Miss Mae's Page

I just have to share this. My friend who wrote the hilarious "take" on my forthcoming book, "Said the Spider to the Fly" (scroll on down and read the conversation between Mr. Spider and Mr. Fly), has done it again!

This time it's targeted toward my first book, "See No Evil, My Pretty Lady".  This deals with Jack the Ripper's cousin, Jack the Wrapper...You gotta read this, folks....

"...See, there I was, watching TV when I got this GREAT idea...How about writing a book about Jack the Wrapper!
 
Yea, see Jack the RIPPER, we all know about him but, bet you didn't know he had a cousin who worked in Sears and was a GREAT gift wrapper..His name was Jack, also, and, he was SO good he was titled Jack the wrapper.
 
Now, Jack the wrapper could wrap a gift in 11 seconds flat! He was SO good, Sears entered him in the Gift Wrapping Olympics and he won FIRST prize!
 
He had to be careful when he was wrapping stuff 'cause sometimes he ended up wrapping himself in the BIG packages...That's how fast he was!
 
Unfortunately, for Jack, the OTHER Jack was doing bad things and he, Jack the Wrapper, had to give up his profession as a Gift Wrapper, moved to the United States and he became Jack the Rapper....He wrote five thousand Rap "Songs" and retired to Miami, where he opened a Taco Stand. 
 
Yep, there's a book there...Maybe even a movie!..."

My friend's name is Chayisun, and he's a classic. Oh, if anyone enjoys this as much as I do, ole Chay likes to be paid in the biggest, thickest, darkest piece of chocolate candy you can buy!!!

Today I'm part of the tour for Jim Musgrave, author of "The President's Parasite." Here's a bit of information concerning this tour:

Each person who posts a comment on any or all of the blog tour spots will be entered in a random drawing for a copy of Jim Musgrave's book. In addition – the blog owner that hosted the winning commenter will also win a free copy of President's Parasite. Share your thoughts and comments with author Jim Musgrave. He will check in throughout the day to answer questions. You’ll learn more and you have a chance to win his book - if you haven't already read the book, visit Jim's website to order a copy - http://presidentsparasite.wordpress.com/.

Here's an excerpt:

"Remembering to Laugh"

War is bestowed like electroshock on the depressive nation; thousands of volts jolting the system, an artificial galvanizing, one effect of which is loss of memory. War comes at the end of the twentieth century as absolute failure of imagination, scientific and political. That a war can be represented as helping a people to “feel good” about themselves, their country, is a measure of that failure.

Adrienne Ritchie O’Neil, age 66, stands in the center of his garden and picks green tomatoes from the snaking vines, plopping them into an old carpenter’s apron he had worn for over twenty-five years during his New York City union job. He can’t tell the ripe ones from the green ones. His balding head, with the ring of red hair, shines orange under the autumn sun, and makes me remember his son’s hair.

I am the daughter-in-law. I am more than happy to be watching Ritchie for Katie, as she goes to the support group for spouses of Alzheimer’s victims. I recommended this group after Ritchie was found in the middle of the night down the street in a freezing snowdrift with nothing on but his carpenter’s tool belt. Katie almost had a nervous breakdown over that one. There is now word that governmental cut-backs will close the doors of her support group pretty soon. Our beloved mayor wants to flunk fifth graders who can’t pass his stupid literacy tests, but he can’t sustain an organization that supports the families who nationally save the public Medicaid coffers over twenty billion dollars a year because we take care of our own.

I married into this Irish-American family as the “wandering Jew,” who fell in love with an Irish motorcycle cop. My parents had both passed on, and I was in my late thirties, my bio-clock ticking down to D-Day. Donnie gave me a speeding ticket, as I was on my way to a big real estate sale in Manhattan. He made me laugh when he said, “Hey, lady. You’re way too beautiful to be rehearsing for a part in Day of the Living Dead. Where’d ya get your license, anyway? The Indianapolis Speedway?” Donnie’s blue eyes and flaming red hair were too much. He lets me raise the kids Jewish, and that’s all I asked of him before I said “yes,” to his marriage proposal.

He just smiled and nodded, “Why not? Only, when Ma hears about it, Liz, you’re gonna have a real cat fight on your hands. She’s a Catholic from the Latin Mass days. I hope you can handle it.”

Yes, I did have a battle with Katie, but after I started helping her with Ritchie, the war between us soon dissolved during the sympathetic phone calls I accepted in the middle of the night from her, as she tried to explain the stress of taking care of her husband for fourteen hours, after having taken care of other people’s old folks for eight during the day. Katie works at the New Vision Catholic Nursing Home, just down the road from her Tudorstyle home in the Bronx. Her worst nightmare came true after being married for thirty years, when her recently retired husband first began to lose his memory.

