together, it became clear that he should be a very important figure in the world of computers. The only problem with that plan is that I’m not a tech expert. Luckily enough, I knew two gentlemen who could help me out. The Brothers Bettencourt-also known as Brian and Jason at JBE Interactive-gave me valuable insights into some of the nuts and bolts of computer programming. I still can’t code and I probably never will, but I understand a lot more than I did before I started this. More importantly, the character of Darrell Beals was given a greater depth than he could have gotten without Brian and Jason’s information. Thanks again, guys.
Much like my inability to draw, I have a stark and painful lack of skills when it comes to ebook formatting. Nothing takes a reader out of the flow of a story like poor formatting. As luck would have it, Katrina Joyner of Ebook Services was there to rescue “Night Breaks Into Day” from the clutches of janky book layouts. Her turn-around time was amazingly fast, she answered all of my (hopelessly lame) questions and best of all, the book is easy to read. I would use her wonderful services again in a heartbeat. Thanks, Katrina.
Labor Day is a time to show some well-deserved respect for the working men and women in this country. What better time to cut working folks a break than Labor Day? So…for a limited time, “Night Breaks Into Day” will be a mere $2.99.
You’ve got yourselves a pretty good deal right there.
And what exactly are you getting? When you grab “Night Breaks Into Day” you’re getting a fast-paced thriller with punchy dialogue and kinetic action.
That means you gotta pick up “Night Breaks Into Day”.
Enjoy, my friends.
When it came time to design the cover for “Night Breaks Into Day”, I had a few ideas running through my head. Unfortunately, I am incompetent when it comes to drawing strong professional-grade pictures. Fortunately, I was able to find someone who could take my concepts and turn them into something great. Tatiana Vila is the proprietor of Vila Design and she did a spectacular job. She was able to translate the various and sundry half-baked brainwaves I had and turn one of them into a cover that truly captures the air of mystery and danger in my novel. Thanks again, Tatiana. You did great and I can’t wait to work with you again.
As promised, here is the second chapter of “Night Breaks Into Day”. Becky starts her interview Darrell, but interestingly we learn as much about her as we do about him. This chapter also gives us a glimpse at Becky’s relationships with her various bosses. Lastly, our heroine gets another intriguing proposition from her interview subject as she is drawn deeper into Darrell’s world.
Night Breaks Into Day
My computer hummed in contentment as it sat on the table between the two of us. Darrell pulled another counter over so that we could have some space for our drinks. I knew I had to lay off the Long Islands for a little bit. My teeth were becoming slightly numb. That was usually a sign I was bumping up against the ceiling of my fairly low tolerance. I took a hearty bite out of my grilled chicken sandwich, hoping it would soak up some of the booze in my belly.
As I fiddled with the microphone, the strangeness of what had just occurred between Darrell and I hit me. Five minutes ago, an obviously rich well-dressed man was kinda sorta creeping on me. A minute later and I was about to record what promised to be a long interview with the founder and head of a billion dollar software company. The sheer randomness was astounding. As I pondered that, I also realized that there was a serious opportunity to be seized. The world doesn’t hand out huge life-altering breaks every day. Or even every year. There was only one way I could take advantage of what fate had thrown onto my plate.
“Are you ready?” Darrell inquired.
“Oh yeah. We’re recording now. Let’s start at the start. Talk about your mom and dad for a bit. What are they like?” For Darrell’s benefit, I gave him a softball question to start, trying to ease him into a conversational mode. I also wanted to know what kind of parents produced a guy like Darrell. It was hard to imagine such a smooth character being an awkward pimply-faced teenager. He answered me with a wry smile.
“To be honest, it’s not that important. I was born, I went to school, I learned how to write code, that’s it.”
“No parents, no brothers, no sisters…?” I inquired. He flattened the palm of his hand on the table and twisted it in a quick slashing gesture, cutting me off.
