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Our mother sometimes worked a swing shift. Our dad worked odd hours so we never really knew when or if he’d be home. By the time my older sister was about 12, my middle sister, my brother who was the youngest, and myself – all of us about two years apart from the next one -- were pretty much on our own after school, living on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, casseroles warmed in the oven (there weren’t any microwaves back then), or stovetop cooked cans of tomato soup.

Growing up in Minnesota, there are many days when it’s just too dang cold to go outside. While alone in the house, our most favorite thing to do was to watch scary movies. Of course this is before VCRs, or DVRs or even cable. We had five measly channels to choose from, but somehow, we were able to find movies that scratched that horror itch. On Sundays, when the weekly listings came out, we would go on a search making note of any movies that might make us scream in terror and then plan all activities around it.

A local TV station had a weekly program of horror features that opened with a coffin, smoke, and white, skeletal fingers peeking out of the lid. Horror Incorporated, was a big favorite of ours. The opening segment starts with a high-pitched scream and ends with a high-pitched scream. We loved to mimic it, screaming at the top of our lungs. We lived on a five-acre lot with no neighbors around to dampen our volume. We could scream as much as we wanted, and we wanted to often.

Dracula, The Werewolf, The Blob, Frankenstein, The Mummy, The Monster from the Surf, Godzilla, The Creature From the Black Lagoon. Boris Karloff, Lon Chaney, Jr., Vincent Price, Bela Lugosi and bug-eyed Peter Lorre. If we saw a film starring one of them, it made our “must see” list. We’d sit side by side on the sofa, a shared blanket clutched to our chins, looking forward to the thing that would make us jump and scream.

As we grew older, the fright somehow changed to hilarity. By the time The War of the Gargantuas, came out, we were ready to laugh, and laugh hard. The story is about two Godzilla-sized creatures, hairy and monstrous looking, who rise from the sea, one good and one evil. At one point in the film, a woman is in a rooftop lounge singing a song that includes the line, “… the wooooords get stuck in my throat.” She repeats the line over and over. “The wooooords get stuck in my throat.”

Then one of the Gargantuas picks her up, eats her and spits out her clothes. To this day, all we have to do is sing that line from the song and we all crack up.

As we grew older, our tastes developed and the reruns of The Mummy, or the Three Stooges or Charlie Chan versions of those films didn’t interest us anymore. We wanted the truly scary films, like The Thing From Another World. That artic mission, the discovery of the space ship under the ice, the isolation, the killer vegetable and the dry wit and snappy dialogue, had all the makings of a classic. The remakes have never lived up to the original black and white.

Most of our favorites had themes of science gone wild. We were still doing “duck and roll” drills in elementary school. Nuclear science was frightening stuff. There was a real fear that man would mess around with the wrong mixture of something dubious and we’d never see the horror coming before it was too late.

An amazing trailer for one of our favorites starts with a montage of images, all pointing to secrets the government is keeping from us. Then a news announcer, in a dramatic voice, warns that, “Unless something is done and done quickly, man as the dominant species on earth will be dead within a year.”

Wow. A time frame and everything. Evidently, all that nuclear dust from testing has created monsters … biblical in nature … that are bent on the destruction of the human race. There are images of cars driving down main street America, with speakers blasting. “Stay in your homes! Stay. In. Your. Homes! This is not a drill.”

The actual movie starts with a little blond girl, obviously in shock and standing alone in the debris of her destroyed home, clutching a stuffed animal. Someone asks her what happened. All she can do is scream THEM! Those giant ants were no joke.

I have always loved the science fiction style horror films and still do. The Alien franchise is one of my favorites. All the Predator films are great too. This idea that some alien race would come here because Earth offers a fertile hunting ground, it's a fantastic premise. Still, there’s nothing like the terror of what normal humans can do to each other.

Alfred Hitchcock rocked our world. The Birds, Rear Window, even his TV show became a favorite. My brother had to work hard to convince me to watch Halloween. I’d never liked the slasher movies, the stupid women who went in the basement or sprained their ankles bored me. But Halloween was different. The first time Jason pops back up after being unquestionably killed was such a satisfying horror moment.

