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2012-02-16T20:43:00.000-08:00

Been doing an interview today - ya know - between work stuff, like dealing to the mountain of paperwork that threatened to avalanche off my desk. (Just as an aside - should I ever be in an avalanche, DIG. I'm serious. The thought of someone wandering aimlessly then sinking to his knees in the snow crying is too much for me, much more helpful if you DIG. Yes, that's a hangover from watching Days of our Lives when I shoulda been in school.)

So, yeah, someone wanted to interview me not Cat. Awesome. I'm starting to see what she means about interviews being quite tough though. Not envying the amount she's done!!
Once the interview is finished and whatever happens to it happens I'll be sure to add a link here. So you too can experience the awesome that is me.
(No, I haven't been drinking, but perhaps I should!)

Don't think there is much else to report:

Kurt is being Kurt and he is also having a hard job looking me in the eye these days. You'll find out why when Flashbyte comes out. And no, I didn't do anything to him. (Well, maybe I did, but it wasn't my fault!)

Lee is working on a new case and it's shrouded in secrecy (obviously he's learned nothing about how secrets come back and bite a person on the ass). Sam is sticking close to home (which is what I like to call the office).

Carla is typically 14 and bugging me to death about going to see Grange live.
(dead and my body spring to mind but not in that order.)

Life is good. :)

I hear there is a release date...

2012-02-14T01:01:00.000-08:00

No, no one I've helped into a federal prison is getting out anytime soon... not that kind of release. (Whew)

The release of the fourth byte novel - FLASHBYTE.

On March 17th by all accounts.

How cool is that?

Sorry, what?

Oh, you wanna know what it's about... that's a helluva lot harder than you'd expect - it goes kinda like this:

“When SSA Conway woke to the news that she’d been strangled in a parking lot, she knew it was going to be an interesting day. Ellie did not expect that single event to bring friends and kickass.

The incident flowed into a hell of a week involving bank robberies, snipers, and bizarre packages. Just so Delta A didn’t get bored the universe tossed in an extraordinary rendition, lost memory, and a visit to the past that anchored the present."

Yeah, like that - but messier and with some really weird shit.

But this was fun - Cat made it the other day...

So, excited about March 17.

So excited.

Kurt, not so much. He's still pissed about me telling Lee his secret. Whoops. My bad.

And on a related news front (not to Kurt or Lee but the whole release day thing) I heard a whisper that I'll be interviewed by ITW. (International Thriller Writers)

Ain't that gonna be a blast...

Life can be rough

2012-01-31T00:12:00.000-08:00

No one ever said it wouldn't be, right?

We're not guaranteed a smooth run... and as bi-peds (I'd say humans but for some that's quite the stretch and I for one cannot suspend disbelief far enough to encompass all the supposed human beings on the planet) we have to rise above the crap and make the most of what we have.

Some days it's harder than others - that's a given.

Today was a rough one for Delta.

One of our own got some bad news - it wasn't unexpected but it was still hard to hear. We deal with things like this as a unit... circle the wagons.

So, while we're circling and holding hell at bay...

Go read The _Byte series... there will be a new one along soon.
Gods willing.

I can do this...

2012-01-19T13:52:00.000-08:00

I can do it as long as I crank the stereo up and don't listen to anything but Modern West. Okay so pushing the crazy association my mind makes between a certain doctor I know well (yeah, yeah we all know it's Kurt) and Kevin Costner - is not easy.

But today I need this music more than I ever have before. So my office door is shut - the music is probably audible from the bullpen but I am beyond caring.

This situation we're in - sucks and gives change.

A few theories have been postulated about what will happen next, about my next step, and what lies ahead. Mostly within my own head, because I don't want to involve the team in this particular left field life robbing event.

Probably would be a little easier if the team had all the information I do but we've got a stack of cases to wade through and currently NCIS are 'handling' the situation... only they don't know what it really is either. (What is it with me and my inability to ask for freaking help? What is it about me that makes a crazy man hold a grudge for so many years - and search for a woman that died? Maybe we shouldn't have sent him home without first erasing his memory - if only that were an option!)

There will be no heroic rescue. No hero.

The thing that guts me the most is, I don't know why I don't just tell them all (NCIS included) what this is. What the outcome will be. How much of it has to do with me. I don't know. I don't know if this is because it was along time ago and that person is dead now so this can't be happening - yeah, let's go with denial. Because when someone is hunting you the very best response is to stick your head in the sand...
So what have I done?
For the first time in years I'm carrying two guns. Usually there are no loaded weapons in the house, except my pistol which is always in my bedside drawer if I'm home, now everything in the gun safe is loaded. Not only that, but I took a rifle with spare ammunition and several sights and stashed it under the backseat of Mac's truck. It's the rifle I use when I go to Quantico some weekends.
Also, I used another situation to send Carla away with Rowan, so none of them would realize the real reason I sent her away.
And now I'm heading out of town using a light cover (but in this instance that's all it needs to be) with Kurt to help him with a case. I can that tell that will go well - all I want to listen to is KCMW and I'm going to be away with Kurt. It's only a matter of time before I slip and call Kurt, Kevin.
Shoot me now. :)

My plan is pretty much to keep Carla safely out of the way while I disappear (but I'm working so it's legitimate disappearing) until this blows over.

And I don't believe for one second it will blow over.

I'm pretty much screwed. It's okay I don't mean that... kinda hoping that listening to Kevin Costner and Modern West will trigger something clever in my tired brain and it doesn't all end the way I think it might. I never expected to rock out my days on a screen porch but I thought I might be around long enough to see Carla grow up.

If ever there was a time for a Christopher Chance rescue - this is it. Ha!

Listen to this - pretty sure you'll love it.

Ain't life fun??

Until next time kids...

SSA Ellie Conway, out.

Dear Universe...

2012-01-18T19:31:00.000-08:00

Dear Universe,

I'm truly sorry for whatever I did to piss you off but do you have to continue this course you seem set on? Can we not find a less destructive path?

Really?

Can't we just agree I was bad and give me a good smack across the knuckles with a ruler?

If you are waiting for a specific apology I'm afraid I don't know exactly, which of the many things I'm sure I've done, has tipped the scales.

Wish I did. If I did I'm sure I could muster up some contrition.

I just don't see how what you're doing now is going to solve anything.

Thank you for your time,
SSA Ellie Conway.

PS: Now I'm going to go watch Jon Bon Jovi in Vampires: Los Muertos because sometimes you need to hang up your brain and enjoy the pretty. :)

The last few days...

2012-01-18T12:08:00.000-08:00

Have been interesting - I think that's the best way to describe them.

I had hopes that 2012 might be an amazing year and I'm not rethinking that but it is disappointing to find the lunatics are still just as loony and my job is as busy as ever.

As usual I'm waiting on mail.

Seems to be how it is these days.

Hoping a package will arrive this week.

Turns out I am a bit of a Pollyanna (okay, it's well hidden).

How is your January going?

I had visions of making this a meaty blog post - but Kurt is waving car keys at me... looks like we have somewhere we need to be.

The half finished Christmas story

2012-01-08T18:09:00.000-08:00

I wish every day could be like Christmas (but not like this)

“Honey, where’s my list?”

“On the kitchen counter, Mom.”

I tripped over the cat almost spilling the precious black liquid in my mug.

“Shrek, keep out of the way,” I hissed hurrying into the kitchen. Sure enough the notepad with list still attached was on the counter. Bite marks decorated the bottom of the list.

Shrek.

Carla bounced into the room.

“You ready?” I asked checking the list. Twice.

“Yes, Mom.”

I glanced at her.

“Let’s try that again. Jacket, hat, scarf, gloves?”

“It’s too hot in the mall,” she complained.

“Jacket then.” I’m all about compromise if it means we can get going.

She smiled. “Okay.”

My phone rang.

Carla squawked. “Don’t answer it!”

Tempting.

“I have to, you know that.”

The screen flashed with Sam’s name. I almost crossed myself. Hearing from Delta on Christmas eve eve was generally because we had a new disturbing case and was almost always time sensitive.

“Hey Sam, problem?”

“Perhaps…” He paused, cleared his throat, and continued. “A potential problem Chicky babe.”

“Uh huh.” It didn’t sound good. “Out with it then.”

“Aren’t you taking Carla shopping?”

“Yes.”

“Fair oaks mall?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll meet you for coffee at Starbucks in an hour. That’s downstairs by the Apple store?”

“Yes it is. Okay, see you there.”

Carla twirled around the kitchen.

“Can we go?”

“Yep.”

I grabbed my keys, list, and handbag. Alone at the front door I turned and called out, “Waiting on you kiddo.”

She hurried toward me from the kitchen with a sandwich in her hand.

Hungry as always.

Snowflakes tumbled from the sky. I hoped they would stop. Driving in snow is not as much fun as it used to be. Back when I was ten foot tall and bullet proof, pre-Carla. Kids change you.

I parked in the Seers parking lot.

“Remember which entrance we used Carla or we’ll be trapped here all day.”

Carla laughed. “Yeah because the parking lot is full of federal cars.”

“Smarty pants.”

The mall was over warm as usual. Outside the jewelers Carla asked for cash.

I am now an ATM for a teenager. Not only did she ask for cash but she disappeared with it. I used the opportunity to shop in peace and find a few extra things for Carla’s stocking and get Sam and Lee their gifts. Ticking things off. I grabbed a coffee from Caribou while I was upstairs shopping. When I wandered to the Apple store shopping bags dangling from one hand and my delicious Caribou coffee in the other. I found Sam and Lee at the Starbucks across from Apple, already drinking coffee and seated at a table.

“Okay so share,” I said slipping into the empty chair.

“What are you getting Kurt for Christmas?” Sam asked pushing his cup in circles.

“Seriously?”

This is the problem?

Lee nodded.

“What do we get Doc?” Sam asked tapping his cup.

“He’s not that difficult.” I pulled my list out. Doc’s name sat there ringed in red with a big question mark after it. “Okay he is.”

“Come on Chicky, you know him better than us. He’s your partner.”

“You’d think but I just spend more time with him than either of you. He doesn’t share much.”

“Crap,” Lee groaned.

“We’re investigators. So we investigate,” I said. How hard can it be?

Lee’s eye lit up.

“Anyone ever been to his house?” Lee asked.

Sam and I stared blankly at him.

He always comes to us.

“Hang on, we do Sunday dinners every two weeks… are you telling me we’ve never done Sunday dinner at Kurt’s place?” I asked.

“Can you remember going to his house for Sunday dinner?” Lee turned it back on me.

I shook my head. We’ve been doing Sunday dinners for years. How the hell he managed to weasel out of having us all at his place was anyone’s guess.

“What music does he like?” I asked.

“No, no, no, that’s your department Chicky,” Sam replied.

“We’re screwed,” I said finishing my coffee.

“Field trip,” Lee announced. “We’re going to Doc’s.”

“Ballsy,” I replied.

“Where’s Carla?” Lee asked scanning the mall near us.

“I’ll call her.”

She answered quickly with a question. “Mom what do I get Doc?”

The million dollar question.

“Ah, the question of the hour. Are you done?”

“Yeah, apart from Doc.”

“Meet me at Starbucks, ground floor by the information center and Apple.”

“Coming.”

I hung up.

When Carla arrived a fiendish plan hatched. Carla, Sam, Lee, and I piled into my car. I pulled over a block away from Doc’s home and called Doc’s house. No answer. I called his direct dial at work. Not his cell, you can answer a cell anywhere. I wanted to know where he was.

He answered on the third ring. He was at his desk.

“Ellie? You need something?”

“Nah, not really. Just wondered if you’d like to come over for dinner tonight?” My fingers crossed all by themselves.

He paused, I knew he digesting my invitation. “Sure, what time? I’m just finishing up some paper work.”

I checked my watch. It was just after four.

“Seven?”

“Should be done by then, but I’ll probably come straight from work. I’ll pick up a bottle of wine.”

“Sounds great. See you then.”

“He’s not home, so we can’t visit,” Carla sounded disappointed.

I smiled.

So young, so innocent.

“Now what?” Sam asked.

“You and Carla stay here. Lee and I will do some recon.”

“Here?” Carla asked.

“Yep.”

With a wave Lee and I headed off up the street. We walked casually up the path to Doc’s front door, unlike mine, his faced the street. His porch was in full view of the neighbors. No trees or fence to provide cover. Just like a front door should be to dissuade burglars.

I wondered if there was an alarm system. Lee peered into the window beside the door.

“Can’t see an alarm panel.”

“Good.”

There was no outward advertising if there was an alarm. I glanced about not wanting anyone to creep up behind us as I dove into the second part of the plan. From my pocket, I pulled a small leather case and took two thin pieces of metal, never leave home without a lock pick, gun, and clean underwear.

I tumbled the lock and swung the door open.

“After you,” I said standing aside and letting Lee through the door.

“Let’s hope there is no alarm.”

“Or camera,” I replied following him in and closing the door.

We stood in a surprisingly spacious entrance way. Doors opened off the almost octagonal area. By the front door was a table. On the table a bowl and a letter rack. No mail waited. I looked closely at the bowl noting tiny chips and cracks. I surmised he walked in the front door and dropped his keys in the bowl.

“He keeps his keys here.”

“This is a really nice place,” Lee commented. “Let’s get snooping.”

That was when I realized I should’ve felt bad but I didn’t. I was breaking laws and several friendship codes yet I didn’t feel guilt. Maybe I didn’t feel guilt because I was a lapsed catholic and guilt was no longer part of my life.