“Look, I’m sure I have a Wiki page. There are a lot of those cheesy little biographical sites out there that have decent info too. You can get my particulars from one of them. I thought you wanted to know about me.”
“But isn’t your family a big part of who you are?” I responded, genuinely confused at Darrell’s reticence. “‘Any question I want to ask’, remember?”, I chirped, becoming annoyed at his sudden reticence. We hadn’t even sorta started the interview and already he was stonewalling me.
“This is going to sound corny, but I truly do feel like I was born when I became part of the WorldTech team”, Darrell answered.
“Why do you say that? Most people don’t have a metaphysical connection to their jobs”, I replied, my puzzlement only deepening.
“You’ve never worked for WorldTech”, he said.
Where is this going? What the hell is the game here? For the first time that evening, I was genuinely frustrated. It wasn’t just Darrell that had gotten me pissed. I was thrown off my routine more than I probably would’ve admitted at the time. I got a lot of enjoyment out of preparing for the subjects I wrote about. My philosophy was to do a ton of research and get a picture of the issue before I even try to talk about it. For the story I was working in Springfield, I had done my homework weeks before I was on the plane. I knew all the players, what they looked like, what they ate for breakfast, what baseball team they rooted for, who they were sleeping with—everything I could get my hands on. You don’t get anywhere in my business without preparation.
But I didn’t have a chance to do my usual due diligence with Darrell. I was driving blind-folded in an ice storm. No, it was worse than that. I was walking around the office without underwear.
I guess I must’ve been wearing all that apprehension on my face. Darrell reached across the table and gave my hand a gentle grip. His smooth hands intertwined, for the shortest moment, in between my fingers. He was trying to reassure me, but something else was behind his touch. At least, I felt like there could’ve been more there. Which only heightened my feelings of muddled exacerbation.
“Becky, can we start over? Let’s keep it casual. Why don’t we just talk? Make this a conversation. I’d like that.”
I was still aggravated, but a lot less than I was a moment before. His tone had eased my annoyance. He didn’t want to sabotage this thing. He just had a different vision for the interview than I had. I guess I was going to have to live with that.
“Okay, Darrell. Let’s…just talk. Where do you think we should begin?” He sat back in his chair, stretched his legs out and looked off into the distance. His broad chest rose and fell as he gathered his thoughts.
“In the beginning, Elroy Godfrey created the modern computer. All the chips and processors and hardware that we think of as the guts of the machine? They can all be traced back to Godfrey’s intelligence and designs. Most importantly, he created the operating system. Now it wasn’t what the layperson would think of as an O/S nowadays, but it did the job for the computers of the time.
“Nowadays, the computer is a required asset if the modern world is to function. Power plants are run by computers. Planes are flown by computer. Hell, we couldn’t do this interview the way we’re doing it now if it wasn’t for the microchip. But back in the olden times, when dinosaurs roamed our fruited plains, the machine simply wasn’t user-friendly. In fact, the way a computer operated before WorldTech came along, it was almost as if computers were designed and constructed with the express purpose of alienating everyone except software experts.”
Which I wasn’t. Nor did I want to be. Computers have always been just a tool for me. Only some of this stuff was familiar. Most of it was just nerd talk. A lot of it bordered on early Aramaic to my ears. Being that I was born in 1984, the spiel I was trying and failing to keep up with was ancient history. If he kept going on with the technical details, hours of research were in my future, just so I could understand what Darrell was talking about.
Moreover, I didn’t see how this connected with Darrell. Why all the back-story? I knew he was a big freaking deal. Even I could see that. Did I actually need to know that he was once employed by Elroy Godfrey? Also, who the hell is—Or was? Or is?—Elroy Godfrey?
“Godfrey was strong and he immediately saw the potential of the computer before anyone else. The way he figured it, the information-gathering and processing power of the computer just needed a system to make it easier for regular people to deal with it.” Darrell looked to the side and smiled.
