New Sins and Late Nights

by Tj O'Connor

Nighttime belongs to mystery and intrigue—evil, too. I could say it belongs to love, but I write mysteries and thrillers, not romance novels. For me, I do my best thinking around midnight. I also do my best panicking and second-guessing. Don't we all? It’s not unusual for me to be lying there (or sitting at my computer writing), plotting out a scene or another book and wham—God, in the 7^th Grade, I insulted that sweet redhead, Becky. What was I thinking! Then back to my murder plot and … crap! I’ll never retire, I’ll have to work until I die and … now, where did I leave that last body in Chapter 12... dammit, why isn't Pluto a real planet anymore? As the hours tick by, so does my split personality between story plots and lifelong regrets.

Raise your hand if you are with me on this–and don’t lie.

But something else happens after midnight, too—creativity. An unknown author once said, “3 AM is the hour of writers, painters, poets, musicians, silence seekers, overthinkers, and creative people…” I am clearly in the writers and overthinker columns. Of course, perhaps the best quote to describe me was by the hiphop group, the Initials, who wrote, “The Night Belongs to The Poet and The Madman.” Hmmmm, I’m no poet so … yup, madman. Nailed it.

Most of my novels were all given birth after midnight. New Sins for Old Scores was no exception.

I was lying awake one night a few years ago when I began writing New Sins for Old Scores, my latest paranormal mystery coming out in a couple months from Black Opal Books. A line came to me that sort of sums up the opening of the story and my permanent state of insomnia and creativity—of the lead character, Richard Jax, I wrote, “… history taught him a very important lesson—an axiom of parents with teenagers—that nothing good ever happens after midnight. Jax wasn’t married and had no children. But it was after midnight and he was alone.” Then, bam! A body—his body—blood, bullets, and bang-bang. The story unfolds.

The story follows the traditional mystery path to “the End” with a murder, finger-pointing, a few more bodies, deep dark secrets, twists and turns, the spirit of a long-dead OSS operative, and the capture of the bad guys. Well, perhaps the spirit of a long-dead OSS operative isn’t the traditional mystery path, but it can be  with me. At least for this book it was. Most of this story was written between the hours of 9 pm and 4 am. In fact, most of my nine novels were written during those hours.

And yes, alas, most of my life-long regrets and mistakes haunt me then, too.

A lot of good can happen after midnight for me. I’ve learned a ton about writing over the past five years or so—patience, the ability to take a gut-punch (think critics, publishers, and barroom friendships), and perseverance. Mostly, though, I’ve learned a lot about myself and many of those lessons came in the late hours when I can forget about my real life and focus on my imaginary one—killing people and stopping international crisis. Okay, okay, so over the years my real life and imaginary life gets a little blurry, but you get what I mean. Late at night I love to take in the night air and let my brain go crazy. It’s a battle to ignore the forgotten appointments, lists of to-do things, and life’s worries (although I still accumulate a Picasso of yellow sticky notes by 5 am each morning). Still, I’ve learned that my inner demons thrive after lights-out, so I always have my cellphone handy and my note-application ready for an endless list of characters, plot twists, and action sequences I want to write. The dread of it all is that I must—like most of you—work for a living. Alas, I have to wait until the next night before I can put fingers to keyboard and craft those ideas into my stories. It’s painful sometimes, but like a vampire, daylight isn't fun—work, bills, cooking, chasing the dogs, responsibilities …

Somehow, before the sun comes up each day, I catch 3-4 hours of sleep. That’s when I dream about my stories. Do you think I’m obsessed?  

The moral to all this is know thy self—learn about your strengths and weaknesses and what works best for you. Don’t read blogs and go to seminars and panels and try to mimic what other authors do and say. There is no secret code to success (lord don't I know)! Don’t fall into the trap of trying to fit yourself into a mold. Trust me, you’ll get stuck and have to fight your way out—or worse, you’ll be captive to seeking that infamous secret formula. No. I believe in using your love of the pen to learn about yourself—learn when the demons come out and when the voices in your head begin to make sense. Even if that’s after midnight.

Oh, and forget the tossing and turning about those bills and long lost friends and what-ifs. Those voices are just your ex-spouse or the IRS trying to make you crazy! Listen for the little whisper that starts after the lights go out and tells your characters what to do and say and where the story is going. And for God’s sake, pay attention!

We’ll talk again next month.

Tj O’CONNOR IS THE GOLD MEDAL WINNER OF THE 2015 INDEPENDENT PUBLISHERS BOOK AWARDS (IPPY) FOR MYSTERIES. He is the author of New Sins for Old Scores, coming in Spring 2017 from Black Opal Books, and Dying to Know, Dying for the Past, and Dying to Tell. He recently finished his new thriller, The Consultant: Double Effect,and his amazing agent, Kimberley Cameron, is finding it a home. Tj is an international security consultant specializing in anti-terrorism, investigations, and threat analysis—life experiences that drive his novels. With his former life as a government agent and years as a consultant, he has lived and worked around the world in places like Greece, Turkey, Italy, Germany, the United Kingdom, and throughout the Americas—among others. He was raised in New York's Hudson Valley and lives with his wife and Lab companions in Virginia where they raised five children. Dying to Know is also the 2015 Bronze Medal winner of the Reader’s Favorite Book Review Awards, a finalist for the Silver Falchion Best Books of 2014, and a finalist for the Foreword Review’s 2014 INDIEFAB Book of the Year Award.

Learn about Tj’s world at:

Web Site:  www.tjoconnor.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/tjoconnor.author
Blog: http://tjoconnorbooks.blogspot.com/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7148441.T_J_O_Connor

 

New Sins and Old Dogs

by Tj O'Connor

 

Cancer should be spelled with an F. That’s the way I spell it—F---ing Cancer.

Cancer took my girl. Fast. Painfully. Heartlessly.

