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Slowing Down

This past two years have seen a slow diwn in my productivity due to many causes. One, another couple of birthdays. Two, one fouled up book file that burned me royally. Three, I got lazy.  Four, too many ends on too many candles lit on too many ends. 

So, I gave up on birthdays.  Finished, never to be seen again, the bad book file. Took a hand full of vitamins. Blew out some candles.  Put my buttocks in the chair.  And, now my problem is three new books stared, one rattling around in my head,  and two that exist only on 3 X 5 cards.

Trying to make my computer take dictation.  

BEEN AWHILE

It’s been quite awhile since I posted. Much has gone on. My favorite uncle died at 93 after 72 years of marriage to the same woman who has outlived him and bouts with cancer for the past 25 years. She still bowls with a league from what I hear.

I have committed to finishing the Arizona Trail before May 2017. The AzTrail is a registered national scenic trail just like the AT, PCT, and CDT. It is 800+ miles of rugged country with few towns near it for resupply. I have done around 550 miles so far. I just finished 22.3 miles where I hiked 26+ cuz I got lost. Signage was not good on this section. I understand they may fix that before the thru hikers hit the trail in February. My next hike is next week. 52 miles from Mexico to Patagonia. Hot and dry.

My writing has suffered since the fiasco with DEATH BY BASEBALL. Don’t ask, please.

I just chucked 30,000 words on the DEACON sequel. I will probably use pieces of it, but I’m half way thru the book and there is not much action yet. Can’t have that in a Doug Ball western.

Working on a sequel in the STATE OF series. Working title STATE OF CONFUSION. Been there many a time. Capital is my man cave. Tan and the boys get to clean up another mess after someone murders, rapes, and degrades a group of illegals being smuggled across the border near where i will be hiking next week.

I will be doing NATIONAL NOVEL WRITING MONTH (NaNoWriMo commonly NaNo) in November. STATE OF CONFUSION will be my book for the month. Along with two hikes, that should fill my life for November.

My health is good. My life is great. God has been very good to this old sinner saved by grace.

Be blessed, Doug

Now go write or at least buy one of my books.

WHAT, A SUMMER

This has been a bang, bang shoot’em up summer so far. Lots of travel and lots of fun.

Spent a day at the Payson Book Festival. Did well on the sales, made a bunch of new friends, and learned many new things about the whole Indy scene with books. Some of the nicest people I met were the competition, but no one acted like there was any competition at all. What a great profession!

DEACON is selling well. Lots of great comments, many with suggestions for improvement in the series. Thank you all for reading and commenting.

DEATH BY BASEBALL has found a niche’. My co-writer is doing well with his non-fiction book, BASEBALL IN TERRITORIAL ARIZONA, A History, 1863-1912.

Good books abound. A series of modern westerns I would highly recommend is written by Randall Dale. His books are on Amazon.

DEACON II is coming along. I am at the point in writing a book when I feel like this book is crap, let’s trash it and start over.  I come to that point with every book and somehow I fight through the feeling and finish it. Deep down I know it will be better than the last one, but right now – not so much.

So long for now, and keep writing.

Oh, yeah. Hiking season in Southern Arizona begins next month and I intend to get out there as soon as the doctor clears my eyes after cataract surgery. If ya wanna join me for a spell, let me know.

Doug

IT FEELS SO GOOD

It surely does feel great when you been out in the woods sleeping on the ground to come home and sleep in your own bed.

Covered 31 miles of the Arizona Trail this past three days. Feeling better than I have ever felt after three days of hiking. My ten miles a day average is about where I belong. One of my sons and his daughter might cover that much ground running in less than a day’s worth of sunlight and be ready for more, but I am a bit older and would not try more than 15 miles in a day at this point. Come September that might happen though.BookFest Ad 061016

I will be attending the above festival will all my books. I will be more than happy to autograph any and all books purchased.

My book DEATH BY BASEBALL will, hopefully, be ready for the festival, as will my co-author John Tenney’s book BASEBALL IN TERRITORIAL ARIZONA, a history 1863-1912. His book is an outstanding and sought after book on today’s sports market. I will have ten autographed copies on sale during the festival.