“I guess what I am saying is that Godfrey is the granddaddy of the tech revolution. He not only basically invented the computer, but he then took that old block of beige plastic and metal that people had sitting on top of their desks and made it so they could use them without having to have a graduate degree in DOS to run the thing.”
“What’s a DOS?” I asked.
“DOS,” Darrell smiled with a raised eyebrow, “D-O-S, is short for ‘disk operating system’. It’s the software that runs the computer. There were a bunch of these programs, with several different generations of them over the years—WorldTech made more than a few versions in our time—but they all basically worked the same way. Instead of just clicking an icon on your screen to run a program or hitting an app on your phone like you do now, you had to type in a bunch of commands on a command line to get it to run. Now, to be fair, there were a lot of folks who could navigate it with little trouble. Even non-geeks could read books or take classes and have a decent working knowledge. A reasonably motivated person was able to figure it out and do what he had to do.”
“At the same time, for most people all that was simply too complicated. Why? Because most people don’t want to invest so much of their life sitting in front of a monitor. At that time, and you could see it if you watched customers try to interface with DOS, the folks just didn’t get the payoff for what they felt was a lot of aggravation. If you typed a backslash in the wrong spot, if you forgot some minor little code-y detail, the program wouldn’t run. Then you’d have to retrace your steps once or twice to get the thing to go. It was even more ironic because people had been sold on the idea that the computer is going to be so fast, you know, ‘a gazillion mathematical computations a second’-type of ad spiels. So there you sit, with this very expensive piece of equipment that’s supposed to be lightning quick and it’s going to make your life easier and you’re going to get so much work done and instead you’re going nowhere because you botched some tiny piece of the puzzle. You get annoyed at the computer and annoyed at yourself at the same time. If you want the average Joe or Jane, the non-techy folks, to actually use your computer, make it a part of their routine, it just isn’t going to happen. And for a long time, it didn’t. Not till we came along.”
“So Godfrey and WorldTech are important because they made the computer user-friendly; okay. Where do you fit into this, Darrell?”
“I was his first employee,” Darrell said, matter-of-factly.
“Wow. How did you get hired?” I asked, slightly taken aback.
Darrell looked up to the ceiling and let out a breath of air, searching for his thoughts. A smile dashed across his face. Barbie strolled up to our tables, pad in hand.
“Another Long Island for you ma’am?” she asked with a chirpy tone.
“Yes please,” I replied. “Darrell, do you mind watching the computer? I have to use the ladies room.”
“That’s fine. I’ll be here”, he called back.
I grabbed my purse and strolled away from the table. The booze had run through me and hit my bladder all of the sudden. I got to the restroom and did my business. As I hovered over the toilet, I was dumbstruck yet again. I just told the head of a billion dollar software company to guard my stuff. That’s some chutzpah Becky, I tittered in my head. While I’m at it, why don’t I just tell Misha to walk my dog?
I stood at the mirror, washed my hands and re-applied the make-up. I was still a mess, but I had not yet mutated into low-budget horror movie creature. My hair was a little frizzy, but thankfully I wasn’t a brunette poodle. A fresh coat of war-paint hid some of the damage. Unfortunately there was no getting around my rumpled outfit. Wrinkle-free? Please.
I exited the bathroom and headed back to my table. Darrell sat stirring his drink. He stood and smiled as he pulled my chair out for me. I took a tiny sip of my drink and tore into my rapidly cooling sandwich.
“Ya know, I’ve been trying to figure out something all night. How is it to work for Misha?” Darrell said with a smirk. “I know Misha fairly well. She seems like she would be a demanding boss. How is she to her employees?” I shook my head and swallowed a chunk of chicken.
“I don’t see her as much as I’d like. She’s very hands-on with my editor, but I’m a staff writer, so she basically leaves me alone. I answer to my editor. Susan usually gives me my assignments. But interviewing the president of the National Association of Crafts and Hobbies at their big summer convention? That was my idea. I was the one who pushed it and I got it”, I said with some pride.
