December 7, 2017

Hope Lives in Dark Times by Robyn Walters

While sitting at my desk, I point the remote at the television, and change channels to the evening news. The anchor’s urgent voice and pleading face flashes on the screen reporting the tragedy unfolding in Sutherland Springs, Texas. My article’s subject changed in an instant.

I close my eyes, lean back in my chair and feel the weight of grief on my chest. Another day of killing in America. Twenty-six dead. Families and communities forever changed. Law enforcement working diligently, again, to make sense of the carnage.

Please Great Spirit, God, Universal presence, please stop the hate and end the violence. Not one more, not another day. My prayer is unlimited and all inclusive. It is about the intention each one of us sets in our heart and soul to heal what ails us, our communities, our country, our world. I rest my forehead on the palms of my hands and take a deep breath.

How unrealistic am I?

Our people and communities don’t have time to grieve the last deaths reported, before another one occurs. Eight in New York, fifty-eight in Las Vegas, and dozens more across the country just in the last few weeks. I am disturbed at the thought that this type of activity seems to be becoming normal. Let that never be accepted. 

I reflect on the title of my first novel, Seeds of Hate, and I imagine there are a lot of us scratching our heads, holding our hands to our hearts and wondering how we ever got this far. Are we all drawing a collective breath waiting for the next grand act of violence?

My thoughts shift to the definition of words, their power and how to begin processing, again, what type of person can commit such acts. 

Hater.

This one word alone roils to the surface others that fuel the fiery topics people hate: race, ethnicity, poverty, wealth, politics, government, religion, health care, financial institutions, celebrity, other people – that’s the short list. 

A good speller growing up, I often read the dictionary to learn new words, loved word games and puzzles, reading and writing. Since the English language first appeared some 1,500 years ago, my curiosity about the history of the word “hater” peaked. First shown to exist around 1350, I bet the founders of our language would be surprised as to how that word applies to our society today.

The inspiration for my main character in Seeds of Hate, Wilhelm Kastner, departed this earth nearly a decade ago. I’m grateful he does not have to navigate these times. He would struggle to understand. When he was born, hate came with mother’s milk. His chance for survival slim, he faced the odds as a hardened soldier. Then, as a young immigrant, Wilhelm experienced America at its best. His journey from hater to redemption, love and justice must be told, so others can learn from his experience.

I’m not watching much television these days. I press my hands over my ears, yet my eyes are wide open to the noise and images manifested by a disgruntled society, natural and manmade disasters, and a world that seems hell bent on perpetuating hate, rather than spreading peace.

Once known and highly regarded as a land of opportunity, America appears as a shadow of its former self. If media and social media provided the only lenses I use to view the world, it would appear that hate oozes from every darkened corner like a toxic sludge seeping across the landscape, permeating our homes. In some cases, hate poisons the minds of people to the point they commit shocking acts of violence against innocents. The increasing frequency of these events is alarming. 

If Wilhelm lived today, he would be disheartened. Wilhelm grew to believe in the good of all people. He would hope that his story would inspire those who read it to do better and be better - to come from a place of less judgement and a more compassionate heart. 

Seeing the irony in the title and purpose of my book makes me smile. The conscious choice of peace and love over hate and fear can be a tough one, given what we are bombarded with.

My thoughts drift to nature versus nurture. In the course of Wilhelm’s life, his true nature had to dig out from the depths of an almost unfathomable nurture to find the way. I imagine that an underlying faith, buried under the dark teachings of his youth, somehow kept his soul warmed during the days hope did not exist.

These are very challenging times. As a society, we have come so far, yet our forward momentum is tested each day. Finding the good and staying positive is more important than ever. Seek out the relationships that lift you up and feed your soul. Let happiness live in the core of who you are.

With this in mind, I start a new day setting my intention to the highest and greatest good. Let all my thoughts, actions and reactions come from this space. Hope exists that good will come from what we are experiencing now. To disbelieve is not an option. To see is the reward.

Peace.


PRAISE FOR SEEDS OF HATE

“…a well written and compelling story of courage, survival, reliance, and of not betraying your principles or who you are.” ~C. Grau, READNOW Early Reader Reviewer

“If you’re a sucker for legal fiction, like me, then I recommend this book, hands down!” ~Liz’s Review, READNOW Early Reader Reviewer


ABOUT SEEDS OF HATE

Growing up in Nazi Germany, Wilhelm Kastner knew two things by the age of six: conform or die. To survive, he becomes one of Hitler’s prized acolytes.