I found the living room. Tasteful, comfortable and tidy. It was as I expected. Photographs lined the walls, some old some recent, all interesting. Some candid shots of Delta team members and what I thought may have been family shots mingled with amazing scenery in black and white. He was quite the photographer. My eyes fell on a stack of CD’s. It looked like something from my place. Lorenza Ponce, Grange, Bon Jovi, Rolling Stones, the Eagles, and some Queen. The order intrigued me. I knew that order. It was my preferred order when listening to those particular albums.

Okay he had good taste in music. Moving on.

Lee called me from another room. I followed the sound of his voice to another room. Books lined two walls, floor to ceiling, there was a fireplace and a comfortable looking leather sofa and an old oak desk. A library.

“He reads a lot,” Lee commented.

“He does.” I scanned titles on the walls. “Lot of crime fiction and thrillers here. He likes Jeffrey Deaver, a lot.”

Also a lot of medical texts. There were a pile of medical journals on the corner of the desk.

I looked around the room no sign of an e Reader anywhere.

“Let’s see what he reads at night…” Lee said.

“Bedroom,” I replied. A little bit of guilt edged in.

We found it easily. His bed was unmade. The closest open. His many suits hung in color order. From left to right, starting with a platinum pinstripe and ending with a black tuxedo. I wouldn’t mind seeing him in that. I peered into the bottom of the closet and saw a large shopping bag. Red and gold gift paper was just visible without me moving anything. Gifts. For whom I did not know.

On his nightstand there were three books in a pile. No e Reader.

“All right. A Kindle. That’s what we’re getting him.”

“Maybe he likes the feel of books,” Lee replied. “He has a lot.”

“But he’s also out of shelf space,” I countered.

“Clever.” Lee was on board.

“Let’s get out of here.”

My phone rang.

Doc.

“Hey,” I said while following Lee to the front door.

“I’m done just heading home to change. Might be a little early, that okay?”

“Sure.”

I hung up.

“Let’s go. He’s on his way.”

We hurried out and relocked the door. On the way to the car I had some observations.

“No Christmas tree,” I said.

“No decking the halls,” Lee replied.

“Apart from his bedroom it didn’t look like anyone lived there.”

“He reads, takes photographs, and listens to music. That’s all we know.”

“Not all. He’s a good photographer and he reads a lot.”

I decided the music thing bordered on creepy and left it alone.

We climbed back into the car.

“We’re going to Best Buy. Carla and I will buy him a Kindle you two can buy him a case and light,” I said pulling away from the curb.

Christmas solved.

I decided on the scenic route from Doc’s to Fair lakes shopping center in Fairfax. Didn’t want to risk seeing Doc on his way home.

“I’ll drop you back at your car when we’re done here,” I said as I pulled into a car park across from Best Buy.

“He does celebrate Christmas, doesn’t he?” Lee asked. “Nothing indicated Christmas in his apartment.”

“Did you look inside his closest?”

He shook his head. The four of us stood in the icy cold outside the car.

“There were gifts wrapped in red and gold paper at the bottom of his closet.”

Lee smiled. “Let’s go get his presents before we freeze to death.”

“And I have to get home and cook dinner - can’t very have nothing to offer when I invited the man!”

….

To be finished at some point (maybe)

And even though it all went wrong...

2011-12-31T20:07:00.000-08:00

The first page of killerbyte - the first book in the byte series and the first time anyone met me.

Chapter 1

“Jaded”

You’re gonna die – you bitch!

I looked at the words sitting alone on the expanse of white. A ridiculous thought occurred to me. The words were innocent. They had no volition. Just photons squirted out by a display system.

“Uh huh,” I said to myself. It was a shame this moron couldn’t see my eyes rolling. Woo hoo, someone else wants me dead. I held the cursor poised over his idiotic nickname, Addictedtolove, waiting. Sunday nights bring out the miscreants; the later it is, the worse the behavior. It was almost Monday.

I’m serious. You are gonna die.

I typed a reply, I’m sure you are, bye-bye. Then hit the twenty-four-hour ban and watched him disappear. The chat room went quiet; to enjoy the moment I clicked off Real Player and with it, the latest Grange album I’d been listening to. The room plunged into deep silence. I stretched my legs out under my desk and tapped away at the keyboard. What’s that now, Stormy? Twelve death threats? I looked up to see her answer on the screen.

Yup, she replied.

I’d set a new record, the most death threats received in one night. Excellent.

I typed, well, that’s me for the night then, best check my doors and windows.

Stormy replied, LOL. Talk tomorrow.

I shut down the computer, not tired, but not interested in sitting at my desk all night either. The house creaked and grumbled like an old man settling into a rocking chair.

I prowled around the house, both upstairs and down, checking every window, door and deadbolt. It wasn’t fear that motivated me. It was boredom. Funny really, boredom wasn’t something I tended to suffer from. Perhaps I was wrong about the boredom. Maybe it was me being just a little sick of my own company. It sure as hell wasn’t empty threats from chat room weirdos. I mean, what were they really going to do? Turn up on my doorstep and shoot me? I think not.

I live outside a very small town, west of Lexington, in Rockbridge County, Virginia; more an old village than a town. It’s a long way from anywhere and not the type of place where one has unexpected visitors.

I stopped thinking about chat room weirdos and made a firm decision.

In the morning, I would drive north and visit Mac. What I needed was fun, and he was the perfect person for the job. Mac was fun with a capital F. It didn’t hurt that he was drop-dead yummy either.

Half way up the stairs, I heard a car door slam, followed by heavy footsteps moving in the direction of my back door. The chat room screen flashed in my mind. People I know would not be visiting at this hour of the night. I scurried up the remaining stairs to my office, snatched my gun from the desk, and crept back down. The kitchen light was out, but from the glow of the security lights outside, I could see the silhouette of a head through the back door’s frosted glass window. A stupid rhyme popped into my head, ‘One two, they’re coming for you, three four, don’t open that door’. I slipped through the darkened room and stood on the hinge side of the door. It took conscious effort to keep my breathing calm and mind centered. My body was willing to react without the go ahead from my brain and controlling the twitch in my trigger finger wasn’t going to be easy; it didn’t like being disturbed in the middle of the night.

The door handle moved, keys rattled. The door handle moved again, this time twisting back and forth. The frame groaned under applied force to the door. Keys rattled once more and the handle now moved freely, unrestrained by the lock, but the secondary deadbolt kept the door from opening and seemed to annoy the person outside the door. It was almost ghostly as the handle twisted back and forth, even if mortal cursing emanated from the dark silhouette. My cell phone rang in the other room.

I backed into the living room and answered the call as I kept my gun trained on the door. I had to wonder how and why someone had keys to my house, as I thanked God for the extra deadbolts that this person didn’t expect to find.

She tied you to a kitchen chair...

2011-12-28T23:16:00.000-08:00

In keeping with the current trend... may I present the first page of Terrorbyte:

Chapter One

If That’s What It Takes

“Are you sure this is the alleyway?” I stared down the dreary lane, hoping Lee would say no.

The whole place reeked of urine and discarded syringes. With a sense of foreboding, I pulled my badge from my pocket and hung it around my neck by the lanyard. My eyes flicked up and down the close walls of the alley, looking for cameras. I spotted a bracket that may have once held a camera. How handy.

A heavy bulletproof vest hung from my arm. Begrudgingly, I pulled it on. They were uncomfortable and I preferred not to wear one unless absolutely necessary. Lee already had his on. They were definitely better suited to male bodies.

“This is the one she said,” he replied, and slung his badge over his head. Lee didn’t seem in any hurry to venture in.

“This is exactly how I imagined my Saturday morning would be,” I said with a wry grin.

“Yep, me too. Life is good.”

“Where’s the nearest camera?” I asked.

“The bank, beside the alleyway. They have two cameras located on an outside wall, both covering the street.”

“If we don’t find anything we’ll go visit the bank. We might get lucky with their footage.”

Lee nodded. I was tempted to abandon the alley in favor of the bank right off.

I pulled the hair tie from my ponytail, scraped my hair back off my face and retied it higher and tighter. I felt a prickling sensation in the pit of my stomach. Adrenaline surged.

“Ready to rock?”

“Right with you, Ellie.”

I stepped into the deep shade of the brick buildings that surrounded the alley, took a breath of cool air and decided it might be a pleasant place to spend an hour. A blast of strong urine odor hit the back of my throat and I changed my mind.

Lee flipped out his notebook and scanned a few pages. “The girl, Rose Van den Berg, said she looked back and saw a blue door with chipped peeling paint.”

The door nearest me was a rusty red so I continued walking. Lee caught up in two strides and fell into step. The next door was a faded green showing patches of pink undercoat. We glanced at each other and moved on, noting two large dumpsters against the opposite wall just past the green door. At the end of the shadow-shrouded alley were two more dumpsters. I took an unfortunately large breath – stale, foul air caught in my throat, making me choke. I coughed into my elbow, trying to limit the noise and not hack up a lung.

I looked left: a blank brick wall rose up blocking out the sky. No windows or doors broke the monotonous wall. I kicked at discarded fast-food wrappers tangling around my boots.

“There it is.” Lee said. His notebook was gone, in its place a Glock 22.

We were about ten feet from the door. Above our heads were small frosted louver windows. I counted three windows. The door appeared to have an opaque glass panel at the top, but on closer inspection, it was dirt that obscured the glass. I removed my gun from my hip holster: it was time to see if this was the place the girl remembered. The place she said she was held captive and the last place she saw her older sister.

We approached the door with caution. If the shit hit the fan there was no cover. We’d be in the open until we reached the dumpsters.

Lee knocked. We both stood to the hinge side of the door, against the grimy brick.

Inside, someone shouted. The words were unintelligible. Maybe it wasn’t English.

Lee knocked again.

Another voice called out.

Again, I couldn’t understand the words.

I shook my head at Lee.

He reached over and knocked again, this time he followed up with a deep bellow, “FBI. Open the door.”

Noise erupted. Yelling. Shuffling. Panic.

I've seen your flag on the marble arch...

2011-12-27T09:43:00.000-08:00

Because she said I could - and while Cat's delighting in the knowledge that she finished the edits for Flashbyte - here is the first page of EXACERBYTE. (First page and a little bit, I didn't want to cut it off mid-sentence or anything silly.)

Chapter One

Every Intention

My phone chirped like a demented cricket. It was the second call in two minutes. Demented crickets are never good. I pulled over to the shoulder and stopped. Cars whizzed by me. The phone chirped again.

“SSA Conway.”

“Ellie, Chrissy here. Just reminding you about the high school visit.”

“I hadn’t forgotten – there’s plenty of time yet.” I checked the time on my watch just to be sure. “I’m dropping by Cassie’s then I have a few things to do. I don’t have to be at the school until later this afternoon.”

“Tell her she’s invited to my place next weekend. My turn to cook for us all.”

“I’ll pass it along.”

I dropped my phone on the passenger seat and pulled back into the traffic.

Ten minutes later, I parked in the driveway behind Cassie’s Subaru. Icy rain splattered from the gray sky as I cleared some mail I noticed poking from the mailbox. Clutching a few letters, I wrapped my jacket tighter against the cold wind and hurried to the front door.

I knocked and waited, shuffling from foot to foot to keep warm. I knocked again. There were no signs of life beyond the stained-glass inset in the door.

“Cassie!” I called.

No reply.

I walked along the porch. The curtains were open. It was difficult to see into the room; even weak winter light caused too much glare. I cupped one hand against the window and placed my eye up to it. No one moved within. I knocked on the window as I peered. For a second I thought I saw something moving by the living room door. “Cassie!”

There was a skittering of paws on wood. Suddenly Roscoe’s face was pressed against the window, his huge paws on the windowsill. Tongue lolling.

“Roscoe! Sit!” The large dog dropped to his hairy backside, tongue still hanging from his open mouth. He wasn’t the brightest of dogs but he was sweet.

He’d left a large reddish smear across the glass. I craned my neck to see if the dog was bleeding but couldn’t see anything. I jogged around the back of the house, letting myself in the back gate. Still no sign of human life.

I pulled out my cell phone and called Cassie’s cell. From where I stood I heard it ring. It had to be in the kitchen. I hung up before it went to voicemail and hammered on the solid back door. The only noise beyond was the dog tearing across the house and sliding into the kitchen cabinets.

It just wasn’t right. Cassie never left without her cell. Her car was there. Roscoe was in the house, not in his centrally-heated dog run. I counted rocks in the garden beside the back porch until I found the hollow one and the back door key. I knocked, turned the key and handle and then called out as the door swung open.

Roscoe hit me like a freight train, knocking me back. I scrambled to my feet and wiped my slimy hands down my jeans. “Damn drooling dog.”

Roscoe bounced around me, slobber flying.

“Sit!”

He plopped like a stone sending a cloud of fluff into the air. His yellow fur was stained red in patches. His large hairy feet were matted and messy.

“What’s on you?” I held his collar and leaned down. There was no mistaking the smell. “Blood.”

I couldn’t trust the dog to stay, so with a firm grip on his collar and my Glock in the other hand I started searching the house. We were in the laundry. I followed his dark footprints into the kitchen. My eyes scanned the immediate area. My nose prickled at the smell of fresh blood. On the corner of the kitchen counter, there was blood and long strands of dark hair. Blood dripped down the front of the cabinets. I held the dog tightly, stopping him from putting his hairy feet in any more evidence.

Above the dog’s panting, I heard a click. I closed my eyes and concentrated. A door clicked shut. Someone was in the house. Dog, gun, no hands left for the phone. I crouched down next to the dog and pried my cell from my belt. This wasn’t going to work. I stood up and put a leg over the dog, successfully trapping his head between my knees. I managed to send an emergency call to Delta A. An open line was all I needed. I slipped the phone into my shirt pocket.