Then I started reading Stephen King –Carrie, Cujo, It—I couldn’t put them down. Since we’d always had dogs and cats for pets, Pet Cemetery was particularly horrifying for me.

One Saturday morning, I got up early to find my older sister sitting at the kitchen table, her eyes bloodshot, her hands clenched in front of her. She looked like she hadn’t slept all night. I asked her what was wrong. She said she’d been to a movie the night before with some friends. “The Exorcist,” she said, then refused to say more. She’d seen it the first night it was released. I think she’s still scared from it.

Of course, now we’ve all been bitten by the zombie bug. One of my sisters lives in Atlanta. My other sister is obsessed with The Walking Dead show, so when she went to visit, they HAD to go where the show was being filmed, driving by “Alexandria” and where the Terminus was filmed. She still talks about that trip.

My brother and I, share a love for R. R. Haywood’s Undead series. More than 24 books into the series and we still snatch them up as soon as they come out. In fact, I’m such a fan, that I actually wrote to him and asked him for an interview. You can read it here. He’s a great guy and I’m crossing my fingers that he’ll get a Netflix deal someday to make his books come to life.

We’ve never really grown out of our love of fear. Several years ago, I went home to Minneapolis just so I could go with my siblings and a few friends to a place called Scream Town. The massive, outdoor park had five different themed areas, darkened and filled with things and people that jumped out at you. We were, by far, the most senior people at the theme park, all of us in our late 50s and early 60s. We didn’t care. It may be our age that made so much of it hilarious.

In one room, you had to walk through a space with what looked like bodies wrapped in plastic, hanging from the ceiling. They were so numerous, you had to bump and bang your way through this horror, the “bodies” swinging sickeningly. We clutched each other, heads ducked, stumbling around in the dark, and laughing our asses off, screaming too.

In another place, you rounded a corner to come face to face with a man in a glass encased electric chair. The red light in the small booth where he sat cast a horrific, shadowy glow over him. The rubbery, trembling and smoking dummy, wrapped in a straitjacket, it’s mouth gaping open with chilling screams piped out of the box, was so life-like he was fascinating.

We made our brother go first, hanging onto his jacket while we made our way through the corn maze, then stood fascinated at the sight of a cow suspended in air as if it was being sucked up by a UFO. Scream Town does not skimp on the props or makeup.

Now, every year when Halloween rolls around, I think about Scream Town and think about my family and consider flying home for the holiday where we have every excuse to act ridiculous, scream at the top of our lungs and laugh until our bellies hurt.

I don’t know about other writers, but my heart still races when I see that someone has reviewed one of my books. It’s a bit like opening a present from a complete stranger. You’re appreciative that someone has gone to the trouble to give you a gift, but you're a bit frightened of white it might be.

Every writer says it. Reviews mean a lot. The more you have, the more visibility your books get. And while I know some people think writing a review is as appealing as a middle school book report assignment, all a reader has to do is provide a star rating and a couple of sentences that describe what they thought. That’s it.

Every once in a while, you get a review that makes you nod and know that the reader really understood what you were trying to do. They don’t happen every day. When they do, I think they’re worth sharing.

The Bonding Blade is a work of urban fantasy fiction based around ancient themes, the second novel in the Desert Goddess Series and was penned by author M. L. Doyle. Written for mature audiences, but without explicitly graphic content, this dark tale of inescapable fate rests once more on the shoulders of our heroine, former sergeant Hester Trueblood. The soldier has been bonded to the Sumerian goddess Inanna for some time now, but that doesn’t make life any easier. Whilst keeping the literal demons at bay and learning to use her goddess-given powers, Hester finds one of her warriors struck down and suspects that something supernatural is at work in his injury.

