tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69736476423903721772023-11-16T05:21:29.598-08:00EAST GARRISON & Unknown-The Whitcher MysteryThe Whitcher Cemetery dates back to 1875. It's located in the East Garrison section of the former Fort Ord, in Central California. Currently the cemetery is not open to the public due to land development.G.M. Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09814667382296375574noreply@blogger.comBlogger70125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973647642390372177.post-51341946571287223972013-02-13T17:19:00.000-08:002013-02-13T17:19:16.881-08:00Dear Friend dies...What do you think?<br />
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My dearest friend and secret mentor for years has passed from this world to the next. Not only is he gone, but all his writing has gone with him. Unfortunately this happens a lot. I'm thinking about putting together some sort of literary legacy database where relatives can put up their deceased relative stories for eternity. Any one have ideas?<br />
My friend had written a comprehensive political treatise on Chinese history, and also gripping stories from a WWII memorial he was putting together. Both pieces of work are but a small slice of Walter Gourley's work which lay undone. What a waste to humanity.<br />
He will be missed.<br />
<br />G.M. Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09814667382296375574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973647642390372177.post-18320465727870176442013-01-25T15:01:00.000-08:002013-02-13T15:15:32.793-08:00<span style="font-size: large;">Still Waiting </span><br />
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I know and you know that I've been writing a historical fiction novel for years. What you don't know is how hard it is to get any tangible pieces of the characters I'm writing about.<br />
Not to mention the court documents, I'm talking here about trying to find relatives who may have photos of their great-great-great grandpa, etc., the person whom you are writing about. For years I've tried to get one particular descendant to share some photos that she says she has of my main character Thomas Rose Whitcher and his wife Phoebe Elizabeth Smith. Finally I asked the relative if I could have the address of the woman who says that she has the photos. Anyway, jump to the end, I'm still waiting.<br />
The relative did say that she got the letter and would be sending me some stuff, but it wouldn't be until after the holidays. Today is Feb. 14. The holidays are behind us forever. I know this because I have kids. And I'm still waiting for those photos.......<br />
Any ideas on how to sweeten the deal?G.M. Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09814667382296375574noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973647642390372177.post-23687791761000312112012-12-29T18:51:00.000-08:002012-12-29T19:07:08.522-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNE2HOulYGDyjZ5mmMUkjCWphMKjazIML8mvKef8hCoLVC0zP3_n8wGe9KEdLXur-l5CCr1HSuACNsHTz_8Cl2PWJHtB8WqdIepEeP729hfXnpS-2IRQrOAAd5_C2nLIuRYYp7CUZpPeQW/s1600/Original+Salinas+jail+1878.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNE2HOulYGDyjZ5mmMUkjCWphMKjazIML8mvKef8hCoLVC0zP3_n8wGe9KEdLXur-l5CCr1HSuACNsHTz_8Cl2PWJHtB8WqdIepEeP729hfXnpS-2IRQrOAAd5_C2nLIuRYYp7CUZpPeQW/s320/Original+Salinas+jail+1878.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is the original jail in Salinas built in 1878. It housed six prisoners!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I've been researching a family named Whitcher for a historical novel. Just the other day I located this jail in which the patriarch of the family, Thomas, <i>spent six months</i>! Not only that, but his son, who attempted to shoot him, would have been housed here too. One side is about 10 by 10 feet. The other is about 10 by 5 feet. The only separation between the cells is a piece of wood! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">In our modern world it is unimaginable, even inhumane, to imagine holding people in such a place for an extended period of time. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">If you look super close, you will see a horseshoe over the left cell pointed down. The normal way to put up horse shoes for luck is to put the shoe facing up, like the letter "U." This is to keep the luck in, but in this case, with the horse shoe upside down, it must mean that the person's luck had run out!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>G.M. Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09814667382296375574noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973647642390372177.post-66085015757697055482012-12-22T14:15:00.000-08:002012-12-22T14:15:04.420-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjC6tqpvH-YtgJcQFx3S1zu0JSvM_3rD_gp6-2XaXF6flrsBQzTgfdchqqOpWnJ8ufFeRK0yftPH_7g0x2fVsjoJYTF2RqKz1Fq1mHs3SxUCdyLlrpq1CufR0N9VYIRQTitKSrsktG9Uup/s1600/Unmasking-Cover-Front+jpg.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjC6tqpvH-YtgJcQFx3S1zu0JSvM_3rD_gp6-2XaXF6flrsBQzTgfdchqqOpWnJ8ufFeRK0yftPH_7g0x2fVsjoJYTF2RqKz1Fq1mHs3SxUCdyLlrpq1CufR0N9VYIRQTitKSrsktG9Uup/s320/Unmasking-Cover-Front+jpg.JPG" width="215" /></a></div>
I recently put together a collection of stories for my biggest fan. My daughter painted the cover. Tell me what you think. Thumbs up?G.M. Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09814667382296375574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973647642390372177.post-31630016803538413992012-12-14T11:10:00.001-08:002012-12-14T11:10:05.228-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<b>I just discovered a great new tool for people who love to read (and writers too) called GoodReads.</b><br />
<b>If you've read <i>East Garrison</i>, for example, you can set up a free account and write a review about it, or any other book they have that you've read and want to shout out something about it. Check it out: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/">www.GoodReads.com</a>.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Stay warm, healthy, and happy this cold season, and always. Happy reading!</b><br />
