Sizzling Sofa Stories by Stuart R. West's Sofa

Click here for the first book created on my fine upholstery.

I am Stuart's sofa.

I'm the couch hub of the Midwest, the loveseat heart of suburban Kansas. An upholstery covered melting pot suitable for every race, color, creed, and religious bottom of humanity. There are eight million stories to be told from my cushions and this is one of them. For you see...

Wait. Hold on a minute. It's a lie. All of it!

My life is boring. I get to service Stuart's rear-end only. Day in and day out, he sits on me, writing. Sure, some times his wife parks on me, but as far as variety? Forget about it.

Frankly, watching someone write is really, really boring.

On occasion, though, I'm privy to the insights of the writing process. For instance, Stuart's frequently asked "where do you get your ideas?" Usually--as is his lame and lazy approach--he responds "I don't know." (See what I mean? BORING.)

This hammock thinks it has it bad? Try being me, Stuart's suffering sofa!

But last week, something interesting finally happened. While wearing me down (and would it hurt Stuart to sit on my other side on occasion?), Stuart received a text on his phone.

It read: Hey! It's Theresa! I'm using Tim's phone because I lost mine! See you in a bit! DON'T text back on this phone!

This set Stuart to thinking, never a good idea. He didn't know a Tim or Theresa. He couldn't very well text back, either, tell Theresa she had a wrong number. After all, she'd strictly forbidden him to do so.

Weened on thrillers and mysteries, Stuart started pulling pieces together. Clearly, Theresa was cheating on Tim. The heart emojis sealed the deal. Should Stuart warn Tim? Write back anyway and let Theresa know she had the wrong number?

What did Stuart, the man of inaction, the writer do? Nothing. Altogether now: BORING.

Several hours later, Theresa texted back: Thinking bout you. Had a great time.

Again, Stuart didn't respond. Through-out the day, Theresa kept texting, her anxiety ramping up with each missive: Helloooo? What's wrong? Why aren't you responding? Dammit, talk to me!

Finally, Theresa's final message: That's it. I'm talking to Tim. Even more troublesome? Theresa attached a photo of a baby in a car seat.

Like a Hitchcockian protagonist from days of old, Stuart had unwittingly become an unwilling, silent partner in an affair, the fourth member of a sordid situation that would undoubtedly end in murrrderrrr.

Yes sir, it was the most excitement I'd had since I was a wee settee at the sofa factory.

Stuart deliberated, didn't have a clue as to what to do. In his typically inert fashion, he decided to fashion the incident into a thriller to be written at a later date. The seed of an idea had been planted and his mind began to water it.

So...that's where one of Stuart's book ideas came from.

Wait! Here he comes! Gotta' run. I'll talk to--Oooff!

Another comedic thriller I helped birth, yet never get any credit for!

Stuart R. West's Books We Love Author's Page: http://bookswelove.net/authors/west-stuart-r/

The Pitfalls of Period Writing by Stuart R. West

To read the book that made the rest of my hair fall out, click here!

My first book with Books We Love, Ghosts of Gannaway, was a sprawling pseudo-historical thriller, romance, and ghost story set during the depression in a small Kansas mining town. Never before had I tackled such an undertaking. I spent two months alone researching. Whew.

I swore I’d never do it again.

Yet here I am currently tackling another period piece for Books We Love. This time when I jumped into the Stuart R. West time machine, I only ventured as far back as 1965. It wasn’t nearly as tough to research as Ghosts, but this book, too, had its pitfalls and traps.

Again (repeat after me): Never again!

Why’d I set my current book in 1965? The story’s a nostalgic, small town mystery and ghost story. (I ain’t nothing’ if not ambitious). By definition, nostalgia always takes place in the past or is at least a remembrance of days gone by. And, personally, my favorite ghost stories always take place in the past. Much more resonance than, say, a haunted Smart Phone.

But there I go again, breaking my vow to myself by going all old timey.

Here are the biggest problems I have while writing period pieces:

Getting the lingo right is tough. In my 1965 set book, I have a character--a real hep cat--spouting such slang as, “Whoa, daddy-o, you’re out of your tree! Your old man’s squaresville, absolutely nowhere. Let’s percolate, beat feet, get to the nitty-gritty!” I know, right? It’s really easy to overkill once I dig into the slang of the time. Granted, the character in question is a mop-topped, dangerous, cool kid, but sometimes I need to rein it in. Just a smidge, daddy-o!

