Okay, by now you know I’m a writer, at least I say so, and I currently have two books out looking for an agent or publisher. A brief Synopsis of both are provided below, with a few pages from the novel to show the style. If you are an agent or publisher, feel free to contact me and I’ll be happy to provide you with a manuscript or more information.
NOTE: If you’re in the vanity or self-publishing business, please DO NOT contact me. I’ve been down that road and do not care to take the journey again. I appreciate your understanding.
CYA – Covet Your Assets!
“Success in business is not sleight of hand, cooking the books, wizardry, or a matter of luck; it’s about focusing on the right areas of your operation, doing the right things in those areas, and engaging everyone in your company to do the same.”
You are surrounded by assets, more than you may think, and they hold the promise of greater productivity, increased sales, and greater profit if the power of all these assets is harnessed, and working to generate revenue, or they can leak cost and revenue from your operation.
CYA will help you, and then help all the people in your company to focus on utilizing all the assets at your disposal in a way that focuses on reducing cost, maintaining and improving quality and delivery, and enhancing customer satisfaction, all of which translates to increased profits.
CYA is a philosphy, not a new process in your company. It doesn’t require the creation of new organizations, or complicated tracking systems, simply the engagement of everyone in the company focusing on the right things in their areas of expertise.
CYA may be one of the smallest business management books you’ve ever held, but it’s power to transform your company is belied by its size.
Reverend’s Prey
A young boy and a Protestant minister’s lives collide in a boys’ home east of Seattle when the boy suspects the minister of abuse and murder. Determined to prove his suspicions, the boy ends up in the crosshairs of the men he suspects when he’s caught spying on the men. He runs for his life, ending up on the streets of Seattle. Plagued by what he knows, he teams with an undercover cop to bring the Reverend to justice.
Prologue
It’s odd how our lives take twists and turns, unfolding in ways we never imagined, nor have any control over. I don’t dwell on the past – I prefer the present and future, but the memories last forever.
I don’t remember anything before the age of three, but the rest of my life comes back in flashes, often prompted by events in my daily life.
One such flashback happened the other day as I watched a young mother grab her squalling son and march him out of the grocery store, holding him half off the ground by one arm.
Chapter 1
I kicked, I screamed, I resisted in every way a five-year-old boy might as I was hauled through the front door to the waiting green station wagon parked at the curb. My grandmother held tightly to one hand, and the man she’d called Reverend Krumins gripped my other wrist, half-dragging and half-carrying me to the waiting car.
Grandma hugged and a kissed me before Krumins closed the passenger-side door on the only world I knew, then walked to the driver’s side. He nodded to Grandma and got in.
Grandma’s tears flowed from glacier-blue eyes, branching through the furrows in her face, the same wrinkles that deepened when she smiled were now the canals for her grief.
The car’s starter growled, like Grandpa clearing his throat, the engine roared to life, and Krumins u-turned and started down the road.
I watched Grandma through the back window, shrinking in size as she stood there in the middle of the street in front of our old wood-frame house, its weathered and peeling paint like a giant collage of potato chips. I stared until she was little more than a ghost in the brownish-yellow cloud of dust and exhaust.
I continued to wave, long after she was no longer visible, convinced I could still see her. Finally, all that remained was my panic, the salty taste of my tears, and Grandma’s musky old-person smell clinging to my nostrils. I turned and sat down in the car seat. The man beside me remained silent – I was grateful for that.
The September sun, beginning its pre-winter sag into Seattle’s southern sky, blazed through the windshield, warming my legs. Crows cawed raucously, seeming to mock my anguish. A brown and white spotted dog ran from a yard, barking furiously at the front tire, and then giving up the chase as we sped down the street.
How, I wondered, could the world carry on as if nothing had just happened?
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