Aloha and Welcome to the March 2017 Savant/Aignos Online Realtime Chat. This monthly chat is always on the third Saturday of every month and runs from 7 a.m. to 10 a.m. Hawaii Standard Time. Savant/Aignos authors, editors, cover artists and staff are encouraged to participate as part of their publicity and marketing effort. This chat is open to the public. This is a moderated chat; the "rules" are posted on the chat page.
It's a beautiful dawn here at Savant/Aignos "headquarters" in Honolulu, Hawaii, USA. We've numerous works including the 2017 Savant Poetry Anthology "in the works," with a brisk publication schedule of Savant and Aignos works for 2017 shaping up. If you've ever thought of becoming a published writer, now is the perfect time of the year to submit a Manuscript Submission Package (MSP) including the answers to our important submission questions and a completed manuscript formatted to Savant/Aignos standards. We also remain interested in producing and marketing the best in music CD's and DVD's, so if you're a recording artist or an audio-video producer, consider Savant Books and Publications or our imprint, Aignos Publishing, as your possible home.
I'd like to start today's chat by reminding all our published authors, recording artists and audio-video producers to be sure to post their three professionally-designed excerpts, one at the beginning, one in the middle and one at the end of participation. If, on the other hand, your work is not yet published, or you are not a Savant/Aignos author, recording artist or audio-video producer, feel free to post your own excerpt or teaser.
Remember that after the chat is over, it will be archived to the internet, so choose what you say carefully and with consideration for all.
With those words of welcome and advice, I hereby officially open today's chat.
The Desperate Breaths of Fallen Stars by Scott Mastro aka tenderbastardIn his mid-twenties and blessed with what life had brought him so far, the Iranian young man glanced away from the similarly-aged Korean girl sitting across from him in front of the Parisian bistro's full-length window. They'd come here on their first date, halfway through the semester, both enthused with the prospects each saw in the other. The term ending, each thought the other merely wanted to celebrate the end of exams, not knowing what surprises the other might have for one another.
Against religious and parental wishes, the young man was beardless. Similarly, the young woman was bare-legged, in sandals and shorts. Their mutual heresies were fierce kindling in the fire of their mutual attraction. He renounced scripture and custom with his Western dress, jeans and John Lennon t-shirt. She tempted the ancient gods with her siren attire, a tube top baring her shoulders and arms and butterfly tattoo on her left shoulder.
Their conversation ceased momentarily, but their thoughts had not. She was watching a waiter walk by. He was looking out the window. The warm, yellow light inside the café reflected their water-color silhouettes in the translucent window glass, combining their wavering images with the evening, sidewalk-world outside. Uncaring about the rapidly ensuing darkness, neither suspected the other had something to say that would effect their amorous relationship like a trump card in a game of high-stakes poker.
The young man casually stroked his long, deep-black tresses gathered in a ponytail, the remaining waves flowing across his shoulders, making him look like a reincarnation of the Great Khan. Taking a sip of wine, he reflected on how much he'd enjoyed this woman's company. He'd come to accept his impulsiveness with women now that he'd come to the Western World and liked it, but was unable to completely fathom this evening's indiscretion."His writing is like Jack Kerouac and Douglas Adams." ~ A Novel Way "There's a thin line between sexiness and absurdity and Mr.Mastro is determined to find it." ~ Tony Norman - Pittsburgh Post-Gazette Blood Money ~ Tales from Two Continents (Savant) - amazon.com/Blood-Money-Tales-Two-Continents/dp/0982998759/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1330973900&sr=1-1
While I wait for everyone to join today's chat, I'll take off my publisher's hat and don my editor's hat. THE GUMSHOE (Savant 2017) by Richard Rose was just recently released and is available now from our Publisher's Store at https://mkt.com/savant-books-and-publications/item/the-gumshoe, on Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble Bookstores, and other fine online/brick-and-mortar bookstores internationally. "Chicago, 1947. Private investigator "Matt" McBride runs afoul of corrupt politicians, vicious mobsters and a trigger-happy Texan femme fatale to prove that the "suicide" of his best friend was murder. Matt's perilous journey to track down the killer nearly dead-ends in a motor home on collision course with a cargo plane." Order your copy from our Publisher's Store (above link) and receive 10% off the Suggested Retail Price with FREE SHIPPING DOMESTICALLY ANYWHERE WITHIN THE USA INCLUDING ALASKA AND HAWAII. If you, like me, love the early 20th century, noir, private eye, "dime" novelists like Dashiel Hammett, I believe you'll, like me, fall in love with this wonderful, tongue-in-cheek, entertaining story. And for the younger set who don't know of this genre/period, think Marvel comics. I'm already looking for another outstanding Savant/Aignos manuscript to edit. Perhaps it'll be yours?