First it took her by surprise. Then it took her leg. Then it took her dignity. Then, it forced me to … f---ing cancer.

 

I have faced death all my life. We all have in one form or another. But these past couple years has been one heartache after another. Still, nothing prepared me for the loss of my girl, Maggie Mae. Nothing. In 2015, I lost both my mentor, Wally, and my companion, Mosby. One as much as the other—a Lab and a brilliant but crusty old spy—devastated me nearly the same. I’m not embarrassed to admit it. Wally was 92 and had lived his amazing life. Up until the very end—the hour—we shared laughs and talked and made sure there was peace and understanding between us. But with Mosby, it was hard to share anything but the loss. I wanted him to understand there was no choice. To understand that there was no greater love than to let go and save him from pain and despair. No greater sacrifice than accepting responsibility for the strange, heart-breaking kindness that is sometimes death. I hoped—prayed—he understand that I was not betraying him. Not merely moving on. I was saving him from the worst fate.

I try to tell myself that every day. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it kills me all over again. Pain doesn’t go away, it just simmers in the background waiting for an opportunity to burn you a little more.

Maggie is different. Painfully different. I can’t explain why—perhaps because she was my girl or perhaps it was because it was such a shock. Perhaps it was something else—she was forever in bandages for something. Always on meds for this or that. A twelve year struggle to cure the next thing. But she lived without complaint. Without demand. Always happy and loving. Until December when she came up lame in one leg. The vet told me she had arthritis, maybe a damaged ligament. No worries. Pain meds, therapy… maybe a little surgery if it didn’t heal quickly. All would be fine.

Wrong. Dead wrong.

Three weeks later, I knew something was very, very wrong and sought out a specialist. My girl wasn’t going to limp anymore or down pain pills any longer. Whatever the reason. Whatever the cost. She was going to be healed—and fast.

Oh dear God … twenty minutes after arriving, the end lay in my lap, panting and begging me for a chance—a few more weeks. A few more months ...  Osteosarcoma. F---ing cancer. Deep in her bone. So deep it was killing me, too.

The doc, an amazingly lady with class, skill, and compassion, operated that day and took her leg to save her life. Chemo was scheduled. More pain meds. But hope was in my grasp. Within three days she was hobbling around, playing a little, loving a lot—the smile back in her eyes after two months in hiding. Even after her first chemo treatment, she was on her feet and fighting back. Fighting for us. Fighting for life. She loved on Toby, or black Lab and the love of her life. She played with my granddaughter, walked and slept with me, and ate everything she could find. After all, dying be damned—she was a Lab.

Until the second week. Paralysis consumed her. It was back. She couldn’t walk, couldn’t sit, couldn’t have the dignity of controlling herself … her face exuded embarrassment when I carried her for days into the yard just to keep her from soiling herself. I didn’t know what was killing her faster—f---ing cancer or shame.

Humans should have such dignity.

I can barely write these words. The next ones especially. Pain rains and fingers tremble—the thoughts of those last moments. For those who don’t share my emotions over pets, you shouldn’t have them. For those that do, I can only image you’re sharing a little of my grief right now. You know the rest of the story. I couldn’t allow her any more pain, anymore shame, anymore cancer. And in my arms, both of us shaking … I let her go.

Damn me for what I had to do. Damn me. I only pray that if there is a heaven—and for souls like hers and my boy, Mosby, there has to be—that she and he are together and happy. They deserve it like no human I’ve ever known. Loyal. Loving. Compassionate.

This is not the fun, lighthearted post I wanted to write. But it is the post I had to write. It hasn’t healed me yet—I am struggling still. But it helps. Because sadly, I’m not always the adventurous, tough Harley guy people think of me too often—I’m an UFO (ugly fat old guy) who cries over lost dogs and isn’t ashamed to post that pain for the world to read.

But, the loss of one has one good fortune with the pain—room for another. Toby needs a companion—he morns for Mags every day. This house needs a girl—I do to. Not to replace you, Mags, but because you left such an emptiness behind.

So, to end this with a little hope … welcome Annie Rose. You’ve got big paws and a huge heart to fill. Be gentle with Toby and me—we’re still grieving. But he, like me, is coming around.

We’ll talk again next month.

 

Tj O’CONNOR IS THE GOLD MEDAL WINNER OF THE 2015 INDEPENDENT PUBLISHERS BOOK AWARDS (IPPY) FOR MYSTERIES. He is the author of New Sins for Old Scores, coming in Spring 2017 from Black Opal Books, and Dying to Know, Dying for the Past, and Dying to Tell. He recently finished his new thriller and is beginning three sequels to previous works. Tj is an international security consultant specializing in anti-terrorism, investigations, and threat analysis—life experiences that drive his novels. With his former life as a government agent and years as a consultant, he has lived and worked around the world in places like Greece, Turkey, Italy, Germany, the United Kingdom, and throughout the Americas—among others. He was raised in New York's Hudson Valley and lives with his wife and Lab companions in Virginia where they raised five children. Dying to Know is also the 2015 Bronze Medal winner of the Reader’s Favorite Book Review Awards, a finalist for the Silver Falchion Best Books of 2014, and a finalist for the Foreword Review’s 2014 INDIEFAB Book of the Year Award.

Learn about Tj’s world at:

Web Site:  www.tjoconnor.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/tjoconnor.author
Blog: http://tjoconnorbooks.blogspot.com/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7148441.T_J_O_Connor

 

It's Time for My New Sins ...

by Tj O'Connor

Temporary Cover Art

My sins are surfacing. They’re on the horizon, inching ever closer, and it’s time I dealt with them head-on. Like many a wild and crazy-guy, my sins come with scores to settle, too. There’s nothing better than a good battle of new sins and old scores. Nothing.