“I hope you can hear me. I’m at Cassandra Smith’s home in Reston. Possible home invasion. There is blood all over the floor. Can’t find Cassie. I need back-up and paramedics.”

Voices jumbled in my pocket. Sam’s overrode Lee and Chrissy’s. “We’re on our way Chicky Babe. Notifying local police.”

I know this room, I've walked this floor...

2011-12-26T11:26:00.000-08:00

Because Cat is trying to get back into finishing the edits for Flashbyte - she said I could share the first pages of all four bytes so far. Working backwards from Flashbyte - the newest byte which is due for release in Feb/March 2012.

Flashbyte: Chapter One

Gotta get away

“You’re a smarmy piece of shit,” I murmured under my breath. My mouth was dry. I could barely swallow. Every nerve in my body was on edge.

I took a swig of water from my canteen. The cool liquid fought my tight dry throat until it won and forced its way down my esophagus.

“Demelza my dear, you spoke?” Ameer’s voice oozed artificial sweetness as he turned toward me.

I shook my head and bit my tongue.

What was keeping Dion? It was supposed to be as a short recon trip. He was late and it was driving me to distraction. Wouldn’t have been so bad but I was stuck with Ameer, and the greasy sonofabitch turned my gut. He expressed his views on female operatives working inside Iraq with open derision and no regard for my position or training. If it were possible to like him less I would have after that.

My eyes refocused taking my brain with them.

Heat rose from the sparkling sand. From where I stood within the thick -walled building the outside looked bright and hot.

Dion emerged from the sand as a dark silhouette against tawny beige. My ears filled with pleas and shouting. A chill raced up my spine sending cold barbs into my bones. Wind blew grit across the open landscape. Dion blurred.

It was all wrong. Beads of icy sweat trickled down my face.

Panic rose on a tidal wave of adrenaline.

With a jolt I was awake. My damp hair coiled around my neck like a noose. It wasn’t the first time I’d woken like that. I doubted it would be the last. My dreams were trying to kill me. The Freddy Kruger aspect made my skin crawl. A cell phone buzzed, loud and insistent. The display flashed, illuminating the clock on the screen.

“It’s zero-four-thirty. This better be good.” I shook off the remnants of the nightmarish reenactment of a past life.

“A woman was found strangled in a parking lot an hour ago.” Lee paused as if collecting his thoughts.

I waited.

“She was carrying identification,” he said, his voice sounded a little stressed for so early in the morning.

“Good, that will make it easier for police,” I said sitting up and turning on the bedside lamp. “I’m awake. I’ll play your silly game … who is she?”

“You,” he replied.

“Nope. Don’t think I’ve been strangled tonight, try again.”

How life mocks my waking state.

Death by dreaming.

Glad I don’t live on Elm Street.

Your faith was strong but you needed proof

2011-12-25T16:35:00.000-08:00

I read Cat's blog this morning. Guess now her bad mood is explained! Christmas was pretty well fucked by emails received on Christmas eve. Nice.

After reading that, it occurred to me that I'm not the only one with trust issues.

The first publishing company that signed Cat went belly-up seven days before the supposed release of killerbyte. That was when she met Jeffrey Deaver and he gave her some great advice. Oddly - the two books he signed for her that day have both mysteriously disappeared.
That's beside the point. The point is he offered some advice and she heeded it.

What happened next... you all know what happened next Penguin NZ said she wasn't kiwi enough. (Makes me laugh every fucking time I think about it.)
A chance meeting via Barry Eisler's forum led to Cat signing with Rebel.

Three books later and right as the 'last' lot of edits are underway for the 4th book in the series, it looks like Rebel will no longer exist in its current form. She has no idea if the 4th book will ever be seen or if she should even bother finishing the edits. (Which she will, despite not wanting to write at the moment - because she just will.)
The last six months have been super shit and this is not unexpected but happening with more haste than Cat realized.

Which has left Cat wanting to kill.
Seriously, twice?
Will she ever trust another publisher?
Doubtful.

At least this time there won't be a six-eight month fight to get her rights back (if indeed it comes to that - because right now... nothing is certain.).

The crazy thing is - Cat's books should be selling like hot cakes... they should be. And they're not. Which pretty much means the publisher is not doing what they should be doing.
So, big changes maybe the answer... except these big changes may mean starting all over again and wiping the last five years of work. It might be years before anyone sees this series again. Because this is the SLOWEST industry in the world. And also because Cat doesn't believe that agents who didn't want to know her five years ago will want her now.
Sure on a good day she knows she's a fucking excellent writer... but on a normal day... why the fuck would they be interested now?
Where's the proof?

Proof!

Not - "of course things have changed blah blah blah.." because we ALL know that it's luck and timing. LUCK.
Fucking ridiculous that careers are made and broken on something as intangible as luck.

It's not like the real world where you work hard and reap rewards... this is totally giving yourself up to what someone else wants today. It could change in five minutes. It might change by the time you hit send on the email.You miss a fucking comma and you're screwed.

Up shot is... I may not exist for much longer. So get those books while you can!
It's not that Cat will stop telling my story, it's that there might be no one publishing it.

Right now... I'm going to go find Delta and let them know. Then we're going to the range. Something needs to die ... it should be a couple of dozen targets and not an actual person.

Ellie.

Heads up!

2011-12-23T10:58:00.000-08:00

Heads up:

There is some big stuff happening career wise for Cat Connor, so right now is a really good time to grab her books. I don't know what's going to happen over the next few weeks or which direction she is going in, just that it's new... if you had an inkling that you'd like to read her work then sooner rather than later is best! Really - going by the reviews you'd be mad not too. :-)

Get the Byte series now!!

And the Byte Series is all about me!

You really need to go there!!

Just for fun.... tell me what you think!

2011-12-14T01:25:00.000-08:00

Howdy girls and boys,

How's the pre-Christmas crazy going for ya?

Lee has the crazy's big time. Had to give him a time out yesterday. In hindsight that might have looked kinda funny to outsiders - lucky it happened in the bullpen.

The man was losing it. What else could I do?

Back to the topic at hand. Every now and then people ask me questions about my team - sometimes they're personal questions about Rowan. I'm sure you understand that I'm not about to talk about my personal life here or anywhere. It just feeds the trolls and mouth breathers, and no one (certainly not me) needs that. But one of the most common questions is... "Where'd the Kevin Costner thing come from?"
The only way I can answer that is with a "Guess you had to be there?" - it's just the way Kurt is - his whole manner, the way he wears a suit - that intense look in his eye and how fast it can dissolve into a cheeky grin. (This goes no further, yes? Don't make me come for you!)

It's also the way my mind works. I make associations - that often get me into trouble. Hence I call Kurt Doc more often than Kurt because the K makes me wanna say Kevin. (Not even close to being sane!)

Now I work with Lee, Sam, and Kurt on a daily basis. I'm sure you all know who they remind me of.
(Did I just hear Kevin Costner, LL Cool J, and Sly Stallone walk into the room?)

Not all of you will see the Stallone thing. But when you get Lee in full flight - right before he goes all rock star there - is this moment when he looks like a cross between young Sly Stallone and a young Richie Sambora.

But seriously, who doesn't see the LL Cool J meets Denzel Washington thing Sam has going?

If you tell the boys I said this, and they'll laugh and probably talk to Kurt about having me committed. Although if he had any clue about the Costner thing he'd have me committed on that alone!

You know who the boys remind me of.

Who do you see when their names come up?

Recently I got told I reminded someone of Cameron Diaz. Now that was amusing! :-)
Not seeing it myself.

Ever wondered what would happen...

2011-12-09T10:19:00.000-08:00

If you forgot the people in your life?

Would you try to remember or would you walk away and live a new life?

How hard would you fight to bring your memory and life back? What would you miss? Really, if you don't remember - do you miss anything?

I have a feeling that if you don't know what you're missing you don't miss it.

It's like people who are abusive to their spouses and children - when the spouse and kids leave, move on with their lives, what's left?
An angry asshole who has no clue. Do people like that miss the relationships with their kids? I doubt it. They never had a relationship to miss. They never saw the awesome or felt the joy that comes from being a parent or partner. So the anger and the nastiness that oozes from those people isn't because they miss their family, it's because they can no longer control their family.
Tis the season to beat the fuck out your spouse and kids - Christmas time causes a spike in family violence every single year.
I don't get it.
It's not like you didn't know Christmas was coming... it happens every year.
Less alcohol and more earlier planning and intervention are required.
But that won't stop it.
If you are a victim of family violence or a perpetrator of family violence - there is help out there.
If you know someone who abuses, belittles, bullies, beats their family - do not condone this behavior by doing nothing. It's not okay.
Step in. Man up. Stop the cycle.
If you can't do it alone take the police... truly they don't mind. You are not being a bother. Just call. They would sooner be involved early than too late.

Here are some numbers use them, get help, and LIVE!:
New Zealand:

New Zealand Police on family violence

Are you Ok?

Shine

WINZ family violence intervention program.

United States:

National coalition against domestic violence

Stop family violence. - hotlines

The hotline.

If it is an emergency dial your local emergency police number.

Just in time for Christmas...

2011-11-30T15:42:00.000-08:00

Howdy.

Writing a blog in Firefox has great annoyance potential. It really does. Hit enter and the cursor goes to the beginning of the line - but when you start typing, it's where it should be! Stop messing with me dammit.

As we slide merrily into winter here in northern Virginia it's the first day of summer in New Zealand. It's also the day Cat released her first ever kids book - and what better place to plug it than here on the Butterfly Foundation Blog.

Like the kids we help through the Foundation ex-racing Greyhounds need help too. They need help to live a life outside of the track and families to love them.

As a lot of you will know, Cat and her family adopted an ex-racing Greyhound in June this year. His name is Romeo, he's now 5 years old and living the life a retired racer should.
Getting to know Romeo stirred a desire to tell kids stories about Greyhounds and about him in particular. Greyhounds are smart, elegant, loving, lovable animals who are a true delight to live with.

The first two stories about Romeo are in the book "Romeo and the Chicken."
First there is "I am Romeo." A story about Romeo and Missy the fat grey cat and how they came to be such good friends.
The second story is "Romeo and the Chicken" a story about Romeo, Cleo (his Greyhound best friend), and their little humans.

This book is suitable to be read to any age group - kids over 7 can probably read it themselves with support. Even a trial group of 12-year-olds loved the stories.The book is printed in full color and contains lots of pictures.

Cat is considering other stories featuring Romeo and Cleo, as there is an endless amount of subject matter!

Here's Romeo inspecting his new book:

He is understandably rather pleased with himself here!

So if you know any dog and cat loving kids and you're looking for a Christmas gift... check out Romeo and the chicken.

Some pictures that amuse me...

2011-11-25T15:28:00.000-08:00

Okay so not amuse exactly... but more entertain and perhaps aided in the survival of several family members at Thanksgiving dinner - because I was distracted. Let's face it, Thanksgiving without Rowan (or Mac) and with the brother-in-law from hell and the mother-in-law I can't give back no matter how much I try - requires help... and whatever keeps people alive seemed to be the way to go!

Just because I can and well... damn!

Who wouldn't?

Uh huh.

Well I wasn't, but someone was! Not naming names here... but MIL should point you in the right direction!

Then I saw this... and the thought of pulling a pink Glock almost had me in hysterics. Can you imagine the look on Lee and Sam's faces?? Really, it'd almost be worth trying to get my hands on one!!

Pure awesome coated in candy!

Hope y'all survived Thanksgiving.

And a special picture for Rowan:

Ellie xxx

Thanksgiving already?

2011-11-23T19:34:00.000-08:00

Howdy.

I'm actually taking some time off to spend with family this Thanksgiving. I know, shocking! Usually I work through... usually I choose too.

This time I bowed to Carla's wishes and we're having a family Thanksgiving. FAMILY. You know what that means right?
That means Mac's family too. Despite the Protection Order against Eddie my loser brother-in-law, which sadly has expired and there has been no need to renew it. Eddie has kept the hell away from us since Carla came into the family - the whole protection order thing caused a HUGE issue with Beatrice (The mother in law from hell), which was brilliant... and kept her away too.
But now, Carla wants a family Thanksgiving.
AND, she's suggested in her special teenage way that I lock my gun in my room.
Seriously?
I don't see that working.
But we all know what Eddie does to me, just by breathing... so maybe she has a point? Guess she forgot that we eat with silverware... lot's of nice sharp blades involved. As much as I don't like knives I'm willing to make an exception to silence Eddie.

I've got Dad lined up to run interference - it's his job to keep Beatrice away from me and Eddie in a different room at all times. Dad said Eddie has to sit at the table with us... I don't understand why Eddie gets to eat inside at all.
He's an animal. Animals eat in the yard.

So, Thanksgiving at our house... why? Because it's my house and I can kick everyone out whenever I want. (I also let Delta know that I'm available and they should feel free to call me in at any stage during the weekend. If it came down to it, I'd happily take Carla into work with me! She can hang in the bullpen while we work.)

This is me taking the weekend off.

The idea fills me with cold dread.

Happy Thanksgiving.

What am I thankful for?
My family, being part of Delta A, my friends and that I'm still alive. :)

I've got a secret...

2011-11-13T13:30:00.000-08:00

To be fair, I have a few of them but I'm prepared to share one. It's a big one so listen up.

Presumably by now you all know what I do for a living - yes? Excellent.
It's not the most glamorous job in the world. In fact it's lots of paperwork with splashes of utter crazy thrown in. (Mostly paperwork would make for one boring story - so I tell you about the crazy... that's where the humor and terror lies.)