I really didn’t care if I came off as arrogant. The fact that I brought up the NACH interview even though it had almost nothing to do with Misha Beacon wasn’t important. I had to talk myself up, even just a little bit. The man I was interviewing had a net worth that made my massively famous spectacularly rich employer look like a sleepy mom-and-pop bodega in Brooklyn. Darrell had to know that I wasn’t some anonymous worker drone hacking away in some dusty cubicle.
Besides, the sit-down with the NACH guy really was all me. It was my idea to interview him. I was the one who did all the legwork to set it up. And I thought I did a damn fine job of selling it to Susan, who never let me get beyond Hudson County to work on a story before this. She signed off on the project almost immediately after I pitched it to her. From the beginning to the end, I made this whole thing happen.
And to be even more honest, I wasn’t as confident as I made myself out to be with Darrell. I had busted my ass putting together my pitch, but there was still a nagging feeling that Susan was going to shoot down the story. Most of the time she enjoyed playing a cruel game of keeping me tethered to a one foot long leash.
Knowing her, it would be made out of a day-glo pink rope that she bedazzled in slime green rhinestones with a busted claw hammer. For a woman who was employed by a nationally recognized style guru, the lady simply had no eye for fashion or decoration. Who wears a Road Crew Orange pantsuit with tapered leggings and black Reebok sneakers? Who still uses Marbled Hunter Green as the basis for a color palette in an office? What, was she designing an Eddie Bauer outlet store?
The only thing Susan was good at was managing her staff with a choke hold. I guess that doesn’t take a lot of panache. Her office was the place where a writer’s great idea went to get unlawfully imprisoned, water boarded for weeks on end, photographed in a series of sexually-humiliating poses, beaten to death with a lead pipe and then finally buried in the bottom of a hundred foot tall wastepaper basket. Whenever somebody had a story concept, her first words were always, ‘How much is this gonna cost?’ Budgets were where every conversation began and ended with her.
Most of all, Susan hated the bloggers on her staff. We were never going to be real journalists. At best, we were nothing more than glorified compilers and commentators. At worst, we were lazy pieces of trash. Back in the day, when the Earth cooled, she was in the White House press corps for some newspaper in DC. Maybe the Washington Post; I really can’t remember. But she made damn sure to lord it over us. She threw her resume in our faces so much I could lip-synch it.
Susan’s abject disgust for us was always right underneath the surface. It was the biggest part of every interaction she had with me. After she approved my trip to Springfield, she took me to the side, grabbed me by the forearm and growled, “Hope you don’t fuck this up, Wonder Girl”. Bitch, please. I had to restrain myself from slapping her across the mouth right in her own office.
But Susan’s mind game bullshit was going to get shut right the hell down after these next few days. As I sat across from Darrell, listening to him talk, a rush of calm determination ran through me. Susan’s haggard crust bag face would shatter in glorious disappointment when I came back from Springfield with not one but two big time stories. With the pair of pieces, I was going to single-handedly turn our dippy little vanity website into a full-fledged media power.
Darrell took a sip of his gin and tonic. He looked at me and nodded his head.
“It feels good to get something you want, doesn’t it? The thrill of the chase, not knowing if you’re going to win, thinking the goal might slip away. Then, when you actually pounce and get the prize; that’s addicting, isn’t it?” he said with a serious face.
“It is. It really is. Susan killed a bunch of my projects because she thought they’d cost too much. When she said yes to this one, it was like winning the lottery,” I said.
“I don’t think the lottery comparison works though, does it?” Darrell fired back in response. “The lottery is just blind fortune: ‘I picked the same random numbers as a machine that picks random numbers out of a compressed air ping-pong ball jar, therefore I get to have fifty million dollars, buy a hideous McMansion and retire to Boca.’ That doesn’t take any brains at all. We’re talking about the dumbest of dumb luck. No, what you did requires real skill. You convinced another human being to say yes when she was dying to torpedo your idea. Your best pal Susan probably went into that meeting with a rock-hard ‘No’ holstered, loaded and ready to fire. Yet, you still found a way to change her mind. That’s pretty amazing.”
