I received a heartwarming, stared review from Independent Book Review! Whenever I get kicked in the gut by bad reviews, I’m going to reread this review, over and over, and hopefully persevere.
Please
take a look!
Literary Life and Levitation
Sunday, March 29, 2026
Monday, March 23, 2026
“Wear the old coat and buy the new book.” ~ Austin Phelps
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US only, please. Caw!Tuesday, February 17, 2026
The Controversy of the Book Cover
Fallow versions of my cover. (early versions had a "the" in the title)
I wrote Chorus of Crows many years ago, and the story grew from my dad’s spooky and surreal battle with Parkinson’s. Without his ordeal, I wouldn’t have started writing at all. And after the literary fireworks, I created a cover. I’m an illustrator. What else would I do? Like my dad, Oren Walton, the main character, is a corn farmer. I painted the gnarly roots of a cornstalk that reminded me of a skeletal hand reaching beneath the soil, added crows growing from its twisted tips, and set it against a luminous orange background. I loved it. For years, while I queried agents and publishers, accumulated rejections, edited, rewrote, and finally published another novel entirely, I envisaged Chorus of Crows with that glowing silhouette on my Amazon page. As soon as I signed a contract with Dreamsphere Books, however, they told me my cover was chicken $#%t, and tossed it into the tree line behind the farm where old tractors go to die. I was heartbroken.
Above, you'll find the cover that never was. I assumed the publisher would love it. And the art department would add their own dramatic title type or font. I thought the glowing color and simple imagery would make it stand out against other covers when it was a small icon. I like to create imagery that is curious and different. Artsy.
Dreamsphere Books created a new cover. I felt this version should be fed to the dogs and in the spring, mown over. I called this version stock photography and sorrow.
This update is better, but I still hated it, and they didn't want to do any more tweaking. I persevered, telling them readers wouldn’t see the tiny crows when the book was a small icon on Amazon. The sky was so dark, I said, that it made the title hard to read. Wheat? Whatever. My main character, Oren Walton, is a corn farmer. And please, why not put a crow in an “O” instead of tacked onto the side of the field like a stock photography mistake? Do you know what they said?
"Okay. We'll give it another go."
Unholy crows! Now, I love it. The trail leads the eye through the corn to the creepy barn and glowing window. I'll always be sad about my unharvested version, but I hope this cover leads future readers straight to Amazon to buy a copy! Chorus of Crows launches on March 13, so look to social media for book mayhem, fun, and freebies.
"The cover of a book is the beginning of a conversation between the author and the reader." ~ David Pearson
Monday, January 19, 2026
Chorus of Crows Cover Reveal!
When retired farmer Oren Walton meets a mysterious woman in his old RV, he believes he’s received a final mercy–a brief escape from loneliness, grief, and the slow theft of his body by Parkinson’s disease.
But there’s a problem: his daughter, Sedona, thinks he hallucinated the whole affair. Oren insists the woman is real; Sedona only sees the familiar signs of illness and delusion.
The girl in the RV is just the beginning. Sedona watches her father unravel as stories of strange visitors and malevolent crows escalate into inexplicable farm machinery mishaps, dangerous encounters with intruders, and a battle with a terrifying creature on the porch.
Through her late mother’s diaries, Sedona finds a brief respite from the harsh realities entwining her peculiar new life on the farm. When the land itself begins to feel watchful, Sedona wonders if something else is at work, something that took root long ago at the spot—a place behind the barn that changed the family’s lives forever.
As hallucination and horror blur into one, father and daughter must ask the same question: Is Oren losing his mind, or is there something far worse than madness at play?
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I hope this copy ignited a spark. The arrival of my new book in 2026 sparks joy for me. You can check out an alternate version of my back jacket copy on my website books page. See below. Kindle preorders are open with print orders to come! :)
Thursday, December 25, 2025
Nourish Your Novel!
Years ago, I started an ill-fated writing group on Meetup called Nourish Your Novel. I’d select a restaurant, then post an invite to the writers who had joined the group, and a bunch of us would meet for lunch, to nourish our bodies with delicious food and our brains with talk about books. I was so eager to meet other writers. But my fondest memory of the group was the stiff Manhattan I ordered at a restaurant appropriately called Book Club during one of the meetings. Boy, I needed a drink to get through those literary meals. Some members scrolled their phones. Nobody had much to say about books. One guy invited a creep to a meeting that I’d met in another group, and he was insufferable—and yes, still creepy. One woman berated me for something or other. During small talk, I remember mentioning the untimely death of Margaret Mitchell (Gone With the Wind) as she crossed a street only to be hit by a car. Yikes. By the time that Meetup was over, I felt like stepping in front of a car myself. Okay, I may be exaggerating, but after my time as an organizer, I never attended another Meetup again. But I still think it’s essential to nourish you and your novel, so here’s what I’m eating and drinking this Christmas, and the recipes too.