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<b>Best wishes,</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>G.M., <span style="font-size: x-small;">AKA Pen Gwyn</span> </b>G.M. Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09814667382296375574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973647642390372177.post-5821344323767260872012-11-22T11:31:00.001-08:002012-11-22T11:31:52.800-08:00<span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><b>NEW STORIES FINALLY UP AT KOBO.COM</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The process of getting my short stories up is working, albeit slowly. Readers can now go to KOBO.COM and download all the shorts I've been trying to get up for my readers. Two of them are even free. My web master has gotten my new cover and 2nd edition of <i>East Garrison</i> up at Kindle (Amazon) for just $3.49, which I think is well worth it to see the photos, map, and new chapter about mountain lions. I'd love any feedback too.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Gotta go help with fixing Thanksgiving now, but I'd rather be writing...</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Happy Thanksgiving 2012!</b></span>G.M. Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09814667382296375574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973647642390372177.post-85838424557983185372012-11-17T14:11:00.000-08:002012-11-18T12:36:39.150-08:00<span style="font-size: x-large;">ENCOURAGING, BUT LOTS YET TO DO...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It's interesting how most people, when asked what they'd like to do in their life, will often say "write a book." I'm in a writer's group and do a lot of reading and critiquing of my fellow group members' work. Sometimes that means reading 50 pages; sometimes it means reading 500 pages. I often get frustrated with this task, although I know it makes me a better writer because to be a good writer means reading and writing every day. But there's more to it than that. Lots more.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I think most people don't realize that writing is just a part, and a small part, of building a writing life. My stories are available at least at 11 different sites, and they're all different in their requirements for reviewing books (long and short stories). For example, if someone reviews one of my stories at Barnes and Noble, that review doesn't transfer over to the other 10 places (or more) it's available for sale. Plus, you must buy the story first before reviewing it. So, if you've read one of my stories already, say you bought it at one of my book events and decide to review it some time later on another site (where you didn't purchase it), you can't. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Some sites have great review programs that are easy to rate with stars, such as Kobo.com, but they have another huge process for getting reviews and critiques through a program called Goodreads. </span><span style="font-size: large;">This kind of stuff makes the promotional aspect of being a writer pretty challenging, not to mention time consuming. I end up spending more time promoting than writing...and that isn't a good thing.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I hope you'll take the time to write a review or rate my stories with stars whenever possible. I know it takes up your precious time, but it's enormously helpful for writers trying to live the writing life. I noticed at Kobo that all the best selling books have numerous ratings and reviews.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Thanks in advance for those who rate and review my stories. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Regarding this post's title, I'm encouraged by the number of downloads of my two free stories "Hope Janitorial" and "The Rationale," but I have so much more to do to promote my writing and at the same time continue to write my second novel. </span><span style="font-size: large;">A final FYI, I'm almost done with book number two. :-)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>G.M. Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09814667382296375574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973647642390372177.post-57529977590276429202012-11-13T13:23:00.002-08:002012-11-13T13:23:30.429-08:00<h2>
<b><span style="color: yellow; font-size: x-large;">MORE STORIES ARE UP!</span></b></h2>
<b><span style="color: red;"><br /></span></b>
<b>I'm happy to report that more of my short fiction is now up on Smashwords, Kobo, Barnes and Noble, and others. All are currently on Smashwords because each store requires a few weeks to load new stories. Getting them up onto Amazon (who changed their distribution practices and now requires direct loading onto their site-boo) is going to be another time-consuming process, but you can get the stories in any format from the other stores I listed anyway. Suggest Smashwords (https://www.smashwords.com/books/search?query=g.m.+weger). And two of my stories are even FREE! </b><br />
<b>Here are some covers. My desire is to entertain YOU, the reader. If you like what you read, be kind and offer other readers your opinion. It is thanks to you that I can keep my dream alive.</b><br />
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<b><br /></b>G.M. Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09814667382296375574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973647642390372177.post-66110003672584732492012-10-04T11:09:00.000-07:002012-10-04T11:09:16.523-07:00<br />
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">AND IT JUST KEEPS GETTING BETTER!</span></b><br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m so angry I could spit (if I had any saliva, that is).
After <b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">BookPros</span></b>, the company I choose to publish my book,
went bankrupt, I thought my self-publishing horror story had at last died. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I was wrong.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It just keeps getting better all the time. <b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">BookPros</span></b> had a distribution company called <b>Midpoint</b>, who keeps authors’ books in
various warehouses across the United States. During the bankruptcy, <b>Midpoint</b> asked me what I wanted to do
with my books. Basically, the options were three: send them to another
distributor, to another warehouse, or back to me. As difficult as it was to
decide on a fourth option, to destroy them, I chose to do that because the cost
of shipping boxes of books isn’t cheap (not to mention the storage nightmare).
Still, it felt like condemning my first born child to death. I lowered the boom and thought that would be
the end of that story.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I was wrong again.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Recently, I’d begun putting up some of my short stories as E-books,
and also my revised first novel, <i>East
Garrison</i>, (to include photographs, illustrations, and new text about
mountain lions). While checking for my new cover I ran across <b>Midpoint</b>’s website. Guess what? They
had <i>East Garrison</i> for sale. And yes,
this is the book I condemned to capital punishment—all <i>East Garrison</i> books at <b>Midpoint
</b>were supposed to have been destroyed.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
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But I was wrong yet again.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Some <i>East Garrison</i>
books are in <b>Midpoint</b>’s Kansas
warehouse, some are in another warehouse in Little Rock. It has been over two
years since I terminated my contract with <b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">BookPros</span></b> (August 13, 2010).