“Why thank you Darrell,” I said, trying to hide my satisfaction.
“I’m just speaking the truth,” he replied with a wave of his hand. “I’ve been in enough meetings where people are going out on a limb, putting an idea up for discussion, just knowing that some mindless bureaucrat is ready to shoot their proposal down. The living breathing stumbling block is one of the biggest problems, at least in my field. It’s so much easier to be the naysayer then to be the person with an idea. You not only had a plan, but you sold it to someone with an interest in killing it. That makes you a smooth operator, Becky. I knew I picked the right woman to do my profile.”
“That’s nice of you to say, but my birthday isn’t until next March, Darrell. Let’s keep going. How did Godfrey come to hire you?” I said, knowing that I was blushing. Darrell gazed out of the bar with a wistful faraway look.
“I was young, fresh out of the box, but I knew who Godfrey was. You couldn’t sit in a comp lab for five minutes without hearing his name. Heck, I had gone to school so that I could work in a field that he had more or less created.
“He was already a legend back then. People would talk about him in awe. He was the guy that was there at the beginning, creating the first microprocessors. A true hardware innovator. But unlike a lot of other people in the computer industry, he was a genius on the software side as well. He could not only build a computer from scratch, he could then tell it what to do. That was an amazing talent back in the day.”
“Darrell, if Godfrey was, and I guess still is, such a great mind, why did he need you?” I interjected, sounding a little sharper than I wanted to.
“Because even the best man in the business had to have a team mate; somebody to compliment his strengths and weaknesses. I was young, but I was also the only person Godfrey felt could run with him on his level.”
“Was this when you were still in college? How did he even know about you?” I asked.
“The thing you have to know about Godfrey is that he has always had an eye for young hungry talent. He’s like a great major league baseball general manager. He sees everything and he knows everything that people are working on. That’s why he’s lasted as long as he has in the most competitive industry on the planet. If there’s some hot-shot kid in India or Eastern Europe, Godfrey will not only know about the guy, but he’ll hire him before anybody else even realizes what happened. You’ll just hear about how the kid helmed some huge project for WorldTech that’s about to make them a fortune. To this day, I am still amazed at his ability to find geniuses and harness their talents.
“As for me, I’d just graduated from MIT—a year early. If it had an honors system, I would’ve been summa cum laude. I put in some serious work, gotten a few mentions in some MIT technical journals. Godfrey must’ve been a subscriber. I gotta admit, I was….pretty good…even for a noobie programmer,” Darrell said with a chuckle.
“Right after graduation, I was still weighing a few options. Some of them were fairly big-time, high starting salaries, nice benefits. Nothing in management, but to be fair my degree wasn’t in management anyway. I certainly wanted to work my way up the corporate ladder, but I was smart enough to realize that I was not entitled to anything. From the offers I’d gotten, I thought they were all really good for a guy who had just graduated from university. Any job I took meant that I was going to have no trouble paying off my loans in a few years, which was my only major concern.
“It was a day after graduation when I got the call. I don’t know how he knew about me, but somehow he had gotten my number. At first, I thought one of my buddies was prank calling me. I told Godfrey’s secretary to pull the other one. I almost hung up on her. She was as serious as a heart attack though. After a few minutes, I realized that she was for real. As soon as I knew she was legit, I started packing my bags. I was on a plane the very next day. It felt like I was in Seattle before I could breathe.”
Darrell paused and took a final swig of his drink. He gently motioned for Barbie to come over.
“Okay, you get to Seattle. How did Godfrey pitch you on joining WorldTech?” I asked.
