MY BOOK IS NOW AVAILABLE

My book, Niagara Fontaine, a Meredith Massachusetts Novel, has been released and is available on Amazon.     

I am making a special offer to the first ten (10) people who review my book..  Download the ebook and, if you wish, put a review on Amazon.  Then contact me (through Facebook or at my website jamcintosh.com), reference the review, and I will send you an autographed paperback copy of the book for free.  If I become famous, it will be worth a fortune; if not, it may be worth. $2.99.  I am making this offer to my friends because I know, though many of you are brutally honest, I trust that you will be kind.

Also, if you want to get previews of upcoming books, special giveaways, and Famous First Lines, please go to jamcintosh.com and sign up for my newsletter. 

If my going on and on about the book is too much for you, just ignore me and go on with your day.

COUNT DOWN TO PUBLICATION

My book, Niagara Fontaine, is due to be published later this month.  Over the next few weeks, I will be gushing about it posting the first few pages.  Many of my friends say I am dramatic, so I’m going with the gushing and the drama.

Here is the first exerpt:

Logan Memorial Hospital

100 Amanda Street

Meredith, Massachusetts

7:45 PM

             Perseverance is my strongest trait.  Deal with it. 

I pushed open the scratched plexiglass door of the emergency department.  Smelled ammonia and dried blood.  I jumped out of the way as a gurney rushed past.  The young woman on the gurney still had pieces of glass in her face and hair.

            Once through the door, I backed against the wall and looked around, a trait I developed when entering a room always brought uncertainty.  I spotted Kara Salem, a social worker, in the crowd.  She was short, heavy, and wore her blond hair in corkscrews.  Ridiculous hairstyle, but she insisted she couldn’t do anything else with it.

            A nurse bustled up and I read her name tag.  Important to call people by name, even if I never see them again. 

            “Hello, Ms. Johansson.  I’m Niagara Fontaine, the attorney for the Department of Children and Families.”  Then I asked the same question I ask every time.  “What can you tell me?” 

            Cecily Johansson, an RN by her name tag, played with her earring.  “Don’t know exactly when the man arrived at the hospital.”  She checked her chart.  “But at about 5:30, he walked up to the emergency registration, first time we saw him, and said he didn’t know what was wrong with the baby.  He put the girl, four months old, on the nursing desk.”   Johansson flipped a page.  “We found a hematoma on the side of her head and multiple other cuts and bruises.  Upon examination, it appeared she had been struck with a blunt object.”

            Nurse Johansson looked up.  “Or she hit a wall or some other fixture that didn’t move.  That’s why I filed the report with DCF.  The man who brought her in wouldn’t or couldn’t give any information about her injuries.”

            Another person spoke to the nurse.  She turned to me and said.  “I’ve got to go now.  Your people are over there.”   She gestured vaguely toward Kara.

            I followed the beacon of blond curls and pushed my way to Kara.  Without a greeting, she started talking.  “The child is being examined now.  We should know something soon.  That’s the man who brought her in.  Unclear if he is the father.”  She gestured toward a man in faded jeans and a Batman tee shirt. 

            The man gestured toward the woman beside him.  She also wore faded clothes, without the blood stains.  Another woman, in scrubs, stepped between them and linked her arm to the woman’s.  The man pulled on the woman’s other arm.

            “Let’s go talk to them.”  I waited for Kara to move first.  If this case went to court, I couldn’t testify since I’m the Department’s lawyer.  So, Kara needed to be present for all information collection.  Kara knew her part: the helpful social worker.  I’m the lawyer threatening court action.

            The man patted his pockets.  We both stopped.  He could be looking for his wallet.  Or his insurance card.  Or a weapon.  His eyes darted from side to side. 

 

 

 

Following a Dream

I am starting on a journey to become a self-published writer.  At the present time, I have three manuscripts that need work, a website, and an ambition to be published.  I don't know whether I will make my goal, but I would like to have company on my journey.  I have fellow writers who are encouraging me and some people who have volunteered to read and critique my work.

Now all I have to do is get the word out, keep up my blog, get cover art for the books, learn more about social media, stay healthy, learn about layout of covers, make sure my house doesn't look like a hoarder lives here, keep up with my paying job, revise my manuscripts, etc...

I plan to ask for one inappropriate thing a week.  And to have fun while I am doing it.

Procrastination: Making It Work for You

I procrastinate.  A lot.  Usually it works out for the best.  Everyone wants instant results.  If I didn’t answer my email or text within five minutes, my friends would start calling my family and tracking me down.  I have now trained them better.  If it’s an emergency, call me.  My mother will anyway; she knows of no other way to use a phone.  People who text or email me will wait for a response.  It’s not that I’m ignoring them, I just have something more interesting to do.

 

And the response you get when you say you have something more interesting to do separates your true friends from your acquaintances.  Your friends will nod, know they are important to you, and ask what you were doing that was so interesting.  So will your acquaintances, without the nod, and with added sarcasm.  Even my son knows he is not the center of my universe at all times.  Of course, I should be the center of his.  But his wife and children would disagree. 

 

I schedule time to be with me friends and family.  Sometimes we schedule days or weeks in advance because of everyone’s other commitments, but schedule we do.  I want my friends in my life.  My acquaintances, I procrastinate.  What seemed so important at the time of the text takes care of itself in the course of time.  Other things become priorities, outside forces intervene and solve the issue or make it less important.   I don’t remember what stuff I bought, but I remember where and when I spent time with my friends and family.

 

My writing awaits me.  I try to do at least two crappy pages a day, to paraphrase some more famous writer.  And I need to call my mother.  Before I do either, I procrastinate.  I think about what I will write or say, think some other time will be better, but do it anyway.  The advantage of procrastination is that you get to do the things that you want to do.