For the past two years or so, I’ve blogged about my characters, plots, and process surrounding my previous series, The Gumshore Ghost (a dreaded series name). Oliver Tucker and his pals hunted murderers, thieves, and gangsters. Tuck was a dead detective helping solve first his own, and then other murders along the way. Each of those stories had a historical subplot and a paranormal twist. And so does New Sins for Old Scores.

The difference in the story lines are unique—Tuck was written in the first person, and New Sins in the third. Tuck’s stories were very light-hearted mysteries whereas New Sins takes a little more serious storyline, still with good humor, but it’s closer to a traditional mystery. Lastly, and perhaps more noteable at least to me, it takes on a serious subplot—human trafficking—and overlays a historical real-life event to connect the past with the present. I truly believe history repeats itself. I also believe we are slow to learn its lessons.

New Sins for Old Scores makes us wonder if we’ve learned life’s most important lessons about the past, trust, and honor.

 In February 2016,  I had a brief discussion about my new novel. I’ll try not to rehash it here. It suffices to say that these new stories will also have murder with a paranormal twist, but in this case, the paranormal side will be the secondary character—Trick McCall, the spirit of a long dead, disgraced WWII Office of Strategic Services (OSS) operative. Trick is the sidekick in these stories, not the primary hero as in Oliver Tucker’s Ghost Gumshoe series. And this series is a little more traditional—albeit with the paranormal twist—and not quite as light-hearted as Tuck’s stories, either—though Trick does tend to have a little fun at the expense of the bad guys.

 The novel is based on some real events—or more accurately, real historical events—which I took license with and molded into a modern murder mystery. The story follows a disgraced detective, Richard Jax, who must prove his own innocence in a multiple homicide and stop an international plot of human traffickers and murders.

The story begins …

Murder, like history, often repeats itself.

When it does, that kind of murder isn’t the byproduct of some psychotic break or an unintended emotional frenzy. That kind of murder is conscious and considered. It is deliberate.

History is full of that kind of murder.

Richard Jax was never a good student of history—but he knew murder well. He was more pragmatic than philosophical, and except for watching the History Channel and old movies, the past occupied little of his time. His time was reserved for murder and violence. Yet, history taught him a very important lesson—an axiom of parents with teenagers—that nothing good ever happens after midnight.

Jax wasn’t married and had no children. But it was after midnight and he was alone.

Later on, Richard Jax is ambushed while on a stakeout and lay bleeding out, alone and without backup. As his assailant approaches him for the final kill shot, he meets Trick McCall …

A voice exploded in his head. “Get up. Fight back. It’s not over. It can’t be—fight.”

Jax looked across the driveway. Someone lay on the gravel a dozen feet away. The figure stared wide-eyed back at him. Then, in strange, freeze-frame movements, the man stood. He looked around and brushed himself off. He gave Jax a nod and then picked something up off the ground and placed it on his head.

“Come on, Mac, fight. Don’t quit. You can’t.”

Jax tried to focus but knew he was already done.

“Come on, Ricky. You have to do this yourself. Until you do, I can’t help.”

Jax watched the man across the parking lot as the warmth pooled beneath his cheek. His vision blurred and he wasn’t sure what he saw was right—a cone of light engulfed the man—just him. Everything around the light was black and murky. The man was tall and lanky. He wore a hat—a fedora—and a dark, double-breasted suit. Behind him was a 1940s Plymouth with wide, squared fenders, and a dark green, four-door body.

Was he dead and heaven playing a film noir festival for his arrival?

“Shoot ‘em, Ricky. Shoot or he’ll kill you.”

Jax looked up at the silhouette standing over him. The warmth that flowed from him minutes ago now left him cold and spent.

The silhouette raised his gun for the final shot.

“No,” Jax grunted. “No…”

A deafening crack and a flash of light.

Silence.

“Miles Archer, Ricky,” the fedora-man said leaning over him. “Bogart’s partner was Miles Archer, ya know, in The Maltese Falcon. I saw it open at the Capitol Theatre in D.C. in ’42. You did good, Ricky—real good.”

Darkness.

Jax and Trick McCall have two things in common. They are both disgraced—Trick believed to be a murderous traitor who killed his own men for profit, and Jax a crooked cop who killed his partner and fiancé from jealousy. Together they have to set the records straight —even if those records began in 1942.

As with my previous novels, I intertwine history and the present, proving the opening line, Murder, like history, often repeats itself.  The paranormal twist allows me to move between past and present and explore the events that led to Trick’s death and his disgrace. It also allows me to link events from the ‘40s with modern day skullduggery. The outcome brings out all the character’s New Sins and helps them settle Old Scores.

I’m anxious to get on the road to talk about this story. It was fun writing and I think it’ll be fun talking about the plot and characters to fans. But mostly, I love just talking books with readers. This one opens up a new chapter in my own writing, another potential series that mixes my favorite topics—murder and history. In these stories, I get to play with my own sins and conjure up some old scores to settle, too.

We’ll talk again next month.

Tj O’CONNOR IS THE GOLD MEDAL WINNER OF THE 2015 INDEPENDENT PUBLISHERS BOOK AWARDS (IPPY) FOR MYSTERIES. He is the author of New Sins for Old Scores, coming in March 2017 from Black Opal Books, and Dying to Know, Dying for the Past, and Dying to Tell. He recently finished his new thriller and is beginning three sequels to previous works. Tj is an international security consultant specializing in anti-terrorism, investigations, and threat analysis—life experiences that drive his novels. With his former life as a government agent and years as a consultant, he has lived and worked around the world in places like Greece, Turkey, Italy, Germany, the United Kingdom, and throughout the Americas—among others. He was raised in New York's Hudson Valley and lives with his wife and Lab companions in Virginia where they raised five children. Dying to Know is also the 2015 Bronze Medal winner of the Reader’s Favorite Book Review Awards, a finalist for the Silver Falchion Best Books of 2014, and a finalist for the Foreword Review’s 2014 INDIEFAB Book of the Year Award.