To get me through the day and still feel human I use some amazing oils. (You thought I was gonna say drugs, right? Idiot!)
When I was in New Zealand I discovered Le'essience and the wonderful Gillian who creates and supplies these delectable oils and offers fabulous advice.

BeautiFuel Serum - this is the most fabulous facial serum I've ever used. I use it twice daily under my moisturizer. Also - rub a little through my hair. (Just devine.)

Luxurious Calm - My job can be a little stressful. (Just a little bit.) This oil is like magic - calm in a bottle. And it's got Ylang-ylang in it - which is my favorite oil of all time - it smells so fantastic! When Carla get's all chaotic and twirly over things she uses it too. If it works on a chaotic teenager you know it's good!

SleepEase - I often use this when we're traveling. Helps me sleep well and wake refreshed. Drug free sleep, gotta be good for you. Also, marvelous for Jet-lag.

Lush - Some mornings I need more than coffee. This is the stuff that perks me up and stops me biting the heads off small children and Delta A.

Lee, Sam, and Kurt would like to offer their heartfelt thanks to Gillian for their continued existence. :)

Do yourself a favor - go check out Le'essience!!

Research, research, research.

2011-11-10T13:07:00.000-08:00

I know Cat has a bee in her bonnet about research and how some writers seem to think they don't need to research certain things.
You do. I don't care who you are, you need to research. Even with all the research people sometimes get it wrong... but not wrong over and over again. Not so wrong that the book is total crap. Because if a writer did, I'd like to think it wouldn't pass muster... no publisher would touch it, and if by chance one did... then the editor would hurl it back at the writer and ask for a re-write.

Let me tell you, if you have not ever been pregnant - then you need to research!! You need to talk to an ObGyn and a few midwives before writing a scene where a woman who is less than 4 weeks pregnant has a scan and the doctor declares the fetus is perfectly healthy.
[So many things wrong with that scene - my head nearly exploded when I read it.]

If you are a male writing a female main character at least spend sometime getting to know how women think.
Don't assume - we over think, are touchy feely, have to hug everyone who cries, or are weaker in anyway.
Trust me when I say, I can kick your ass and I won't think twice about it.
Also - shit is funny. Okay, it's the way it is... shit happens you choose your response. I choose to find the redeeming amusement factor every time.

Give consideration to things like the weight of an assault rifle to someone who has never held or fired one before... they're not fucn light, if you don't know how to hold the rifle when firing you are going to be shooting all over the place, [dangerous and stupid] and you could hurt yourself [so now you're a liability, dumbass].
Not many people can pick up a rifle [or handgun] and hit the target first off. Especially when that target is moving. You need to take into account the size and weight of the weapon and the person using it.

And - for fucks sake, THINK things through.

How many 'old' men who can take a hit from a sniper in the leg and still run and then have a sniper hit the guys shoulder and the old man still be running? [On the flip side, I don't know any snipers who would've fucked the shot up that badly.]
Luckily the 'old man' didn't require any immediate medical attention.
WTF?
And better still was firing back. At what? Who knows... he sure couldn't see this 'sniper', so he was doing two things: drawing attention to their position and wasting ammo.
At this point I'd like to say: fucktard.

Also - if it's winter, and for whatever reason you are not dressed for winter [during some kind of apocalypse] go steal some survival gear from the nearest camping store.You need to be able to function and you can't do that without warm clothing and decent boots.
The basics: water, clothing, shelter, food.
Boots - yeah, that's right. You're going to be moving, on your feet for long periods, walking through God knows what. You need boots and thick socks. (And extra dry socks.)
While you're at it, get a good first-aid kit and learn how to use it.
Grow a fucking brain.

I might be done ranting. Until I remember something else that annoyed us.

What's really bugging me is I can't recall the name of the main character - yeah, I know, but she was a total non-event.

PS:
In case you're interested in what we carry in our car when we're on a job: A comprehensive first aid kit, a backpack containing warm clothes, boots, toiletries, cash, water, ration packs, a spare weapon and ammunition, Sat-phone.
Stuff get's added as we need it. But that's the basic grab-bag. We each have one.
We're lucky that we have a fully qualified doctor within Delta and an ex-army medic. But, we are all capable of administering effect first-aid.

Lawdy Miss Clawdy

2011-11-08T19:03:00.000-08:00

Now that I got that out... how is everyone?

I'm assuming you're all wonderful and doing fabulously... don't burst my bubble!

So far this week has been pretty good. Let's face it, I don't get to say that a lot. I'm making the most of it. Pretty hard to concentrate right at this moment - let's blame the rock star, shall we? Seems fair. It's his fault.
There is no amount of protesting that will change my mind. I'll give him marks for trying though.

I wanted to draw your attention this a truly awesome blog site: The Girl's Guide to the Apocalypse. This is a marvelous resource compiled by women for women. (that doesn't mean guys can't have a read - they can and they could use a lot of the information!)
By the time this project is finished I think just about every eventuality will be covered... so bookmark the page, follow the blog, and start preparing for the Apocalypse. :)

And speaking of bookmarks:

You can request a bookmark from Cat by tweeting her @CatConnor and saying SSA Conway sent you. Strictly first come first served.

Interrogation of Brandon Ford

2011-11-02T13:05:00.000-07:00

Howdy,

Please welcome our latest ~~victim~~ guest, Brandon Ford. Excuse me a minute - there seems to be some sort of kerfuffle in the cheap seats… I’ll be right back.

I’m sorry, Brandon. Sometimes the riff-raff gets a bit above their station. Let’s just carry on, shall we?

Don’t let the puddles or dangling wires concern you. The electricity comes and goes… nothing to worry about.

In the event of an earthquake/zombie plague/or random occupation - you’ll find emergency procedures taped to the bottom of your seat. Yes, just like a floatation device. You’ll also find a Glock 17 with a full magazine. Remember you cannot reason with zombies.

Comfy?

Ellie: What’s your favorite type of takeaway? (Yes, that means take-out in NZ speak)

BF: I order takeout at usually once a week. Since I’m a faithful connoisseur of fried foods, I often order the same thing: a plain bacon cheeseburger (none of that lettuce, onion, or tomato, blech), and an order of fries with cheese on the side. Sometimes I’ll substitute the burger for an order of chicken fingers with honey mustard, though. Mmmm. Comfort food.

Ellie: Describe your current mental status.

BF: I’m laughing out loud. Heartily. I couldn’t describe such a cacophonous calamity if I tried.

Ellie: I know how I do what I do… but how do you do what you do?

BF: Carefully, sometimes ass-naked.

Ellie: Could you tell us a little bit about your latest book?

BF: Decayed Etchings is a collection of 18 previously unpublished short stories. Even though I’m primarily known as a horror author, not all of the works included in this collection fall under that particular umbrella. They all, however, contain some dark element. I think it contains some of my best works and it’s a project I’m definitely proud of. Having my own short story collection has been a goal of mine for several years, so it’s a feeling of incredibly achievement to finally see it happen.

Ellie: Horror, choice or just the way it is? (Is art imitating life?)

BF: Honestly, it’s the only genre I could ever see myself being passionate about. As a kid, I dreamed of being the next Stephen King. I think we all do, in some way. I’ve tried fiddling with different genres over the years and I’m sure I’ll continue to do so, but my roots will always be horror or dark suspense. It’s where I’m most comfortable.

Ellie: Do you have a favorite coffee or tea?

BF: I don’t really drink coffee much (aside from the occasional cup of decaf). If we’re talking brands, it’s Folgers all the way. Maxwell House makes me gag. “Good to the last drop” my ass. I was never a tea drinker. I’ve tried and tried, but I can’t make myself like it.

Ellie: Walk us through a typical day. (Do you make sure you’re wearing your lucky underpants before you sit down to write, perhaps you prefer commando? While we’re discussing your underpants, boxers, briefs, or budgie smugglers…inquiring minds want to know. Okay so it was friend Dionne who wanted to know.)

BF: First of all, who is this Dionne?

Second of all, I’ve been asked the “boxers or briefs” question in a couple of previous interviews, believe it or not. And it’s briefs all the way. Can’t tolerate boxers.

A typical day in my universe is rather boring and most of the time uneventful. I stagger my way around as I try to wake up, fix myself a drink and something to eat, then spend some time with my Judith (those who follow me on Twitter and Facebook will know exactly what I mean by that). I’ll usually spend some time with a movie or a book before I sit down to write, which is usually late at night. I’m a night owl, so that’s when I prefer to do my scribbling. It’s when it’s most quiet, after all. I usually don’t get to bed until around 7:00 or 8:00am.

Oh and by the way, what the hell are “budgie smugglers?”

Ellie: Who would you turn gay for?

BF: Such an interesting question. Heh. For those I respect and admire greatly. For Jack Ketchum, for John Waters, for David Sedaris, for Frank Henenlotter. This is only to name a few. When it comes to my heroes, I have many.

Ellie: Who are your favorite writers?

BF: Jack Ketchum is my main guy. He’s been such a huge inspiration throughout the years and I’ve praised him in several interviews. I also love Richard Laymon, David Sedaris, Chelsea Handler, Bob Randall, and fellow small press guys like Mark Allan Gunnells and Alan Draven.

Ellie: Who inspires you to do better? (Be as corny as you’d like… just go for it!)

BF: I’m often inspired by those who do what they love and do it well—whether it’s writers, actors, musicians, anyone. If they’re good at it and confident about it, part of me is always effected and I immediately want to flock to my desk and start fine-tuning a piece or simply begin another.

Ellie: Do you ever put pants on your dog, Ellie, or budgie?

BF: Well, I don’t have a dog, but if I did, I think I might. If he’d let me.

Ellie: Describe your perfect day.

BF: Hmm. Well, I like to sleep (though I don’t do it as well as I used to), so I’d prefer to wake up late. Maybe go for a long walk, go for a swim, have a nice dinner. Then I’d spend the evening relaxing with a good book. I like spending quiet time. Guess because I’m a quiet kinda guy. I don’t do the bar scene anymore and have learned to take pleasure in much simpler things.

Ellie: Who is your favorite fictitious villain? Or are you all about the hero? Who do you love to hate?

BF: Ooooh, that’s a toughie. So many fantastic villains over the years. I’ve always been a sucker for a good femme fatale. But if I had to pick one favorite, I’d have to go with everyone’s favorite charred serial killer—Freddy Krueger. I was quite obsessed by the Elm Street series growing up and I’d just about hit the roof whenever there was a new entry. I still love the movies. They’re all classics in the genre. Well, with the exception of Freddy Vs. Jason and on that I’m sure we can all agree.

Ellie: Do you have any quirks?

BF: Too many to list. I’m not obsessive compulsive (at least I don’t think so), but I definitely have my idiosyncrasies. I think my biggest is people touching my stuff, especially my computer. It makes me insane. And nothing drives me up the wall than something not being where I know I placed it.

Ellie: All-time favorite movie and why?

BF: People always look at me like I have seven heads when I say this. But I’ve had the same favorite movie since 9^th grade and that’s Slumber Party Massacre III. Even have a big framed poster hanging on my wall. Though most would see it as a throw-away slasher, it’s always been more than just a genre movie to me. It’s a movie I often watched when feeling down and its taken my mind off my troubles. It’s a movie that I’ve literally seen hundreds of times and still have fun with.

Ellie: If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be and why?

BF: Florida, Miami in particular. I’ve been wanting to move down there for ages. Such a beautiful place with great weather. I know everyone says the humidity is a bitch, but I’m sure I could handle it.

Ellie: What is one thing you know about New Zealand? (Please do not mention LOTR or The Hobbit. Do you have any idea how many short people are in NZ right now? It’s freaking terrifying.)

BF: I know that’s where Dead Alive (AKA: Braindead) was filmed. And I know that’s where Peter Jackson was born and bred!

Ellie: Favorite Pizza topping?

BF: I usually just go for plain cheese, but I’ll get the occasional hankering for pepperoni.

Ellie: What were you before you became a writer?

BF: A retail sales associate. Thanks for reminding me.

Ellie: What is the most random thing you have ever done?

BF: I almost never do things randomly. It makes me nervous. I’m as far from spontaneous as it gets. I’m more of a planner. I always have to know what’s happening, why, and when. If not, I kinda get freaked out.

Ellie: If you’re not working, what are you most likely doing?

BF: Reading, watching bad TV, or spending time with my Judith.

Ellie: Who is your ultimate character?

BF: Probably “Amanda,” my villain from Crystal Bay. Why? Because she had lots of gnarly powers.

Ellie: Whiskey or Bourbon?

BF: Yuck, neither.

Ellie: Have you ever been to New Zealand? And if not, why not?

BF: No, I haven’t. I’ve never been out of the country, but I’d love to visit NZ some day.

Ellie: What’s in your pockets? (Or manbag, handbag, whatever you carry your stuff in.)

BF: Cell phone, wallet, keys, tissues, lip balm, iPod, books.

Ellie: Laptop, PC, tablet?

BF: I have a laptop, but I don’t really use it that much. I’m all about my PC.

Ellie: Ebook or tree book?

BF: Tree book all the way!!!

Thank you for being such a good sport!

You can catch up with Brandon on his blog: Sleepless Nights

Or harass him on Twitter like I do: @BrandonFord

Nerves?

2011-10-30T18:26:00.000-07:00

Ever been so nervous that you almost forgot to breathe?
Usually it's not an issue for me. I get nervous before things but not to the point I can't function. And mostly it's not nerves as much as it's an adrenaline rush. And with good reason.

This time however, I'm flat out nervous. It can't be adrenaline - there is no situation here. My weapon is happily holstered and I perceive no threat while sitting in my living room. (Admittedly that hasn't always been the case but currently there is nothing here that could pose a threat.)