Sometime around the beginning of the year 2012 they filed for bankruptcy. Over
two years have passed from the time when I gave the execution order for my baby.
My innards twisted and I doubled over in pain. I felt the cloud of misery that
had been my daily experience for too many years return. <o:p></o:p></div>
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There are no words to describe, to truly make clear the
horrible feeling of a writer being ripped off and betrayed by a publisher. Publishers
like <b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">BookPros</span> </b>are truly evil. They’re the snake-oil
salespeople of our time, without morals and accountability. That’s also true
about so-called distributors like <b>Midpoint</b>.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So, calling all authors who published their book(s) through <b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">BookPros</span></b> and distributed through <b>Midpoint</b>! Your baby (ies) are likely still up for sale, and you’ll
never see a penny. In fact, you’ll probably get a bill for storage. How’s that
for another slap in the face of people whose only dream is to be an author? <o:p></o:p></div>
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For the actual names of the people involved in this money-making scheme, leave a comment, and I'll be more than pleased to comply.</div>
G.M. Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09814667382296375574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973647642390372177.post-11848292881393495642012-09-18T12:17:00.001-07:002012-10-05T14:05:37.844-07:00<br />
<h2>
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: large;">NEW! Previously unpublished fiction shorts NOW on E-Book readers! Go to: </span><a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/238493"><span style="color: yellow; font-size: large;">http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/238493</span></a></h2>
<span style="font-size: large;">The first, </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">SIGNIFICANCE OF THE MISSING WHITE DOT</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br />Frankie killed her small daughter. <i>What kind of a monster could do such a thing to an innocent child?</i> The papers screamed about this crime for weeks. It made headlines from the New York Times to the National Enquirer. Now Frankie's convicted, in the slammer forever. There's nothing more to be said ... but is there? In a macabre descent into insanity made all the more potent and horrifying by the fact that it is unveiled in the pedestrian context of visits to the prison psychologist's office, G.M. Weger, a master of psychological horror, takes us into a journey that is dark-beyond-black. Weger escorts us to the lower reaches of an internal hell in a shocking short that may make the reader want to vomit. Amazing in its power, even more so in the fact that it conveys so much venom in its brief length, <i>Significance of the Missing White Dot</i> goes beyond the realm of the genre into the putrescence of the human soul.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: large;">Inside a Federal
office building on a defunct army base, a woman is slowly going crazy—without any tangible reason—but
rather an illogical, lingering fear of losing her career, her husband, and her
mind, after a co-worker is murdered. ELEVATOR GOING DOWN is a horror story
about how a person can be driven over the edge of reality and slip into a world
of madness.</span></span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Originally, <i>House of Wreckers</i> was part of a
collection of twenty-five captivating, award-worthy stories published
by Mozark Press in October 2010 with the theme of women living the adventure of midlife in their own unique ways. <i>House
of Wreckers </i>shows a
lighter, gentler side of G.M. Weger’s fiction. This short is about a rich
snob’s unexpected holiday tryst with a tow-truck driver.</span> <o:p></o:p></div>
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G.M. Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09814667382296375574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973647642390372177.post-13916888619675618132012-07-16T15:30:00.001-07:002012-07-16T15:32:48.819-07:00Prednisone Nightmares!Have you ever had them? Prednisone nightmares?<br />
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Out of control, cartoonish movies of your life as you boogie down the street under the influence of the evil drug P. Or how about a tall Gollum-like creature that oozes putrid smelling slime, who you push away at the same time that you somehow see something of redeeming value in this foul creature?<br />
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One of my monsters is a police officer with a nice enough face, kind of a fu-mancho mustache/beard, but he is as wide as he is tall. Can't accept that. Monster!
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They are all <i>you</i> in these nightmares. <i>You </i>- fighting yourself. <i>You-</i> not accepting that even this monster is you. You have to learn to love this part of you. This part of yourself that you see as a monster.<br />
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But how can you love a monster ? One that has stolen everything of meaning to you. How can you learn to love the stranger you have become too soon?<br />
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P is the enemy. P has always been the enemy. Beware fellow Lupines, beware ever taking evil drug P.<br />
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As I enter into my third week of hell under P (by order of the grand poo pah doctor), I relinquish all illusions of control, and trudge valiantly onward into the land of unknowns; I hold tightly to the wise words of someone, this too shall pass, or is it, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Either one will do at this time.<br />
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Wish me a safe and speedy return.<br />
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<br />G.M. Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09814667382296375574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973647642390372177.post-89274660558190108212012-06-10T13:40:00.001-07:002012-06-19T16:01:13.553-07:00LOOKING FOR MARY<br />
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I became involved in the Whitcher family Cemetery sometime around 2005-2006 and
immediately became drawn into the story. I don’t rightly know why, it sometimes
feels likes a possession, but soon after beginning to learn about the poor
Whitcher family it didn’t take much to figure out the reasons. The father’s
name was Thomas Rose Whitcher. He came from England by way of Canada and made
his way to California. I don’t have the time to go into the soap opera which
the Whicher family became, but prior to writing their story I was interested in
the tombstone of Mary Pearson who, as you know came to have her stone rest by
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I began searching
to discover why, since her death was in 1935. I soon found that her life ended
by a drunk driver where the Community Hospital used to be, and that she was a
schoolteacher. Her sister had also been a schoolteacher and had been driving
the car and a young girl had been with her that terrible day. Both the sister
and young girl had lived. </div>
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Later on I
received the death certificates of both sisters and found that Mary had been
buried in Mission Memorial Cemetery. I went down to Mission Memorial to discover
what I could and the funeral people didn’t know anything about it, even saying
that they weren’t a cemetery at that time. But I knew that wasn’t true because
the death certificate said where she where she was buried. So then I started
calling around to the oldest cemeteries and found Mary at Centerio El Encinal,
which means Cemetery of Many Oaks. Mary’s body had been actually moved from
Mission Memorial to Cemeterio El Encinal July 31, 1945 by her sister Martha
Rose, the one who was driving the car when Mary was hit by the drunk driver.