CLEOPATRA UNCONQUERED by Helen R. Davis - Excerpt #1 (This Excerpt is Family Rated)
[INSERT COVER PHOTO FROM PRESS RELEASE HERE ONCE BOOK IS RELEASED]
"It is with aged fingers but clarity of mind that I take pen to hand to write this brief memoir. What the Gods and Goddesses will ultimately do with it, I know not. These are turbulent times in Egypt, Rome, Greece and Heaven. Whether future generations will read, know or remember my words is known only to the great Goddess, Isis, who in her infinite wisdom, refrains from sharing the whole of the results of our accomplishments with us during our mortal lifetime, be we Pharaoh, Queen, royalty or commoner.
"But this I do know, the Goddess having appeared to me in her many guises repeatedly throughout my life: Whatever my fate, another even more glorious life awaits me when, at last, my spirit returns to her outstretched arms.
"This memoir, then, is not of my life and fate as I will be remembered by mortals—that will be written by historians—but of the promised whole of my life, as the Goddess Isis has seen appropriate to disclose to me."
The first book of four in a richly imagined ancient world where the course of history is altered by one battle. In this world, Antony and Cleopatra triumph at the Battle of Actium, and Cleopatra emerges as a queen, stateswoman, and politician. Those around her come to life as the reader returns to those days to live them with her.
CLEOPATRA UNCONQUERED (2015)
by Helen R. Davis
330 pp - 6" x 9" Softcover Trade Book
Available directly from the publisher/printer with FREE SHIPPING ANYWHERE WITHIN THE USA INCLUDING ALASKA AND HAWAII at
Also available from Amazon.com, Savant Bookstore Honolulu, as well as fine online and "brick and mortar" bookstores everywhere.
Helen R. Davis
Award-winning Author of CLEOPATRA UNCONQUERED (Savant 2015)
EVITA: MY ARGENTINA by Helen R. Davis Excerpt #1 (This excerpt is family rated)
Midnight, 26 July 1952
"I do not want to sleep. I am in too much pain. The agonizing pains in my abdomen are harsher than they’ve ever been and I’ve lost so much weight that I’ve become a skeleton— and not myself. I’m no longer me. I’m no longer Evita. Only my eyes live.
Perón has abandoned me. He only comes to my room occasionally, and when he does, he wears a mask so as not to inhale what he claims are ‘bad odors.’ Just the other night I dragged myself from this room, from my deathbed, to his room and he cried “Get out!”
How can he leave me like this, after all I’ve done for him? After I’ve demanded that the descamisados give their lives for him? I would willingly give my life for him and for Peronism. Is it true he believes I’ll serve him better in death than in life? I have served Perón willingly and with all my heart and soul. Is this how he repays me for a life of love and devotion? So be it, I have served him and my God the best I knew how.
If that’s the case, than I would prefer to die. I believe I have com- mitted enough good deeds to get into Heaven. I was not a bad person. Perhaps I was a bit too vengeful at times, but all of us are angry. No one is completely good except God and the Blessed Virgin.
I kissed lepers. I worked in the Foundation and I suffered willingly for the poor, even sacrificing my health. And if God were to give me back my health, I would never wear my jewels again; just the plainest of clothing. But as it is, I know I will not live through this day. I will do nothing today except remember my life and how I came to this bed; alone, abandoned, and forgotten by all except my descamisados. Who, who now is going to take care of my poor?"
Tracing her life back to her humble beginnings, when she is abandoned by her father, Evita takes the reader on her journey to the pivotal moment when she meets Colonel Juan Perón. A larger-than-life story, told in her own fictional words, the powerful novel is as educational as it is entertaining.
