LJH

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Hey Andy, you are right on all points. There is more to Alex than meets the eye, in this story, nothing is as it seems, except of-course, the love they feel for each other. keegs is new and fresh to the scene. He has yearned for this love, although a little overwhelming, all his adult life, and now that he has it, he doesn't want it to go away. Alex realises this, maybe Alex is playing him which would be a cruel twist of fate, but he isn't. Alex really really loves him. Hence he is so protective. So Keegs has come out to Jean and the coach. What's left is a scene with his folks, and this will come. The question here is, will they accept? Jean has accepted, and Coach has accepted. Jean's presence hasn't come to an end, she's still useful, and Patrick will also reappear for one or two final scenes. The reason why everything happens so quickly, is because there is another subplot that will be appearing pretty soon. A shocker plot, but necessary in order to explain how Alex knows what he knows. I wrote this story with an end in mind, now I need to twist things to get to that end and not make it sound all contrived. Alex seems to know what Keegs does not. And the question is, will Keegs still love Alex after this. Can he love Alex after this? And what will Alex do, if he can do anything? I don't weant to spill the beans too quickly. But yes, there is a hell of a twist to this tale, and sopme readers may find it alarming, some may find it hair raising, but I hope there will be those who find it entertaining. Thanks for the kind words re the mechanics. It is difficult to write in one person's point of view, and I have to remember this all the time. I am so tempted to change POV but I know that law doesn't allow me to because everything is in Keeg's POV. Points well noted. Have a great read. I thoroughly enjoyed reading Second Shot. My story is way shorter than yours, but mine needs quicker action and reaction scenes. Write on Louis Ps. I have no idea how to use this block quote thing. LOL eek

hmmm - thanks for noticing - now are you ready for the heavy stuff that's coming - and romance and more mystery?

my condolences, cheryl. I lost my dear mom in March this year. She died in my arms. Funny thing, an hour before she passed on, she told me her body feels different. She asked me to rub her back. She told me to be all that I want to be. She told me she was dying. An hour later it was all over. I miss her terribly, but I have not wept like the rest of the family. She lived with us and saw her pain everyday. The rest of the family didn't. They cried bitterly. Still do. I miss her love, her warmth, her smell. Sometimes, even tho there is no wind, and all the windows and doors are closed, the candles flicker in the house. I know she is near. I find comfort in that. Go well my friend. I'll say a prayer to guide her on.

Hi Cia, as you know by now I read and review whilst listening to music. During the course of reading your novel, I listened to some LIVE stuff, like Heaven, and I Walk The Line and Nobody Knows - all good stuff doe the age group you are writing about, but, as it so happened, as I got to and into the accident scene ( and subsequent hospital scenes), the most beautiful music played for me, Adagio For Strings, OP 11 - Eugene Ormandy conducting the Philadelphia Orchestra. Your writing, and this music, blew me away. It dawned on me, this is a sad tale of loss, a tale of joy, a tale of courage and discovery. Whenever sorrow comes home to one of us, and Tap is in touch with Dane's sorrow, you (the writer) are aware that we pride ourselves upon the opposite conduct. that is, we glory in being able to endure calmness, because, in our estimation, this behaviour called calmness, is manly. Tap feels this behaviour. He is calm, to a point, and logical. This is what makes him more of a man than Dane or even Tap's own father. In every day life, we have calamities of our own, but in Dane's case, his troubles are forced upon him. He hungers for the calmness, so he indulges in the privelege of weeping and bewailing himself because it is nature to covet this satisfaction. And, in the case of love, and anger, and all the mental sensations of desire, grief and pleasure which your characters aspire to, your writing waters and cherishes these emotions. You satisfy the link between trhe tragic emotions of pity and fear, and Tap is the cathartic instrument for Dane. The emotion of pity in your work is not to be confused with crass sentimentality. Violence is not crass. Dane's tragic protagonist is not a pitiful figure, his father is. And he comes across as a cowering derelict, if this was your intention, you have succeeded admirably. Throughout this work, the element of empathy is central. This reader enjoyed a vicarious experience with your tragic protagonist and your hero in Tap. Fear is also experienced vicariously, the fear that some of us may some day be in Dane's position. I'm not going to elucidate on points of story telling here. Those I keep for the struggling writer. In any event, there is no need to discourse upon those elements. You have mastered them. But don't stop, we all lose something along the way. For now, I am satisfied that you took me on a journey, and in story telling, the journey is the most important aspect. This tale is well told, (there are gremlins but these you will see and expunge), and deserves accolades. Until next time Louis J

Out of Africa Izak Denisen aka Karen Blixen I can't find the text but the first line goes something like this: 'I had a farm in Africa, at the foot of the Ngong hills..." The music is absolutely mind blowing. Film stars Meryl Streep and Robert Redford... My link

The Story of an African Farm Olive Schreiner. The full African moon poured down its light from the blue sky into the wide, lonely plain. The dry, sandy earth, with its coating of stunted karoo bushes a few inches high, the low hills that skirted the plain, the milk-bushes with their long finger-like leaves, all were touched by a weird and an almost oppressive beauty as they lay in the white light.

