JFlora Brown - "Top Tips for Self-Publishing Your Book" SeptemLeeAnne Krusemark - "Getting Paid to Write for Online Blogs, Magazines and Websites"Īug- Pam Sheppard - "What in the World is a Comp. (Meetings from April forward were on Zoom for members only) Tips for collecting an email list and landing reviews"ĭecember 11 - Virtual Holiday Party and Open Mic Our favorite of Dilts’ quartet is the new one, “Come Twilight,” which came out this week, joining “A King of Infinite Space,” “The Pain Scale” and “A Cold and Broken Hallelujah.” You really should read them all.January 8 - Joe Ide "Writing the Killer Crime Novel" With Tyler, you get Beckett driving down Fourth Street’s Retro Row or grabbing a bite to eat at Enrique’s on PCH. You gobbled up those Stieg Larsson books about things like the incident in Stallarholmen being connected with the discoveries at Nykvarn under the purview of the Strangnas police district in Sodermanland County. The books are procedurals but plenty colorful and for us Long Beachers, they’re particularly enjoyable because Tyler does nothing to disguise his setting of Long Beach. We do, and we’re pretty sure Long Beach author and educator Tyler Dilts does, too.ĭilts, as you should know by now, is the author of a series of novels collectively called Long Beach Homicide, featuring the fictional LBPD investigator Danny Beckett.
Maybe you don’t think of your life as having a soundtrack.
Maybe you don’t see the rich possibilities of irony that can bloom in the midst of disaster. We often imagine this sort of thing: What will be playing on our car stereo in the event of an accident? Maybe you worry about something else. He shoots us an angry glance because we had leaned on the horn, which is how imperiled drivers scream, and continues down the off-ramp to continue waging his campaign of terror on city streets. We’re heading to work on the 405 Thursday morning like we always are on weekdays and this old guy who was driving with his wife decides he needs to get off on Lakewood from two lanes over and he cuts across and is heading right for our rear fender that he’s for sure going to hit and send us spinning across four lanes of freeway, careening off cars and trucks before smashing into the center divider where we’ll come to a rest and sit broken and waiting, a deflated airbag on our lap, trapped in the front seat, waiting for first responders to arrive with the Jaws of Life, listening to what’s been playing over the course of the whole, rapid tragedy: Pedro the Lion’s “Priests and Paramedics.”īut, somehow, the guy missed us.
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