It's an odd situation.

It's like I'm waiting for something to happen.

There is a good chance that the thing I did a few weeks ago has caused this 'oddness' now. It could be that I have picked up on someone's nervous energy. (Wouldn't be the first time.) Could even be that the person involved in the thing is nervous or exuding some kind of adrenaline filled energy.

Or it could be nothing to do with it, and be just phantom energy that I picked up from the universe?

I started telling Cat a story yesterday... as I was showing her the video clips I could tell she had no idea where it was going. Mean of me? I kinda enjoy how clueless she can be at times.
But, this energy started about then.
So, I'm wondering if its residue from the incident I was telling her about which is a way involves the thing. The Thing.
My life is a weird place.

Part of me wishes I could hurry the thing along, but not even I can do that. Well, I could, but it would probably change the outcome and no one wants that.

Cryptic enough for ya?

I rock enigmas right now.

So there you have it. Odd nervous energy starting to actually fill all available breathing room and nothing I can do about it yet.

I think, it's the waiting game getting to me... and not knowing what the actual outcome will be but wanting very much for it to be positive.

Friday: 5:47PM

2011-10-28T15:02:00.000-07:00

I declare it officially the weekend! Hooray!!!

We're expecting snow. I prefer snow to rain but only in the short term.

What plans do you have this weekend?

I was plan free until about half an hour ago. Plan free and loving the idea of hanging out with Carla - and kicking back. Sometime over the weekend I want to do a Q&A with the Butterfly Foundation kids. There's so many more of you now! I need to get to know a whole new batch.

Plan's change! Or should I say, plans emerge... they're not always fun either. This time, however, the change just might be fun. (Apart from the whining that will ensue from the much loved daughter about how she REALLY REALLY wants to go to a Grange concert, that is.)
Rowan called earlier to say he'll be in town this weekend. (I probably should've known that ... but sometimes it's hard for me to keep track of where he is and what he's doing.)
Apparently the 'what' is a concert.
I know, you'd think I would've heard about that ... because there is publicity and so forth. And I have this daughter who keeps tabs on such things.
Truthfully - I tend to get rather wrapped up in work and don't notice outside distractions until they call or literally bump into me.
Somehow this event has eluded the darling daughter too - probably means it's a private event. Which is fine... but won't stop the whining when she does find out. :)

So I can expect a visitor late tonight. ;-)

He's a singer in a rock an' roll band, not a God.

2011-10-27T11:23:00.000-07:00

I'm a little annoyed right now.

See the thing that no one seems to be understanding is … I’m fucking tired. It’s that simple. I am tired of fucktards making my life difficult. I am tired of seeing my damn picture in stupid magazines. I am tired of gossip columns.

I am tired of being that chick.

I date Rowan Grange. Get the fuck over it. He's a singer in a rock band. He's a person. He's not God. Clapton is God.
There is no need for hysterics and threats from Granges faithful ~~nutjobs~~ followers. And there is sure as hell no need for the ridiculous amount of media attention. Is there no real news?

Seriously, people, it ain’t that big a deal.

I’ve done bigger things in my life.

I am not arm candy.

Heard of the Butterfly Foundation? Heard of Mac Connelly? Yeah, he was my husband. We created the Butterfly Foundation to help kids of mentally ill parents, because kids need help too.

I’m a Supervisory Special Agent with an elite team for fucks sake - and the fact that it’s MY team is no little accomplishment.

Why am I angry?

Because yet another pus brained antidote for life sold pictures of me and my daughter to some filthy fuc’n gossip magazine and told yet more lies to go along with said picture.

So when you read the magazine and see photos of me and my beautiful kid eating lunch in a restaurant in DC I want you to think long and hard about the bullshit being used as captions.

Ask yourself this… How could someone taking photos using a telephoto lens have the first clue what we were talking about? How could someone half a mile away know if we were discussing Grange? How could some slimy antidote for life know whether or not I was annoyed with Carla for anything?

If you answered - “None of that is possible.” Then you get a gold star.
Burn the fucn magazine.

Oh, and while you’re at it…

Photos of Rowan and I at Dulles airport… can you say Photoshop? We were never at Dulles together.

Photos of me and the band on stage in New York… and again, Photoshop. I have never been on stage with Grange while they are performing. Pretty sure the thousands of people who attended that New York concert will happily say that the only woman on stage that night was Gracey.

Photos of me and Rowan in Rock Creek Park… now they were real but no one was angry and we hadn’t been fighting. Need I say more?

Oh, and the pieces on that gossip show on TV - about how Rowan and are engaged/secretly married/expecting a child/miscarried/heading for divorce/Cheating on each other/leading separate lives/adopting a child/fighting/buying a new home together… sadly, as exciting as that makes us out to be… none of it is true.

We’re dating.

We’re a little too boring for the paparazzi so they make shit up. Shit sells magazines.
The truth… not so much.

Why am I angry?

Because this crap impedes my ability to do my job. Because I don’t like liars. Because they’re printing lies about my daughter. Because apparently I am not legally able to shoot everyone who lies/takes photos/invades our privacy and quite frankly I think that’s wrong.

So, you want to know the truth?

This is where you will find it. Here on the Foundation blog. Not in magazines. Not on the television. Not on other blogs online but here directly from me.

This pretty much sums up how I feel right now and I think Anna does a brilliant job here btw:

The Interrogation of UL Harper.

2011-10-25T15:09:00.000-07:00

Good afternoon, I'm SSA Conway and today we have UL Harper in the hot seat. (Usually Cat conducts the interrogations but she's graciously allowed me to get involved with this series.)

I hope you’re comfortable. Don’t mind the flickering lights; we’re not the only ones using this dungeon. Just ignore the puddles of water… and those dangling wires. If you focus on me, I’m sure we can get through this as painlessly as possible.

What’s your favorite type of takeaway?

I don’t even know what a takeaway is. But if I were to guess I’d say pepperoni with jalapeño.

Describe your current mental status.

Kind of a loaded question. Right now I’m a little bit of this and a lot of that. As boring as it may sound, I’ve recently changed where I do all of my writing. It makes me pretty darned liberated and I’m excited for that. Also I’ve learned to watch less movies and read more comic books. Do not under rate your friendly neighborhood Spider-man.

Do you have a favorite coffee?

I don’t really drink the stuff but when I do I like it either black or the vanilla kind. I think I need to get out more.

Where did the concept for In Blackness, come from?

Different parts of it came from different places, but I’d have to say one of the main parts comes from doing research on 15 foot people and finding them in the bible. For whatever reason, I made a huge part of the story based around these people or things. So it’s kind of a “what if” story on steroids or HGH, any substance banned in major league baseball. That and needless to say, I grounded the story in anecdotes from my childhood and stuff like that. I drew off my experiences working with the kids in the after-school program where I work.

Walk us through a typical day. (Do you make sure you’re wearing your lucky underpants before you sit down to write, or perhaps you prefer commando?)

For the most part I don’t get started writing until after midnight. Right now it’s almost 1 a.m. and I still have about 1,000 words to write and I have work in the morning. To prepare to write, I read and read comic books. I used to watch more movies but I recently switched back to comics. It’s helped. Then goes the routine: I turn on the ceiling fan, open the window, reread what I wrote at about three or four in the morning, do a quick edit—for about an hour—eat a snack, and then get back to it. The rest of my day is spent at work or complaining about stuff.

Do you ever see yourself writing a vampire story? (Let me just say the only thing that should ever sparkle is a diamond…)

Yes, I can definitely see myself writing a vampire story. I’ve actually thought about it. Friends, it’s time for vampires to be rewritten. Not take it back to the old vampire mythology but make a slightly new one and yes, it needs to be creepy and mysterious. We need a vampire anti-hero. Like what if Wolverine was a vampire with a decent backstory? Something like that, maybe.

Who would you turn gay for?

Turn gay for? Wow, tough one. I guess the first guy who offers me over a million dollars tax free. Consider me taken after that.

Who are your favorite writers?

Vonnegut, Stephen King (though I don’t like his books), Cormac McCarthy (though his books aren’t the most entertaining), Clive Barker, Me, Joyce Carrol Oates, Don Delillo (even though I couldn’t get through Libra and Underworld was really about nothing). At one time I loved reading Chuck Palahniuk (Fight Club)

Who inspires you to do better?

My good friends Eric Greenwell and Willie Jo Becker. They don’t even know it. I may never tell them.

Do you ever put pants on your dog?

I put other things on my dog. No pants though. Next time ask me if it wears panties.

Describe your ultimate day?

I’m drunk and writing at my best. I’m feeling creative and lucid and my lady is just happy that I’m writing. I take breaks and read a complete book during every break. I take a nap and dream I’m having fearless, confident super sex. I wake up and get back to writing. My boss calls me and says take tomorrow off, paid. I say, okay. I finish my novel at around 4 a.m. and then go for a jog, and I sprint the entire thing. It takes me about six minutes to run two miles. I cure cancer on the way in. I wake my lady up, although I’m still sweating and she says she loves me. Then I go and finish a second draft of my bestselling novel...in an hour. The next day I sleep in. If you’re asking, that’s my ultimate day.

Who is your favorite fictitious villain? Or are you all about the hero? Who do you love to hate?

Although he’s really not a villain, I’d say the father dude from There Will Be Blood. Great character.

Tell us your publishing story… how have you found the industry?

The industry sucks. Don’t know what else to say.

Do you have any quirks?

Don’t know. I know that people find it odd that I don’t like most books I read or try to read. They just bore me, usually. What I’m reading right now is pretty cool, but usually books and movies kind of suck. Usually, I can just leave the theater or put the book down and not pick it up. There’s just some dumb stuff out there. Most of it.

All time favorite movie and why?

Off the top of my head, like I said before, There Will Be Blood. Why? I loved the first 20 minutes to half an hour with no talking. I hate when movies have dialogue just to be funny or do something for mellow drama. Cinematography (check), music (check), acting (check), storyline was unpredictable and questionable long after. The story had several layers, deep layers, and don’t forget it’s an authentic time piece, in flawless fashion. And oh yeah, the screen play is out of control good. It’s just sick. Most people I talk to don’t get it. But you don’t need to get something for it to be great.

What’s your preferred medium when it comes to writing – pen and paper, computer, typewriter.

Computer. I’m over paper. I still word process on my desk top but I read my work, really, on my tablet with its 10 inch screen. When I finish a novel I do the final reads on my kindle. No use for paper. I might use a pen when I do poetry. I might. I don’t even take notes on post its anymore. I do that on my tablet too. And all my organization is done with the computer. I just hate paper. I save all my work on email, desk top and flash drive. And, no, I don’t print to edit. Even when my proofreader sends her marks back I correct it using track changes on the computer.

How did you enjoy the editing process?

The most interesting part of editing was making decisions that didn’t need to be made. It happens all the time. You wind up changing things for the betterment of the story. But that has a dual meaning. An author has to realize that they’re writing for readers who want to get through a story and not “put it down”. For some reason people want to be able to hurry through your story, so you wind up editing that way. It kind of sucks. So you cut out all the fat or as much of it as possible. It kind of bugs but I agree. I don’t think people realize how many books packed with action and suspense that I put down because they bore the snot out of me. But editing is cool. Sucks. Love hate it.

If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be and why?

I’d live where I am right now but I’m already here. Really don’t like traveling. Renting stuff and finding where stuff is and getting on and off planes and packing and getting searched, not that cool, really.

What is one thing you know about New Zealand? (Do not mention LOTR. I’m serious – don’t go to the Hobbit place either!)

I know The All Blacks won the Rugby World Cup. I got to watch a couple of games. Pretty brutal sport. New Zealand is probably one of three places on planet Earth that I’d want to visit, and I don’t know where the other two places are.

How many novels have you written, both published and unpublished?

Two novels are published and then there’s a short story anthology. But all together there are five. One of them became the setting for In Blackness, and another is where I got a few of the characters from.

What were you before you became a writer?

I was born a writer

What can we expect from you next?

I’m going to finish this In Blackness trilogy. And then there’s this story I got in the works called The Miracles of Arthur Lowe. It’s awkward and weird and fun and juicy. Yes, I said it. Juicy.

Do you carry a notebook or keep one by the bed for those sudden brilliant ideas?

Nope. I don’t have ideas. I have epiphanies that stick with me for years. If your idea you can barely remember then that’s the problem with the industry right now.

What is the most random thing you have ever written with and on?

I wrote the outline and character arcs for The Flesh Statue using crayons on napkins from my old movie theater gig. I had them lying around my apartment for weeks, hoping nobody had to blow their nose or wipe their mouth.

If you’re not writing, what are you most likely to be doing?

Cursing, complaining, working with the kids, thinking about working with the kids, spending time with my lady. Maybe reading or watching a movie, checking out a comic book.

Whiskey or Bourbon?

Whiskey. Jameson on the rocks. If not that get me some pinot noir, but make it a red wine.

You can find out more about UL Harper in the following places:

Twitter: @ULHarper

website

I'd like to thank UL Harper for dropping by today!

Ellie.

Just because I'm ...

2011-10-23T02:07:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm me... with the whole SSA thing and having finally gotten used to people calling me ma'am, doesn't mean I'm not human.
Just putting that out there.

And anyway it was on my hard drive.

Let's try that again... On MY hard drive.

How is it that Kurt came across something that was on MY hard drive? Not only came across it, but thought it would be a smart move to mention it... I'm thinking not so smart. Not only has he mentioned it but he added to it. Is nothing sacred in Delta?? Nothing? Really, people, really? This is the way we're going to act from now on?
Like escapees from the nearest daycare?