“Oh, he came on strong. The whole vibe was otherworldly. His office building wasn’t in the city, like I had expected. It was pretty far outside of Seattle. I drove out a few miles and then, almost before I realized it, I was in this forest—Barbie, another G&T for me, another Long Island for the lady; thank you, hon—and I’m telling you, it looked like it fell off of a Thomas Kinkade painting. I’m cruising along for miles deep into these impossibly lush woods, all rich greens and dark oaky browns. I was on the road for at least an hour, just surrounded by this amazing natural beauty. Then, after all that I got to this huge building, embedded in Godfrey’s personal corner of Eden. I mean, it wasn’t as massive and sprawled out as it is today, but even in its infancy the WorldTech compound was like a full-grown established company.”
I had to roll my eyes at the Thomas Kinkade reference. Dear God, that was terrible of me, but I couldn’t help it. My only consolation was that I could edit that out of the final copy. Darrell noticed my disapproving look, but he gamely kept going.
“That’s what I’m saying about coming on strong. His environment was part of the sell. His imprint on the geography was part of the sell. Just getting to Godfrey was meant to fill you with awe.” I took a drink and looked at Darrell.
“Is that what you thought it was going to be like? Was this kind of big corporate palace what you had in mind when Godfrey called you?”
“I really didn’t have a clue what to expect. I knew Godfrey was big-time. I knew he had to have built up a lot of cash over the years, but I didn’t know if he was ‘screw-you rich’. I thought we’d meet at some strip mall office. After all, WorldTech was just a start-up. It barely existed on paper, or so I thought.”
“So after a pretty long drive, I arrived at the compound. Mineral was such a small town then. Just a tiny forgotten backwater off the main highway. WorldTech was by far the biggest thing going down in the county, much less the village itself. I pulled in to the parking lot and I thought ‘How in God’s name did he build this already?’ I was stunned and more than a little confused by what I was seeing, but also I was getting more and more excited about it. If this was where we were starting, then how massive were we going to be when we actually got rolling?”
“So you were already thinking you were going to be hired? Wasn’t that a bit presumptuous of you?” I asked.
“I get how it could sound that way, but I knew my stuff. My writing was on point. I recognized what I could do. Besides, why would Godfrey drag me all the way out to WorldTech if he wasn’t pretty convinced that he was going to give me the job?” I shrugged.
“I guess that makes sense. Okay, get me to your meeting. What was that like?”
“Like everything else Becky–amazing. I walk into the main lobby and it was still a work in progress. The drywall wasn’t hung. The electrical was still just roughed in. There were construction workers running around, like Godfrey’s little angels, slapping stuff together. Kinda skeletal, really.
“The receptionist’s desk was all set up though. Miriam—that was Godfrey’s secretary at the time—was sitting there, all smiles and sunshine. She knew who I was without me telling her. ‘Mr. Beals, nice to finally meet you’, she says, like it was nothing. She sent me right up to the top floor, which was Godfrey’s office. And away I went.”
“So I’m a little freaked out. I mean, I was always a good student. People at MIT knew who I was, but right after graduation I was still just a kid. This was all a little overwhelming. Secretary is talking to me like she’s a mind-reader, WorldTech isn’t a barren warehouse but a gigantic corporate headquarters and oh by the way who knows if the elevator I’m riding in is set up correctly because the building looks like it was only a quarter of the way completed. I thought I was ready for anything. This was something else entirely. I remember holding onto my briefcase thinking how I could use it to cushion my impact if the car decided to do a ten story swan dive,” Darrell said with a wide grin.
I laughed, unable to control myself. The strangest thing was to hear him admit being scared of anything. Emotions like fear seemed so divorced from Darrell’s existence. I found it charming and humanizing to see the bold confident business tycoon discuss his apprehensions with me, even if those fears happened decades ago.
Darrell finished his drink and set his glass down with a flourish. I was rattling the ice in my Long Island. He looked over to me.
“Say, do you wanna see the Naracom headquarters? You could get some exterior shots for the article. I know the guy who owns the place. He could probably let you inside if you’re nice.”