This festival is where the rubber meets the road for my writing. There will be a bazillion other authors, famous and not so famous, and an agent or two, publishers, and folks that just like to read.

If you make it, stop by and say, ‘howdy,’ so I can put a face to the name.

Be blessed and keep writing.

Doug

BREAK OVER

The DEACON

First in a series of Frontier Westerns

Got seriously miffed at myself this morning. I looked at my writing log and found that i haven’t written anything of substance in the past 9 days. And, mighty little since the middle of April. Therefore, I am getting on my butt in the chair and writing here and then to my newest book length effort.

The past month has just been one stupid action after another on my part. Trying to finish up DEATH BY BASEBALL, (It’s already getting serious positive comments) I found that I, little ole me, had sent in the wrong file to the publishers. Turns out the beta readers efforts are in the toilet (the bit bucket where all erased files go), all the hours of upgrading the master file are in the arena of wasted time, and my head is spinning with doing it all over again. I am at the point that I hate the book with a serious passion. But, I get there on all of the books I write.

So, all fingers on the board, mind focused on THE DEACON II  and away I go.

Blessings

You better get writing, too.

doug

What’s new

Doug’s work in writing is bringing new excitement to his collection of books.

DEACON is selling well and receiving rave reviews. While the on line sales do not indicate this, his personal sales and his personal sales at book venues are. He has reordered copies and is moving forward with spending more time in book festivals, stores, and just plain sales efforts.

DEATH BY BASEBALL is in the edit and proof stage right now. Proof copies have been ordered and are on the way. Perhaps they will be in the mail today.

DEACON II is at the first crisis point. Daniel’s life is about to be redirected again.

The State of Arizona series is all on audio book at this time. Audible will give you a free copy when you sign up with them. They will also give you a free month of books when you sign up.

Doug’s big question at this time is – Do I need a fourth in the State of Arizona series? WHAT DO YOU THINK?

SOME DAYS

Some days nothing goes right. Been trying to straighten out my books on this site and nothing is working. Cannot up load a new cover for my SAILOR book. Won’t let me change some old stuff. Web isn’t working too quickly from the satellite. Think I’ll go outside and play with the two bull snakes in the back yard. The dogs want nothing to do with them.

Be blessed and check out my new book THE DEACON or maybe some of you would like SAILOR

The DEACON – Episode 7

“Well, how many times am I gonna be hitting my gun with a rock?”

“Probably never, but if you drop something on the hammer when it’s in your holster, you will have a nice groove down your leg for the rest of your life, which might not be very long. A shot like that just right and you’d bleed out in a minute, or get gangrene, or lose the use of that leg due to a shattered knee, or just plain have an ugly scar on a weak leg.” He handed the pistol back to Daniel, who slipped it back in its home on his hip. “All them options are not too healthy. A working man cannot afford to carry a round under the hammer. Once you get in the battle, the first time you reload you fill them all. If you know the battle is coming, you load them all. Got it?”

“Yes, sir. None of them options sound good to me. Don’t want the battle either.” He drew and shot a large rattlesnake coming out from a hole under the rock right next to Tor. “There’s supper.”

Tor jumped and landed about six feet away from where he started. “You eat snake?”

“Nope. Hear it’s good though.”

“I don’t eat snake,” he said as he continued to watch the reptile writhe in the dust making mud with its blood. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Get us a fire going.”

“For supper?”

“Yup. You the eatin’est feller I ever rode with.”

“How do you think I keep my manly figure.”

Tor went hunting.

Daniel went fishing as soon as the fire was burning well.

The fish were not biting and Tor was not back after an hour. Dan had heard no shot and was beginning to wonder what was happening in the woods when the shot finally came. It sounded surprisingly close.

He gathered more wood and set the coffee to boiling as he waited. The fishing line got checked a time or two. Still no Tor. Dan strapped on the Bixby gun and saddled his horse. Just as he swung into the saddle, “Hey, you wanna come over there with that horse and help be bring this in.”