Learn about Tj’s world at:

Web Site:  www.tjoconnor.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/tjoconnor.author
Blog: http://tjoconnorbooks.blogspot.com/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7148441.T_J_O_Connor

 

Dying For The Little Things

Every author is driven by different things. Each of us shares one or two common ones—love of books and creating stories. A few are driven by money and reward—good luck with that. Me, I’m driven by something inside that haunts me in my sleep and near every waking moment. I’m not quite sure what it is sometimes. Maybe it’s the solitude of writing and creating. Maybe it’s that my characters are my best friends. Maybe it’s brain damage from my earlier days chasing adventures.

But for me, writing began when I was a very young child—the fifth grade—and the biggest encouragement came from my grandparents, Oscar and Irene. They bought me books, coaxed me to read and write more and more, and were some of my biggest cheerleaders on simple things like being the high school newspaper editor and writing short stories for class. When I disappeared for years into the military to chase adventures, my grandmother remained steadfastly in my corner and always reminded me of my first love—to be an author. It took years for me to settle down and begin that journey with deliberation and not as some fanciful pipedream.  But all the way, I could hear my grandparents pushing me on until the years—and they—had gone by before I knew it.

Age has taken its toll on me one day at a time—and oh hell, I ain’t that old! My swashbuckling days are in the past with great memories and lost friends. No more hot surveillance through the streets of Athens and Istanbul. No homicide interrogations or drug deals. I can’t go days without sleep on operations looking for Abu Nidal or 17 November. No more protecting world leaders or celebrities. Crime scenes have been replaced by desk tops and keyboards. My steadfast partner replaced by two Labradors and a Mastiff. Fast cars and cool guns are replaced by, well, fast motorcycles and cool guns—okay some things never change.

I miss those days being an adventurer and pseudo-tough guy (that definition is very loose, mind you). In my earlier days, it took a lot to control me or keep me in line. And in those early days, I learned to  kept my emotions and weaknesses protected. It took a lot to break through the outer shell and get inside. I always kept my real persona hidden because of a business most only read about in books or see on the six o’clock news.

Not anymore. Age and green eyes felled me. 

My youngest grandchild—oops, sorry Jack, you just joined us—second youngest grandchild—Rail, is not deterred by my gruff exterior or locked doors of solitude. She demands one thing and one thing only—my utmost attention. To fail to deliver places me in peril—a stolen keyboard or mouse, missing car keys, books removed from my shelves and less-than-neatly piled in the middle of my floor. This tiny little child sitting in the middle of my desk blocking my monitor and saying, “Papa, you and me, Papa. You and me.”

How could the toughest of men not melt to that?

Rail waiting on Papa to stop writing

Since moving in with us—her mom and dad are building a new house—Rail has installed herself as my constant companion, editor, supervisor, and chief-assistant. My other five kids—all adults and most married with kids of their own—cannot believe that this hardcore, workaholic, blustering rock has been felled by a three year old.

Neither can I.

Now mind you, I’ve chased terrorists and criminals, spent sleepless days-on-end running operations in foreign countries during wartime, and had my share of nail-biting moments and terrifying misadventures (bad guys and divorce lawyers included). But never in my days have I ever felt so helpless and not in control as when I hear the words, “Papa, you and me, let’s … play ball, watch Doc, make breakfast, play hide and seek, watch Doc, watch Ponies, play Barbies, make popcorn, watch Doc, hide from mommy, watch Doc, read another story …”

Teaching Papa to cook

 

When did I become a little girl’s teddy bear? When did this metamorphosis occur and what happened to the real me—you know, the gruff, solitary, biker-dude? Is there a peapod growing in my basement? An unreported alien abduction?

Nope. Just green eyes. And every time I think of it, I remember Oscar and Irene.

When my kids were young, I spent most of my time on the road—often times, not even in the same country. Later on, in their teenage years, I worked a billion hours a week and travelled constantly. Stress, exhaustion, and career were bad combinations and I dare say I missed some of the best years of my life. Thankfully, they’ve grown into very successful people on their own. Now, they are experiencing those same things and it makes it hard to have family close all the time. Understand, I have six wonderful grandchildren spread from Virginia to Japan. They all have a different, but personal bond with me. Jack, of course, joined the family last week and I've yet to introduce myself. No worries, Jack, you're part of the crew. With all six, the one bond I value the most is that bond that binds all of them together - regardless of me - as cousins. I know, I know, I'm too young for all this. Tell me about it!

Despite her rank as second to youngest, young Rail moreso benefits from location. She’s with me every day and night and never far away. If Papa is working, he must stop. If Papa is writing, he must move over and let her sit on the desk and instruct him on prose and grammar and Doc McStuffins. If Papa is cooking dinner, move her stool up and let her show me how to stir and spill and drop eggs and create a mushroom cloud of flour.

Why is it, Papa, that you can’t work, write, cook, and clean and still have time for hide and seek and Doc? Hmmmm? What the hell, Papa? What’s wrong? Are you tired?

Never too tired. Yes, Oscar and Irene, I hear you whispering in my ear.
 

And she loves books too—something from me in her DNA that couldn’t have come from my blood. We read everywhere and she loves to sit on my desk while I write—normally in the middle of my desk, on front of the monitor, holding my keyboard. And she knows my novels on the bookshelf and likes to look at them often. Once, she carried one around for an hour and kept telling me, “Papa you did this.” Yes, sweetie, I did. Maybe you will one day, too.

I have no doubts. Do you hear me Irene?

One only has to look at the young biker chick to know who wears the leathers in this household. Last year, my Harley scared her to death. A month ago, she began asking for a ride, but there’s no way I can do that yet. Instead, I told her she had to be old enough to take the noise, had to be able to sit on the bike safely, and had to be able to wear the gear. 