High action, high drama, and high fantasy all meet in this superb mystery novel with plenty of historical content thrown in. The supernatural elements of the plot are dealt with amusingly and realistically as we see Hester struggle with the magical aspects of her life and the reactions of those around her. Author M. L. Doyle has created a relatable strong female lead, whose adventurous spirit and capable mind inspire readers from the get-go. The goddess elements and ancient Sumerian culture are well injected to give good flavor, but also bear a great deal of authenticity to pique the interest of historical fiction fans. I also really enjoyed the plot structure, which had some truly surprising but credible twists. Overall, I would highly recommend The Bonding Blade for historical, fantasy and mystery fans who enjoy successful genre mash-ups and full-on adventures.

“In my previous life, before I’d become a soldier and deployed to Iraq, I’d never have imagined that I would be running around in caves searching for supernatural creatures. All of that changed when I picked up a shiny coin in the desert and became the living vessel of the Mesopotamian goddess Inanna. I know. It sounds crazy.” M. L. Doyle’s The Desert Goddess Series continues with Book II: The Bonding Blade. Quincy is ill, and the group finds out that it has something to do with someone from Inanna's past. A special blade may be the only thing that can save him, but Gilgamesh, for reasons he won't disclose, refuses to help obtain it. In the meantime, there's a series of deaths in the city that requires Hester's attention. Saving a dear friend's life, solving murders, facing unexpected enemies, family issues and complicated relationships, Hester's resilience is greatly tested.

Doyle’s The Bonding Blade has a slightly faster pace for its plot compared to its predecessor and there’s a lot going on for the human goddess vessel Hester Trueblood. At times it's slightly chaotic but not confusing. Her bond with the goddess Inanna is still peppered with disagreements but the tolerance between them has slightly improved. Quincy’s past wasn’t an easy read but it revealed more about himself including Inanna, particularly about the source of his predicament. Also, there's an interesting development regarding one of Hester's staff, Erika. There are unexpected losses that will further challenge Hester and her companions. All in all, Book II of The Desert Goddess Series is an exciting and commendable continuation from Doyle. Fans of the series will be pleased and look forward to the next book.

When you sit in your writer cave, wondering if all the toil is worth it, every once in a while, you evidence that, yes. It is. It really is.

We've Got To Fix This Sh*T!

This is a repeat of a post I made on Feb. 23, 2018. It was not too long after the Parkland school shooting and I'd been moved by the eloquence and tenacity of the high school students who chanted, "NOT ONE MORE! NOT ONE MORE!"

Despite the chants, there have been more. A lot more. Far more than this country can stand. Even the world is now saying America is too dangerous to visit. They may not be wrong.

Now, the new chant is "DO SOMETHING! DO SOMETHING!" And that's different, right?

They may not have felt it at the time and they may not feel it now, but those Parkland kids did do something. They may have felt as if their struggle would never end, but one can feel these things. Those kids did turn the tide. Their outrage and eloquence did become a turning point. More people died. A lot more, but this feels different, doesn’t it? El Paso and Dayton, it just feels different. The NRA is being shouted down. The idea of increased and better background checks is sounding like a given, but that's not enough. Not nearly enough at all.

So I'm repeating my post from 2018 that ends with my list of ideas for fixing this sh*t. And we've got to fix this sh*t. Now. Right the hell now.

This is my rifle

Warning political rant – I know. as an author I’m supposed to keep my trap shut when it comes to this stuff, but feck it. I can’t right now.**

I’m a slick sleeve. I don’t have a combat patch. I don’t know what it’s like to hear a bullet meant to kill me as it zips by my head. I’ve never seen a fellow soldier killed nor have I ever killed anyone. The entire time I was in uniform, if you can imagine it, this country was at peace. Perhaps my opinion about weapons, for those reasons, count for shit.

Despite the peace through which I served, I still had to fire a weapon at least annually. Every time I aimed my M16 at a human-shaped target, and every time I pulled the trigger, I felt mixed emotions. Part of me loved it. The power, the feeling of success for striking where I aimed –which was rare. I enjoyed the way I imagined I looked—all helmet and ammo pouches and dusty boots and that sleek looking weapon in the hands of a woman in the best shape of her life. I’d smile my wide, white smile, my dark brown skin glistening under a sweat stained helmet band and stroll out to the target, the business end of the weapon pointed down range, and count the holes I’d made. I’d analyze my shot group, which was usually crap, like I knew what I was looking at and knew exactly what to do to improve it. For most of my career in uniform I was a terrible shot.

