Author Blair Keetch (coming soon: Flight Risk) joins Donna on Dead to Writes

Author Blair Keetch joins Donna on Dead to Writes for a lively discussion about his soon-to-be-released thriller: Flight Risk.

Carrick Publishing is actively seeking crime story submissions for our Fall 2020 anthology: A Grave Diagnosis.

A Grave Diagnosis ~ crime story submissions now open!



Calling crime writers! Carrick Publishing is welcoming submissions for our 2020 anthology of crime stories: A Grave Diagnosis!

Crime sub-genres will include: thrillers, cozies, suspense, mystery, detective, amateur sleuth, and police procedural.

Deadline: June 1, 2020, midnight ET.

Word count: Minimum 1,500 words; maximum 8,000 words.

Story must be original and previously unpublished. Author must own copyright. No public domain material.

There must be a clearly defined crime. No horror, no graphic sex or violence, no hate literature. Each story will feature an illness or disease of some kind. The illness can involve the protagonist, the antagonist, the victim or the solution of the crime.

Email Word.doc file to CARRICKPUBLISHING @ ROGERS . COM . (Remove spaces.)

Subject line: A Grave Diagnosis.

Note: Carrick Publishing will award prizes for the best short story and the runner-up. Prizes: $100 and $50 respectively, along with anthology prominence and bragging rights!



Kavanaugh vs. #WeTheWomen — A bitter pill

In the near certainty of today’s vote, I refuse to surrender to bitterness.

Bitterness is a vile pill, a pointless and destructive one as well.

Bitterness: It will make you ill, it will eat you from the inside out, it will render you as hateful and as vile as your oppressors.

I’ve tasted that pill many times in my life, as I experienced the horrors of my childhood, the loss of my sister, the violence of an abusive first marriage and the depression of losing another, more dear husband, to alcoholism.

I’ve tasted that pill when, in the mornings, I wake to chronic and intense pain, to stomach ailments that seem so unfair. I’ve tasted it when I’ve seen others in pain. At least, so far, I’ve been able to shake it off and enjoy productive days despite the pain. Many others have not been so fortunate.

I’ve tasted that pill when, and I’m being brutally honest here, I’ve seen other talents rise mightily while my personal success has not always flourished, even though I know with certainty that not all of those rising stars rose based on merit. My own past has hurt my confidence. Confidence, along with hard work and talent is necessary to achieve full success. I own that, and I take responsibility for it.

And now I’m tasting that vile pill again, as #WeTheWomen are being told our word is worthless in the face of the powerful and the mighty, the arrogant and the strong.

I will taste that pill for a moment. I’ll allow its putrid flavor to steel my will, to remind me this fight is not only for a day, but for a year, a century, a millennium.

So, while we’ve clearly lost this battle, there will be other battles in the war for justice, for gender and racial equality, for safety for the vulnerable.

I hereby SPIT this pill onto the ground, I release myself from bitterness, and I move on to the next battle, clear eyed and certain that one day, and it may not be long from now, there will be a reckoning. It will not fall like pie from the sky. We will have to fight long and hard for it.

But #WeTheWomen know how to fight!

Rest in Peace, Anthony Bourdain. In memory of my sister.

Please feel free to share my story and the link that follows:

One of my dear sisters, the one closest in age to me, took her own life 41 years ago at the age of 19. One learns to live with the loss, but the fires of grief never die and can be easily stoked by current news.

troubled teenI suffered for many years, both before and especially after her death, from deep chronic depression. Many times I flirted with the notion of suicide, even went so far as to make a couple of half-hearted attempts when very young. One day I’ll write about Debbie and those days, even if no one reads it. Her memory deserves the chronical.

Mental illness has no respect for age or financial position. It cares nothing about fame or obscurity. We are reminded of our own less public pain when confronted with the suffering of the rich and famous. But just because our pain doesn’t make the daily news, it doesn’t make it “less than”.

I am crying. Not because I was Anthony’s biggest fan. I recognized his talent, certainly, and his undenyable star power, but I’ve never been a foodie and his show was on too late for me.

I’m crying for all the anguished souls, all those who suffer and who we are reminded of by his passing.

Rest in Peace, Anthony. May you finally know a rest.

If any of my friends are suffering, please know there is help to be found. Please do not suffer in silence. Please do not punish your loved ones with your irreversible loss.

Reach out today:
https://suicideprevention.ca/need-help/