I'm still trying to decide whether to tell you about it or not. If I do - then Kurt might shut up... or you'll all join him and the noise will be deafening. A conundrum.

Okay so this is the thing - this is what Kurt has been giving me shit about all night!

Dear Heart Throb,

This is not the smartest thing in the world to be doing, but hey, it isn’t the dumbest either. I could probably blame the weekend, a fairly stunning migraine, (in all honesty this is probably migraine meds - they're sometimes entertaining, we can be thankful I haven't knocked anyone on their ass) and wrapping up a horrendous case. Or, I could suck it up and say, I want to do this.

However it came about, the end result is the same.

So, hi – I’m Ellie Conway. I’m a ~~Special Agent~~ Supervisory Special Agent with the FBI (which means I should know better and if I wanted to I could find out everything there is to know about you) who dabbles in poetry. (Yeah, I know, right?) Seemed like a good idea to introduce myself. Not sure if it’ll stay, there is always the delete key.

I really loved the ***** ****** series. Like a lot of people I thought it was a tad short sighted of *** to can the series but hey, I’m sure the world needs more reality TV. (Have to say I prefer to be entertained by TV shows rather than watching the reality TV crap, but I’m beginning to feel I may be in the minority.)

Probably a good thing I spend more time working than I do watching TV but when I do get a chance to watch - ***** ****** was the perfect antidote for a rough day.

Sometimes you just need to kick back and enjoy the ride.

I’d like to think I had a point to this letter, but I’m pretty sure I don’t. I could waffle on until I find one though? Maybe the point was I really enjoyed ***** ******. Or maybe I'm just digging myself a big ol' hole. Perhaps I wanted to drive home just how much I really enjoyed your show or is it you that I enjoyed?

That was real smooth. Damn proud of myself.

I’m rocking the fan letter thing. Oh, man, that’s what this is, isn’t it?

I recognize it from the letters Rowan gets. Yeah, I'm that Ellie - the one who dates the lead singer from Grange, just in case you thought I was some crazed fan with a gun and a badge - rest easy.

Time to stop and go ~~make coffee~~ shoot something.

Glad you’re working on another series - ****** *** is all kinds of fun, sorry ***** ****** tanked.

Cheers,

Ellie

Kurt found this - because my laptop was open on the coffee table and he came over to check on me after a little incident... nothing worth mentioning just a thing that happened. The words in red are his because when I found them trying to blend into my letter I thought they should stand on their own merit.
The something I'm going to shoot better know how to run!

Can you run, Kurt? Can ya?

Turning the tables on Cat Connor

2011-10-19T20:34:00.000-07:00

I thought this might be fun. Cat has run three sets of interrogations on her blog over the last year or so... and I thought why not put her in the hot seat and get Cat to answer the exact same questions she has inflicted upon everyone else?

So here we have an Interrogation with Cat Connor:

What’s your favorite type of takeaway?

Fish and chips from Con's.

Describe your current mental status.

Pissed. Don't ask, just am. It's one of those days.

Do you have a favorite coffee?

Yes. I did. Then the ~~pusher~~ supplier stopped supplying. The search for a replacement took weeks - I had some seriously gross coffee during that time... currently it's Nescafe Dark Gold instant coffee or Robert Harris - (the one with the butterfly on it) for real coffee, depends what I can be bothered making really. But no matter which type of coffee... it MUST be strong and black.

Where did the concept for The _Byte Series, come from?

It didn't. The idea for killerbyte stemmed from a chat room incident (or twenty) back in the days of MSN cat rooms. Turns out Ellie wasn't done with me and still isn't. I had no idea I'd be writing a series when I started killerbyte.

Walk us through a typical day. (Do you make sure you’re wearing your lucky underpants before you sit down to write, or perhaps you prefer commando?)

I get up between 6 and 7AM (depending how tired I am), turn the PC on, make coffee, feed the cat, let the dog out, feed the dog, take my coffee to the living room and sit at my desk. I check email, etc until the girls wake up. Get them breakfast, make coffee, and get the girls ready for school, walk the dog, make coffee, clean up... then I start work usually about 9:30. I work until 2:30. Then it's time to go pick Breezy up, sometimes I take the dog for another walk - depends on him really, sometimes he wants two walks and sometimes one. Late afternoons are spent with the girls, making dinner, tweeting, sometimes working -depends what I'm working on, answering email, blogging. We sit down to a family dinner every night. Once the kids are in bed, I either watch TV - or read - or tweet while I'm doing both... or I work while I watch TV and tweet.

Do you ever see yourself writing a vampire story? (Let me just say the only thing that should ever sparkle is a diamond…)

Not ever. It would be a very cold day in hell before I wrote, read, watched a vampire anything. Zombie's are a different story. Working on some zombie fun at the moment!

Who would you turn gay for?

No one. I did give this a lot of thought and there is no one.

Who are your favorite writers?

Jeffrey Deaver, Janet Evanovich, Sara.J.Henry, E.J.Knapp, Alexandre Dumas, and quite a few others.

Who inspires you to do better?

My readers and my family. Oh God, that is so corny. I think I puked in my mouth - just a little bit.

Do you ever put pants on your dog?

When I first wrote this question (Which I believe was one Dionne came up with!) I could honestly never envisage a time when I would put clothing of any sort on an animal I owned.
All I can say is never say never... We now have a Greyhound. He doesn't wear pants (although, how cute would that be?) but he does have several jackets and jammies and shoes - because he got stuck to the path in the snow, so we got him shoes in preparation for possible snow next year. (Shut up!)
Trust me, it's not a choice thing. Greyhounds have zero body fat, thin skin, and thin fur - they need coats in cold weather!! (Who knew?? and who knew I'd enjoy making him jammies and bandannas? and again... Shut up!)

Describe your ultimate day?

It's going to have to be fictitious - try this for size...

Waking up to find all three of the Byte books are NY Times best sellers then getting a call from a producer regarding a TV series based on killerbyte all before my first coffee. From then on, the day would be a surreal blur of fabulousness.

Do you have any quirks?
What a ridiculous question, who came up with this? Oh, never mind. Shut up!
I don't think of anything I do as quirky. So what if I have to listen to music while I'm writing? It's not quirky to associate different artists with various characters. And having gnomes on my desk is not quirky. Where else would I keep Elvis, Tony and Dennis? It's not like you can trust gnomes so I wouldn't want them out of sight.

All time favorite movie and why?
Ummm. I like so many. Maybe Tears of the Sun

What’s your preferred medium when it comes to writing – pen and paper, computer, typewriter.
Yes to computer. Yes to pen and paper.

How did you enjoy the editing process?

I love it. It's a shit load easier than writing the story to start with... plus I have this amazing editor at Rebel E Publishers who knows how to make editing fun. It's not unheard of for me to choke on my coffee while reading her comments.

If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be and why?

Virginia. Just because.

What is one thing you know about New Zealand? (Do not mention LOTR. I’m serious – don’t go to the Hobbit place either!)
I think Ellie could've ditched this question? lol

How many novels have you written, both published and unpublished?

I'm going to have to count them now...
twelve... I think plus one short story collection called Torrent.
Of the twelve - three byte novels have been published, the fourth should be release Feb/March 2012.

What were you before you became a writer?

Insane.

What can we expect from you next?

You can expect Flashbyte in Feb/March.

Do you carry a notebook or keep one by the bed for those sudden brilliant ideas?

Yes, you never know when something will pop up that you just have to write down!!

What is the most random thing you have ever written with and on?

I wrote on the bathroom wall once with lipstick. Does that count?

If you’re not writing, what are you most likely to be doing?

Walking my Greyhound. Hanging out with my kids. Reading. When it's summer I like to tie-dye jeans bright colors. Eating, drinking, and generally having a lot of laughs with my glorious Admins.
And sneakily making notes while I'm doing other things.

Whiskey or Bourbon?

Bourbon. Actually if we're being really truthful - tequila. And if we throw wine into the mix... RED. Only RED. Preferably Brown Brothers - Dolcetto and Syrah or Cienna.

Is this the cutest thing ever or what?

SA Lee Davenport answers your questions

2011-10-18T13:00:00.000-07:00

Hey there, nice to see you.

I’m Special Agent Lee Davenport.

You might know me from such works as killerbyte, terrorbyte, and exacerbyte… probably seen me in Torrent too. I get around.

Ellie suggested I come on over and answer some of your questions. I have a list of questions from all you Butterfly Foundation kids.

Here we go:

Christa asked:

How long have you worked in Delta A and what do you do?

I’ve been part of Delta for 7 years. I’ve worked in Delta A since 2009. What we do is a little more complicated than how long I have been doing it. We specialize in serial crime. Not committing it - but catching those who do. We’d like to prevent it, but that’s not always possible.

Ray asked:

Do you like your job?

I’m doing what I love with the best team in the world. Yes, I like my job.

Brad and Josh asked:

What did you do before?

I served in the United States Army. I was a medic.

Declan, Andrew, Jerome, Ford, Sarah, Christa, Ray, and Jimmy all asked:

Have you ever killed anyone?

Why is it you kids always ask this question? I don’t really think it’s appropriate in this forum. When you’re all grown up you can ask me again.

Carla asked:

Why does Ellie call you Special Agent Ridiculously Good Looking?

How’d I know THAT was going to sneak in here? Carla, I think you know the answer to this!

It was a not very funny joke, that started at Christchurch airport. Y’all remember when we went to New Zealand? (How many of you can find New Zealand on a map?)

Some kids thought I was Tony Sharron from Grange. There was some screaming. I wasn’t happy. End of story.

If you want to know exactly what happened then you will have to read Exacerbyte (but not until you’re over 14!)

Serenity and Tara asked:

Do you have a girlfriend?

Personal questions now… maybe.

Roman, Mark, Brianna, Declan, Ray, Andrew, and Joy asked:

Do you always carry a gun and what is your favorite gun?

Figured this would come up, especially from you boys who were so fascinated by whether or not I’d ever killed anyone.

I’m a Federal Agent, I always carry a gun. I don’t think I have a favorite.

Remember kids - guns are not toys. People kill people. People playing with guns kill people. The consequences of accidental discharge are lifelong.

Christa asked:

What music do you like?

I’m a big Rolling Stones fan also really like Eric Clapton and Billy Holiday. There isn’t much music I don’t like. Ellie plays music all the time, which means I get to enjoy her stuff too. Been listening to a lot of Kevin Costner and Modern West and also Lorenza Ponce. Now, Lorenza is someone you should all check out. Amazing talent.

Carla asked:

Do you tweet?

Not as me.

Sometimes I use Ellie’s account.

Carla asked:

You tweet as my Mom?

Sometimes, kiddo. But I don’t reply to your tweets or DM’s.

Carla asked:

You’ve read my DM’s?

No. I don’t read your mothers DM’s. You’re secrets are quite safe.

Carla asked:

Are you sure?”

Yes, Carla. I’m quite sure. I only tweet from her account when Ellie is really swamped and asks me too.

Carla asked:

Can you get Ellie to take me to a Grange concert?

Nice try Carla - you and I both know that won’t work.

Carla, Christa, Sarah, and Joy asked:

Why does Ellie hate concerts so much?

She doesn’t hate them. You’re too young to know the answer to this question. When you’re over 14 you can read exacerbyte, then you’ll understand.

Carla squealed:

I am over 14!

Then go ask your mom!

Carla squealed:

Uncle Lee you suck.

And on that charming note I shall leave you to your day.

If any of you over 16’s would like to ask proper questions go ahead and leave them in the comment section.

Most cool.

2011-10-16T12:45:00.000-07:00

Yesterday - Cat spent the day learning how to format a manuscript for multiple eformats. She sat quietly with a how-to-guide on her kindle and the file open on the laptop - and it wasn't as hard as she thought.

She then worked out how to create a pretty cool looking cover.

I reminded her as she was messing around with the manuscript about the day I met Mac for the first time - face to face. Something we hadn't really told anyone about for a long time.

The story is called Quad espresso and a mochachino, and was originally published in a very pretty shiny journal in the USA in 2005 or 2006. I can't actually remember when. The journal is sitting in a box under my desk.... and yeah, I'm having too much of a lazy Sunday to go searching through boxes!

What we have now - is a newly formatted version of Torrent. With an extra story and the most gorgeous clickable table of contents. It's still priced at a very reasonable .99 cents.

Here's the new blurb:
Torrent is a collection of short _byte stories that add insight and depth to Special Agent Ellie Conway and her team, Delta A. If you’ve ever wondered what happens before or after any of the Byte novels then this is the collection for you. Maybe you want answers to the burning questions about how Ellie meet Mac, why she disliked her mother so much, how exactly does she know Judge Hartwell, what really happened to Santa and what really happened to Mac?
Also, if you’ve never met Ellie this is a great way to become acquainted with a kick-ass heroine and her psycho-prophetic ways.

The joy is - now Torrent is available in many eFormats including a very pretty ePub version.
So what are you waiting for?

I heard a whisper that Cat's thinking of revamping/tidying up some of her older works and then publishing it herself using Smashwords. Sounds like you all may get to find out where Director O'Hare came from and how she got to where she is now.
Funnily enough it's a story that everyone who has read it - loves.

Hypothetically ....

2011-10-13T11:27:00.000-07:00

If I double-tapped a ghost - what do you suppose the outcome would be?

You know how these odd questions can just pop into your head and demand answers, right? (That absolutely is my story and I'm sticking to it.)

Any ideas?

Apart from the fact that ghosts are supposed to be incorporeal - so that would lead me to believe that the bullets would go straight through and into anything behind it. (A wall, for example. Or maybe someones head.)