But that didn’t stop me from looking forward to the times when we checked out weapons and spent a day on the range.

For some authors, all they have to do is announce that their latest book is out and I’ll drop everything and buy it. If I love them, I follow them, engage with them on social media and recommend them to everyone I know. When one such author posted to his Facebook group that his latest was available, I immediately went to my Amazon app and bought it and then took a picture of my Kindle in my hand with his cover on it. About five minutes after he said it was live, the book was in my hands.

I don’t think I will ever get over the twisting churn of anxiety I get when a book is about to be released. In just a couple of days, The Bonding Blade will start appearing on ereaders. Some have bought it on pre-order. They will wake up to it on their device and perhaps, begin to read right away. The knowledge that this thing I’ve been working on for a couple of years will finally be available is intimidating.

It’s not just the new releases. Any time someone tells me they’ve just purchased a book or are reading something I wrote, my thoughts immediately go to a hope that they don’t hate it. After all this time, you’d think I’d get over it.

But, no. I don’t ever get over it. It’s very much like the anxiety I used to have when waiting for the results of some test that was worth 75% of the grade. Sometimes I’m unable to sleep and invest extreme efforts to avoid thinking about it for fear I’ll start biting my nails.

Did you know that nail biting is also known as onychophagy or onychophagia? A fancy way of saying that you’re busy chomping on your nails because you don’t want to be doing other things with your mouth. According to Psychology Today, this “Body-focused repetitive behavior” or BFRB is a sign of anxiety. Dah! I just love that they refer to it by an acronym. So very military of them.

So even for The Bonding Blade, this book that I’m so proud of, the book I've spent the last couple of years trying to cobble together, I’m still nervous. Excited and nervous. Maybe excited and relieved and nervous. Definitely excited and relieved and nervous and anxious, but I’m glad the day is almost here.

When you’re nervously waiting for something, what do you do to take your mind off things?

Here's an excerpt from the book:

https://mldoyleauthor.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/06/single-3d2.jpgAmazonOnline Retailers

The first time I’d been in this room, I’d felt overwhelmed by the magical elements seeping from every object but now the magic felt more like possibility than danger. I didn’t have a natural understanding of magic the way Gil, Quinn and Cassie did. My brain didn’t seem to function in the same way Reuben’s worked, and I had, evidently, not inherited my mother’s propensity for the dark arts. But the more I’d watched them wield magic, the more admiration I felt for them and what they could do.

I still wasn’t ready to trust all witches, especially the unguided, young ones who caused more trouble than they were worth, but I did respect those that had a calling for molding the natural elements to their will.

I checked my cell phone for the time again. Waiting for Fredricks began to grate at my nerves. “How does he manage to make an immortal feel like she’ll die before he finds what he’s looking for?”

Gil flashed his teeth at me before turning his most intimidating glare to the wizard.

“I thought you knew where everything was in this hovel of yours,” Gil said. “What is taking you so long?”

“I apologize, my lord. There are many references to blood contracts and many more that claim to be a way to break the contract, but upon further inspection, the breakage usually involves the death of the person who entered into the agreement.”

“No, my goddess. I understand. I think I’m getting close.” He held a large book open, his hand skimming over the words. “This one is a bit different. I’m just working out the translation now, but roughly it says, ah… blood is the permanent bond for which the promise lives. Ah, it goes on, and this was the part I was unsure of. Oh yes, right here it says, ‘but the trials of Shamash bring the … the … I just can’t figure out this word. Sword maybe? The dagger?”

“Blade,” Gil said, his voice heavy. He leaned both hands on the table in the center of the room. “The blade of Utu.”

He straightened, ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “You won’t like it, my queen.”

