Ryne Douglas Pearson's Blog, page 7

See that item in the navigation bar? Up there, over to the left a bit? The one that says Read Samples? If you put your cursor over that a list of my books will drop down. Clicking on any of them will take you to a readable sample using Kindle For The Web. You can check out a bit before deciding to buy for your particular eReader.

Do make use of this feature to see which of my books might be a good fit for you.

Intrepid reporter Molly Hacker ambushes me using a journalistic scorched earth approach. In it she drags the dark plumber story from me that I've kept locked in a dark space for decades.

READ THE INTERVIEW HERE

When I was researching my first novel, Cloudburst, in the early 1990s, I spent countless hours digging to ensure I had information that was as technically accurate as possible. I had to--this was the age of Tom Clancy, whose military thrillers were the de facto standard for the type of book I was writing. Fortunately, I did a pretty good job. Kirkus Reviews called it a 'Hyperreal whiz-bang first novel by a gifted high-tech specialist.' Publishers Weekly called it 'A gripping blend of techno-thriller and detective story.'

For me that meant Mission Accomplished. But what did it take? What did the research entail.

I drove over 3,000 miles to obtain materials, view locations, and talk face-to-face with people. I purchased more than 50 books to immerse myself in details ranging from the flap systems of the 747, to failed government energy initiatives in Cuba. I haunted the Government Printing Office Bookstore in downtown Los Angeles searching for CIA reports on terrorist training camps in North Africa. I spent WEEKS in libraries all over California, devouring everything written about runaway nuclear reactions, gamma ray absorption rates, and mid-Atlantic weather patterns, among other equally obscure subjects. I bought documentaries on VHS tape about Tenerife in the Canary Islands, Operation Thunderbolt in Uganda, the massacre in Munich, and even disturbing interviews with Holocaust survivors who'd undergone hideous medical experiments during World War 2.

I did all this before writing the book, and before seeking an agent and a publisher, which was a whole other realm of research in itself, involving weeks of reading every issue of Publishers Weekly at the library, and almost wearing out their copy of Literary Marketplace.

And today?

I could accomplish 99% of all the above via the internet, from my office, without spending a dime.

So, good old days? In some respects. But not this one.

Viva technology!

Feel free to weigh in on your Fave Fours.

Books: 1 IT, 2 The Exorcist, 3 Ordinary People, 4 Presumed Innocent

Authors: 1 Stephen King, 2 Ray Bradbury, 3 Judith Guest, 4 Orson Scott Card

Movies: 1 It's A Wonderful Life, 2 To Kill A Mockingbird, 3 The Dish, 4 Rudy

TV Shows: 1 Twilight Zone, 2 MASH, 3 Wonder Years, 4 X-Files

Bands: 1 Fleetwood Mac, 2 Queen, 3 Alabama, 4 Oak Ridge Boys

Singers: 1 Stevie Nicks, 2 Elvis Presley, 3 Frank Sinatra, 4 Keili'i Reichel

Food: 1 Bacon, 2 Lasagna, 3 Apple Pie, 4 Biscuits & Gravy

Animals: 1 Dog, 2 Giraffe, 3 Reindeer, 4 Lion

Nearly a year ago my mother passed away after a year and a half in a nursing home. In that time as she slowly deteriorated she began exhibiting signs of dementia, likely brought on by Alzheimer's disease. Thankfully it never got so bad that she couldn't recognize her children or grandchildren. There was the occasional switched name, calling my son by my name, and other effects that I'm sure frustrated her.

But one effect that I'm certain she was never aware of was, oddly, something that I'm sure actually brought her much joy. My mother was born in 1922, and grew up during the Great Depression, a trying time that, nonetheless, filled her memory with stories of a childhood and youth that were funny and enlightening. She loved sharing these stories--about turtles being found on the shore of the lake, meeting Satchel Paige and watching her father play catch with him, and so many more. She had told these stories so many times that, as other parts of her intellect became challenged, these imprinted experiences seemed to thrive--to the point that she would repetitively tell them, sometimes just moments apart, having no recollection that she had just done so.

Often, there was some trigger to initiate her telling one of these tales. A certain phrase. One of my children mentioning her early years life-guarding at one of the lakes near her home. Some mental switch would be thrown, and a story would flow. Mention the lake again a few minutes later, and the same story would be told. This might seem sad, but it allowed her, at least for a moment, to regale us with these wonderful times.

It also did something else--it gave me insight into a character that, ultimately, would become central in my novel Confessions.

Alicia Jerome, mother of the novel's main character, Michael, is afflicted with a more progressed form of Alzheimer's, and cannot recognize her own son. But she remembers everything about her late daughter, murdered five years before, and will, with only the slightest mention of Michael's sister, launch into an adoring description of the child no longer with her. She connects more with one who is gone than those who are still with her, and this dynamic became so central to the story that I cannot conceive of how Confessions could exist without it.

And I have my mother to thank for it, bittersweet as its presence in the story may be.

Piehole. Man, how I love that word. And it's many variations. Cakehole. Facehole.

It's one of the wonders of language that we can morph variations of words into the definitions of unrelated terms. Hence mouth becomes the words I listed above.

Yeah, there's the opposite end of this word mashup, but this is a family-friendly post:)

Griefbone? Does it represent any specific place on the human body? Or is that just representative of those 'special' places where a punch, a kick, or an errant softball throw causes some extra pain.

Muffin Top. Until a few years ago, if someone said to me 'Check out that muffin top', I'd be looking at the baked goods section. But no longer.

Bomber. Big thing in the air that drops explosive ordnance. Right? Well, not exclusively, as it apparently also can mean 'awesome'...'way cool'...'epic'.

Sick. Also can double for 'way cool', 'awesome', etc...

There is a sort of lyrical beauty to 'old' language, as evidenced in the Coen brother's remake of True Grit, but we modern folks do a bomber job of gettin' all creative with the lingo, I'd say.

Werd.

I had originally planned to release a thriller I've written this summer, but I'm pushing that back to winter so I can release a different novel.

I, DOG will be released later this summer.

I, DOG is a story of...dogs, and the people they choose. It is the story of a learned master, and a reluctant student. A story of a friend. A protector.

Maybe a savior. A savior named Jake, who believes one thing above all else--every good person needs a dog, and bad people shouldn't mess with a dog and their good person.

I don't want to give away too much, but if you enjoyed my novel, Confessions, I think you'll like I, DOG.

I'll post the release date as soon as I know it.

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With a rumored $399 price point, would that impact the iPad? And how will it perform in the eyes of Kindle purists who prefer the E-Ink screen for reading?

Story HERE.