I chuckled as I pondered his offer. I was wondering when or if he would invite me out of the bar. In my mind, I felt a vague wobbly line being drawn in front of me. Just as I saw the line take shape, I was already massaging myself into crossing it.
If I remained planted in the pub, I wouldn’t have to report anything back to my husband. I could say the interview with Darrell basically fell into my lap, like it did, without any embellishments or omissions. Staying in the bar, staying in a public place, that was safe, comfortable.
Leaving would mean being alone with a handsome charismatic multibillionaire. How would Aaron handle it when I told him that Darrell Beals took me back to his office? What story could I construct that would assuage Aaron’s potential jealousies? What if I told him the truth and he didn’t believe me?
As problematic as those questions were, I was still a reporter. Yes, I mostly did bloggy stuff for a housewife website, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t write a real news piece. And here was an actual story—the first major interview with Naracom founder Darrell Beals—that could change everything about my career. There were big breaks, and then there are insanely massive opportunities that only come around once or twice in a lifetime, if ever. Even though it would look terrible on the surface, I wasn’t going to Naracom to sleep with Darrell. I was going there to report on a story. Darrell was just that, a story. An unplanned piece, but one I couldn’t afford not to cover.
Could I make the interview work without touring the facility? Susan always harped on us to pay attention to the visual aspect of the piece. The article would look cheap if I didn’t put in some shots of the place and his offices and what-not.
Would Darrell even let us stay? We’d already killed a lot of time cooling our jets at the airport. Darrell was a busy man who most likely had far better things to do than to rot away at some dumpy tavern. He’d made his desire to leave into a request and a gentle one at that. It was nice of him to have done that, but I knew that underneath that affable front was a guy who needed to get moving.
If I wanted to do the interview in a half-assed way, then I should stay in the airport bar. If I wanted to nail it down, I had to go. I made up my mind. Aaron would have to get over it. He knew what my job could entail. He had a successful career. Why couldn’t I?
Copyright © 2015 by TS Millheim. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Hey, check out who likes “Night Breaks Into Day”!
I’m not gonna lie, folks. When I learned that Giorgio Tsoukalos was endorsing me and my work, I really didn’t know what to say. All I know is that you can totally trust Ancient Aliens Guy and his very well-researched opinions. If there is anyone that should be absolutely taken seriously without any reservations whatsoever, it’s the dude who thinks scrambled eggs were invented by ET. ;-p
Seriously–take it easy my friends and have a terrific day.
Just something I’ve been thinking about after watching the first two episodes.
Tomorrow we’ll get back to discussing why my book “Night Breaks Into Day” is a great thriller that everyone–including you, Gentle Reader–should totally get on Amazon and Smashwords. Until then, enjoy my mini-blog.
(Special Guest Appearance By Alfred Hitchcock!)
I wrote big sections of “Night Breaks Into Day” in near silence, with only the dull hum of an air conditioner or the low purr of distant street noise to serenade me. Having said that, there were more than a few moments when I felt like I needed something to get me into a flow. While I’m not a huge Mogwai fan, this song is pretty amazing.
Well, well, well.
Check out this review for “Night Breaks Into Day” on Amazon.
By Louay Zumot on August 27, 2015 Verified Purchase This novel kept me entertained! The action in the novel came on hard and fast! It was very easy to read and not lengthy at all. The fact that this is the author’s first book is a bit of a shock to me because it felt like he has been writing his whole life!
Wow! Too kind!
Long Story Short: Just another quote from my novel, “Night Breaks Into Day”. You may have heard about it. ;-p
Short Story Long: Some of the authors on Twitter have this hashtag called ‘One Line Wednesday’ (aka #1LineWed). Like that sounds, you post one line from your book, blog, poem, short story, whatevs. This week’s theme was ‘Similes & Metaphors’. I picked this particular line because it was…descriptive.
Hope you enjoy it. Have a terrific day.