It was Tor.

Dan rode his horse across the stream and up to where Tor was coming out of the woods dragging a young doe, all nicely gutted and beheaded, toward camp. Dan pulled it up on the horses withers and gave Tor a hand climbing on behind him, turned the horse for camp and crossed the stream. As he was crossing the rock he had tied his fishing line to came off the large rock he had set it on.

He had a bite.

An hour later they were eating venison steaks in the dark and rigging a rack to make jerky on. The fish got away.

The coffee pot was empty nest to the embers of the fire when they rolled into the bedrolls for a night’s sleep. Each was full to the brim and content.


10

Two days later, the two of them rode into Golden. Tor wanted to stop and see an old saddle partner and Dan was just going to find someplace with a couple of books for sale. Didn’t make a difference what they were, he just wanted to unwind a bit in something other than the Bible. It had taken him a full day to make that decision.

Tor pointed in the direction of the hotel, “Meetcha there in a couple of hours. Two beds please. You roll and toss so bad I’ll end up on the floor. There’s a gunsmith down the block a bit that might be able to do something about the slickness of them grips on your Colt. Try him.” He rode away before Daniel could say anything.

Daniel was dazzled. He’d seen big cities before, but never had he seen a town with the hustle and bustle of this one. He had to guide his horse around wagons and people walking in the middle of the street. A wagon loaded with beer from the Coors brewery almost killed a man after the wagon driver took his eyes off the street to look at a dance hall gal on the balcony of a saloon. The man turned and saw the lead horses when they were about two feet from straddling him.

Dan eased up the street looking for the sign advertising a hotel in the midst of all the other signs. Seems like every building had three or more businesses or products to sell they thought worthy of having its own sign. “I ain’t seen this many signs since St. Louis, but St. Louis never had this many folks running around like chickens with their heads cut off.”

“Hey, quit star gazing and get outta the road, young feller,” came from his right. A pedestrian was held up by Daniel’s slow rubber necking of all there was to see.

“Sorry, old timer, I’ll push a little here now. How far’s it to the hotel?”

“Two buildings down. Only sign is on the winder, but ya cain’t miss’er a bit. Bright green paint around them winders.”

“Thank ya kindly, sir.”

“Now get outta my way.”

Daniel moved the horse with a gentle gig of the spurs he’d found in the saddle bag. Tor said they were cavalry spurs, short and stubby, and also reckoned that Bixby had been cavalry once upon a time “Cuz he rode so straight up and down like he had a ram rod for a back bone.” Sure enough there was the green trim on a pair of fair sized windows. One said HOTEL and the other said SALOON in large gold and black letters.

He had to sidle in between the hitching rail and the plank sidewalk in order to tie off the gelding he had named, Solomon. Not that the horse was wise, just that it sounded like a good Christian horse name. The horse would never have a thousand wives, but being a gelding it wouldn’t matter.

He swung down gingerly; his backside still wasn’t used to all the riding, pulling his Winchester out of its case as he did. After doing a couple of deep squats, he entered the hotel and walked to the desk. “Need a room with two beds or two rooms with one bed.”

“Very good, sir. Let me see what we have.” He turned to look at a bunch of cubbies behind him. “Aah yes, sir. We have two rooms side by side, each with one bed, both on the third floor facing the avenue. Will that do, sir.”

“Yeah. How much?”

“Fifty cents each. Dinner will be served in the Dining Room,” he pointed to a door behind Daniel, “In about an hour. Of course, they always have something to eat 24 hours each day. There is also the Saloon to your right,” again he pointed, “Serving the finest of liquors, beers, wines, and just plain everyday good whiskey. One of our local miners has a still and a local brewery makes the finest beer in the territory.”

Daniel plunked a ten dollar gold piece on the counter and said, “May I start an account and sign for meals and drinks?”

“Yes sir, you certainly may. Sign the ledger please and use the same signature on your tabs.” He turned and pulled two keys from adjoining slots, flipped a tab to red like most of the other rooms, and set the keys on the ledger as Daniel signed, ‘Daniel Fount, Denver.’