Available on Amazon.com, from Custom Books Publications, and fine brick and mortar bookstores everwhere
THE TURTLE DANCES by Daniel S. Janik - Excerpt #1 (Family Rated)
"Chapter 1 - Peach Moon
Viewed from the middle of the bay, the night would have been pitch dark, but for the huge, round, blushing pink Hawaiian moon, resting like a big ripe peach just above the horizon. Above and behind, the sky, a black velvet blanket, was dusted with pin-point stars. Ahead, along the sandy beach, the evening trade winds rustled the long fronds of tall coconut trees growing on the far side of a sidewalk that wandered behind low mounds of cool, wet sand.
The beach was pretty much as Isla, the Green Sea Turtle, thought it should look, taste and feel from her childhood memories. Of course, it wasn’t exactly the same. There were small differences—the coarseness of the sand granules, their slightly cooler temperature, and something she couldn’t quite put her flipper on..."
Isla, a Hawaiian Green Sea Turtle resting on the beach at Waikiki, notices a dance couple practicing a partner routine for a dance competition. Intrigued, she decides she, too, wants to dance, and more so, partner dance. But how to do it?
Written for adults to read aloud to their children, and youth to 16 years of age to read and enjoy. Lavishly illustrated in black and white for reader coloring opportunities.
The third in the Savant "COLOR-ME-PLEASE" children's book series.
THE TURTLE DANCES (Savant 2013)by Daniel S. Janik
Available worldwide from Savant Books and Publications, on Amazon.com, and at fine bookstores everywhere.
Sincerely,Daniel S. JanikAuthor of the award-winning "Color-Me-Please" children's books, THE TURTLE DANCES (Savant 2013) A WHALE'S TALE (Savant 2009)Press Release for THE TURTLE DANCES at http://www.prlog.org/12194549
Mr. Mastro received the 2016 Dawson River Writers Residency for his musical Let it be Christmas in which Danny Kringle is arrested and tried for trying to get everybody to, “Let it be Christmas all of the time,” and succeeds, on Christmas, but only for that one day.
The title song can be heard at – and the 3:30 trailer is at - Artie, in the striped shirt.
From Blood Money ~ Tales from Two ContinentsGetting Into Heaven with Little or Nothing Down by Scott Mastro aka tenderbastard
Everyone in the small Italian town some kilometers east-northeast of Rome knew that, except for public and religious holidays, no matter what the weather, the same giardiniere (gee-ar-dee-neeair-ray = gardener) would be sitting in front of the village welcome center well before it opened. Today was no exception. Dressed in the same light-plaid shirt, pleatless dark-green trousers, grey tweed jacket and matching cabby hat, his black, round-toed, lace-up work boots completed the outfit that, in part, made him and the welcome center an international tourist stop. The giardiniere appeared there every morning like the long hand of a clock that couldn't wait for the starting hour to begin, accurately anticipating the moment the person inside the welcome center would grip the door-handle, open the building and welcome everyone in. Having long ago surrendered to the drudgeries of repetitive daily tasks such a job entails, the person inside inevitably arrived at work like a clock that could gladly have waited for the starting hour to begin.
The pious village population was evenly divided on God's track record, half praising His work as top-notch, half declaring it a shoddy affair so far. Similarly, half of the welcome center staff felt it sheer bedevilment how the human icon sitting in front of the center every morning could be so consistently dedicated to something as speculative as the Lord's will. Still, there he was, Bible in one hand, religious baubles in the other.
The welcome center opened at precisely the ten o'clock hour like the Pearly Gates before a mixed audience of liars, cheats, fornicators and thieves. On cue, the giardiniere stood, sensing the Lord's descent from Heaven reanimating his mortal shell, prepared to earn his daily bread. Like a Pope running late for his coronation, the giardinere presented his identification card to the information desk clerk then bee-lined to the community room where, out-of-sight, the Gesù (Jay-soo = Jesus) peddler could smile and prepare for the young, hippy-type transcontinental trekkers who would soon be genuflecting their wallets and purses before him. Preaching the gospel according to himself, gratis(grah-tee—for free), always with the thought of doing a little business after the sermon was completed, it was common knowledge to just about everyone except the welcome center staff, and even listed in several English travel guides, that the giardiniere's currency was eighth and quarter ounce marijuana denominations kept in the hollow interior of the Bible never out of his grasp.
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