When the war finally ends, Wilhelm sheds the training of his youth to pursue the American dream and build a future. Happily married with two children, life is good in Sunnybrook—until an incident at a school forces him to confront the demons of his past.

Now Wilhelm must fight to survive all over again—or lose his life trying.


AVAILABLE FORMATS

Available in hardcover, trade softcover, and ebook at fine retailers everywhere, including Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Books-a- Million, iTunes, Kobo, plus many more. Coming soon to audio!

Visit the publisher’s website for more information and purchasing options.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Born to war-survivor parents, Robyn Walters was raised on the southern-most beaches of California. Robyn’s inspiration is drawn from ordinary people who provide extraordinary stories of triumph over tragedy. Newly retired from a life-long career in public service, Robyn writes to her heart’s content in western Colorado.

November 22, 2017

Weapons Writing Research

I'm currently working on a new urban fantasy novel set in my hometown of Milwaukee. Weapons aren't my area of expertise and my characters are going to need some badass metal to defend themselves against the Dark Fae and other enemies. Fortunately, the Milwaukee Public Museum has a wonderful weapons exhibit, Beyond the Blade, going on now through January 1, 2018. The exhibit has over 180 examples of weaponry from fifty countries, spanning 10,000 B.C.E. to the 20th Century and explores weapons used as tools, defense, and cultural symbols. Among my favorites are the Knight's Templar sword, an arrow from Custer's Last Stand, and a pirate's sword. 

I thought I'd share some of my photos in hopes they inspire your own stories. If you are in the Milwaukee area between now and January, check out this phenomenal exhibit. And if you can't get here, stop by your local history museum for some great research. Nothing beats the experience of seeing a weapon in person, rather than in a one dimensional photograph.
















November 16, 2017

Write for Rights 2017 with Amnesty International


My writing is my super power.

I don't have a fancy cape and a cool secret identity, but I do have an internet connection and like to think I write faster than a speeding bullet. I'd love to leap tall buildings in a single bound, but I doubt that's happening any time soon. *smirk* Instead, I use my writing to fight injustice, something we all can do.

Amnesty International is a human rights organization with chapters around the world fighting injustice, crimes against humanity, corrupt government, and censorship.



Their annual Write for Rights Campaign is going on now through December 31, 2017. People around the world will come together to fight injustice and celebrate Human Rights Day on December 10, 2017. Amnesty International has chosen ten cases for the letter writing campaign, but you can also write for justice in other cases as well. Anyone of any age can sign up to participate or host a writing event. Below are this year's cases. Click the link to read more information about each person and join me in participating. Together, we can change the world.

Stop China's harassment of Ni Yulan. 


Ask Egypt to drop charges and free Hunan.


Demand Honduras protect Milpah now.

Write Israel to drop charges against Farid and Issa.

Overturn Clovis's sentence in Madagascar
immediately.

Demand Turkey drop charges against the
Istanbul 10 and free them immediately.

Demand Chad release Mahadine immediately.

Demand justice for Xulhaz.

Demand Jamaica protect Shackelia
and seek justice for people murdered by police.

November 14, 2017

Top 5 Reasons I’m Looking Forward to the Zombie Apocalypse by J. Whitworth Hazzard


It’s a little weird to admit that I’m a fan of disaster. When you write a zombie apocalypse novel, like DEAD SEA GAMES (published by BHC Press), you have to be. But all that chaos and mayhem and death. How could you be so callous and cruel? Would it help if I told you that it’s not all bad? I’m a glass-half- full kind of guy. There’s a bit of upside and comedy to almost any situation if you look hard enough, and I’m betting I can get you to agree with me on at least a few good things to come out of the approaching apocalypse.

