James Scott Bell's latest novel keeps you hanging on and begging for more!

When Chuck Samson left for Afghanistan he was a man in love. He returned home broken to a marriage that would never be reconciled, a mother who no longer recognizes him, and to a brother who depends on him as much now as he did when they were children. Then came the morning he collided with “the Mad Russian,” making his already difficult life impossible.

Now on the run and attempting to clear his name in a murder investigation, Chuck must try to put together his jumbled memories from a war he was never supposed to return from and face the shadowy horrors that have haunted him every day since — all while protecting his autistic brother Stan whose greatest fear is that one day Chuck will leave him.

From the very first line of the very first paragraph, readers are set right in the middle of the chaos that is soon to become Chuck’s life. As with much of Jim’s work, Don’t Leave Me is set in the quick pace of the Los Angeles backdrop. The story twists and turns through trumped up charges, mysterious phone calls, abduction, gunfights, and a brief encounter with a hippie playwright — and the story does so without missing a beat as it speeds its way to the explosive conclusion.

One of the most enjoyable aspects of Don’t Leave Me is the multiple viewpoints. Although the bulk of the story is presented through protagonist Chuck Sampson’s eyes, we are also given the opportunity to experience the world through Stan’s unique perspective, as well as gain the insights of a homicide detective, a school principal, and a couple of very unsavory drug lords.

True to his form, Bell creates a realistic and believable world, includes plenty of trans-generational pop culture references, and has just the right mix of humor to add a little spice to the tang of suspense. Even better, Don’t Leave Me is a story that I enjoyed reading just as much the second time.

Don’t Leave Me, is currently available in digital form for Kindle and Nook Readers and Apps. As of this writing, a print edition had not been announced. But if it is, I’ll be one of the first in line to add it to my real-life bookshelf.


Note: I had the privilege of reading an earlier version of the book last summer while Jim was still working through the final edits, so it was especially fun for me going from reading a draft with lots of notes and questions in the margin to reading the fully finished novel complete with revisions that addressed those very concerns. As a newer writer, it was encouraging for me to see that a more experienced writer still goes through the same processes and struggles as I do. Seeing the polished work only encouraged me to keep moving forward with my own fiction writing.

The Writer’s Oath: A Year without Whining

When I bought The Art of War for Writers a few years ago it was because I’d entered a sort of manic stage in my writing life. I was bound and determined that would be the year I finally broke out as a writer, and I wanted to have every tool at my disposal to do so. I was familiar with The Art of War, and Jim is a writer whom I really admire and respect, so I couldn’t wait to see how he adapted Sun Tzu’s methods for writing.

I made it a point to read one chapter each night before bed so I could mull the words over in my sleep. To say it gave me a lot of food for thought is an understatement. However, of all the advice offered, one piece has stuck with me the most: Whining will not help you win the battle for publication.

Why? Because Whining (and it’s favorite companion, Worry) warps the imagination and steals our joy as writers. Instead of focusing on our own work, we obsess over the work of others. It’s a classic case of the “Have’s vs. The Have Not’s.”

I know this because these are both activities I’m an expert at. There was a period of time not too long ago when I would go into bookstores, take a book of the shelf, start reading it and then ask “How is it this book got published and no one will look at mine? My writing is way better than this!” I’d particularly complain when I’d hear an announcement about a celebrity or reality star releasing a children’s book

“Of course their book would get picked up! They’re famous!” I’d tell my family and friends. “They cheated, cut in line some how. Did they even write it, or did they just offer an idea and a name for some ghost writer to do all the work?”

Chapter 7 of The Art of War for Writers gathers its focus from Christina Katz, author of Get Known Before the Book Deal. Jim wisely chose to include a statement from Katz’ book for writers to sign that would change all that. It pledged that the writer would keep all grousing to oneself for the course of a year. It took me all of a minute to decide this was something I needed to do.

I decided to modify the oath a little to state I would not grouse at all for a year — not to others, and certainly not to myself. Wanting it to be official, I opened up my word processor, selected a certificate template, typed in my statement, and hung the signed copy over my desk. That was two years ago.