“Could you tell me where the best livery and gunsmith might be?”

“Why yes, sir. The livery is down the alley on the right side of the hotel,” he pointed, “And the gunsmith is across the street and uphill about a quarter mile. Can’t miss him, he has a large six shooter for a sign hanging way out from and above the rest of the signs on this street. Old German fella that I have only met once, but the best of reputations I assure you.”

“Thank you.”

“I recognize your gun, but you weren’t the man wearing it last time is saw it.”

“He lost in the game of life.”

“Oh, very good. Sir. He was not a very savory individual. Thank you for winning in the game of life.” He smiled and turned to the lady that had just walked in.

Daniel heard, “Who is that terrible man? He killed a man in the saloon the last time I was here,” from the lady.

As he walked to the gunsmith, he got to thinking that maybe, just maybe, he would be wise to change the grips altogether rather than just have them reworked. Tor was coming down the street, saw him, and pulled over to the plank sidewalk where he said, “You wanna double up?”

“Sure.”

They finished at the gunsmith with Daniel carrying a loaner and Tor guiding the horse to the hotel where Daniel picked up his horse and they rode to the livery up the alley.

“Ya seen one livery stable, you have seen them all,” Tor said.

“And smelled them all,” Daniel added.

Two days later they left town before the sun came up and the crowds hit the streets. His old saddle partner was no longer in Golden.

It was Sunday. The bells were ringing on at least three churches somewhere in the town. Daniel felt a pull, but he was not ready yet for the questions that would come inside the walls of a friendly church. Tor offered to go with him if that was the hold up and Daniel just turned his horse to the street all the wagons had been coming into town on during their brief stay.

Within an hour the sun was up, they were off the road and on a thin trail leading into the high country, and up ahead was a smoldering fire. They spread out without saying a word as they approached the smoke. No one was there.

A breeze picked up as they looked around. Nothing. A jumble of prints in the dirt told them nothing. At least four different horses had been over this site time and time again. Tor got down and started probing the ground with a stick he grabbed. Daniel watched with his newly adorned six shooter held in position with his elbow locked into his side. No one had to tell him something had happened here.

Tor finally tossed the stick, “No new graves.”

“How do you know?”

“The top inch or so is disturbed by the prints here, but after that inch or so the ground is rock hard. If there was a grave the dirt would be loose and the stick would have gone in deep from the pressure I put on it. Why don’t you dump your canteen on this fire so’s it don’t get away, fill up from the stream, and we’ll just mosey on our way. While you’re doin’ that, I’ll just take me a ride up towards them trees and see what I can see.”

Daniel did as he asked while he looked around in the direction the horses had gone. All there was in that direction was a heavily forested area leading to the base of the biggest mountain around. The whole scene seemed strange to him as the water gurgled out of the canteen he watched Tor moving at a quick trot in that direction. When the gurglying quit, he rode down to the water and was just about off the horse when he saw him.

The man was sitting with his legs in the water next to a rock on the far side of the creek, still as the stone itself. A gun lay in his lap and the front of his shirt was bright red.

“Tor.”

No response.

“TOR!”

Daniel looked up to see Tor jerk his horse around and ride like the devil was after him toward the camp site. Out of the trees came three riders and as soon as Daniel saw them they opened fire. Daniel started to mount and then realized if he got in a good position he could cover Tor and the old man next to the rock. The rock looked like a good place to hunker down.

He crossed the creek and turned Solomon loose to fend for himself, squatted behind the rock, and then pulled the wounded man in with him. He laid the Winchester across the top of the rock, lined up the sights, and squeezed the trigger. The center of the three riders took a tumble. Tor kept coming straight across the campsite and on through the water until he jumped off his horse, rifle in hand, and took up a spot thirty feet or so downstream from Daniel.

“You okay?” Danile asked.

“Yeah, not a scratch

The DEACON – Episode 2 – Constructive Critique please.

