“You want somethin’, or’d ju traipse alla way outcheer just t’sell me some eggs?”
Welcome to my world. My name is Bobby Norman, I’ll be your guide today, and unlike Lydia, the witch, I’m glad you’re here. Bobby World is a small village but I believe you’ll find the residents interesting. Not always likeable, but interesting, nonetheless.
In ages past, there were those who traveled from hamlet to hamlet, telling stories. They were called Storytellers. A fitting title, don’tcha think? He would sit at a fire with his hat turned over at his feet, hoping for a few coins. For a pittance, the villagers could sit around a fire and be taken to other places and other times, far more interesting than their own. If done correctly, the villager could remember the story for the rest of his or her life. As if it’d actually happened. As if they lived it themselves.
And that is my goal. To make you feel something. I’ve been asked which are my favorite stories or characters. It’s a difficult question to answer. I love them all. There are none I dislike. Even among the most evil, there’s a reason they do what they do. In the case of Bill Chantser in Carnivores, he was a product of his environment: a virgin cursed with an insatiable sexual addiction.
Lootie Komes (in Lootie Komes), an angel if there ever was one, had the misfortune of being born badly scarred in superstitious, turn-of-the-century, Louisiana. At eight, her father forked over her soul to Lydia, the witch, as a sin eater.
In Little Angels, the police botched the arrest of the drunk who killed Robert Getty’s eight-year-old daughter. It proved too much for his wife and she committed suicide. Soon after, her’s and the little girl’s ghosts starting haunting him, demanding revenge. One of those he terrorizes is one of the detectives looking for him. To make matters worse, Brooke, the love of the detective’s life, is a double for Robert’s dead wife. Then, it turns out that the detective and Brooke, have their own story. A secret, that if it got out, would ruin their lives. Robert knows their secret.
In The Eagle and The Dove, Birdy Littlebird has The Ghost Rider, the Native American version of The Angel of Death, trapped in his granddaughter’s treehouse. Dove, the granddaughter, had just lost her parents. Naturally, that was a bad thing, but there was a little sunshine. They left her with fourteen million bucks. The Ghost Rider’d come looking for gramps, but gramps wasn’t ready to go. He didn’t want to keep The Ghost Rider trapped forever, just until he could make sure that evil aunt Elvira (who’d had no interest in the kid at all until she came into all the dough) didn’t get her hands on her. What gramps didn’t know was, that with The Ghost Rider ensconced in the treehouse, no one in the world could die.
In Bush Vets, Michelle discovers that the father she hadn’t seen since she was two, was dead. She travels to Northern California to try to find out who he was. There, she finds someone who knew him not only here, but in Vietnam. The problem then becomes a two-headed beast. Every day she was getting closer and closer to finding out who’d killed him and every day she was getting deeper and deeper in love with him.
Jolene. Nineteen-forty-three, and what few crew there was left of The Grim Reaper were in a Japanese POW camp. Johnny, the nineteen-year-old radio operator, having been pinned under the mutilated body of one of his mates, completely lost his mind in the crash of their bomber. At first, his buddies took Jolene, Johnny’s imaginary girlfriend, as just that. But as their hellish days went on, she was the only thing that kept them going. Sixty years after the war, Chigger, Homer and Spaghetti, the last living crew members, found out that Johnny had died. He’d been committed to a hospital for the mentally deranged since their rescue. At their last get-together dinner, Chigger, Homer and Spaghetti opened the tiny package Johnny’d sent to Homer and it was then they discovered that Jolene was much more than a figment of Johnny’s imagination.
In Yeah, Right!, Johnny Grazer’s found out. He got careless. He’d been getting away with it since puberty. He’s the world’s very first, verifiable vampire, and if he doesn’t get a pint of red soon, he’ll die.
A Hole in the Wind is set in the gold country of 1860′s Northern California. Henry Lusaw, a lowly prospector with big ideas is in love with the daughter of the town’s most prosperous citizen. The old man likes the kid but he isn’t about to let his daughter marry him. All seemed lost until Henry’s incredibly rich uncle Willy died and left Henry everything. Henry came back to Earth when he discovered the liens on the palatial abode, the vast acreage, the wagons, the hammer. All but the livestock. Two thousand head. A gold town had very little and food was at the top of the list. So, when Henry was told he had two thousand head, he was back on top of the world. Naturally, he’d assumed livestock meant cattle. Not turkeys.
Okay, there are just a few. Please, feel free to browse through the rest of the site. I’ve pulled sample chapters from various pieces. Take a look and if you have any questions or comments, don’t be shy.
Now down to the meat. I’m looking for an agent or a publisher. If anyone reading this would like to read something, let me know, I’ll get it to you. After you read it, we can get together for lunch or something (if you’re within driving distance, of course) and go over it. You’ll receive acknowledgement in the book when it’s published and a signed copy of the original manuscript. Thanks for the time, have a good day and read a book.
Bobby