Looking back, I am amazed at the change I’ve noticed in my perspective. I still have my off days, but instead of feelings of jealousy and ineptitude, I’ve been able to truly rejoice when I learn a friend’s book has been picked up. It has also spurred me on to continue improving my craft through reading and, more importantly, writing, thus preparing me for the day my name is finally called.

It’s the start of a new year, which means many of us are making new goals for ourselves. I’ve decided to resign my Writer’s Oath, renewing the contract for another year so to speak. I’d like to invite you to do the same.

Let’s make 2012 the year we as writers put aside all that which will drain our creative energy in exchange for that which will inspire us. Let us start this year with a fresh and unsullied purpose.

My friends, may this year bring you much inspiration, joy, and a bountiful harvest for your labors.

Happy New Year!

30 Days of Thankfulness in Writing – Day 8: Veterans

I was sitting in the Denver airport waiting for my flight home. I’d been attending a writers conference and a call had come in at 2 that morning telling me my dad’s stepbrother, a severely disabled vet, had suddenly passed away. I remember trying to read Deceived by James Scott Bell when a very tall, dark-haired soldier walked into my gate area.

My first thought was: He’s from my hometown National Guard unit! I need to go over and say thank you! Then I was hit by a fit of shyness and thought, he’ll think I’m trying to flirt with him and he’s probably got a wife and daughter waiting for him at home.  So I stayed in my seat as he sat down across from me.

I couldn’t help glance at him over the top of my book from time to time. There was just something about him that had nothing to do with how handsome he looked in his uniform. I even caught him looking at me a couple of times with a curious expression on his face, though I was pretty sure it was because of the giant eye on the cover of my book.

Then our gate changed. All of us marched together, bags in hand, from one waiting area to another. The soldier was now sitting to my right and just behind along the window, and after a phone call with my mom I gave up even pretending to read anymore. That’s when I decided to throw away my Starbucks cup and finally noticed the name on his jacket: Ash.

Daniel. The little boy who ran to my aid in second grade when I got stung by a bee while on the monkey bars and fell. He wouldn’t let anyone near me but the Teacher’s Aid. Daniel, my brother’s superior officer in Civil Air Patrol during High School. I hadn’t seen him in years, but some random fluke put his luggage through another airport and him in Denver at the same time I was waiting to fly home. Even crazier was he remembered me.

Our gate changed a third time. We spent the remainder of our delay standing in a waiting area the size of a tuna can talking, me about my writing and youth activities, he about cars and his service. (I remember he kept instinctively moving me so I wouldn’t get trampled by others.) He was on leave for a month before heading back to Afghanistan. It was his third deployment, but he was considering volunteering for a fourth because he’s single and it would mean a husband and father wouldn’t have to go.

I’ve had several friends leave for active duty in the years since 9-11. I’ve been blessed in that every single one of them has returned and been physically whole. I also have numerous family members who have served. Some made it home but suffered the effects of war physically and mentally. Others gave their last breath. Each of them had the same attitude as Daniel. For them not serving was never an option. It was an honor and a privilege to guard and protect not just their loved ones, but strangers as well.

Daniel and I lost track of each other after landing. Two years passed and I wondered about his whereabouts from time to time.  This summer while at a retirement party for one of his former Civil Air Patrol Senior Officers, my brother ran into him again and put us in touch with each other. We went out for a couple of drinks and ended talking into the wee hours of the morning about life. He’s Stateside again, but still active and plans to serve long-term. The fierce determination and protective instinct I saw in his eyes on the playground that day as kids is still clearly visible in his eyes.

So to Daniel, my friends and family, and every other veteran who has ever served: Thank you! Thank you for setting your safety aside to protect ordinary people like me.

To the families who have waited for loved ones to come home, and for those who are still waiting, I honor your sacrifice today, as well.