3

The next night the crowd began to form on the hilltop more than an hour early. There was even some jostling for the prime seats down front. Two cowboys got in a fight over a chair that was the last one on the back row. Miss Evelyn was dressed and mingling with the crowd a half hour before the show was to start.

“Oh, yes, you will be amazed at what God can do with your life once you surrender to Him through Jesus, the Christ. It is such a powerful moment and it lasts for the rest of eternity,” Miss Evelyn told one painted young gal on the front row.

“I hope he’s done before my boss misses me at the Cowboy Corral. I’m one of his biggest attractions and he won’t treat me nice if I ain’t there when the boys hit town, it being Friday and all.”

“I know whereof you speak, gal. I was in your shoes not 24 hours ago. Now I belong to Jesus and no man is gonna make me do anything I don’t wanna do no more.”

“Oh, that sounds so sweet. Tell me more at the end. You can walk me back, can’t you?”

“Maybe. It depends on the response.”

“Response to what.”

“The Word of God. That boy delivers it like no one I ever heard before.”

In the caravan, the boy is being shoved into his clean, second best shirt. “You just go out there and tell them another Bible story like you did last night. How about the ten lepers? Remember? Jesus healed ten lepers and only one came back to say, ‘thanks.’ The rest went on their merry way without ever givin’ a hoot who it was that healed them.”

“But Dad, I ain’t never been to no Bible school like you. I ain’t a preacher.”

“That crowd last night said differently, Daniel. They ate it up. The offering was one of the biggest we’ve ever had. It’s all about the money, boy, all about the money. You get out there and wow them with another story. You can do it. Bout time I retired anyhow. Too many towns know me.”

“I’ll do’er one more time. Then that’s it,” Daniel looked him in the eye, “I hope.”

“Give them heaven and they’ll fill the bucket.”

“I’m a phony, Dad. I don’t believe any of this stuff. It’s all hooey or so you been telling me.”

“They believe it and they’ll fill the bucket.”

“One more time,” Daniel said as he left the caravan for the rock platform.

The crowd saw him coming just as he saw the crowd. Every seat was filled with a person whose eyes were on him. The crowd went totally silent.

Miss Evelyn looked up to see why and then moved to her position on the rock. She looked at him and smiled. After all, he had shown her the way to a new life. She began to sing a new song she had never sung for anyone before. She had heard it as a child in New Hampshire when her folks would drag her, practically kicking and screaming, to the Congregational Church just outside of town. She sang, “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.” She didn’t plan it, it just came. The words flowed through her mind and out her mouth, verse after verse, until she was finished.

Daniel stood on the platform in awe of the beauty he had just heard. The crowd sat or stood in silence, most with their mouths wide open as if to catch all the music. One cowboy sitting on his horse way off to one side, took off his hat and hung it on the horn of his saddle and started clapping. The crowd slowly and reverently join in as they stood.

Miss Evelyn yelled, “It’s all true. You can have a friend in Jesus.”

The clapping got louder.

The cowboy ground reined his horse and walked slowly to the front of the rock platform and sat down in the dirt. Daniel raised his hands as he had seen his Dad do to get the crowd’s attention. They just kept clapping for Miss Evelyn.

She bowed and raised her hands. The crowd went silent. “Thank you. That was a song I learned a long time ago against my will, but today I sang it from my heart in His will. Please listen to what Daniel has to say to you.” The crowd shifted their eyes to look at the twelve year old boy in a boiled shirt and scuffed shoes.

He stepped closer to the edge of the stone platform.

An hour later he finished with, “Most of you want to be able to see, but few of you will come to Jesus for healing. He, and He alone can open your eyes to the sin in your lives that requires you to repent in order to truly know Jesus as a Savior. Then there will be even fewer that will come to the front and truly repent in faith before the throne of God that this rock symbolizes. Come won’t you?” He looked down, “Cowboy, you’re gonna have to move.”

The cowboy moved. He crawled to the rock, put one hand on his face and the other on the rock, before he yelled, “Jesus, heal me.”

