Motorcycle Woman from Red Rose Publishing

Tess McBride has a wounded soul from happenings in her past. Can her motorcycle heal her wounded soul? She meets stranded biker, Johnnie Parker and finally realizes that he can fill the gap that her Harley Davidson Sportster cannot fill. The buy link for Motorcycle Woman is http://redrosepublishing.com/books/product_info.php?manufacturers_id=177&products_id=404.

Resubmission of older story?

Although my story Marcy's Struggle has been rejected, the editor whom I've grown to know, encouraged me to resubmit a former story, Big Is Beautiful, to Wild Rose again only this time submit it to Vintage Rose since my "voice" seems to be remaining in the fifties and sixties. The story will take some revising according to her. I"ve printed out her objections to that former story and with her continued advice will try to revise and resubmit to Vintage Rose and perhaps give it a different name. I'll be upfront with the Vintage folks and reveal it is a resubmission.
The editor also advised me to check into RWA's mentor program and also some other leads she mentioned. I'll do that and hope I can find the time.

I heard from Wild Rose on my submitted story Marcy's Struggle. It was rejected. One of the constant problems sited is my old-fashioned language and settings. Also I write my women characters with a good knowledge of chemistry in a college setting. I feel this establishes the character of the woman. My stories are not working but I'm at least remaining true to what way of writing I do. I feel that is important despite my continuing rejections.

Mentor for my WIP A Change of Heart

I have enlisted my good friend and author, Crystal Wilkinson, whom I met at Antioch Writers Workshop in Yellow Springs, Ohio. I was privileged to be in her workshop. In a later year she also critiqued a short story of mine. At any rate I've been sending her 45 pages of the WIP and she is giving me feedback on suggested improvements and pointing out my strong points as well. I'll soon send her the third 45 page packet, hopefully in May. A Change of Heart features my characters Leroy and Jody from my 1950s short story Lab Partners (see the image at left) only I've cast them into modern day and stretched it into a 72,000 word novel. A brief mention of one of my weak points is that I hurry through a scene without describing the setting. I am inconsistent on this point as at other times I describe in detail the surroundings.

Well, the internet bailed on me after I was ready to post. Isn't that special? Wild Rose requested, based on my synopsis, the full manuscript of Marcy's Struggle. I can hope for the best. Leanne mentioned she liked the college setting but didn't like the long time frame of the story taking place. I explained that the long time frame in my synopsis was actually back story. The actual length of time for this sweet romance is one college year: Marcy's final graduate school year. So I'll hope for the best. I may hear soon or several days from now based on their work load.

Terribly remiss at posting

I'm surprised at how long it has been since I've posted. It doesn't seem like December. Not much has happened since then. I have a synopsis at Wild Rose Press on a short romance story entitled Marcy's Struggle awaiting its fate. I'm revising slightly my science fiction thriller The Higher Mission for submission to DAW Books. They will accepted unagented manuscripts. I've reaped several rejections by agents on my most recent novel A Change of Heart. That features my Lab Partners characters Leroy and Jody only cast into modern times. There has been one more purchaser of my story Small is Beautiful at Smashwords.
Family problems and duties has taken away my writing time and posting time. I've had to go on digest with one yahoo group and am still active with The Sweetest Romance Authors Yahoo group. That is briefly what I've been involved with since December in the writing line.

I've pasted in my short Unspoken Love

My very short story Unspoken Love seems to have disappeared off my Allromanceebooks. It was in the newsletter section and I guess they don't retain anything that is over two years old. It appeared there on September 20, 2008. This is very short as per their guidelines. I first penned this at a writers conference in 2008 I believe. It won't take you long.


UNSPOKEN LOVE
BY
LARRY HAMMERSLEY
The brown, wooden sign with white letters read Antioch College. Rounded hedges and a circle of bricks stacked two high surrounded the sign. A myriad of flowers flaunting a kaleidoscope of colors, violet, yellow, red, orange, nestled within that stone circle, threatening to break out into the nearby green carpet of grass. A tree donated its protective shade.
A hundred yards away, a four-story brick building stood. It was there that my eyes first feasted upon her. From the doorway she came, her steps short and rapid, a purpose in those gentle strides. Even from this distance, I knew she was beautiful. Beauty. Is it painted lips, perfect wavy blonde hair, and a model’s figure? No. What of her beauty? The closer she approached, the more inadequate words became to describe that beauty. Her smile, a blushing innocence, burst forth in its gentleness as of the sun peaking around the edge of a cloud.
Her eyes glued to mine and she stopped. I did not scan her from head to toe nor did she me. My breath caught, a connection with her affecting all my senses, sight, taste, touch, hearing, smelling seemed sensitive like never before. Brilliant colors flood my eyes, the freshness of the flowers and hedges exciting my taste, the feel of the light wind caressing my skin, the rustling of each leaf distinct from every other leaf distinguished by my ears, the fragrance of each flower recognized in turn by my nose.
She moved with grace, her steps delicate, feminine as she came, stopped, and placed one of her hands on one of the rounded hedges. She gazed at the hedge a few seconds, then at me. My heart melted. I approached her, daring to stand within a few feet of her. I placed my hand on the hedge next to hers, the prickly stems threatening to break my focus on her. She smiled, cocked her head a little and then rested her free hand on mine. I sighed and laid my free hand on hers. So soft, her hand under mine, so warm, her hand on top of mine. The gouging stems became a dim memory.
I gave a head motion toward the flowers and we skirted the circle of bricks, stopping first at purple blossoms, kneeling. She moved her full skirt up slightly, her bare knees resting in the grass. She touched a flower, and I touched the top of her hand. I touched another flower and she touched the top of my hand. The aromatic essence, the fragile petals, the intense violet color channeled through each of our hands, arms, heart and back into our other hands, arms and heart. The touch, smell, sight mixed from heart to heart. Each group of flowers around the brick perimeter kept building, pouring into my heart and I could feel it into her heart too.
I stood up and grasped her hand, helping her to lift from her bended knees. She clasped her hands on mine, facing me. Our hands lifted slightly, then our eyes met, hers piercing to my core. I could see her knowledge of my heart and I watched her take a deep breath, tilting her head up, her face flushing, her lips parting, her eyes moving from one spot to another on my face. I didn’t know what lovely part on her face, or hair to enjoy. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t get enough of the emotional feast for it consumed me. I started to speak, but she raised her forefinger, placed it on my lips, and puckered her mouth, adding to her insistence that I remain silent. A most wonderful enlightenment, building to full force now, swamped me. I knew we belonged together, and would never part.