New Book Released as Serialized Novella

Amazon has added a new category to its Kindle Books, called Vella. Authors are encouraged to publish series of short stories. New episodes should be published twice a week. The first three episodes in a story are free. After that readers pay about ten cents per thousand words. The first chapter of my first book should be published on Friday Saturday, and is entitled Emgee Adopts a Pet. We follow Emgee on his path from puppyhood to becoming a full-grown dog. Check out "Emgee Adopts a Pet" at Amazon Kindle Vella. 

The new mystery series.

 

mark@marktrble.com

I’m on my way toward completing book one of the series, Sea Monsters. I’m satisfied with the characters, their interactions and the pace. Not sure what the next book should be. I’m considering a kidnapping, that evolves its way into international human trafficking. I might want to read something like that, but don’t really want to write it.

 

Another that I think would be fun to write is on a faked death. The possibilities are endless. Or a well-known person who doesn’t actually exist.

 

Any thoughts? What would you like to read?

 

Pandemic Journal September 4, 2020

  Mark@marktrble.com

 

Sorry about my appearance. I waited until it was too late to get dressed. Logan and I have to wear tuxedos, we’re the groomsmen for Antoine and Maia’s wedding. Mister Jake is going to Skype in and officiate. He studied and got a Divining, or Dining, or some sort of degree, and was confiscated as a minister. He helps out the real minister at the AME Church we all go to.

 

Aunt Kamisha is going to attend on Skype. So is Coach. I asked Antoine if the NBA Commissioner was going to be there. “After we got locked out of Orlando? What do you think?” Well, there goes my chance to meet the guy.

 

We got all the details on the wedding yesterday. Logan and I are the ushers, which mostly means keeping the webcam pointed at the couple. Coach is the Best Man. Aunt Kamisha is the Matron of Honor (took her long enough to marry Dr. Gil) and it looks like we’re gonna have some Brideskittens instead of Bridesmaids. Deena had recently adopted two kittens, bobtails, littermates. Moose was a he and was a tuxedo cat. Speaking of tuxedo LOGAN WHEN ARE YOU GONNA BE DONE IRONING MY PANTS?

 

Anyway, his sister thought her name was Millie until she got home, and Deena taught her that her real name was Autumn. She’s kind of a tabby, combination of browns and oranges. If I liked cats, I would say she was beautiful. I don’t like cats, so she’s the devil’s spawn. They’re going to be the Brideskittens. For all I know, there will be a Vietnamese pot-bellied flower girl.

 

So, after years of living together – four, I guess it is - they’re getting married. Robert, Antoine’s father, was going to be at Aunt Kamisha’s and Mister Jake would be there too. I guess I should have said that as soon as I told you he was the officious or the celibate, I forget which one they call the person marrying the two. Not as in three people in the marriage. Forget it. They’re in Florida and we’re in Illinois. So, I’ve got a few texts coming in.

 

We’ve got one from Benjamin in Dual Carolina City. “Do you always wear boxer-briefs?” Not in the shower, and not always in bed. I think that’s the last wardrobe-related question. Here’s one from Melanie in Dayton, Ohio. I was in Dayton once. Not a good memory, given a game we won on a forfeit, trying to find anything in Miami Valley Hospital, and, well, I don’t have fond memories of Dayton. It seems that every year the final selection for the NCAA tournament is made when the 64^th and 65^th ranked teams meet there and the winner goes on to the Big Dance. We were ranked 65^th our freshman year, a miracle, and won, earning a trip to the NCAA tournament. After that, Dual Carolina University was never ranked lower than 25^th at the end of the season.

 

Why was I talking about Dayton? Oh, right, Melanie. “Does Logan wear boxer-briefs?” This is absolutely the last wardrobe question. Yes, but not in the shower and not always in bed. LOGAN, GET YOUR ASS IN HERE . . . There you are. Thanks. You talk to people while I finish getting dressed.

 

Hi, it’s Logan, the one who cooks and does the ironing. Tommy does the cleaning and the laundry. And that’s as personal as I’m gonna get today. We’ve got a wedding to go to. Have a great day. 

 

Pandemic Journal August 28, 2020

 

Mark@marktrble.com

 

 

Logan here after a very lengthy absence. Things have gotten wild here in Chicago. For a while I thought a quarter of the city was going to be destroyed. I was wrong; I think it’s going to be at least a third. Crime is out of control. And, that’s what wound up with this week’s clusterfuck. All of our rooms are occupied.