 

Last night, she had enough of my solemn mood and writing. I didn’t have time for hide and seek and wasn’t up for another episode of Doc. Instead, she grabbed my hand, dragged me to the garage, and insisted I begin her training as my biker chick and backseat companion. Sure, the leather jacket weighs more than she does. The gloves are elbow length and the glasses can’t find a hold. But the helmet ... that has possibilities! 

So this once toughguy and world traveler extraordinaire has been tamed. It took youth and green eyes to laugh in this old guy’s face and command my obedience, playtime, stories, and of course, Doc. Soon, it’ll be, “Papa, take me on the Harley.” Yes, ma’am—get your helmet, kid, let’s ride.

My grandparents were my biggest fans even before I’d published a book. They knew it would happen. In being there for me, I learned a lot about how to be one—a writer and a grandparent—even in my very, very young Papa-age. If I can do nothing else for these youngs ones, I’ll show them that whatever they want in life, whatever dreams they have, they can have them.

I did.

Now, other dreams—those new ones I hope I’m not too old to chase (naw)—better look out. I’m ready to go—adventure, new novels, life’s missing pieces, and yup, many Harley travels.

Someday—soon I hope—my rear Harley seat will have a passenger for those new stories. It’s empty now and just waiting for those green eyes. Until then, I’ll just write my adventures and wait …

Thank you Irene and Oscar for showing me the way. I’ll pass it all along. 

 

Tj O’CONNOR IS THE GOLD MEDAL WINNER OF THE 2015 INDEPENDENT PUBLISHERS BOOK AWARDS (IPPY) FOR MYSTERIES. He is the author of Dying to Know, Dying for the Past, and Dying to Tell—and New Sins for Old Scores, a new paranormal mystery coming in 2017! He is currently working on a new thriller. Tj is an international security consultant specializing in anti-terrorism, investigations, and threat analysis—life experiences that drive his novels. With his former life as a government agent and years as a consultant, he has lived and worked around the world in places like Greece, Turkey, Italy, Germany, the United Kingdom, and throughout the Americas—among others. He was raised in New York's Hudson Valley and lives with his wife and Lab companions in Virginia where they raised five children. Dying to Know is also the 2015 Bronze Medal winner of the Reader’s Favorite Book Review Awards, a finalist for the Silver Falchion Best Books of 2014, and a finalist for the Foreword Review’s 2014 INDIEFAB Book of the Year Award.

Learn about Tj’s world at:

Web Site:  www.tjoconnor.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/tjoconnor.author
Blog: http://tjoconnorbooks.blogspot.com/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7148441.T_J_O_Connor

Dying To Be A Character

What a month. Holy crap on a peanut butter sandwich what a month. I’ve had more ups and downs and twists and turns than in my novels. But when you write those twists and turns, you can control them, right? Well, no, my characters control all that. But they let me have a say. Sometimes. In real life, you’re at the mercy of life itself. At times I thought my world was on fire—new book almost finished, a new book deal, I didn’t crash my Harley into that tractor-trailer … and, well, other things words can’t explain. But then there were the lows—lost contracts in the mail, speaking when I shouldn’t (big surprise, right?), dreadful communications … misunderstandings. And more … too much work and not enough hours. Loss. Lost chances. Days without focus. Nights without sleep.

What’s next, an IRS audit? Identity theft? Will I lose a billion dollar lotto ticket?

Gulp. Okay, I’ll suck it up. I was not careful what I wished for and I’m getting some of it. The books, the edits, the travel, sleeplessness, the toils of contracts, editors, and predators! Bring it on! I’m tough. I can handle it … and for the most part, I love it! And for those challenges I cannot overcome, no fear … I have a solution.

I’m going to become my characters. Yep, I’m stepping into the pages of my books and assuming a new identity.

Why not? They live a more exciting life than me—at least, these days. They’re immune to the realities of life. They swashbuckle and chase bad guys. They’re witty and smooth and adventurous. They survive the pitfalls in life and go on to a bigger, better sequel.Damn, I’d like a little of that!

Truth be told, I’ve been a lucky guy most of my life. I’ve done most of what my characters have. Perhaps not as smooth or as cool, but been there, done that. Now, I’m just a UFO (old, fat, ugly guy) banging away on the keyboard chasing my life’s dreams and wishing for some years and memories back. So, eh, I shouldn’t complain, right?

But what if we could actually become our characters? What if we could write our own life, our own stories, and our own ending? How cool would that be? I was thinking about that all night when I should have been sleeping. Instead, I was jotting email notes to myself about my new thriller and pining for do-overs on my recent screw-ups. I took a good look at my recent characters and came up with some thoughts …

Oliver “Tuck” Tucker (The Gumshoe Ghost Mystery series)—Tuck is a homicide detective extraordinaire—he’s a sarcastic, fun-loving cop who chases bad guys with a history of crime. Tuck’s favorite things are: Angel, his wife; Hercule, his Black Lab; and Bear Braddock, his curmudgeon former partner. His weaknesses are his sarcasm, and, oh yeah, he’s dead. Tuck is already so much of me and I don’t want to be a dead detective, so I guess I’m stuck with writing about him and not stealing any more of his life, er, death. Eh, could be worse.

Richard Jax or Patrick “Trick” McCall (New Sins for Old Scores)—Jax is a lucky-to-be-alive BCI agent trying to clear his name after his partner and ex-fiancé are murdered. He’s a little onery at times, down-on-his-luck, and grousing about the spirit of a World War II OSS man, Captain Trick McCall, haunting his case. Now, Trick is my kinda guy—sarcastic, fun-loving, a fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants adventurer, and all around smooth operator. He chases bad guys, his lost life, adventure, and dames … all at once. And not necessarily in that order. Yup, my kinda guy!