So if we don't worry about that bit at all and just concentrate on the impact being shot would have on the ghost itself.
Would it hurt? Would it upset the ghost? Or is it going to accept it because it probably deserved it?

Ghost: "Fair enough, I can't expect people to sit quietly by while I haunt the fuck outta them."
Me: "Run along then and take your ectoplasm with you."

Would it even notice?

Ghosty is standing about being all spooky maybe messing with the electricity for added effect. You ask it what it wants and why it keeps hanging around. Quite frankly the answer is less than you'd hoped for.

What do ya do?
Call a priest?
Call GhostBusters?
Or find yourself with a Glock in your hand... and before you really know it, you've double-tapped a freaking ghost?

There is an understandable spin off from opening fire in ones living room at what other people may consider to be NOTHING. (Something to take into consideration before pulling the trigger.)

If, say, this were a serious question - would the whole bullet to the head send a ghost packing?

I'm sure some of you out there know the answer.
Care to share?

And completely unrelated to ghosts and Glocks... how do you like the new layout?

Stay safe,
Ellie x

Tossing and turning...

2011-10-10T12:05:00.000-07:00

Yesterday Cat did something. She did something.

How that impacts on me is quite odd really.

It all started with me making a comment while we (most of Delta A) were playing the waiting game. I can't tell you what we were waiting for or anything about the operation. Let's call it classified, shall we?

Just know we weren't anywhere near home, and I made an unthinking comment. I know, right? So not like me. (Shut up!) I always knew that one day I'd open my mouth and my thoughts would fall out... in front of someone.
Well, it happened.

A discussion ensued. Mostly, that centered around Lee giving me a good deal of shit and ended with him telling me he thought there was something missing in my relationship with Rowan. Everyone has an opinion. Everyone! While he was on that - he told me the person I'd mentioned earlier wasn't who I thought he was.
Long story short: I jokingly asked if he was going to fix me up with his buddy. He reckoned he would if he thought I was serious. We laughed.

And Cat did something.

She really did.

We all know how panicky she gets over her work (my life), right? Prior to the release of exacerbyte she was a wreck - terrorbyte was a hard act to follow, the reviews were spectacular... hence the panic, self-doubt, and general terror (for want of a better word) when exacerbyte made it's debut.
It was extremely well received. So, the prior panic and disruption in the force was unnecessary - yes?

Did it go away?
No!

Has it lessened?
No!

So when she grew a pair and did what she did yesterday (which I am sure was simply to give me more shit) - after the initial excitement of getting a positive reply - the "OMG what if it's crap" panic set in.

Which led to her keeping us all awake all night. We're talking about Flashbyte. We're talking about the only one of the 4 byte novels so far that enlisted a "This is very good" response from her editor at Rebel, outright.

So while Cat went over and over scenes in her head trying to prove they were ~~crap~~ good to herself - NO ONE SLEPT.

I don't envisage a time when she'll ever take anything in her stride when it comes to work. She may look like she has - on the outside - but she hasn't. Self-doubt will always be the first to the table and that's okay as long as it doesn't ever prevent her doing the type of thing she did yesterday.

Because no matter how little sleep we all got... we're really proud of her and the way she writes our stories.

Some days are just like that.

2011-10-08T23:49:00.000-07:00

Ellie blogs about writing

2011-10-06T11:45:00.000-07:00

Actually she blogs about how I write (It's Cat) or how she thinks I write... not sure about this at all, but she is correct about how impossible it is to change things I don't like.

Sleepless Nights

It's a Glock get over it

2011-10-04T18:00:00.000-07:00

It's part of my work attire - don't act so freaking surprised when you notice the holster on my hip. Okay?

In all honesty I never gave much thought to what I was wearing.

Yes, I heard him say we were going to the movies... and I just don't get why it's such a big deal that I'm always armed. Hello, federal agent.

Ohhh, maybe I do get it...

A few days ago - before the unfortunate incident involving my shoulder - (that really didn't go over too well. Something about never wanting to that call again. Got a feeling my saying, "suck it up, it was my shoulder not yours." was the wrong thing to say.)

Anyway - a few days before that. I was away with work. It happens quite often. Short notice. We grab our shit and go. (Hence go-bags are kept at the office.)
Our case was moving quickly. I had zero time for proper goodbye phones calls or anything really. I got hold of my dad and let him know, then made a fast call to Carla to tell her Grandpa was in charge. (Nothing knew there, he's often in charge.)
And we left.
Two days.
No sleep.
No phone calls answered, unless they were work. No text messages answered. No email. We were moving a lot - it's just easier sometimes to block everything out.
So anyway - Rowan turned up at four in the morning, I'd been home about two hours. Finally got to sleep. Carla was staying with my dad. I'd been asleep for about an hour.
An hour!
I rolled out of bed as someone pounded on the front door and grabbed my gun before I crept down the stairs to see what the noise was about.
Imagine my surprise to find Rowan pounding on the door.
He was furious, yelling about all sorts of things all at once. I think steam did pour out his ears. He sure can string some interesting phrases together when he's that mad. I was beginning to think he was so fired up that he’d never calm down. All because I hadn’t answered my phone, or my messages?
This is the rock star who can be anywhere in the world while touring, and may not answer phone calls, texts etc for hours due to time zone differences? (Hmm I suppose that's different, huh? It's not like it's a surprise... I know he's overseas.)
Rowan stood there in front me and told me how terrified he was. (I kinda figured that out by the yelling and the look of relief on his face when I opened the door that disappeared when he saw the gun in my hand.)
No one had ever burst through my door yelling, not ever. No one had ever hollered about how much they loved me let alone from the doorstep. But then I’d never dated a rock star before. I think they're a special breed. lol
Then he stormed into the house ranting and then the most memorable part of the rant emerged. “That’s it, we’re going to live together! I can't live like this. This the last night you’ll ever be alone!”
Such passion. His reaction overwhelmed me, it threw me completely.
Hello! We live in different states. How the hell is that supposed to work?

All I could do was wait patiently until he calmed down and the yelling stopped. Then hope he bought my explanation. He did eventually understand. He also made me promise that I would never make him suffer for two days again. I think upon recalling it, they may have been two fucking days.
And I'm starting to understand the Glock thing.
He thinks it's his job to protect me.
Damn, that's sweet. Misguided as all hell, but sweet.

Captain Crash

2011-10-02T14:04:00.000-07:00

Sunday: How was the weekend?
We survived.
Yes, it was that good.

There have been a few rough cases since we got back from New Zealand. Rough, maybe an understatement of gigantic proportions. None of us have escaped unscathed. And to that... add one, often times, surly teenager!

But the latest idiocy - someone putting a 9mm round into my shoulder... truly sucks out loud.

Rowan is handling it surprisingly well. His publicist would like him to break up with me... it's an old song, and she never grows tired of playing it. I've grown very tired of hearing it. He's hard to get rid of... I haven't tried very hard though. Kinda like having him around.

Cat's had what seems to have been a good weekend.

Here's her blog from Saturday - still very relevant.

I know she was struggling with the dedication and acknowledgments for Flashbyte - but she seems to have a handle on that now. She's not talking about how or why but I know it's all coming together for her now.

There was one other thing - that I do know, because I overheard the conversation. (Hard not to, when I mostly live in her head... yes, mostly... deal with it - pretty sure we all know by now, that's not where I've always lived.)

Cat really wants to go to Bouchercon next year - in Cleveland. (I'm not even joking...) She wants to spent the first week of October in Cleveland. (Saying it again did not help.)
To achieve that on her own merit - she needs to sell 6000 books - in any format.

Help a girl out?

Anyone wanting to go to Cleveland ... obviously needs help. :)

Fun!

2011-10-02T10:24:00.000-07:00

Thanks Yvonne!! :)

Minding my own business, is dangerous

2011-09-29T13:44:00.000-07:00

You wouldn't think so, but walking down 10th yesterday morning minding my own business turned out to be just that, dangerous. Not impressed with the outcome.

So, here's how it happened:

I was walking back to the office, with coffee. I like to get coffee from the Firehook. Their double espresso - is pure awesome.

So, there I was carrying my coffee back from the Firehook at Columbia Square on 13th - heading to my office, minding my own business and something hit my right shoulder.
WTF?
I didn't bump into anyone, and there was no one who could've bumped into me.
Something hit me - kinda by my collar bone, just maybe half an inch higher.

Annoying.

Unexplained.

My coffee did not spill. (Lucky!)

I carried on walking. It wasn't until I lifted my cup to my mouth that I noticed my arm felt a little unresponsive. I switched my coffee to the other hand, let's protect that precious liquid at all costs.
When I tried to rotate my shoulder, to loosen it... it complained loudly. Sending sharp pain down my arm.
My brain said, "That's not right."

I kept walking. No sense being a drama queen in the middle of the sidewalk. It wasn't that far back to the office. I had quite the dilemma... I couldn't hold my coffee and make a phone call at the same time. I'm left handed phone user - which should've been fine, but I had my cup in my left hand!

Anyway I got to our building, set my cup on one of the large square bollards out front - they kinda make an attempt at planters but fail. Pull my phone off my belt, discover that to be quite painful. (I wear it on the front right, next to my gun.) Here I was right outside the building, so close to a few uniformed agents that I could asked for help... but that seemed so, well, dramatic. They weren't taking much notice of me, what with people walking past constantly and mine being a familiar face.

So, what to do? I leaned on the bollard/garden and called upstairs. I hadn't bothered to touch my shoulder but I was pretty sure the drip drip drip off my finger tips was blood.The sticky substance on my phone smelled suspiciously like blood. The thought that I'd done something monumentally stupid was simmering close to the surface.

Kurt answered his phone on the second ring. He went quiet when I told him I was outside dripping blood. Turns out he went quiet because he hung up and was RUNNING down the stairs. He flew out the door onto 10th.

No one hit me. Some bastard shot me. How fucn rude!

Now I have to type one-handed... and Delta are not happy, and woo hoo - I have my own protection detail. (Like that's going to fly for long!)

At least the shooter was shit. Must've been close too - probably in a door way, semi obscured... yeah, let's go with that. Maybe a silenced handgun. Possibly 9mm. It's not that big a hole.

Disgruntled lunatic? Fucktard?

I have to go now.

Ellie.

Killing the dead.

2011-09-27T19:05:00.000-07:00

Not zombies.

(Although... no,no,... he is not a zombie.)

There was an incident and it makes no sense.

Pretty sure everyone who attended was left feeling the same way. It makes no sense.

My husband is dead. I was there. Okay not when he actually died, because that was on an operating table at Inova Fairfax and they wouldn't let me in to observe. But he is dead.
In fact, I had him cremated. (Yep, there I go flouting tradition... pissing his family off and adhering to the terms of his will all at the same time.)
There is a headstone in a cemetery, and buried beneath it are his ashes.
It's pretty final.
Not many people survive death and then cremation.

So, the incident.

We all know Mac didn't go quietly - right? He talks to me -always has. Messenger windows were his thing for along time, then text messages from beyond, then I'd see him places. Once Carla did too... that was weird. Having Kurt hear a male voice come from the bathroom when it was me talking to a dead guy... that was weird.
But this... this is fucked up.

This was - ah, crap... this was this:

Hestarted to stand up, as he did, my hand wrapped around the grip of my Glock. Ilifted my arm. His face registered surprise.

“Ellie,don’t,” he said. I fired twice. My bullets tore through his forehead. Bloodsprayed across the back of the couch. The gun fell from my hand, dropping intothe coffee table and sliding across the surface to tumble off the edge onto thesilent carpet. I watched Mac fall in slow motion. He crumpled onto the floor,just missing the coffee table.

Avoice from the front door called out.

“Conway?”

“Livingroom,” I replied and sat back in the chair. I could see Mac’s blood all overthe couch. I could see the bullet hole in the wall. I fired twice but could seeonly one hole. Hot damn, now that’s impressive shooting.

Bootedfeet ran up the hallway from both directions.

Isaw the gun before I saw the man holding it. Sean stepped into the lit room,dressed head to toe in black.

“Youall right?”

“Sure.”

Hewasn’t looking at the couch or the floor or me. His steel grey eyes were on theright side of the room. Another man had come in behind him and he had the left.There were more feet out in the hall, going room by room.

“Clear,”they both said together.

Clear?Dead body. Hello. Blood all over the room.

“Didyou do that?” Sean asked tilting his head toward the couch.

Inodded. “I shot him.”

“Who?”He attracted the attention of the man with him. “Could be a wounded mansomewhere.”

“Ikilled Mac. Double tap to the head.” The words made no sense to me and I wasthe one saying them.

Seanfrowned.

“Whereis he?”

Oh,come on. Open your eyes.

“Rightthere,” I said pointing to Mac’s body between the table and the couch. I didn’twant to get any closer than I already was, just in case it wasn’t Mac butWhoopi Goldberg. My head was jumping about flashing between the present, mypast, and the movie Ghost. I didn’t want to have shot Whoopi. She was one of myfavorite actors.

Seanturned to the other man and said, “Stand down.”

Ileaned back in the chair until my head touched the leather.

Thesmell of blood made me feel sick. Its cloying stench permeated the room. Idon’t like the smell of blood.

“CanI get a drink of water?” I asked the armed man in black.

Hepointed to the glass on the table.

Ishook my head. “I don’t think that’s water.”

Sean picked my gun up off the floor and shoved it in his waistband.

“Whatnow?” I asked Sean.

“Now,we make this go away.”

Ikilled Mac. That doesn’t just go away. Or does it. The bloodstains on the couchstarted to shrink. “What the hell?”

“Everythingis going to be fine,” Sean said. I recognized his tone. I used it on Carlaoften enough, when she was upset or panicked over something. “Just breathe.”

