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Retired, and recently widowed, FBI agent Tommy McCain moves to a small town in Louisiana in search of a missing friend. What he finds is a community of characters who are sometimes quirky and sometimes sinister. Every small town has its secrets, but this town harbors a much darker secret that confounds Tommy and might have already consumed his friend.
Offerings is a 12,000 word mystery novella with a supernatural twist. It's in turns suspenseful and poignant. Fans of both Twin Peaks and H.P. Lovecraft will enjoy this story.
Bio:
Offerings is a 12,000 word mystery novella with a supernatural twist. It's in turns suspenseful and poignant. Fans of both Twin Peaks and H.P. Lovecraft will enjoy this story.
Bio:
Stewart lives in West Monroe, La. with two dogs and is engaged to a most wonderful young lady. He works as a High School Band Director while writing part time. You can follow him on his or you can find him on , , , and .
What will readers like about your book?
What will readers like about your book?
Readers who are fans of shows like Twin Peaks will love the small town drama and mystery. Fans of Lovecraft will love the mythological connotations. More importantly, I've tried to write a beautiful story about a man who is experiencing the melancholy of getting older, losing loved ones, but still lives life.
Why did you self publish?
Why did you self publish?
I've always been a do it yourself kind of guy. I may not be the best at something, but I love learning new things and perfecting a new craft. Writing and publishing isn't any different for me. This is an exciting time to be a writer.
What is your writing process?
What is your writing process?
First I outline my story, if only in my head, and then I start writing. Often times the characters take me in a completely different direction than I originally intended.
How long does it take you to write your first draft?
How long does it take you to write your first draft?
I am a painfully slow writer. Offerings took me almost two years writing part time at work. I'm slowly getting my pace and output up as I write more.
What inspired you to write this particular story?
What inspired you to write this particular story?
The inspiration for Offerings was four older gentlemen who had a profound impact on my life; my grandfathers and two gentlemen that I had the pleasure to work with. A little bit of each of them can be found in the character of Tommy. For me the story is as much a way of dealing loss as it is a mystery. The other characters were all inspired by people I have met or encountered in some way. I hope that lends them a feeling of authenticity to the reader.
Excerpt
Monday
It was 9:30am when he pulled onto the driveway of his new home. He could hear the gravel crunch under his tires as he got his first view of the last house he would ever own. It was a small house, painted white with blue trim and the number 327 on the side. There was an oak tree in the front of his half acre yard and several magnolias lounging in the back yard. The previous owner had obviously taken great pride in the landscape, as there were several beautiful flower beds. He parked the car under the carport and got out to examine his purchase. As he stepped out into the open air it felt like stepping into an oven. The heat was almost a palpable thing, heavy, humid, and oppressive.
"Now I know how those three Israelites felt", he mumbled to himself. "And its still early, it can only get hotter from here. Steven, why did you drag me down here?"
He fished the keys out of his pocket and moved to the door. He paused after unlocking it; hand on the knob, eyes locked on nothing. He was a tall, slim man in his late 60s. His hair was a dark grey, but still full and swept back. He was slightly stooped like a lot of tall men who wear their years more on their shoulders than on their faces. His features had a hint of a Slavic ancestor close to the roots of his family tree.
Seeming to come to, as if waking up, he turned the knob and went inside. The house was lit only by the morning light filtering through the blinds, but the air was cool. The movers had thoughtfully left the AC on. They had also arranged the furniture in the living room he saw and as he looked through the house he found that they had set up his bedroom as well. This was a very considerate gesture for an old man. He made a mental note to send them a letter of appreciation. Gazing around at the boxes he marveled that a man's life could be packed way in a few dozen boxes: a box for the bedroom, a box for the kitchen, a box for his time in the service, and a box for his life with Marion.
"Stop being such a maudlin old man, there are boxes to unpack and work to do", he grumbled. Sighing to himself he set to work.
Monday
It was 9:30am when he pulled onto the driveway of his new home. He could hear the gravel crunch under his tires as he got his first view of the last house he would ever own. It was a small house, painted white with blue trim and the number 327 on the side. There was an oak tree in the front of his half acre yard and several magnolias lounging in the back yard. The previous owner had obviously taken great pride in the landscape, as there were several beautiful flower beds. He parked the car under the carport and got out to examine his purchase. As he stepped out into the open air it felt like stepping into an oven. The heat was almost a palpable thing, heavy, humid, and oppressive.
"Now I know how those three Israelites felt", he mumbled to himself. "And its still early, it can only get hotter from here. Steven, why did you drag me down here?"
He fished the keys out of his pocket and moved to the door. He paused after unlocking it; hand on the knob, eyes locked on nothing. He was a tall, slim man in his late 60s. His hair was a dark grey, but still full and swept back. He was slightly stooped like a lot of tall men who wear their years more on their shoulders than on their faces. His features had a hint of a Slavic ancestor close to the roots of his family tree.
Seeming to come to, as if waking up, he turned the knob and went inside. The house was lit only by the morning light filtering through the blinds, but the air was cool. The movers had thoughtfully left the AC on. They had also arranged the furniture in the living room he saw and as he looked through the house he found that they had set up his bedroom as well. This was a very considerate gesture for an old man. He made a mental note to send them a letter of appreciation. Gazing around at the boxes he marveled that a man's life could be packed way in a few dozen boxes: a box for the bedroom, a box for the kitchen, a box for his time in the service, and a box for his life with Marion.
"Stop being such a maudlin old man, there are boxes to unpack and work to do", he grumbled. Sighing to himself he set to work.
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That sounds like a good read; thank you for sharing! What a wonderful service you are doing for the indie authors and their readers, as well; thank you! :)
ReplyDeleteI read "Offerings" recently and really enjoyed it. Felkel does a great job of blending in a bit of humor into the story that, as he says, is about getting older and loss.
ReplyDelete