There was a drive-by shooting right outside our free clinic. Tommy and Consuelo, a nurse, ran out because an ambulance driver passing by was collateral damage, and there were two dead people, two sick people and a couple of wounded outside. We were overwhelmed. Both Consuelo and Tommy had their masks pulled off in the scuffle, and were infected. Both tested positive.

That’s easy for me and Tommy. He got his own room, and we cleared out the gym and stacked shit nine-feet deep in the dining room so Consuelo would have a place to stay.  Deeann made daily visits, and I had to live in PPE, do all the cooking and cleaning, and no sex for almost three weeks. Skype is wonderful.

Anyway, Consuelo’s unemployed husband stayed with the kids, the stand-by nurse replaced Consuelo, and the clinic was running on fumes. We were all cleared after three weeks. Neither Tommy nor Consuelo ever had anything more than a bad cold. They got off easy. I had to become a short-order cook, and I’d have given my left nut to get Aunt Kamesha to visit until this crap was over. All the other two did was complain about the food and wine. That’s actually whine. They demanded drink service around the clock. I ordered refrigerators for both of them and left them outside their doors. Then I got complaints about how they couldn’t hook up the ice makers. I turned the air-conditioning down. Now they want blankets.

I’ve enjoyed as much pandemic as I can. The new date for doing away with restrictions is October. Yeah!

 

General Update

mark@marktreble.com

I have closed down my management consultancy. I am no longer able to stay awake long enough to get anything done. It is unfortunate, but the only thing certain when you start a business is that eventually you will leave it. This has put a roof over our heads and a food on the table for me and my family for twenty years; before that, I was a management consultant for half of my adult life. It's the most important thing to me after my family, and I'm closing multiple doors with this action.

I will no longer be a management consultant. Likely, I will no longer do either executive coaching or mentoring..Mentoring  young people in how to start and run their own businesses is the most rewarding thing I've ever done. I've learned more from my mentees than they have from me.

The firm is likely to carry on for a while; I've been grooming a Canadian fellow to take it over. He may not choose to rely on my brand, which is fine. He needs to establish his own at some point, and no one can do that for him. I'll need to write to a good many people and let them know that I have moved on. I only regret I did not do it sooner.

I'll continue writing. In addition to this blog, I have an online column called One Foot in the Gravy under another name, BillHeath.substack.com. It is free at the moment, and may remain free forever. I've sorely neglected keeping up Logan and Tommy's Pandemic Diary, as well as having done little on Sea Monsters since my last update. I'm still hoping to publish it before summer. Logan's next update is in the works; he's been busy taking care of both Tommy and one of the nurses, both of whom caught Covid19. They're recovering with no complications, but all three of them in the apartment are going nuts.

I've become quite active in Substack. It was established to provide a voice to the voiceless, those who were consistently shut down by Big Tech for failure to be sufficiently zealous in the new religion of Woke, or attempting to publish articles that were less than fawning about Democrats. I was a Democrat most of my life, but understand the ethics of journalism. A journalist cannot be an advocate for one political position and report only news that fits his or her existing biases. I follow two outstanding journalists, Glenn Greenwald and Matt Taibbi, both with more than twenty years as prize-winning investigative journalists. Their liberal credentials are impeccable, they're both life-long Democrats who have watched our party abandon liberalism in favor of authoritarian intolerance. 

For those of you who have never smoked, you may not be aware that the sharpest critics of smoking are former smokers. Both Taibbi and Greenwald are former Democrats. Do the math.

                                                                                                One Foot in the Gravy

Update on Sea Monsters

 mark@marktreble.com

 

The new novel is taking shape. Frank and Buzz are ready to board the superyacht MSY Yasmina.  They've already had to defend their cover story when Frank forgot he was supposed to have a boyfriend named Buzz and reverted to type at a cocktail reception. Buzz has already done most of the engineering work necessary to their cover, and the detectives are trying to identify patterns in the deaths, one each on most cruises. Nothing is suggesting itself.

Captain Land has given them strict orders: Do not let your investigation interfere with the charter. They're still not sure how they'll do that because they don't know what they're looking for. Frank has offered to lead an alligators-and-pythons expedition in Florida while the ship is there; Buzz isn't so sure that's a great idea.

Once on board, they will have nothing but work round-the-clock. Romance with guests is strictly forbidden, and with the crew it would blow their cover as a gay couple since both young men are decidedly straight. We'll just have to see.