Squash Ravioli with Prosciutto and Toasted Pecans is my go-to delight on Christmas Eve. You can cheat and buy prepared squash or pumpkin ravioli, along with a jar or a plastic tub of cream sauce. Just add my fixings.
You’ll need: One package of wonton wrapper dough (this is the pasta I use). One roasted and mashed squash—your favorite kind. (I cut the squash in half and roast it on a baking sheet at 400 until fork-tender. Then scoop out the squash, discard the skin, and mash well. Good quality prosciutto, fried until crispy. Toasted pecans. Prepared cream sauce heated in a pan with 1-2 tsps of sage. One year, I had leftover cream sauce, and the next night, I thought it had gone moldy and threw it out. But it was just the sage! Opps.
To make the filling, in a bowl, combine the cooled squash, ½ cup Parmigiano Reggiano (or just parmesan), 1/2 tsp nutmeg, and 1-2 tbsp balsamic vinegar. Mix.
Now you’re ready to prepare your wonton raviolis. Brush a little water around the edges of two wonton squares, and place a medium dollop of the squash mixture in the middle of one, and then meld the two squares together, pinching the edges all around. Repeat.
In a large pot of boiling water with a bit of olive oil to prevent sticking, briefly boil your wontons, using a mesh scoop to delicately lift them out of the pot when they are tender to taste.
Assemble your plates with the cooked wonton/ravioli squares, cream sauce, extra parmesan, prosciutto, and toasted pecans. I like to grate fresh nutmeg over the top. Add sea salt and cracked pepper to taste.
But what about an adult beverage to celebrate Christmas Eve? I make an apple cider Manhattan. In a fancy glass, add 2-4 ounces of your favorite whiskey. I use Jim Beam Black. Add 2-4 ounces of apple cider, and sprinkle in a generous amount of chocolate bitters. Add ice, and if there’s any left after dinner, drink it while you open your Christmas gifts.
And no, this isn’t the Manhattan from my memories of Nourish Your Novel. But any Manhattan is good!
Cheers!
Happy Holidays!
P.S.
The best Christmas gift you can give me or any author is your rating or review on Amazon. I read in the AME newsletter, that as little as five extra reviews can jumpstart sales, and that when an author hits 50 reviews on Amazon, they get a real visibility boost.
Monday, November 17, 2025
Sanctions and Restrictions for Animal Consumption of Processed Cheese Snacks
These are real Christmas ornaments. I made them for a book contest and won. Plus, who doesn't love cheese puffs? Santa would gobble them up. Now, follow the rules...
~ Do not handfeed Gorillas. They prefer to eat cheesy potato chips with one hand while choking you with the other. If this is what you want, proceed with care.
~ Ditto small monkeys. They are too excitable to handle extreme deliciousness. Therefore, processed cheese will instigate fits of screaming.
~ All poultry should eat their cheese puff sideways, forming a T shape with their tiny noggin. If done correctly, the cheese puff should explode around the beak in a rain of salty particles. The chicken is then allowed to peck up debris in a fastidious fashion.
~ Presenting a certified poodle breed with a lowbrow snack is unseemly. However, If you must, the edible should be a cheesy fish or orange-colored cracker. The wafer is then placed directly on the canine tongue. Finally, after mastication is complete, the poodle should be verbally showered with abundant praise.
~ Lamas should be handfed cheese crackers while standing perpendicular and at arm’s length from the animal subject. This technique allows for an unimpeded stream of camelid spit projection.
~ Raccoons should not be handfed. Instead, they prefer to steal their snacks. You may allow the raccoon to rummage through neighborhood garbage cans and public picnic areas. After the raccoon hits paydirt or cheesy gold, a wicked, toothy smile should erupt across its masked face. This cheery-creepy mask does not always manifest. Without the expression, proceed directly to the final step. Lastly—and very important—the raccoon should eat standing on two feet as if playing a harmonica or scarfing a cob of corn. Crumb loss is inevitable. So, abandoning a whole bag of snacks for raccoons is recommended.