These days, with Donnie off with the Guard in Iraq fighting “those terrorists,” I share most of my days at Katie’s house, interrupting my Ritchie-sitting chores to go sell a house. Katie has an arrangement at her job, as I do with mine. They let us break-off from our work to help each other out. These are the unknown advantages of our modern working culture. Who says all employers are Scrooges? I better make that sale,
though, and Katie had better get someone to cover for her bed pan duties.

“You think those nuns would dare get their hands dirty with these old folks?” Katie tells me in a whisper, over the phone, as if she believes the nuns are nearby. “I know, they’re registered nurses, but it wouldn’t kill them to turn over a patient with bed sores, once in awhile, now would it?

After all, they ain’t married to nobody but Jesus. And my Ritchie, bless his heart, certainly ain’t no Jesus!”

It seems our anti-Christ has just escaped his Garden of Eden. The plank door on the back gate is open, and I can see him over at the Monahan’s house. Mrs. Dottie Monahan, age 93, has let him inside their back yard.

They will harmlessly stare at each other for awhile, like two, love-struck zombies, until Ritchie thinks he’s back in Ireland at “the dance.” You see, when Alzheimer’s patients get to the stage Ritchie’s in right now, they often “time trip.” It’s rather the way a character in a Kurt Vonnegut novel will change scenes in his mind. One moment his computer screen is blank, the next moment he’s back in the village of Ardee in County Louth, 40 years ago. There, a pretty, bold girl named Katie picks him to dance at a ladies'-choice. Right now, it’s old Mrs. Monahan who has become the young Katie Sullivan.

For more information about Jim Musgrave and his virtual tour, check the schedule at http://virtualblogtour.blogspot.com/2008/05/presidents-parasite-by.html.

Amazon Link for President's Parasite: http://www.amazon.com/Presidents-Parasite-Jim-Musgrave/dp/0977650367/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1211241063&sr=8-1

Links to Reviews for President's Parasite: http://kayetrout.blogspot.com/2006/09/presidents-parasite-and-other-stories.html http://www.tcm-ca.com/reviews/1343.html

Today I'm featured on Diane Craver's blog. http://www.dianecraver.com/blog/ She's given my first book, "See No Evil, My Pretty Lady" a fantastic review. I'm so glad she liked it. When your work goes before any reviewer, you always hold your breath, unsure of what the verdict will be. But I really respect Diane's opinion, so her recommendation means a lot.

Diane is a talented, multi-published author. Her books, "No Greater Loss" and "A Fiery Secret" are both placed with Samhain Publishers and can be purchased through Amazon or Barnes and Noble. She's earned fantastic reviews with these stories and they're worth checking out.

This is a weekend, so it's a good time for folks to buy books, kick up their feet, and take it easy. Let your imagination soar within the pages of a well-written story.

Hey, with the high cost of gasoline, who can afford to drive to movie theatres? Reading is now a much more efficient source of entertainment.

It's odd to hear that question asked of me. Since fifth grade when I'd poured over the adventurous stories of Nancy Drew, Donna Parker and Trixie Belden, and I attempted my own words to paper, I had no inkling that one day my name would appear on a book's cover.

Two years ago when I browsed inside a bookstore and inquired to the location for a writer's handbook, the clerk asked, "Are you a writer?" I wasn't sure how to answer. Though the title of "writer" deserved to be bestowed on a choice few, I was certain I wasn't one of them. I'd had a few articles accepted to an ezine--unpaid--but I'd learned that didn't qualify one to be called an official "writer." But because I did write, I answered the question in the affirmative.

Still, it was a tad embarrassing. Folks naturally seem to think if you're a "writer", then you're an "author", which I wasn't. I never exactly knew how to describe the difference without making myself sound like an idiot in which case the hearer would probably think, "Well, I wouldn't want to buy any of her books anyway! If she had some out, that is."

During these past two years, I struggled and learned. God opened doors for me. I actually sold some articles--with pay! And the next step that happened was...I received my first contract for a book length manuscript. Wow!

A few months later that was followed with a second contract. Time to catch my breath here and ask--Is this really happening to me?

Part of the job of writing is to market and promote your works. With that in mind, I walked to my local newspaper office and asked if they'd run an ad about my book. They agreed. About three weeks later, my bank teller told me she'd seen the article where I was featured.

Oh, boy. This I've gotta see for myself.

So I walk to the newspaper office, leaving my purse and my money in the car. When I enter the building, I see the stack of papers in a stand, but--duh! I didn't have the fifty cents to buy my own paper! The editor is at a desk and peers at me over the top of his glasses. I tell him I want to buy an issue but will need to return to my car and get my purse. He then asks, "Are you the author?"

Such sweet words.

Though I felt a bit like ducking behind his desk, it hit me how, through the grace of God, He'd allowed me the right to wear that hard won badge.

To Him I humbly give thanks.

Here is a helpful site geared toward the promotion and marketing of authors. You'll find many colorful book covers there, featured authors, reviews. If you're an author, there is a free account for the basic service and fees to receive the most benefits. It's certainly worth checking out!

http://www.polkadotbanner.com