I think a proper, old-fashioned, burn civilization to the ground kind of reckoning might clear the air around here. To be clear, I’m specifically a fan of a zombie apocalypse. Oh, other apocalypses have their sexy bits sure, nuclear war mutants, asteroid craters, and alien battle cruisers, but zombies have heart. Zombies are us; humanity boiled down to its ugliest, ravenous essence. So when your neighbors turn and start knocking on your door looking for brains to devour, here are some things you can look forward to:

5. No more politics.

We get so angry over who voted for who and how they’re screwing up this country that watching the news or going on Twitter is likely to cause an aneurysm. I’ll tell you something even a reality-TV- star-made- President will recognize: once the zombies roam the streets there’s no politician in the world that’s going to come save your butt. Just imagine it, a world where there’s no left or right or Conservative or Liberal, or even those cheeky libertarians, just the living and the dead. Politics is going to get real personal in the aftermath, just you and whatever survivors you can round up will get to vote on all kinds of things a lot easier than tax code and deficits. Word of advice…don’t vote for the Cannibal party!

4. No more school or work.

This is probably the biggest upside for our protagonist, Jeremy, in DEAD SEA GAMES. Overactive teenage boys aren’t traditionally that fond of high school, so having school canceled…well, forever, is a pretty nice trade-off for fighting the undead. I know some of you out there get pretty pumped for second year Spanish and Pre-calculus, but there’s no translating zombie to English, my friends. And let’s face it, for us adults that permanent sick leave status is going to be a big load off our shoulders. And you won’t even have to fill out any FMLA paperwork. Suck it, HR.

3. No more commute.

If you’ve lived in the big city like I have, that daily commute can seem as bad as death. All right so work is canceled, but that still leaves the highways clogged and your attempt to get out of New York City in a car or subway is a suicide mission. Why bother? Just sit home and wait until all those juicy morsels sitting in their cars and trains are chomped into fresh zombie chow. Problem solved. Sure, there’s going to be thousands of derelict cars and trucks on the road hampering your style, but there’s nowhere safe to go anyway so you might as well skip the commute and ride your bike to the survival bunker.

2. No more Thanksgiving.

This one is especially sweet to all those fellow introverts out there. It’s not just the awkward Thanksgiving dinner with your racist uncle, it’s all the horrible work Christmas parties, mystery casserole church potlucks, and cringe-worthy wedding receptions for friends you stopped hanging out with a decade ago. All those social gatherings that are the underpinning of a polite society in which we pretend to like people that creep us out are all going away. Come to think of it, after the zombie apocalypse safely weeds out the unexpected dinner guests, you can safely shoot anyone (or anything) that darkens your doorstep while you’re sitting down to feast on a roast cat and stuffed pigeon.

1. No more f*#$ing bills.

I’m not going to lie. You’re really going to have to brush up on your bartering skills to get ahead, but if you can trade batteries for bullets with a straight face, then maybe the zombie apocalypse is for you. Sure, you’re going to have to brain a lot of disgusting deadheads who want to rip your face off with their teeth, but oh imagine the sweet, sweet freedom of no mortgage payments and no student loans and no insurance deductibles. The thought of burning those stuffed envelopes that never stop coming is almost worth encouraging a few meth heads to bite each other to get this thing started. Twenty-three percent interest? Usage fees? Convenience fees? College textbooks you never even open? What a bunch of bullshit. I’d trade blood-sucking corporate vampires for zombies any day.

Dark jokes and gallows humor may not be your style, but it’s a way for me to cope with the horrors just over the horizon. Just remember that even in the darkest times, we have the capacity to look for the silver lining. Humans are, at our core, creatures of hope. It is that spirit of resiliency you can see in the survivors I created in the world of DEAD SEA GAMES. The orphaned teenagers find a way to turn tragedy into adventure, and with a little bit of mystery, magic, and bravado their journey is nothing short of
heroic. Enjoy the apocalypse!


PRAISE FOR DEAD SEA GAMES


…a thrilling story, and a call to look beyond the simplistic, one that’s going to keep you reading and guessing the outcome.

~ Readers'  Favorite

ABOUT DEAD SEA GAMES

The only way to win...is to live

One year after the Emergency, the island of Manhattan has become a prison. The survivors of the Colony have carved out a living a few stories above the sea of millions of shambling corpses. With no escape and no hope for the future, the teenagers entertain themselves by participating in brutal gladiatorial games, betting the only thing they have left—their lives.