Jonathan Hunter (Double Effect – my soon to be completed thriller)—Hunter is a border-line wreckless CIA consultant with too many one-liners and a complicated sense of right and wrong. He’s called home after 20-years by his estranged brother and arrives in time to witness his murder. He’s on the trail of Salvadorian gangsters and a Middle East terror cell plotting the demise of the US! Hunter is tormented by many things, not the least is a dead brother—his only family, his recently lost career, lost loves, and a lost future. He is confronted by a beautiful and alluring widow, a hateful and jealous deputy sheriff who would kill Hunter for the widow, and a team of FBI agents all with their own agendas; especially the sultry lead Fed—Victoria Bacarro—who can’t get enough of him—in or out of handcuffs (insert snicker here). So Hunter’s a good candidate for me to daydream about. Except he gets the crap kicked out of him a lot. And shot. Hopefully you’ll read about him in the next year, but life for him is complicated and dangerous and painful. Still, he’s my number one character to become for a lot of reasons. The biggest is his sidekick, Oscar LaRue, who is based on my mentor, Wally F. I lost Wally last summer at age 92 (you can read about him in one of my earlier blogs). The relationship and dynamic of these two characters is soooooo the two of us over the years. Writing these parts brought back great memories. I think I’ll keep them around for a couple books—even if they don’t sell.

In the end, my books are really about me reliving life lost to age and reason. My characters and I share more than just the keyboard and pages—we share life. They are me and I am them. Some of them like the adventurous, risk-taking, cool characters. The sniveling, cowardly, killers and weirdos, not so much me. Sure, sure, some of you will disagree (thanks a lot, Greg).

Earlier I said … what if we could actually become our characters … write our own life, our own stories, … our own endings? How cool would that be? The truth is, we can do that. I do it all the time. Anyone can and you don’t have to be a writer or a spy or a federal agent or even a dead detective. You only have to do it. I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was a kid. I wanted to be a detective, a government agent, and swashbuckler and have adventures. I did all that. I’m still doing it. Sure, sure, I have bad days and weeks and even years. But life is something I can control … most of the time.

And yes, there are those things I wish I could just jump off my world onto another and have something I truly, deeply want. That’s not always possible. It’s not always right or fair. Mostly, it’s not always simple. So, in those cases—and there aren’t many—I simply write about them. I live through my stories, my characters, and my plots. I live those lost wishes vicariously through them. It ain’t perfect, but it’s better than nothing. And I don’t get beat up, shot, or dead—win win.

So the next time you sit back and wish—be careful what you wish for. And if you can’t be careful—just do it.

We’ll again chat next month …

Tj O’CONNOR IS THE GOLD MEDAL WINNER OF THE 2015 INDEPENDENT PUBLISHERS BOOK AWARDS (IPPY) FOR MYSTERIES. He is the author of Dying to Know, Dying for the Past, and Dying to Tell—and New Sins for Old Scores, a new paranormal mystery, will be out in late 2016-early 2017! He is currently working on a new thriller. Tj is an international security consultant specializing in anti-terrorism, investigations, and threat analysis—life experiences that drive his novels. With his former life as a government agent and years as a consultant, he has lived and worked around the world in places like Greece, Turkey, Italy, Germany, the United Kingdom, and throughout the Americas—among others. He was raised in New York's Hudson Valley and lives with his wife and Lab companions in Virginia where they raised five children. Dying to Know is also the 2015 Bronze Medal winner of the Reader’s Favorite Book Review Awards, a finalist for the Silver Falchion Best Books of 2014, and a finalist for the Foreword Review’s 2014 INDIEFAB Book of the Year Award.

Learn about Tj’s world at:

Web Site:  www.tjoconnor.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/tjoconnor.author
Blog: http://tjoconnorbooks.blogspot.com/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7148441.T_J_O_Connor

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dying for Marlton

Oh, to be a real author … No, I haven’t lost my mind (much) or forgotten that I am an author of tiny repute and small fanbase. I’m talking about the real world of being an author vs. what I thought it would be. Some of it surprises and scares me. Other parts of this life are exactly what I’d envisioned. All in all, I’ll take it—I love it—and wouldn’t trade it for anything. Even without the riches piling at my feet or the private jets and limos and movie deals. Sure, all that would be great. But let’s face it, there is life beyond that—and a good thing, too, because I don’t see any of that anytime soon.

So many times I’ve sat and looked at the bundles of money I spend pursuing my dream to be a successful author. Thus far, that success has eluded me—at least the business-success. And every time I think that perhaps I should dump all that money into my retirement or an investment and abandon this life of storytelling, something happens to remind me that success isn’t about royalties or fanfare or applause. Last week, I was hit with a couple years worth of sobering proof that my writing is about so much more than material things. Last week, I was hit with a day like I haven’t had in all the time I’ve been writing.

 Marlton, New Jersey—thank you.

Who knew how to measure success as an author? There’s no “Author’s Life for Dummies” but there should be. Nobody told me I’d be my own publicist, marketer, sales rep, and seller-in-chief. No one said I had to blog my brains out and hunt down the next audience all by my lonesome. Where’s the army of publicists and marketers and sales folks? What? I’m unknown and on my own? Where was this in the brochure???? So if I’m doing all this and not making much money, then how do I know it’s all worth while?

Easy—Marlton, New Jersey.

I say all the time that writing is not a team sport. And damn, it’s not. But you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way. I have a brilliant, supportive agent who is in my corner and I often wonder why. I found an amazing publicist who also supports me and is trying her every trick to boost my presence in the markets. And I have a few fans—far fewer than I’d hoped at this point, but they are there. And then there was Marlton. A small community east of Philadephia in a beautiful part of New Jersey I never knew existed.