30 Days of Thankfulness in Writing – Day 2: Mentors

It’s easy to focus on the negative in the world around us. In observation of a month many dedicate to counting their blessings, I’ve started a 30-day challenge in which I’ll focus on one aspect of my writing life for which I am thankful. I’d love to have you join by sharing about something that has blessed your own writing life in the comments section below. - Jen

An editor I used to work with once said that if you wanted a bigger piece of pie, you had to make the pie bigger first. In other words, if you want to see more benefit from your efforts, you need to be willing to work with others to expand the territory. At the time he was talking about a couple of manufacturers who were squabbling over who had the rights to a certain bit of emerging technology, but what he said works for writing as well. The publishing world can appear cutthroat to outsiders. There are only so many book slots available in bookstores a year (though e-publishing is changing that), agents only take on so many new clients, and editors are a precious commodity. Once you get your start, if you want to make a living at writing your work really has to sell.

Then there’s the pie. When it comes to readers, there are only so many pieces to go around and those tastes are constantly changing. What is hot and fresh one day may be considered old and moldy the next.  Yet despite the survival of the fittest mantra we have pounded into our heads from an early age, I have rarely met a published writer who was unwilling to share a bit of insight with an aspiring writer. In my experience at least, it’s always been the exact opposite.

And that’s what I am thankful for today: the writers who have become my mentors. Some I have never met face to face, we’ve only worked together via electronic communication; others I’ve had the privilege to sit under for a spell. Each of them recognizes their time is a mere blink and wants to make sure there are other well-trained storytellers to take their place when they set their pen down for the final time. They don’t just lock themselves in their writer’s caves and turn out books — they dedicate a portion of their already busy lives to teaching.

These writers remind me of the ancient story keepers who took on apprentices and trained them until they could recite from memory the histories, fables, and tales of their culture. The main difference is my mentors taught me the rules of writing, how to avoid pitfalls they encountered, and they also encouraged me to find my own voice.

So to my mentors Norm Rohr, Douglas Hirt, John Perrodin, Suzanne Eller, Jim Bell, Jerry Jenkins, and all the others who have taken the time to pass on their valuable knowledge to the next generation: Thank you for working to make the pie a little bigger for all of us.

Hey, Jen...Guess what!?!

I can still remember how sour my stomach felt as I walked through the doors of that conference room in the Denver Hyatt Hotel that November day three years ago. I was meeting the nine other writers who were part of my Craftsman group for the first time and part of our introductions was to give a pitch for the novel we’d spent the last several months working on. The last time I could remember being so nervous was the moment I stood before several hundred people at the district spelling bee in fifth grade — and suddenly forgot how to spell “commit.”

For some reason, at first I was expecting everyone to be older, with families grown or almost grown. Instead I found us split evenly with writers on both sides of 30. One of the Craftsman I met right away was Jon Wakefield, a soft-spoken but enthusiastic husband and father of two squirrelly boys from Virginia. He worked in technology, but he dreamed of being a full-time writer.

Prior to arriving, we’d all submitted our first chapter of our manuscripts and we received a notebook with everyone’s work and some evaluations that were to be completed prior to arriving. The genres varied from suspense, thriller, sci-fi, fantasy…you name it, it was there. One of the things we were asked to rate on a scale of 1 to 5 was our overall interest in continuing reading the story (1 being uninterested and 5 being unable to put it down). After reading Jon’s chapter, I circled “1,” a number he’s never let me forget. (Thought to be fair, I think I only gave out a single 4.)

I learned more about writing working alongside my classmates and authors like James Scott Bell, Jerry B. Jenkins, and speaker/writer C. McNair Wilson during that one weekend than I had in the entire four years I’d spent in college writing classes. We were all stretched tremendously and six months later Jon called to run a new novel idea past me. I was immediately intrigued and told him to send me the first fifty pages when he was done. When he did, I forgot to write notes and had to read through it a second time.

Jon has come even further since then, he has started up his own copywriting business. He has become a leader in his community and spoken in public forums, and I just received a note from him this week telling me his new book Fatal Reality had just been picked up.

Jon isn’t the first writer in my circle to move another step closer to his life’s dream, and he certainly won’t be the last. And nothing gives me more pleasure than celebrating alongside them. Right now I only have articles and short stories to my name but I look forward to the day when I get to call Jon and say, “Guess what!”

Congratulations, Jon. I am incredibly proud of you!