~ Lions must be handfed, one nacho cheese triangle at a time. (Triangle snacks are considered by most cool cats at the top of the junk food chain, especially by the Kings and Queens of Jungle Savanna) The royals must have many human subjects, as hands and fingers are sometimes accidental appetizers. This unplanned nourishment is a culinary privilege and should not be considered a poor reflection on the feeder.
~ Cheese puffs can clog an Ant-Eaters snout, like hair in a shower drain. Proceed with caution.
~ You must hand-feed Elephants one cheese puff at a time while humming a tune. But humming a circus tune is offensive.
~ Small cats should be handfed cheese balls while wearing feathered costumes with bells and jingly sparkles. Otherwise, there is an inherent risk of feline boredom. Proceed at your own risk.
~ Do not feed kangaroos. They will collect enormous amounts of processed edibles in their pouch. Often, they will punch the feeder in the face.
~ Ditto squirrels. They will cache snacks everywhere. It is a waste of delicious cheese as it will just rot and melt like fertilizer.
~ Shorebirds and hawks will be allowed to regurgitate their fish-shaped cheese crackers on a rotating basis.
~ Foxes prefer to sniff out their snacks and abscond back to the privacy of their den. Humans don’t understand their snacking habits. It’s weird but true.
~ Skunks are to be left alone. You may assemble many types of snacks in the forest or field, in all sizes and shapes, in a long row, and allow skunks to discover them. They will scamper down the crunchy trail, choosing one or two flavors. This feeding technique may not make sense, but creativity breeds disaster.
~ Eagles should not be fed cheese snacks of any kind. It may seem like the quintessential American thing to do. But the constitution has a little-known clause: No eagles should ever eat processed cheese. Amen.
On Friday, December 5th, discover me at the T.A.L.E.S. Reader Appreciation Event on Facebook. I'm giving away more books on Thanksgiving with another event at the Tattered Page Book Club. I have a Goodreads KDP giveaway underway, and best of all, an upcoming event at Books on Third in Naples, Florida. Spread the word! (See below) Plus, an author posted a YouTube video about me and my book. You can find it here. Whew, that's a lot. Thanks for reading.
Did I write this goofy post because I was born in Wisconsin and I'm still a cheesehead? Perhaps. :) Happy Thanksgiving! And remember: "Cheese is milk's leap toward immortality." Clifton Fadiman
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Monday, October 20, 2025
"There was a hand in the darkness, and it held a knife." ~ Neil Gaiman, The Graveyard Book
I heard footsteps somewhere outside, and a kerfuffle in the bushes. My eyes blinked open, peering around the edges of my tent, imagining what lay beyond the flimsy tarp, with only stitches, zippers, and plastic as the barrier between me and whatever was out there.
A stick snapped, and I imagined giant paws trampling upon me and a death grip clamped around my throat. I bolted upright, sitting as still as a corpse, my ears tuned to all sagging corners. The air felt crisp. It was predawn dark through my window flap, with only a faint hint of light thinning the inky blackness of the woods. I leaned to peek through the screen. No bears pillaged around my picnic table, and no deer nipped at the moonlit ferns and grass around my campsite. A distant but eerie howl initiated goosebumps, but nothing rustled near my tent. Whatever had passed through my surroundings must have slunk away into the night.
I snuggled deep into my sleeping bag, resisting the nagging urge to look at my phone. Minutes of delicious silence passed. My heart slowed. I flipped onto my side, and peace washed over me until more feet scampered in a sloppy circle around my tent. What was out there?
With a racing heart, I slithered from my sleeping bag, lit my phone’s flashlight, and crawled to the opening of my tent, zipping it down. I lurched from my tent, pointing my phone around me. There was a hand in the darkness, and it held a knife. I screamed, and so did the intruder, holding their arms up and dropping an armful of fiddlehead ferns, along with a glittering steel knife that stuck up from the ground like an exclamation point. I gulped and shone my light into the middle-aged face of a woman with wide, glassy eyes.
“I was just collecting ferns,” she said, stepping backward.
“At night?”
“No. Well, before daylight, when the shoots emerge,” the woman said, chirpy, as if this kind of terrifying foraging were normal.
The woman grabbed her ferns, sheathed her knife, and tiptoed away.
I frowned, but wondered what a fiddlehead fern must taste like.
I returned to my tent.
Happy Halloween!
Dreamsphere Books returned my edit and work has begun on Chorus of Crows, which is set to launch in early 2026! Plus, I had a blast with my all day takeover at Tattered Page Book Club last Friday. I'm giving away 5 print copies to the winners, and ebooks to everyone that entered.
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