Hello, everyone. I’m Jim. It’s good to be here
today. Thank you to Creatively Green for allowing me to visit.
Although my wife and I are empty-nesting now, it
obviously wasn’t always that way, and even before our sons came along, there
were two newly married people finding their way. Not easy under the best of
circumstances. And when you factor in that one of them is one of those
crazy writers – you can imagine the bending that must take place. *laughs*
I discovered horror fiction – paranormal, dark
fiction – whatever you wish to label it while in junior high school. I had
discovered heavy metal music (Classic Rock now) just before that and thought I
was going to be a musician. Writing lyrics for songs soon turned into writing
paragraphs for books. Not sure how and when, but it did. I find it’s better not
to question how it works. I just keep doing it.
Long story short, I began working at age twenty for
the business I continue to work for today, was married at twenty-one and a dad
for the first time at twenty-five. I had some novellas that I thought were
fairly good and the beginnings of a full-length novel. The only thing I didn’t
have was the discipline. As the family grew and I began climbing the ladder at
work, the writing fell away.
I attempted to kick-start my writing several times,
but it was no use. I’m very careful not to place blame on wife and kids. It was
definitely me. If I didn’t have three hours to write, I would fold my arms
across my chest and complain. Not really, but you can see a person looking for
the perfect circumstances that don’t exist. Then you get older and you leap at
any forty-five minutes you find. Lots of writers have figured out how to find
the time. I wasn’t one of them.
Consequently, nearly twenty years went by.
When I turned thirty-eight, I began to realize the
regret I was facing if I never started writing again. That did it. In about a
ten-year span, I had five novels completed and number six is a first draft,
awaiting its turn.
I am most definitely not the person to ask about
finding the time to write – or whatever it is a person wants to do. I am,
however, someone to talk to if you think time has gotten away from you and it’s
too late. It’s Too Late is a classic song by Carole King.
Other than
that, don’t consider anything else. Just think of the regret, as I did,
picturing myself in an old folks’ home, staring out the window, wishing I would
have tried harder. No regrets! Whatever you want to do, go do it. Dreams still
come true.
Photographs
James Garcia Jr
Genre: Women’s Fiction
Publisher: James Garcia Jr
Date of Publication: March 3, 2020James Garcia Jr
Genre: Women’s Fiction
Publisher: James Garcia Jr
ISBN: 9781655811678
ASIN: B083H87YJ6
Number of pages: 390
Word Count: 84,798
Cover Artist: Maria Zannini
Tagline: One night, two exceptional women meet; one black, one white. Both carry broken hearts and one has been dead sixty years.
Book Description:
One night, two exceptional women meet; one black, one white. Both carry broken hearts and one has been dead for sixty years.
In 1956, film actress Allison Belle abandoned the glamour of Hollywood for Fresno, California, and an idyllic new life.
In 1959, she disappeared altogether.
Sixty years later, real estate agent Joanna Johnson steps unsuspectingly into the old Belle house and a story long forgotten.
A devastating personal event opens a hidden door into the actress’s world. The mystery behind what broke Allison’s heart and what ultimately happened to her is revealed slowly by a series of long lost photographs the agent uncovers; the relationship she builds with the actress’s ninety year old husband; and through a series of “dreams” she has where she relives the moments captured by each photograph - herself a participant in them.
The closer Joanna gets to the truth, the closer she gets to suffering the same fate.
Excerpt:
“In these daydreams and dreams that I have glimpsed, I have seen the best of a woman who was so pleased to have left her past life.” She held out her hands and motioned around her. “She loved this place and everything about it. I have seen her happier doing yardwork than she appears in any red-carpet premiere photo on the Internet, and I’ve seen many of those. I have heard her laugh and shared sweet moments with her.”
“So, what happened to her?” John asked.
Joanna grew silent. “I wish I knew.” She sighed and thought it over. “I believe her last moments were spent in isolation. Richard appears in fewer and fewer of the memories toward the end. I’m not sure why. He’s in Hollywood now, so perhaps the pull of that life tugged him back. One of the last moments I spent with her, for lack of a better explanation, she was sitting by this window.” Joanna turned and pointed behind her.
“What was she doing?” John asked.
Joanna stared at the spot. “Nothing. Well, drinking. Drinking pretty heavily, actually. In the end, I think it was all she had.” She turned back around, and her gaze settled on the pool. She lifted a hand to her face.
“What is it?” Shelly asked.
“The first night I stayed here, I found an old bottle of Scotch in a cabinet that would not open to me. When it finally did, that’s when I found the first photo. It was her booze. I had entirely too much of it and ended up in the pool.”
“Why?” Shelly asked.
“I think I was trying to kill myself.”
“Oh, my God,” Shelly said. “Because of your engagement?”
Joanna shook her head. “No. I think it was Ally. I saw an outline of somebody standing on the ledge of the pool. When I came up for air, she was gone. But she had been there. I really don’t understand it myself.” Both faces were glued to hers. “I found the previous renter.”
“The zoo guy?” John asked.
“Director Eggars,” Shelly added.
Joanna nodded. She looked into Shelly’s eyes. “He really didn’t want to talk to me once I told him about the house. Know what he said to me?”
Shelly shook her head.
“He said, ‘Please don’t tell me you ended up in that pool.’” Joanna looked from one to the other and back at the pool. “His wife ended up in the pool, too. I get the feeling it had happened more than once. That last time, he got her and their kids out of here and never came back.”
“Is the pool haunted?” John asked, turning around to face it.
“I don’t think it’s the pool,” Joanna answered. “But I wonder if Ally tried to kill herself and every woman who stays here feels the same compulsion. Perhaps that’s what she was staring at when I sat with her. Maybe she was preparing herself…” She grew silent while she contemplated this.
“Maybe she didn’t try,” John said. “I know it sounds creepy, but maybe she succeeded.”
“John!” Shelly recoiled.
“I told you it was creepy,” he defended himself.
“It would explain much,” Joanna said. “Except what happened to the body.”
About the Author:
James Garcia Jr. was born in Hanford, California. He moved up the road to Kingsburg with his family as a child. After graduating KHS, he attended Reedley College where he met his wife. The family still makes its home in Kingsburg which is typically the setting of his fiction.
He was the 1994 winner of the Writers International Network/Writers Inter-Age Network writing contest in the horror category. He is the author of the Dance on Fire edgy vampire series and the stand-alone paranormal, Seeing Ghosts.
During the day, he is a manager at Sun-Maid Growers of California.
Twitter: https://twitter.com/danceauthor
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/danceauthor38/
Website: https://jamesgarciajr.jimdofree.com/
1 comment:
Thanks for sharing, Wenona. It is much appreciated.
-James Garcia Jr.
Post a Comment