Miss Evelyn scurried to the back of the rock, down the ladder, and around to the cowboy. She kneeled beside him, “Cry out to God and tell him how sorry you are that your sins required Jesus to go to the cross and be the blood sacrifice for your sins.”

The cowboy cried. He cried so loud his friend came up to see what was going on. By the time they arrived, the area between the chairs and the rock was filled with people in tears and on their knees before this God that Daniel had presented to them. Miss Evelyn went from person to person talking, comforting, and testifying of the Grace of God in her life. She even yelled at one point, “Yesterday I was in darkness, but since I met Jesus last night, I can in the light. I am free. I am free.”

The young saloon girl she had talked to before the service caught her, “Tell me how I can hide from my boss and live with Jesus.”

Daniel carried the bucket to the back of the area where most of the folks had entered. As he walked folks tossed bills and change into the bucket. The bucket got heavier as he approached the spot he had decided it belonged. Arriving, he sat the bucket on a rock that stood about two feet tall and placed a small sign on a stick in it that read, “Donations accepted,” and walked toward the caravan.

Person after person grabbed him and asked him to pray. He prayed. He didn’t believe it would do an ounce of good, but he prayed. He must have prayed a dozen times before he broke through the crowd and was able to reach the caravan. The clutching hands of the crowd fell away as he shrugged his way through the last ones and into the clear behind the rock platform.

“Dad,” he said as he entered the caravan, “You just aren’t gonna believe what I saw tonight.”

His father wasn’t there. He was in a local saloon, fondling a dancehall gal and drinking all the unguarded booze left behind the bar.

The gal didn’t mind. He had money and was free with it.

Miss Evelyn reached the last person face down on the dirt to find the cowboy. He was crying and shouting his sins as he begged for forgiveness. Miss Evelyn said, “Cowboy, that Bible says that if we repent and ask God for forgiveness, He will forgive. That’s a promise He keeps on a daily basis in your life.”

“Miss Evelyn, I needed tonight. I knew I was living wrong and now I’m dealing with it thanks to you and that boy, that preacher. Jesus is my friend just like you sang at the beginning. Where’s the boy?”

“He left.” She knew the kid didn’t believe what he told these folks, but she knew that God would forgive him one day when he did repent and follow the Word he was teaching.

Three years later Daniel stood on the platform in the largest venue in Denver and looked out over several thousand people of all ages, creeds, and colors. The message was one of a thief that was dying from the nails in his hands and feet that held him. The thief was hanging on a cross next to the dying Jesus. The thief admitted he was guilty of his deeds and deserved to die, and told the world from his cross that Jesus had done nothing wrong. He was hanging there for no reason other than the jealousy of the priesthood of the church of his day. He was hanging there in reality because that’s where His Father wanted him. He was hanging there to pay the penalty before God for all the sins of a lost world.

As he taught that last sentence something happened in the heart of a 15 year old young sinner standing on a platform in front of thousands of people. Somehow he was convinced that all he had been teaching for three years was really true and that this same Jesus died for him. He knew that the bucket was sitting at the back of the room with its small sign. He knew it was overflowing with the donations of all these people. He knew that it wasn’t all about the money.

IT WAS ALL ABOUT JESUS.

HE BELIEVED IT ALL!

He fell to his knees and cried, “Father, forgive me, a sinner,” and fainted in tears.

4

The next morning just before noon the Denver Tribune put out a special edition with black headlines reading, “BOY PREACHER FALLS FOR OWN MESSAGE” in three lines above the fold. The article read:

Last night at the Miner’s Hall, 15 year old Daniel Fount came to the fount of Jesus in the middle of his own sermon. The young preacher, son of the infamous Right Reverend Lawrence P. Fount, was approximately half way through his usual sermon time when he swooned on stage.

Miss Evelyn, the singer with the preacher, says he has been working excessive hours with new believers in Jesus and was totally exhausted. His father, the Right Reverend, stated that he didn’t know what happened until this morning. Rumor had it that the father was in the notorious Bucket of Blood Saloon with one, Big Bottom Kate, on his lap for most of the evening throwing money around like it was confetti thrown at a political parade.