Both Martha and her husband George Rose are buried in Mission Memorial. </div>
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As I’ve tried to
figure over why this may have happened, my best guess is that the married
sister’s name of Thomas Rose Whitcher is Elizabeth Pearson, perhaps someone got
the last name confused as a relative who belonged there. But as I read this
over the Rose middle name of Thomas and last name of George and Martha are
rather odd too. There is no explanation for that. As I come to think of it,
Elizabeth Pearson’s middle name may very well have been Rose. Still, it prove
nothing, because Mary H. Pearson is buried in Centerio El Encinal, or Cemetery
of Many Oaks. I’ve gone to her grave site more than one and spoken to the man
who oversee the graves. So, rest in peace Mary. You’ve been buried more than
once and that’s one time too many. I hope she has eternal peace. But her stone
doesn’t belong in with the Whitchers. It’s for bodies, and there is no body
resting beneath Mary H. Pearson’s gravestone. </div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>G.M. Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09814667382296375574noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973647642390372177.post-26209181081134189102010-09-21T12:19:00.000-07:002010-09-21T12:21:57.320-07:00Truth versus FictionAlmost three weeks ago I gave a talk and PowerPoint slideshow at the National Steinbeck Center about my novel <em>East Garrison</em>. I'd spent a lot of time preparing the slides and thinking about the "motivation" for writing the book, trying to make the talk interesting for the audience. Amazingly, the evening went very well, and I actually enjoyed myself. I'd decided after that talk that I'd put <em>East Garrison </em>to rest and get back to what I really love—writing. But this second book isn't at all like the first. This book is based on a true story, and it takes place in the mid-1800s. I find this <em>so much harder </em>to write. The desire to get the story correct is getting in the way of my writing. Seems like it'd be easier knowing the plot ahead of time, yet to me it's like trying to draw a picture with my left hand. (And I can't draw a stick figure with my right hand!) I'm a believer in nothing worthwhile being easy. If what you're writing is not what you want to write, and you find it difficult and want to quit, its gotta be gold, and you must stick with it until it's done. It'll be a miracle if I ever type "the end" to this story!G.M. Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09814667382296375574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973647642390372177.post-5827159092185107942010-09-02T07:42:00.000-07:002010-09-02T07:49:40.355-07:00The RatWith a small Russian tortoise in one hand and an overflowing bag of trash in the other arm, I flew through the gate without even glancing down. After depositing the garbage and "Crunchy," the tortoise, I greeted my big black dog, Boomer, and let out a blood-curdling scream. At Boomer's feet lay a slightly damp, foot-long rat. And it wasn't dead. Yet.<br />Boomer panted happily; his fat pink tongue lolling out of his mouth. I stood glued to the pavement, feeling kind of silly for over reacting to this obvious non-threat. My daughter yelled from the front door, "Mom? Are you okay?" I had to explain the situation and then, of course, the entire neighborhood ran over to get a look at "the rat." <br />I kind of didn't know what to do. The children immediately suggested feeding it. That seems to be their first course of action for a sick anything. One of the girls wanted to stab it. That scared me. I rushed into the house to get Boomer out of there and collect my senses. <br />I wanted to put the rat out of its misery because it surely must be dying, but that isn't something a multigenerational humane person does. I've seen my husband crush a gopher with his boot as easily as if he were stepping on winter leaves. <br />The kids were making a lot of noise, so I peeked through the window. Now my son and his best friend had joined the group huddled around the rat. <br />Suddenly, I reached to unclasp the window, already in directorial mode, "I know what to do."<br />"Mom! He needs food!"<br />"Let's put him in a box until daddy gets home. I'll be right out."<br />So we did. One girl ran and got a Nike shoe box and a Styrofoam cup that she'd cut down and filled with water. Perfect. Careful not to touch the rat, I gently nudged it onto a flat-nosed shovel and set it into the box, near the water, and closed the lid. Hours later I looked in the box and the rat had died with its nose in the water.<br /><br />While driving to work this morning, I ruminated on the former exciting afternoon and lamented the rat's demise. I actually said it out loud to myself alone in the car, "poor thing."<br />I just read a book about a man (Timothy Treadwell or Tim Dexter was his real name) and woman (Amie Huguenard) who were killed and eaten by a bear in Alaska and didn't have the same reaction. Why?<br />Then the answer came to me.<br />Because the rat didn't want to die, and there are much crueler ways to die in the wild. My son pointed out that he could have been eaten by "Riley," our wild caught king snake who we recently let loose in the back hill. That's not a pretty way to go. <br />Yes, that and a million other ways, I thought.<br />So, what's the meaning of this rumination into the jaws of death? I dunno, but it sure has me thinking about being a vegetarian.G.M. Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09814667382296375574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973647642390372177.post-47669350119383242802010-08-05T15:38:00.000-07:002010-08-05T15:39:44.112-07:00Spirits & Salinas Valley TodayI wonder what Steinbeck would say about Salinas today…As I drive by the fields every day, I see the workers bent over and think about how it might have looked a hundred and fifty years ago. The book I've been trying to write is underneath my skin like some kind of parasite I cannot rid myself of, yet I need to do it to feel better. I want to write about the everyday people who came to the valley after the gold rush. Those who started Salinas. So, what is stopping me from doing this? I've researched the story I'm talking about writing. I know it every which way. I breathe the dust of the fields and feel the cool moist air. I wonder though, does anyone care? Beyond the occasional visitor to east garrison's small cemetery who sees the children's graves and thinks a moment before moving on, who really and truly cares? When I go to the library and see the books everywhere, how can there be enough time in one's entire life to read them all? Does the world need another book? But there is some kind of magical spirit in the valley that I drive through every day that speaks to me, pushing me to write this story. I don't know why.G.M. Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09814667382296375574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973647642390372177.post-15742922785996906332010-08-03T15:28:00.000-07:002010-08-03T15:30:33.970-07:00Singing the prednisone blues….againI've been on the hell drug prednisone for 10 years now for multiple autoimmune diseases. The highest dose was 60 milligrams (mg), and slowly I've gotten down to as little as 2.5 mg for a short time. That was a year ago. I ended up in the hospital with excruciating stomach pains and finally after about 8 hours of increasing despair, bleeding from you know where. That's called a flare in the world of autoimmune disease. A very bad one. In the hospital they gave me high doses of IV prednisone and, of course, like magic, all is well. Two months later, the same thing happened. I was in another hospital for a week. Then I was back to 60 mg. daily. I've gained 20 pounds, about the weight I was when giving birth to my first child. It disgusts me to look in the mirror. This hell drug has aged me beyond my years. Over the last several months I've been going slowly down again and have made it to 7 mg, but now I feel like I'm in some kind of shock from forgetting to take my 5 mg pill along with my two 1 mg pills the other day. I haven't recovered from that. It's a flu-like feeling and totally out of it. I want to continue to go down and get this shit out of my system, but I'm also scared that by going down even 1 more mg I will go backwards...afraid of feeling the constant pain that wears me down so bad that all I do is sob, and having no energy to work, let alone write or "have fun" with my kids, husband, anyone...... it's a catch 22. Such a tricky game to play once you're on prednisone--you don't know if you're just having withdrawals from the drug or if your disease is getting worse from not using it. I'm putting this up as a warning to anyone whose doctor wants to put them on prednisone. BEWARE!G.M. Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09814667382296375574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973647642390372177.post-25085679222652486972010-07-27T13:34:00.000-07:002010-07-27T13:35:50.936-07:00First Local Authors Live Event a Hit!For those who didn't come, you missed a great happening. For those who did, I hope you stopped by to say hello. I enjoyed chatting with everyone. There seemed to be a constant flow of people coming through the barnyard on Saturday. I couldn't believe the number of authors there (61)! Wow! And guess what? The Coast Weekly is putting together a blog of writers too. Soon you'll be able to go to a site online and look up your favorite author(s). I'm stoked about that development! The only complaint I have is not being close enough to hear all the great music. Maybe next year my table will be closer to the band.G.M. Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09814667382296375574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973647642390372177.post-16280142720337744072010-07-01T14:32:00.000-07:002010-07-01T14:37:43.120-07:00Book Number 6The sixth book I'm going to list here is an old one that I read way back when I was a teenager. It may have been my first Stephen King novel. I still think it's one of his best: <em>The Stand</em>. The main thing I like about King's work are his characters. To me they're like coming home to a room full of old friends. That might make me sound strange, to relate to characters written by the "master of horror," but I think it's what makes his books good. I haven't read every book he's ever written, and some I definitely like more than others, but <em>The Stand </em>is amongst his best work. And it isn't the story either, which has nothing at all to do with the plot of <em>East Garrison</em>. <em>The Stand </em>is about a final fight between good and evil after a plague kills about 99 percent of the world population.<br /><br />King likes to write in first person, but this novel is written in a rotating omniscient third person. It's the same technique I used in <em>EG</em>. I like to switch from character to character, giving each some time at the wheel. To get into the characters, I literally have to become them, even when it's hard on my family. I can see why writers don't want to write certain kinds of books. It's exhausting to be a pregnant emotional basket case for months, but essentially it has to be done to get it right (for me).<br /><br />What this means to me is being honest. King talks a lot about writing honestly. All writers try to do that, but it doesn't always come off. When it came to writing <em>EG</em>, most of the characters were easy because I did know them all. Not to say it's easy to write a book. I've never been pregnant and attacked by a mountain lion! So what do you do then? Research! Research! Research!<br /><br />King's <em>The Stand </em>deserves reading because the characters (and there are many of them) are unforgettable. You'll relate to them. This is particularly true if you grew up on 80s rock, which he always uses. It sets the mood well and tells you a lot about his sense of sick humor. (Ever read "Survivor Type"?) Don't be put off by the size of this book. It goes fast when you're in King's company. You'll enjoy taking a road trip with the cast of <em>The Stand</em>. Take a walk on the wild side and try it.G.M. Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09814667382296375574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973647642390372177.post-11487513421036280152010-06-11T10:43:00.000-07:002010-06-11T13:37:46.190-07:00Book Number 5"To Build a Fire" a short story by Jack London, first published in 1908, is the fourth story that helped inspire <em>East Garrison</em>. It's about an inexperienced protagonist, accompanied only by a dog, who struggles unsuccessfully to save himself from freezing to death after a series of mishaps across the Yukon Territory near Alaska. London brilliantly depicts themes of fear, death, and man versus nature. Written with short, to-the-point sentences, the story paints the stark, harsh setting extremely well, and tells a simple, moving tale of a man's foolishness in trying to survive against an adversary, nature, over which he has no control. I simply love this story. <br /><br />In some ways, the protagonist in "To Build a Fire" is a lot like my character Jack in <em>East Garrison</em>. At first he is filled with the arrogance of his assurance that he is capable of surviving an extremely cold, dangerous journey with just a dog for companionship, even when he'd been warned by an old-timer that "when it is seventy-five below zero, a man must not fail in his first attempt to build a fire," and also that "no man must travel alone in the Klondike after fifty below." But he believes "any man who was a man could travel alone." Eventually, when the man builds a fire and it gets put out because he foolishly built it underneath a snow-covered tree branch, he thinks, "The old-timer on Sulphur Creek was right…after fifty below, a man should travel with a partner." Soon after, in the end, as he's falling into a deep sleep from which he'll never awake, he says, "You were right, old hoss; you were right."<br /><br />I wanted to reproduce something of the unforgiving environment of London's story, but <em>East Garrison </em>cannot compare to Alaska in any way. Instead, I compromised by adding a situation of life and death with a baby newly born after an animal attack, and then the mother's need to survive to keep her baby alive. For her to do this she resorts to doing something that most people have never heard of a woman doing, but it is something people actually do even when they are nowhere near the kind of desperate situation I put Tracy and her newborn in. This particular scene has been mentioned to me many times; Some people hate it, some love it, and others merely mention the fact to me I guess as a "conversation starter." When it came to writing that particular scene, it was never a question of whether or not to put it in. It was just something that Tracy did to survive. I imagined that would be what any mother would do. In the animal world, it is what mothers do. I apologize to those who don't get that. Look it up.<br /><br />If you have not read "To Build a Fire," google it. You can read it numerous places online. The story is merely 12 pages, but it's gold, pure gold.G.M. Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09814667382296375574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973647642390372177.post-74476117120794489762010-06-02T11:07:00.000-07:002010-06-25T07:16:05.694-07:00SHAM SHAM SHAM!Is there any honor in the publishing world anymore? Ok, I admit I'm jaded, but I have every right to be! It's proven to me time and time again, just now, only moments ago, how many traitors and parasites are in this "new world of publishing." You've read it before, how basically 'self-publishers' work off writers' dreams. Well, they do more than that. They eat the bread out of starving artist's mouths. That's where the evil lies. <br /><br />Let me tell you a true story. It's about a writer, a good one, who had a dream to become a working writer. So, she did the work required to learn her trade, many years of it, and then began the harder work of writing many stories with a mentor, sending them off to hundreds of publishers and agents, waiting months (each time) to hear if they'd been accepted for publication, and then she even made use of the rejection slips. She wallpapered a closet with them. Most were standard photocopied slips sent to the masses without any personalized words of encouragement at all, but some had small hand-written notes that did provide her with hope. She'd read many times that such tiny gestures on the part of editors were to be taken as good signs, meaning her stories showed promise. Therefore, she kept at the dream, publishing a few stories here, winning a contest there, until one day she'd completed her first full length novel. Again, she went through the right processes, sending the manuscript or proposal or cover or whatever was asked off to agents, small publishers, even contests, but could not find anyone willing to take on an unknown writer. After much careful consideration and research, she decided to publish her novel with the help of a "reputable" company who would give her everything a BIG publisher would (for the money), and if the book was good enough, she believed it would stand on its own merit and her dream would come true. And the "reputable" company, BP (not real name for reasons of liability), agreed that this is how it's done. (Note that these are opinions biased by personal interest.) <br /><br />Foolish child. It's not about worth and merit. It's much simpler than that! It's connections and already being a celebrity! You either have the connections or you don't. You're already a celebrity or you're not. Simple. But she didn't know that for some time. She did her best promoting her book once it came out, got good, even rave reviews, press coverage, interviews, and had book signings. In fact she did everything right, yet nothing came of it. BP failed to live up to its contract with her and began billing her. When she refused to pay, they deducted her book sales from the money they said she owed them. So, she began selling her own books on consignment out of several local stores and even made some money, all of which she reinvested to try to further promote her book. The dream still there, eventually she tried a few writing contests, thinking that if she won a contest, she'd get publicity and who knows what more would come of her book. She did win one and got a HUGE article in one of the big local papers. Still, no agents called, no big publishing houses, no interviews outside of her own small pond.