Welcome back, kids! I have a lot to get to so enough with the long intros.

Last weekend’s National Independent Bookstore Day was a lot of fun. I was at BookSmart in Morgan Hill, where I met some new friends, sold some books, reconnected with authors I met there last year, and met two brand new authors (like a 13-year-old girl) and a much older 19-year-old writer who both wrote books directed at the younger set. See photo below (including the 19-year-old photo bombing me just so she could take advantage of the opportunity to be in the company of such greatness). I don’t usually say things like that, but how often will the young lady get a chance to be seen with author Mary Smathers?

That was last weekend, and this weekend (May 4-5), I’ll be hanging out at Pacific Grove’s Good Old Days Street Festival. The Central Coast Writers Club has a booth right on the main drag (near the movie theater), where we’ll kidnap unsuspecting victims and lure them into our cult. Oops. I meant to say we will be sharing information about our club and dispelling rumors about the brain-washing practices that we almost never do anymore. Please stop by and say hi. It’s always a good time.

Two last quick items and then we’ll jump into the Story of the Week.

First, thanks to those of you who responded to my question about whether or not you like novels that have chapter names (in addition to chapter numbers). The results were split pretty evenly, although some said they knew the vote was rigged, and they demanded a recount—even before hearing the results. I like naming the chapters, but I will defer to my developmental editor once she weighs in on the topic.

Speaking of … She said she anticipates taking around a month to complete her analysis of my manuscript and she said she’ll let me know when she’s halfway through. I will obviously keep you posted.

Without further ado (and even less adon’t), here’s this week’s tale. The prompt is … well, I’ll explain all about it next week because I think I’m on to something fun here. We’ll see.

      The Gift That Keeps on Giving

Still thrilled about how he had acquired the Mercedes, Shakes finally explored the car. When he popped the trunk and discovered the corpse, he slammed it shut and leapt backwards.

“Nice ride, Shakes,” came a voice behind him.

Shakes spun.

“Gimme the keys or I’ll re-break your nose,” Ike snarled.

“They’re in the car.”

As Ike drove off, Shakes smashed the taillight with a vicious kick.

Minutes later, he walked past Ike, now handcuffed, as cops searched the twice-stolen Mercedes.

Shakes glanced at the shattered taillight before flashing Ike a look of mock disappointment.

Taken down by a taillight. So Sad.

OK. Time for me to clean this up and hit the send button.

Thanks for listening!

Scotty out