Dr. Elmont Goode, a physician, is reported to have said that he could find no reason for the young preacher’s nose dive to the stage. The good Doctor Goode repaired the man’s broken nose and received a $10 bill for his services.

Young Preacher Daniel Fount stated to this reporter that the Revival will continue tonight a 7 PM at the Minor’s Hall where he will explain everything. A hearty crowd is expected.

Miss Evelyn will sing.

 

At 5 minutes to 7 PM that evening, back stage in the Minor’s Hall Daniel looked at Evelyn, “Evelyn, I need you to sing like you have only sung once before and that was the night in Las Vegas when you sang ‘What a Friend We Have in Jesus.’ I want you to sing it just like you did that night.” He turned, “Dad, I want you well out of here. It could get dangerous. There were three notes delivered this afternoon concerning the phoniness of our ministry and the use of the funds donated by the audience. I may get hurt, but there is no sense anyone else getting hurt. Evelyn, you leave by the back door as soon as I begin to speak.”

“I won’t do that, Dan. I will be in the wings praying.”

“There is no reason for God to protect us tonight. I have sinned greatly and you have allowed it to happen even after you became a believer. So, go.”

“No!”

He gave up, “Thank you. I’ll need all the prayer I can get. But, if it starts getting violent, you run.”

“Lady don’t run too well dressed like this. I’ll be there praying.” She pointed to the left wing.

The stage hand that was still working with them came by and said, “Ten minutes, Preacher Fount. Miss Evelyn, the piano player asked if you would begin with a couple of songs starting now. The crowd is sounding rowdy and angry.”

“On my way. Pray for me, Dan.”

The stagehand said, “She’s gonna need it. I saw lots of rotten vegetables and fruit out there as I watched the front door. There was also a basket of eggs. Not a single person has dropped a penny in the bucket.” He paused as if he were looking for the right words to say. “I know how you feel, but remember – the Truth shall set you free, and Jesus is the Truth. I’ll be praying with Miss Evelyn.”

“Thank you. Stay away from me if it gets bad.”

“Don’t worry. I got a wife and three kids to think of. I’ll drop the curtain if you say so.”

“I won’t.”

The sweet sounds of Miss Evelyn’s singing drifted through the curtains and reached Daniel’s ears bringing him peace as he prayed which brought him total comfort in the midst of this turmoil. He checked the backstage clock. Six minutes until he would walk out there and put everything on the line for the cause of Jesus, this time, the first time in truth.

He walked to the edge of the down left curtain and peeked into the footlights illuminating Miss Evelyn at the down right stage corner as she sang, ‘What a Friend We Have in Jesus’ with her clear, carrying voice. The audience stirred like an ant bed a horse had just stomped on.

She finished.

He walked on stage to center front, three feet behind the center footlight.

IT’S ALMOST NANOWRIMO TIME

Nano is just around the corner. Next Sunday the month of November begins as does Nano. 50,000 words in 30 days. 1667 words a day. That’s like 6.2 pages double spaced each day. For you ladies, that’s not even a good love letter. For the men, it’s not even a fair length for a fish story, or as us sailors are want to say, a sea story.

My mind has been plotting THE DEACON for two months now and i am ready to write. The opening is written at 8061 words and when i add the 50k words it will be a fair sized book ready to edit, rewrite, edit, rewrite and then format for createspace.com followed by Kindle. Smashwords will also get a set up and the sales will begin and i will be RICH beyond my wildest dreams, which is my wildest dream.

So, don’t just sit there. WRITE. starting at 0001, next Sunday, and don’t quit until the coffee runs out except to change the CD in the player. Ah, yes, Beethoven and Handel. It always amazes me how much i can write during the Hallelujah Chorus or the 5th. Not booze, symphony.

First one to 50k is done, as long as it’s before 2400 30 November 2015.

Be blessed.

PS: Daylight savings time ends when Nano begins for all you whose legislatures think they can cut some off one end and add it to the other and have a longer summer.

© 2017 Doug Ball – Author