Greetings my dear friends,
Today’s newsletter is a little different – it is more of an update on progress with my new book, entitled The Message. I plan to publish it in mid-year 2019.
The reason for this blog is two-fold. First, I would like to give you a sneak peak at the designed cover for the book, along with the Prologue that will start the reader. Prologue’s can give you a snapshot in time, not necessarily the actual beginning of the novel. It is often used to perk your interest. Perhaps provide a little hint of what is to come.
Secondly, I am welcoming your reaction to the cover’s design. It is in black and white, except for the sepia tone of the woman in the background. Covers should produce an emotional feeling, and I am very interested in your first response to the scene depicted. I also would welcome how the Prologue strikes your interest in going on to engage the first chapter once The Message is published. Honest feedback is my expectation and hope, just comment on this post to reach me directly.
Thank you! I look forward to hearing back from as many of you as possible.
Blessings to you,
Prologue for The Message
The ocean is angry today. Furious, and moving with blatant seduction, in and out.
These are Aubrey’s first thoughts as she entered the beach area boardwalk that stretched over the pale sand. She gazed at the water which was gray and slick with foam. White caps crested each of the waves like they were surfers at the top of their game, then fell headlong over themselves as if tumbling from a steep cliff into an abyss. It was white everywhere you looked. The crashing of the water onto the beach was deafening and unrelenting and beautiful.
It is deadly out there, she said to herself. Aubrey certainly knew the fury of the ocean in a New England storm. Nothing like a “nor-easter”. She had come up against it many times before.
She moved along the boardwalk, so well-crafted on this section of the beach. Her fascination with the water growing, Aubrey advanced ever closer to a cordoned area of yellow caution tape. There seemed to be some fencing there also at the very end of the section she was already on. No doubt, visitors and teens had made their way into the restricted area by messing with the fence. This was the new and incomplete development of walkway that would bring beach guests onto the dunes and above a steep drop 14 feet above the waves crashing below. It would be a phenomenal position for hikers when it was done; but at the moment, it was unfinished and without barriers to the ocean. Right now, it became a hazard for anyone ignoring the fencing. Aubrey squeezed through the tape and damaged fencing to the new board area beyond, finding her way to a spectacular view.
She set the locks of her wheelchair after rolling close to the edge, looking down below and then out to the churning surf. How easy it would be to simply move 8 more inches and freefall to the angry grayness. She could almost imagine what that would be like. The wind off the ocean suddenly began to whirl and howl, pointing itself directly at her, forcing her long blond hair to lift and whip madly. It became difficult to remain in place in spite of the locks, and the canvas on the chair was starting to feel like a sail. In spite of the cold, she found she was sweating and fearful.
Aubrey shouted into the turmoil roiling above her, “I am so screwed! I see no way out of this. God, help me please!”