This, to me, is the most beautiful South African book ever written - to appreciate the feel of it, you must read the entire first page: here it is. Cry The Beloved Country Alan Paton There is a lovely road that runs from Ixopo into the hills. These hills are grass-covered and rolling, and they are lovely beyond any singing of it. The road climbs seven miles into them, to Carisbrooke; and from there, if there is no mist, you look down on one of the fairest valleys of Africa. About you there is grass and bracken and you may hear the forlorn crying of the titihoya, one of the birds of the veld. Below you is the valley of the Umzimkulu, on its journey from the Drakensberg to the sea; and beyond and behind the river, great hill after great hill; and beyond and behind them, the mountains of Ingeli and East Griqualand. The grass is rich and matted, you cannot see the soil. It holds the rain and the mist, and they seep into the ground, feeding the streams in every kloof. It is well-tended, and not too many cattle feed upon it; not too many fires burn it, laying bare the soil. Stand unshod upon it, for the ground is holy, being even as it came from the Creator. Keep it, guard it, care for it, for it keeps men, guards men, cares for men. Destroy it and man is destroyed. Where you stand the grass is rich and matted, you cannot see the soil. But the rich green hills break down. They fall to the valley below, and falling, change their nature. For they grow red and bare; they cannot hold the rain and mist, and the streams are dry in the kloofs. Too many cattle feed upon the grass, and too many fires have burned it. Stand shod upon it, for it is coarse and sharp, and the stones cut under the feet. It is not kept, or guarded, or cared for, it no longer keeps men, guards men, cares for men. The titihoya does not cry here any more. The great red hills stand desolate, and the earth has torn away like flesh. The lightning flashes over them, the clouds pour down upon them, the dead streams come to life, full of the red blood of the earth. Down in the valleys women scratch the soil that is left, and the maize hardly reaches the height of a man. They are valleys of old men and old women, of mothers and children. The men are away, the young men and the girls are away. The soil cannot keep them any more. Copyright

FIRST LINES and first paragraphs that push the boundaries of literature, that influence an editor or reader, have inspired and influenced me from the moment I decided to become a writer. Here are a few of them that I have collected over the years. Author: H G Wells Novel : The War Of The Worlds: We know now that in the early years of the twentieth century this world was being watched closely by intelligences greater than man's, and yet as mortal as his own. We know now that as human beings busied themselves about their various concerns they were scrutinized and studied, perhaps almost as narrowly as a man with a microscope might scrutinize the transient creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water. With infinite complacence people went to and fro over the earth about their little affairs, serene in the assurance of their dominion over this small, spinning fragment of solar driftwood which, by chance or design, man has inherited out of the dark mystery of Time and Space. Author: Matthew Reilly Novel: ICE STATION "Imagine, if you can, a continent that for one quarter of the year, doubles in size. A continent in a constant state of motion, motion that is undetectable to the human eye, but that is devastating nonetheless..." Author: Sean Young Novel: Violent Sands

:king:I peeled my gaze off his shirtless chest and quickly focused on the wall behind him. Einstein

At last - I now have the first three chapter under one heading. Thank you to all those who helped - especially Cia. Read on now folks....

Even Stars Die was born out of a long time desire to write a "coming out" or a coming of age story that I have never read before. Also, I needed to concentrate on characters other than my gay detective, Rain de Waal. I've been living wioth this characterfor a long, long time. Six years to be exact. My debut novel called "Revival" , featuring Rain as South AFrica's first gay literary detective, was published in 2006 and I've written two further novels featuring him as the main character. Time for change. Even Stars Die is such a different book to anything I have ever written and I know I'm going to need help. So, any constructive crits, anything at all that doesn't seem to fit, please let me know. I usually edit my work to such an extent that every bit of fat is extricated, leaving the MS lean and digestible. I have sorted some headings out for you to follow if you have anything to add. 1: Characterisation 2:Dialogue 3:Setting 4:Point of view 5:Development 6:Pacing 7:Mechanics. Any changes will be made immediately, and I hope that it allcomes out right. Thanks Louis J Email me

three pillows - but i wake up with my head on one only. :wacko:

how about Brad Rowe, Scott Evans and Brett Claywell all in the same room together

am so looking forward to relaxing here on Sundays (and every other day).