I crossed my arms and leaned a hip against the table. “I don’t like what’s happening to my Quinn now, sooooo…”

Gil held his hand out to Fredricks, who hefted the large tome into his hand. Gil held it up as if it weighed nothing. He skimmed the page, running his finger back and forth over the same passage a few times. His face hardened as he read. Finally, his gaze flicked up to me. “You know of Utu?”

“I would hope she would. Utu is or was the lord of justice in her time. He meted out punishments, adjudicated disputes …”

“Exactly. He is quite well known for having several items which, after his death, could be used to determine the right and the wrong of things as he did while alive. A staff that would bend and twist when someone told a lie. A ring that would glow to identify the righteous party.”

“Handy. Too bad we don’t have doodads like that these days. Are you saying one of these items could be used to break Quinn’s contract?”

Gil lay the large book on the table and leaned over it, a rigid set to his shoulders. “I know this because I killed him myself, and destroyed his talismans.”

Fredricks shrank back, sucking in air with a hiss, his hand to his throat. The drama queen.

I waited for Gil to elaborate, but he didn’t. The longer I waited, the more disturbed he looked. Finally, he slammed the book shut and picked it up, holding his hand out to me.

Me: "It's about Staff Sergeant Hester Trueblood. She's on duty in Iraq when she picks up a golden coin that activates a spell that makes her the embodiment of the ancient Mesopotamian goddess Inanna. It's the second book in the series."

Me: "It's not YA. I mean, it's more of an adult urban fantasy suspense kind of story. Inanna was the goddess of war, and ... love, soooo."

As an author, you'd think by now, I'd have learned that the last thing people want to hear about is writing stuff. They politely ask. I should just politely say ... something, that doesn't put them in the position to ask anything else. But I have a hard time not talking about this series.

After the elation of typing, “The End,” the drudgery begins. So now, I’m up to my neck in edits and marketing plans and website updates and review requests and formatting and cover design work and writing blurbs and asking authors to write blurbs and the list goes on. To be perfectly honest, this is my least favorite part about writing self-published books.

It’s. Not. Fun. Have I ever told you about my frustrations in never being able to find appropriate black and brown images in stock photo and graphic collections? A topic for another day.

The Bonding Blade is now officially set for publication and will be released on July 1, 2019. The book is up for pre-order on Amazon.com right now. It will be available at all online retailers soon. As much as I view all that other stuff as drudgery, it hasn’t taken away from the joy of having created a real, live book. The occasional emails from those who have read it or are reading have also kept me jazzed as I plod through this necessary work.

So, while I roll up my sleeves and get back to work, life goes on. Here is a picture from my brother’s amazing house and the lake, in Minneapolis, that is already devoid of ice. We saw two juvenile bald eagles swooping around the lake a couple of days ago. Spring is officially here.

It’s been a strange couple of weeks in the Doyle clan. Some medical emergencies that are now over (praise the gods), some world traveling … my sisters have just both returned from two weeks in Africa. NO! I’m NOT jealous. I’m HAPPY for them. And then there’s me, trying my best to prepare this book for its birthday.

It’s all exciting stuff which is what you expect from springtime, right? Excitement. New beginnings. Fresh starts.

For your springtime reading, The Bonding Blade is up for pre-order on Amazon and will be available on all online retailers as of July 1. If you haven’t read The Bonding Spell, the first book in the Desert Goddess Series, you might want to consider reading it now. Here is what one reader said about The Bonding Spell: “I don’t know why I waited so long to read this! It’s a real thriller. I’m going to recommend it to …. "

Read it. I think you'll find it's not what you expect. If you take my recommendation, I'd love to hear what you think.

We've Got To Fix This Sh*T!

This is my rifle

**Warning** political rant – I know. as an author I’m supposed to keep my trap shut when it comes to this stuff, but feck it. I can’t right now.**

Here's an excerpt from the book:

Warning political rant – I know. as an author I’m supposed to keep my trap shut when it comes to this stuff, but feck it. I can’t right now.**