This past week I was invited to speak to more than 320 Middle Schoolers, High Schoolers, and some faculty and followed it up with a great book signing at the local Barnes and Noble. I arrived to Cherokee High School and was greeted by the local police officer assigned to the school who knew me by name and said, “I saw you on all the posters and newsletters.” Students stopped and said hi, teachers waved and greeted me when I toured the building. Then, later in the day, I walked up to the front doors of Marlton Middle School. Handmade signs from the students hailed me. Signs and posters in the hallways welcomed me. And as the students filed into the library for my talks, they knew my name. Some waved, others were already asking questions.

For a guy without many fans, I was a celebrity in Marlton. And who better to be fans than students? Who can you still reach with words and good will and support? Who is worth urging on and encouraging? They were. They are. All of them.

These past couple years, I’ve met dozens of folks and gained a few fans along the slow, uphill slog to finding readers. But in Marlton, they were there for the taking, ready for me and eager to hear about life as an author. And afterward, as part of my day that set up by Janice Urban—Librarian Extraordinare—I went to the local Barnes and Noble for a signing. Many of the students arrived at the bookstore and other students from other schools were there, too. It was an unbelievable day.

All in all, I sold a bunch of books and had a 14-hour day that was one of the best I’ve had in a very, very long time. Why? No, not because of the sales or because I came away with a dozen or more fans. It’s because of the kids—the students—who were the best audience I’ve ever had. They asked great questions, they were interested, and they churned in their seats to ask more questions and tell me things about their favorite books. And in the end, I realized that reaching these students was a purpose all by itself for a new author. If you can get just a few to be readers and just a few more to be fans, then success is within reach.

During the day, I remember being a high schooler wishing to be an author. If I’d had the opportunity just one day to speak with just one author—one struggling, new author—and hear what life was like and what writing was truly about, well, that day would have been the best in my life. It never happened to me. But in Marlton, I cannot tell you (you’d never believe me anyway) how many students came up to speak with me after my talk and said just that—that talking with me was a huge thing for them. Some wanted to be writers. All wanted to just be readers and read everything they could. So many just wanted to hear from someone—other than their teachers and parents—who cared enough to share a little life with them.

Their wall posters and greetings said it all.

 

But you know the biggest personal thrill I received? It was at Barnes and Noble when a half-dozen students came in with their parents to see me and buy my books. Oh, it wasn’t because they bought my books. It was because they cared enough about books and writing to travel across town and come talk to me a little more after school. There were photographs and little chats, handshakes, and some stories about where my stories come from. There were more questions and them telling me of their favorite book—not mine but one day maybe—and how much they loved the bookstore and how many books they bought. So many of these kids told me that they cannot wait to go to the bookstore each week and check out all the books.

Wait, what? Can’t wait to go to a bookstore and check out the books? Hello, America, there is hope for our country yet. Forget the video games. Forget the T.V. and forget the internet. Kids still cannot wait to get to a bookstore and meet a struggling, unknown author like me.

And that, sports fans, is exactly what being an author is all about for me. It’s the author’s life I craved and didn’t even know until last week—meeting young readers who “can’t wait to get to the bookstore and check out the books.” It’s their love of stories. It’s the kids. The students. The families and teachers who believe that books are the key to our world—as I do.

And before I made the four hour drive home, I got oen last huge surprise. During the school talks, I gave the students a little quiz: What was the most important thing in the world they could all do—equally among themselves of different ages, races, backgrounds, genders, and so on—to be successful. Each group—four of them throughout the day all got it—read. And in Barnes and Noble, late in the evening as I was about to leave, one student from Marlton Middle School came up to me with Dad and told me she was in one of my talks. She turned to her dad and said, “And being a reader will make me successful. I love to read.”

Thank you Marlton Middle School. Thank you Cherokee High School. Thank you Janice Urban. Thank you Lisa Bakanas and Lisa Kapenstein. The fate of our world is with those students. And so far, they’re passing with flying colors.

We’ll again chat next month …

Tj O’CONNOR IS THE GOLD MEDAL WINNER OF THE 2015 INDEPENDENT PUBLISHERS BOOK AWARDS (IPPY) FOR MYSTERIES. He is the author of Dying to Know, Dying for the Past, and Dying to Tell, available in bookstores and e-books from Midnight Ink. He is currently working on a traditional mystery and a new thriller. Tj is an international security consultant specializing in anti-terrorism, investigations, and threat analysis—life experiences that drive his novels. With his former life as a government agent and years as a consultant, he has lived and worked around the world in places like Greece, Turkey, Italy, Germany, the United Kingdom, and throughout the Americas—among others. He was raised in New York's Hudson Valley and lives with his wife and Lab companions in Virginia where they raised five children. Dying to Know is also the 2015 Bronze Medal winner of the Reader’s Favorite Book Review Awards, a finalist for the Silver Falchion Best Books of 2014, and a finalist for the Foreword Review’s 2014 INDIEFAB Book of the Year Award.

Learn about Tj’s world at:

Web Site:  www.tjoconnor.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/tjoconnor.author

Blog: http://tjoconnorbooks.blogspot.com/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7148441.T_J_O_Connor

 

Dying for New Sins for Old Scores

There are few things more satisfying as an author than completing a book. Typing “The End” is both a thrill and a moment of, well, sadness. You’ve exhausted yourself on your hero’s latest caper, spent sleepless nights second-guessing your plot, and worn yourself out with hours and hours of edits, proofs, discussions, and all manner of craziness trying to get it just right. Then, “The End” hits the the last page and you sit back, contemplate the story, and wonder what you’ll do with your characters next. And for me, there’s that moment of panic—I’ve got a dozen outlines in my folder for new books, five or six with my current series and characters, and not enough hours in my life to write them all. ARGGGGGG! What to do? (Oh, God, what to do???)

Then, the dark clouds part. The light shines. The music plays. I know just what to do. It’s simple, really. Very, very, simple.

I start a new blank page, copy and paste the template of my title page, set up the footers and headers, and start with CHAPTER ONE of a new novel … and I’m off. Another adventure awaits. Someone has to die. A hero has to catch a killer or track down a spy. There is no choice. No one can stop it. Murder and chaos must reign once again.