“I’mokay.” Okay. Yep, I felt okay. I just put two bullets in my dead husband’s headand I felt okay. There were so many things wrong with that I couldn’t begin tocomprehend them all.

Theblood vanished. The smell evaporated. I stood up and peered over the coffeetable. He was gone. The only thing left was the hole in my wall. “I’m okay.” Uhhuh. Never better.

“Shallwe listen to the audio?” Sean offered.

Myhead nodded without my bidding. Audio. Sound bites. I just hoped I was going tohear two voices and not just mine. The doubt was there and building.

Hedialed into his office and then pressed a bunch of numbers. His phone was onspeaker. We sat down and listened. Me talking to someone. Crackling, hissing,and a voice reply. Me talking again. The same crackling and hissing thenanother reply. Definitely a male voice replying. We listened to the wholething. My yelling, his barely audible replies. What to believe?

“Canyou hear it?” I asked Sean.

“Yes.”

“Notjust me?”

“No,I can hear a male voice responding to you.”

Thevoice stopped with the gunshot.

“Hewas here,” I said. “I shot Mac.”

Seannodded. “I heard him.”

“Idon’t know how to process what happened here tonight.” Honesty tumbled from mylips. “I don’t know how to make sense of this.”

“Sittight. I don’t know either, but I’m going to figure it out.”

Achicken walked across the coffee table. My first thought was one of finality.My brain was over cooked and I was done. The very familiar chicken stopped,turned, and looked at me with beady black eyes. Her rusty brown feathers shonein the light. Her name rolled around my mind, stirring up memories of her beforeshe was nailed upside down to the door of my home in Mauryville. Abigail peckedat the pale table surface, pausing at the glass. She stuck her beak in andtasted the liquid. It didn’t agree with her. She shook her head violently anddisappeared.

Great,first, I shoot my dead husband and now my pet chicken, who I incidentally alsoshot, comes back from the grave.

Icurled my legs up underneath me. I needed a drink and I didn’t want water. Iwanted to know what was in the glass on the table. Something chickens don’tlike.

“What’sin that glass?” I asked.

Seanleaned over and sniffed it. “Tequila. You weren’t drinking?”

“No,Mac was.” And then Abigail tasted it and was highly unimpressed. Probably bestto leave that out.

Heturned to the other man and said, “Don’t touch this glass.”

Do you see my dilemma?
Can you imagine how Kurt is going to react to this?
This ghost thing has gotten out of hand.

Slighty unorthodox blog post... Romeo and the Chicken.

2011-09-25T13:13:00.000-07:00

This is your chance to read part of 'Romeo and the chicken' a book written for 5 very cool kids. (And my first real attempt at a kids book. lol)

Click on the pictures to see them larger!
Obviously this is not the whole story. Due to the amount of downloads (yes, I have been watching, and that means I have logged the ISP's and I can find you - just so you know.)
I have removed the parts of the story pertaining the children and I shall again draw your attention to the copyright at the bottom of this post. The copyright has been there the whole time... it's not new. Downloading parts of this story are a copyright infringement UNLESS you have permission and I've only given download permission to one person regarding anything posted on any of my blogs - and that is someone from GAP and she has it in writing.)

And that is some of "Romeo and the Chicken"

Russian roulette is for retards...

2011-09-18T15:45:00.000-07:00

But that's how you roll, be my freaking guest - shoot yourself in the head. As far as I can tell, that's one less fucktard for me to have to worry about. I am not going to be wasting my time trying to stop you.

Probably not the most politically correct blog title ever - and probably not ideal considering so many of the Foundation kids read this blog. Pretty sure you guys know my feelings on sheer stupidity by now, right?

Moving right along.

Rowan is still hounding me about going to another Grange concert - he assures me nothing bad will happen - he tried the "lightening doesn't strike the same place twice" line and I shot him down in flames. Hello - what about that guy who was struck seven times? Pretty sure Roy Sullivan would've disputed Rowan's argument! If you want to know more about the very lucky US Park Ranger from Virginia - go here.
Rowan changed tactics. He tried to convince me that hanging out with him on stage (is he insane??) or backstage (really I wanna look at his ass all night?... actually, that's not a bad view!) would be perfectly safe.
Hang on, let me enjoy the sound of a million woman sobbing when they read this... I'm pretty sure there would be a lot of women who would jump at the chance to hang out at a concert with Rowan. Sad for him that his girlfriend isn't one of them. I do have a pretty fucn respectable reason for my resistance.

Remember Christchurch? Not the earthquakes - although had I been at a concert during them, I wouldn't have been thrilled. No, not that. The kids, Hawk, the explosion, and the young woman I couldn't save - remember that?

Grange concerts (or any concerts) are not in my immediate future.

Meanwhile - it's the weekend, and I'm actually having one! :)

It's a Bon Jovi day...

2011-09-16T14:32:00.000-07:00

I've got way too much energy for the waiting game I'm playing at the moment... it's driving me nuts. (Okay, more nuts...)

Why people expect me to be patient - I have no idea... it's not in my nature. I'm not the sit quietly and wait type. If I were I wouldn't have accomplished so much.

I hate it. HATE it.

I truly dislike the lack of communication I'm currently experiencing. Questions from at least two weeks ago unanswered. Chasing people and getting half answers or no answer at all, no matter how nicely worded, is fucking me off.

Makes me antsy.

Makes Mac start talking again.

Just recently I've been doubting his motives... but not today. I think he's right. I think I should be looking around, putting some lines out and see what bites. I have nothing to lose. And they're particularly dangerous words.

Ones eggs should not be all in the same basket.

Who knows, it might be kinda nice leaving the house without a sidearm and a badge, and being a normal regular human being. I can hear you laughing... I can't imagine me doing that either. But maybe I'd like to give it a try.
It's very much a maybe thing at the moment.

And yes, this is all because a case has hit a wall and I HATE waiting.

Or maybe it isn't... perhaps it's time to take up a few of these offers. I do know it's not going to be a transfer to SWAT - talk about hurry up and wait. :)

Meanwhile... I go talk to Cat and help her finish a scene. I'll just show her the images she can find her way around it after that, I'm sure. It's all about having a little faith.

And maybe some Bon Jovi won't hurt....

Finally - I think she's got it!

2011-09-08T14:37:00.000-07:00

Afternoon boys and girls,

How is everyone today?

It's been a busy week for us here in Delta. Lot's going on, moderate to heavy case load. The usual.
Special Agent Ridiculously Good looking, Sam, and Kurt want me to say hi - so Hi!

Apparently, that's not funny. Uh huh. I hate to be the one who tells Lee, that, it's ALWAYS going to be funny.

The blog title? You wanna know what that means? I suppose I could tell you.

Cat's finished writing the 5th Byte novel - but she couldn't figure out something. It didn't matter how many times I tried to tell her, 'you started in the wrong place', she wasn't getting it. The thing she couldn't figure out makes sense when the story starts in the right place.
She must've finally heard me. Because she wrote a new first chapter... and - it works.

It's a little violent with it's imagery, but it works.

It's a lot freaking insane - but that too works.

Kurt is laughing - pretty sure he helped write that chapter.

That's all from us here at Delta A - we'll be back sometime.

- Ellie, Kurt, Lee and Sam.

Going around in circles...

2011-09-05T19:20:00.000-07:00

It's me Ellie - I know it says it's Cat who posted this, but that's because I couldn't remember my log in so I used hers. Really, let's not be surprised. I think you'll find I'm lucky to remember my name at the moment.

Seems to be that sort of day... circles ever spiralling and getting nowhere.

Not so helpful.

Not so much fun either.

Dizzy making really.

I blaming this or him:

My head was so heavythat if I leaned down to get my cup I knew I’d fall off the sofa. I watched myfingers open and close. I watched, but couldn’t feel them. Was there pain? Notthat I could determine. Heaviness, fog, stars swimming in front of my eyes.They needed to stay still.

I knew I was alone.That probably wasn’t good. What used to make sense seemed like hard work.

Slow motion. Sweaty,clammy, dizzy, sick. My left hand pulled my phone from my pocket. Who you gonnacall?

It took forever to findKurt’s number. The slowness frustrated me. I knew what I had to do but couldn’tseem to do it.

Forever became nothing.Time stood still. My thumb pressed the call icon on the screen. The phone rang.I couldn’t count the rings. I was trying but the numbers spiraled out of sighthiding behind the stars.

Then there was a voicespilling words. They weaved between the stars but couldn’t catch the numbers.

“I need you.”

His words jumped a tallbuilding and swooped around me. “I’m coming. Don’t move.”

Two words hovered rightabove the coffee table.

“Don’t move.”

Fascinating. Sparkly.

I don’t know how longthey were there or how long I watched them.

Maybe I closed my eyes.

Words came back.Clearer but not sharp enough for me to understand them.

More words.

The voice.

I knew it meant I wasokay, I could hear him talking to me, but was clueless as to what he was sayingand if I was answering.

There was somethingvery wrong.

Something was on myface.

Slowly the room cameback.

“Ellie?”

“Kurt.”

“Welcome back,” Kurtsaid with a small smile. “Can you tell me what happened?”

I pulled the mask offmy face.

“I don’t know.”

The walls undulated,picking up pace and gathering the rest of the room into a writhing mass.

I knew what came next.I struggled to my feet with my hand over my mouth.

Kurt was right besideme. He knew too. I leaned on him, I had no choice, walking was supremelydifficult. He opened the bathroom door.

I figured this would befunny one day.

We’d been here before,but last time he held my hair for me, it was self-inflicted. I did not do thisto myself by drinking too much champagne. No, I did not. I ate a candy bar.

I ate a fuc’n candybar. What the hell?

A cold towel waswaiting when I stopped talking to the porcelain. I sat on the floor and hit theflush button feeling instantly sorry for short people without a decent reach.

“Feel better?” Kurtasked.

“I think so.” I took abreath. Black spots danced in front of my eyes. Saliva built up.

Oh God.

I leaned over thetoilet bowl and hurled again.

Rinse and repeat.

Eventually even thegagging stopped.

“How about now?” Kurtasked.

“Yeah, no. Jesus, Kurtthis is not good.”

He helped me stand.Shaky didn’t begin to describe how I felt. Swirling grey edged fog wafted inand over me. The floor wobbled away from my feet. Stumbling is so attractive.Way up there with vomiting and drooling.

“Kurt, I’ve been drugged.”I tried to get the wrapper from my pocket.

Oh boy...

2011-09-01T22:34:00.000-07:00

One way or another (a Byte short)

2011-08-29T12:00:00.000-07:00

One way or Another by Cat Connor

Enjoy...

An excerpt from Soundbyte:

2011-08-07T17:21:00.000-07:00

Soundbyte excerpt:

“That’s true, but that’s all we have. And Campbell is somewhere.”

Sam followed my gaze. “Wonder how deep that river gets…” His voice was carried off by a sudden breeze.

“Think we should find out…” I replied. “Might have to call in divers.”

Lee shuffled from foot to foot. “Divers?”

“Uh huh, problem?”

“No. Not at all,” he replied, his skin flushed a little pinker than usual and his eyes crinkled as he smiled.

“Is there a diver in particular we should call?” I asked, feigning innocence. Really, did he think we didn’t know about Tara? Tight team, spies everywhere. She was the world’s worst kept secret. Tara was a member of the FBI Underwater Search and Evidence Response Team, stationed in Washington.

He rocked from foot to foot, plunging his hands into his jacket pockets. “Nah. Yeah. Maybe.”

“Man I hope USERT aren’t busy when our call comes in,” I said walking to the car. I looked back over my shoulder. “She is in USERT working out of DC isn’t she?”

Sam slapped Lee on the back and laughed. “We all know.”

Lee grinned, his eyes danced. “I shoulda known better.”

“Yeah, you shoulda,” Kurt replied.

****

And that folks is the first mention of Tara. :)

Today is a better day.

2011-08-05T17:42:00.000-07:00

It had to be. So it is.

Doc is shadowing me, I know why, but it doesn't make it any less intrusive.

Carla is being very 14. Very 14. Which is a good thing, because she is 14.
She's just started asking to go to a Grange concert. Apparently she's the only kid in her school who has never been to a concert and it's just not fair. She assures me it's even less fair because Rowan hangs out with us all the time. I feel pretty mean saying no all the time. But Jesus... after that concert in Christchurch and the whole explosion thing. I'm not keen on ever going to another concert. Which of course means I don't want her to either. But that's hardly fair. If you've read EXACERBYTE then you'll know why I'm not keen on concerts. I do have a pretty good reason here.

Guess talking to Rowan about this would be a smart idea. (Never said I was smart)

Meanwhile someone dumped a bunch of cases on my desk and half of them don't even meet the Delta criteria, WTF? At least they shouldn't take to long to clear!

Well, Doc is watching me, again with way too much interest. Tempted to start ranting at those silvery butterflies I can see floating up the wall in front of me... just so he can feel justified in his latest imaginings. Of course there is a chance that I'm the only one who can see those butterflies... which would possibly mean he is right to be concerned.

whatever.

Hello my name is...

2011-08-05T03:56:00.000-07:00

Fuck it, you know who I am and I know who you are.

I'm tired and cranky and just a little jaded. (Well you try doing this job and see how quickly jaded becomes normal.)

But apart from all that - I sense things are changing and I'm not sure where we are going from here.

I'd like to hit the range and waste some ammunition.

TORRENT

2011-05-25T15:42:00.000-07:00

Got a Kindle?
Then for under a dollar you can purchase TORRENT - a collection of short bytes.
:D

Yeah they're all about me.