<br /><br />After her win in the contest she began receiving offers to help her promote her book (for a price). She looked at all the offers, but knew she could no longer "invest" in her dream. The last twine of hope broke just a few minutes ago when she went to check out an offer that sounded too good to pass up. This one from the sponsor, JG (not real name for reasons of liability), of a contest she'd entered and not won called the IPPYs or the Independent Publisher Book Awards. They'd offered her placement in a catalogue, "Foreign Rights Connect," which they supposedly send out to over 6,000 foreign publishers, agents, etc. for a fee of over $100 for one time placement. She'd asked to see the catalogue, and they'd sent her four pages of a simple pdf. file filled with 16 books. She took one author's name from two of the books in the catalogue and sent an e-mail inquiring about the catalogue and if the author had received any bites. But this author had never put his book into this "catalogue," and, in fact, offered wise words like "it's not worth the money." The word "Sham" came to her mind. It's all a bloody sham. And poof, just like that, her dream died. <br /><br />Yes, it's a sad tale, but sadder still the fact that the same story happens all the time. More and more people are buying into this same dream and are being scammed. Maybe it's not BP, but another so-called "reputable company." And I'm here to say STOP. Don't give these slick snake oil salesmen your dreams. Don't do it. Spare yourself the heartache, not to mention your hard-made dough. There has to be another way. A right way. At the moment the answer escapes me. All I know to be true is that this concept does not work. Maybe it's the economy. Maybe it's that no one reads anymore. Maybe we just have too many bloody writers. Whatever the truth is, the world doesn't need any more writers with their hearts torn out, stomped on, and dreams shattered. Put your dream on the shelf for now. Don't do anything EXCEPT keep writing. It doesn't have to be read by anyone. For now.G.M. Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09814667382296375574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973647642390372177.post-87794127107137774262010-05-26T09:06:00.000-07:002010-05-26T09:07:40.751-07:00East Garrison wins National Indie Excellence Award for Regional Fiction!G.M. Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09814667382296375574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973647642390372177.post-17721226796054576702010-05-26T09:01:00.000-07:002010-05-26T09:05:48.626-07:00Book Number 4<em>House of Sand and Fog</em> by Andre Dubus II has some obvious similarities to <em>East Garrison</em>: its title, the book's cover, and the narrative's repeated mention of fog. Other than that, it is NOT about the American Dream gone bad, as is the basic plot summary of <em>House of Sand and Fog</em>. Dubus's novel spoke to me on many levels through its stark prose and unwavering portrayal of reality. But what influenced me most were the setting and one of the main characters, Kathy Nicolo, a self-destructive alcoholic who cleans houses for her meager living. <br /><br />I not only read Dubus's novel, I've lived it. I put myself through many years of college by cleaning people's houses. And I know too well the devastation alcoholism brings having been raised by two alcoholics and done my share of the same. I've lived most my life in the East Bay Area and now on the Central Coast. Mist and fog are as familiar to me as are snowstorms and ice to people who live in the Midwest. Fog is a great mood setter. Fort Ord's climate is misty and cloudy 99 percent of the time. It's precisely for that reason that the land made a terrific Army base. Cloaked in its own microclimate, it's difficult to detect what's going on just behind that layer of dense, wet air. <br /><br />Dubus's novel mounts tragedy upon tragedy until the tension is almost unbearable. A series of mistakes (similar to the Donner story) take on monumental meaning as the narrative moves the characters into a final position against a wall from which they cannot escape. <em>House of Sand and Fog's </em>inevitable conclusion is painfully dark, but honest—both traits that I admire in writing. This is not a novel for everyone, but what book is?G.M. Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09814667382296375574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973647642390372177.post-32901270667720047652010-05-12T15:46:00.000-07:002010-05-12T15:52:15.166-07:00Book Number 3The third book that influenced <em>East Garrison </em>is Tom Wolfe's novel, <em>A Man in Full</em>. This humongous 742-page satire is about sixty-year-old real estate mogul, “Cap’m” Charles Croker whose world is collapsing amidst racial tension in Atlanta, Georgia. In the end, “Cap’m” Charlie is saved from a moral dilemma by Stoicism, a school of Hellenistic philosophy founded in Athens in the early 3rd century BC. Each chapter is told from the point of view of one of a handful of characters, primarily “Cap’m” Charlie, young idealist Conrad Hensley, and up and coming African American attorney Roger White II. <br /><br />Basically, I loved the structure of <em>A Man in Full </em>and used it as a model for <em>East Garrison</em>. Wolfe's story goes completely full circle with “Cap’m” Charlie and Conrad Hensley, who are not just chronologically and geographically miles apart, but also portray extremes of rich and poor. Eventually, through a looong series of coincidences the two meet, and young Hensley, a recent believer in Stoicism, teaches “Cap’m” Charlie its basic tenets. The characters, setting, story, and particularly the dialog in <em>A Man in Full </em>are all spot on, hilarious, and unique. Wolfe is a master with dialog, which is something most writers admire. The implausibility of “Cap’m” Charlie and Hensley finally connecting is one interesting, fun ride. Although <em>East Garrison </em>isn't an epic like Wolfe's novel, not even close, I tried to follow the basic structure of having characters in a setting where they’re unaware of the other’s presence, yet seemingly their lives are revolving around each other, and eventually all end up together. <br /><br />In my story, I had the father Jack, the antagonist, become the hero of the story in a most unlikely turn of events. There’s also a convoluted philosophy which isn't Stoicism, but a unique blend of the Theosophical society, numerology, Egyptian hieroglyphs, and an ancient symbol, the swastika. “Cap’m” Charlie goes from riches to rags, and so does Jack. That’s about where the similarity ends. Wolfe’s novel is a satire. I consider <em>East Garrison </em>a modern horror story. But it helped to have a structure that I liked and seemed to work well while writing my first novel. If you haven’t read <em>A Man in Full</em>, I highly recommend it.G.M. Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09814667382296375574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973647642390372177.post-74987314329230726432010-05-03T07:45:00.000-07:002010-05-03T07:50:00.744-07:00Book Number 2The second book that influenced <em>East Garrison </em>is a classic: <em>Jaws</em> by Peter Benchley. This fiction book put a name to the fear we all have when in large pools of water. My own fear was already there while being forced to learn to water ski when I was about 8 years old. If you don't know how to water ski, I'll break it down:<br /><br />1. Alone in the water with a pair of skis and a rope tied to a boat.<br />2. You give the "thumbs up," meaning you're ready to try to get up on those skis.<br />3. If you're lucky, you get yanked out of the water the first time and away from the evil lurking below you. (I always pictured a green and slimy white hand grabbing for my ankle in the wake of the boat as I skied off.)<br />4. Eventually you fall or have to let go of the rope. (There's no other known way to get back into the safety of the boat without going back into the water first.)<br />5. You wait alone in the water until you're rescued, praying the boat will come back quickly. For me, this was the worst part. I'd try to lie perfectly still on top of my skis, praying the unnamed beast would mistake me for a floating log until the boat returned (which never failed to take an eternity) to save me.<br /><br />After <em>Jaws</em> came out, and we all saw the shark's point of view under the water, with our legs thrashing, looking so helpless, swimming became a terrifying experience. Hell, even the bathtub was a place of horror for me. I still can't shake the image of my white legs underneath the water.<br /><br />While writing <em>East Garrison</em>, a number of rare mountain lion attacks happened in California, and naturally one of North America's biggest predators became the antagonist. Not just a mountain lion though, a female mountain lion with cubs. This paralleled Tracy, the pregnant protagonist. This lion wasn't randomly killing people, like in <em>Jaws</em>; she was just protecting her cubs, but I did keep in mind the way Benchley wrote <em>Jaws</em>, particularly in the prologue and the epilogue. It is, after all, a classic.G.M. Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09814667382296375574noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973647642390372177.post-6595149862585344292010-04-28T14:05:00.000-07:002010-04-28T14:25:47.896-07:00Stories that Influenced East GarrisonStories, so many stories. That's what makes us human, isn't it? We like to tell our stories. Many are pretty forgetable, but some stick someplace in your brain forever. It's those stories that influence our writing. For me, there were many tales, both fiction and non-fiction that made me want to write <em>East Garrison</em>. I'll begin with one and try to add another each day or so.<br /><br />The first is a true story that happened to a group of American pioneers in 1846-47. The Donner Party story took place in the northern mountains of California called the Sierra Nevada, so maybe that's why I learned about it early in my life, but it’s also a classic story that would resonate with anyone who has ever been to the snow. The one time I've come remotely close to understanding the cold and fright of being lost in the snow was when I was about 15 years old. My older sister and I went skiing in Lake Tahoe, which is right next to where the Donner Party spent one very cold winter in the 1840s. My sister had taken acid and failed to inform me. She suggested that we go off the main trail, something that is strictly forbidden, for obvious reasons, but we were teenagers. Need I say more? I was never a very good skier and didn't have any ski gear. This day I was wearing what was then the fashion: elephant leg blue jeans. Of course, I fell in the powdered snow off the main trail, deep in the woods, and couldn't get up. My sister, tripping, laughed her ass off as I tried and failed to retrieve my runaway skis. I ended up walking through the snow, which was waist deep, and filled each pant leg up to my hips. Somehow I made it to the main runway and took a tram, or whatever they call it, back down. By that time my legs were frozen. I was so shaken up, I couldn't ski. To this day, I haven't gotten over my fear. I suppose that I thought I was going to freeze to death.<br /><br />Essentially the Donner Party's story stemmed from two things: taking the wrong trail, one that wasn't proven, a kind of cut-off to get to their destination quicker, and two, bad luck. They missed getting over the mountain by one day. The epic tale is filled with tragedy followed by tragedy. There were 87 people who began the journey from Independence, Missouri; only 48 survived. Of course, all anyone seems to recall about the Donner story is that they had to resort to cannibalism to survive, but there is so much more to the tale than that. Check it out! And if you ever get the chance, go to the state park and take a tour. You won't forget it. <br /><br />If you want to read the latest up to date information on the Donner Party, which is in the news again, go to http://donnerblog.blogspot.com/G.M. Wegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09814667382296375574noreply@blogger.com0