Oh, wait. I better close my last book and save it into the back-up before I start this one. Oops.

For those of you wondering, there are three more Tuck mysteries planned and I’m going to start one of those this coming summer. For now, I’m finishing up my ninth novel, a thriller about domestic terrorism, and I’m reviewing New Sins for Old Scores, the first of a murder mystery series I wrote a couple years ago (my agent is shopping this around as we speak).

New Sins was originally completed about three years ago after my agent, the amazing Kimberley Cameron, signed me for Dying to Know. She wanted a second series with a historical subplot and a paranormal storyline.  It took me four months to craft New Sins for Old Scores, the story of Richard Jax, a Virginia BCI detective saved by the spirit of a disgraced OSS operative, Trick McCall, who was killed in 1944 on the very spot Jax was ambushed. My website summarizes New Sins the best:

Murder, like history, often repeats itself. And when it does, it's the worst kind of murder.

Detective Richard Jax was never good at history. But after years as a cop, he was about to get the history lesson of his life.

After Jax is gunned down and lay dying at an old inn while on a case, he's saved by Captain Patrick "Trick" McCall—the ghost of a World War II OSS agent—who’s been waiting since 1944 for the chance to solve his own murder. Soon, Jax is a suspect in a string of murders—murders linked to smuggling refugees out of the Middle East—a plot similar to the World War II OSS operation “Operation Paper Clip” that brought scientists out of war-torn Europe. With the aid of a beautiful and brilliant historian, Dr. Alex Vouros, Jax and Trick unravel a seventy year-old plot that began with Trick's murder in 1944. Could the World War II mastermind (code named Harriet) be alive and up to new sins and old scores? Is history repeating itself?
 

Together, Jax and Trick McCall hunt for the link between their pasts that will lead them to Washington's elite and to one provocative, alluring French Underground agent, Abrielle Chanoux. Somewhere in Trick's memories is a traitor. That traitor killed him. That traitor is killing again.

Who framed Richard Jax and who wants Trick's secret to remain secret? The answer may be, who doesn't?

As I began re-reading New Sins looking for opportunities to refine and improve it, it struck me that my evil mind had recreated the foundation of Tuck Tucker’s Gumshoe Ghost series—a traditional murder mystery surrounding a historical subplot that culminates into a grand, surprising ending. Oh, but in Tuck’s stories, he’s a dead detective telling the story in the first-person, er, first-spirit, and in New Sins, the story is delivered in third-person and shares both Richard Jax’s and Trick McCall’s point of view throughout the story. Similarly, there are scenes with a historic subplot that follow Trick’s 1944 OSS operation that lead to his death and disgrace. Those chapters form the connection between past and present and lay the foundation for several characters involved in the modern murder plot for which Jax is the prime suspect. In the end, it’s the settling of the past’s old scores that sets the stage for present-day new sins.

I’m looking forward to digging back into New Sins for Old Scores and updating the storyline. I began reading it late one evening last week and found that I still love this story and characters. I’m looking forward to finding a home for it on bookshelves.

Strangely, while I’ve written eight novels and four of them are mysteries with a paranormal twist, I never set out to be a mystery writer. With my life and background in anti-terrorism and security consulting, I see myself as more of a thriller writer. I’m finishing a new thriller now and penned three before Dying to Know, the book that was accidentally written for my daughter, and that also became my first published work. Just yesterday at a book signing for my latest release, Dying to Tell, I responded to a question about my work saying, “No, I’m really a thriller writer …” then I felt silly and added, “Except I’ve written four of these mysteries all with a paranormal subplot. So, I guess I am a mystery writer. Yeah, that’s me, a mystery writer.” Nothing proves that more than my return to New Sins for Old Scores in the middle of working on my thriller. And while New Sins has both the mystery and thriller touch and feel, it’s certainly more mystery.

How twisted is my mind when I’m working a thriller and a mystery at the same time? Don’t answer that. I already have my own diagnosis.

So as winter progresses into spring, I hope time does not get in the way of finishing both new projects in a  timely manner. I’m anxious to get them out into the light of readers and fans. New Sins is chomping at the bit for an audience.

As you can see, I have more projects than time. If only I hit the lotto or found the lost Templar treasure I could write full time and make my life complete. But alas, I don’t play the lotto and have no clue where the treasure might be. (I know for certain it isn’t under my back deck.) So for the forseeable future, I’ll be consulting by day and writing novels by night.

Hopefully, New Sins for Old Scores will be out there for you to read this year or next. In the interim, I’ll finish my thriller and launch into one of the other dozen novels I’ve planned.

What choice do I have?

We’ll again chat next month …

Tj O’CONNOR IS THE 2015 GOLD MEDAL WINNER OF THE INDEPENDENT PUBLISHERS BOOK AWARDS FOR MYSTERIES. He is the author of Dying to Know, Dying for the Past, and Dying to Tell, available in bookstores and e-books from Midnight Ink. He is currently working on a traditional mystery and a new thriller. Tj is an international security consultant specializing in anti-terrorism, investigations, and threat analysis—life experiences that drive his novels. With his former life as a government agent and years as a consultant, he has lived and worked around the world in Greece, Turkey, Italy, Germany, the United Kingdom, and throughout the Americas—among others. He was raised in New York's Hudson Valley and lives with his wife and Labrador companions in Virginia where they’ve raised five children. Dying to Know is also the 2015 Bronze Medal winner of the Reader’s Favorite Book Review Awards, a finalist for the Silver Falchion Best Books of 2014, and a finalist for the Foreword Review’s 2014 INDIEFAB Book of the Year Award.

Learn about Tj’s world at:

Web Site:  www.tjoconnor.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/tjoconnor.author
Blog: http://tjoconnorbooks.blogspot.com/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7148441.T_J_O_Connor