Jeremy Walters is among the best of the best, but his adrenalin-addicted recklessness has done more than earn him the nickname Deathwish; it’s gotten him noticed. Now the race is on to recruit Deathwish as opposing forces maneuver to take advantage of his zombie-killing gifts. If he somehow manages to navigate the maze of bribery, threats, extortion, and intimidation, and not get himself killed, he’ll still have to face every teenager’s greatest fear: an angry mother. 


AVAILABLE FORMATS:

Available in hardcover, trade softcover, and ebook at fine retailers everywhere, including Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Books-a- Million, iTunes, Kobo, plus many more. Coming soon to audio!

Visit the publisher’s website for more information and purchasing options.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR

J. Whitworth Hazzard lives in the vast cornfields of Illinois with his wife, and four nearly perfect children. Trained in science and critical thinking, J. Whitworth spends his leisure time writing fiction that would make his former professors cringe. Dr. Hazzard’s PhD in molecular biophysics is used to figure out how to scientifically justify the existence of mythical creatures. His dream of writing started in the 5th grade when his five-page story “The Blood and Guts 500” entranced and thrilled his classmates. His passionate prosody received a standing ovation and from that day forward he was hooked on the art of storytelling.

November 11, 2017

Veterans Day 2017

Today is Veterans Day. 
I will not say it's a happy day; many no longer have their loved ones with them, some have loved ones serving now in very dangerous places, many have come home wounded, either physically, or in ways we cannot see. Thank you to all of you who are serving, have members in the three branches serving currently, or have served yourself.

Today is a day for honoring and remembrance. I don't agree with our military, but I will not and never have politicized people's selfless act of serving their country. The men and women in uniform go where they are ordered.

Right now, our nation is in a very sobering position. My father served in Korea. He was stationed in Puerto Rico as a Navy x-ray tech. Throughout his life, he never talked about what he saw. He rehabilitated a lot of men and he also prepared men's bodies for burial at home, packing them in shipping crates. He performed many autopsies. The cost of war is terrible. I'm glad he's not here today with the possibility of another Korean War looming over us, this time with nukes. He'd be so sad, angry, and concerned over our current president's rhetoric towards North Korea.














































































My brother, Greg, also served in the Navy as well as my sister, Rebecca. I don't have any of their service photos to share, unfortunately.

Greg was raped by other men while serving. He became an alcoholic to deal with PTSS(d) and depression. Drinking lead to tuberculosis in October of 1998. It took my brother's life. He is buried in Woods National Cemetery, here in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. 

If you or a loved one are suffering from PTSS(d), there is help available. 

Contact the Veterans Crisis Line:
1-800-273-8255, press 1 (text 838255) or Confidential Veterans Chat with a counselor.

You can find out more information about PTSS(d) at The National Center for PTSD.

After his death, I wrote a series of poems for my graduate school portfolio. This is one.

All Hallow's Eve
for my my father

Death stares back at him from a bloodstained phlemgy ventilator
and his eyes are like two slick oil pools
amidst the hiss of the oxygen machine
that pumps life into his tuberculosis ridden body.
He is a wild caged animal riddled with piss-stinking fear,
trapped by I.V. lines, oxygen lines, heart monitors,
and chest tubes to keep his lung from collapsing,
and outside children dressed as ghosts, goblins, and witches
are trick or treating on this dreary All Hallow's Eve.
He claws at the sterile white hospital sheets,
grasping for his father's hand to pull him back into humanity,
tears dripping from the corners of his eyes
like sugar water dripping through clear tubes into his shrunken veins.
I tell him that when he is better we will play cribbage together,
and meanwhile my father is on the phone talking to his ex-wife,
and making funeral arrangements,
teetering on the brink of indecision --
"should he be resusticated," the doctors ask him again and again
each day as his son slips further away from the living.
"Should he be cremated or buried," my father asks my mother.
My father decides on cremation.
They are arranging for his funeral while he is still with us,
and my father is trying not to cry, to be a man, to be the head of the family
the way all good little boys from the depression era
were taught by their mothers,
but he can't wind up so many loose ends into
a neat ball of string and brown paper wrapping.
He can't bind up all the memories of his son
and toss them into the trash to be recycled.
He can't forget December 27, 1954,
the day his son was born
in a renovated castle in San Juan,
or 1974 when his son graduated high school
and enlisted in the navy to conquer the world,
and so many holidays spent with the family.
He can't help but ask why he hasn't said it earlier,
why he hasn't said, "I love you, son."