Speaking of overkill, sometimes research threatens to eat my tales alive. While investigating all kinds of topics for Ghosts of Gannaway, I learned more than I could ever possibly need to know about the depression, the way men and women spoke in the ‘30’s, what happened to the Midwest Native American tribes, what folks ate, ore mining, and lots more. Anyone wanna know about the hazards of brass carbide mining lamps? No? Me neither. (But I do.)

You should’ve seen the first draft of Ghosts of Gannaway. Be thankful you didn’t. I tried to shoehorn every bit of research (and I had pages and pages of teeny-tiny, hand-written notes) into the book. There was a twelve page dissertation in the middle of the narrative about how the white colonialists drove the Native-Americans out of their lands (thank God I came to my senses, and pretty much chucked the entire sequence).

I suppose my thoughts at the time were, “Hey, we’re talking history! And I spent a heckuva long time researching this stuff to the point of having mining nightmares, so everyone’s gonna enjoy the fruits of my labors!” But I saved you a dull history lesson.

Another blockade I’ve banged my head into is racial and sexual issues. Face it, our world’s attitudes have changed a lot regarding racial equality and sexual activity. We’ve all heard the derogatory and racist terms. Yet in these sensitive and politically correct times, you’re still gonna find a reader who’ll take umbrage over the racist epithets, even if they’re historically accurate.  In Ghosts of Gannaway, I constantly questioned whether I should use accurate, yet highly insensitive name calling.  I steered away from the Big No-No Word, but everything else was game. And even though I live in Kansas, no one’s been by to lynch me yet.

Finally…sex! The big taboo! Back in the day, of course, sex between consenting, loving adults only happened between spouses. But you know what? Hollywood would have us believe differently, so what’s good enough for Hollywood is good enough for me! Let the sex begin!

There you have it, daddy-o, my bag of hang-ups regarding gone, baby, gone period writing. (I need to put this hep 60’s lingo to use somewhere.)

Everything You Need to Know About Kansas by Stuart R. West

CLICK HERE FOR MORE SECRETS OF KANSAS

When I tell people I write books set in or around Kansas, I’m either hit with dumb jokes (“I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore, Toto.”) or derision (“Do they have electricity in Kansas?”). Then they ask “why Kansas?” Besides the first rule of write what you know, Kansas holds a lot of variety and interesting locales for a thriller writer. Really.

So instead of explaining it time after time, I’m going to condense it into a basic primer. Here’s everything you need to know about Kansas. You’re welcome.

FACT: Cowboys and Indians (at least the “traditional” Roy Rogers types) aren’t running rampant through our dirt streets. Back in my college days, I had a friend from Venezuela who told me when he first came to Kansas (and don’t ask me how a Venezuelan ended up there!), he expected shoot-outs in the streets, barroom brawls, and guys in one-piece long-johns with a back flap.

Folks, Kansas isn’t the old Wild West. Not anymore. And it’s not all farmlands either. For instance, I live in a suburb ten minutes away from downtown, Kansas City, Missouri (where my book Chili Run takes place), and ten minutes from the growing, thriving megalopolis of Overland Park, Kansas (where the Zach and Zora books take place). If I feel like going farmland/country (see Ghosts of Gannaway), I can hit that in about thirty to forty minutes.

See? Variety! Everything a thriller writer could possibly want (excluding shark tales, natch).

CLICK HERE FOR KANSAS DONE UP OLD-SCHOOL

 FACT: Kansas still has active pockets of the Ku Klux Klan and the mafia. Not really a selling point, just an unfortunate fact. And good-to-go villains should I ever need them. (Not everything’s up to date in Kansas City.)

FACT: It’s illegal to sing the alphabet on the streets at night in Topeka, Kansas. Don’t ask me why, but it’s true.  It’s also against the law to catch fish with your bare hands so take your penchant for noodling elsewhere, ‘cause it’s not wanted in Kansas. Here’s the best one: at one time it was against the law to serve ice cream on top of cherry pie. Thank goodness they changed that law.

FACT: Kansas is host to the world’s largest ball of twine, the world’s largest prairie dog, and possibly even more disturbing, the world’s largest hairball! That’s right! Kansas is known for its culture, too! (The hairball in question was taken from a cow’s stomach, weighing in at 55 pounds.)

FACT: Thank goodness plans to build a “Land of Oz” tourist attraction in Kansas were scrapped. Not only would it have done more damage to Kansas’s beleaguered reputation, but the last thing we needed were thousands of munchkins causing havoc in the streets. True riff-raff, I tell you.

FACT: Kansas alcohol laws are among the strictest in the United States. Prohibition lasted until 1948, longer than any other state. Until 2003, you couldn’t buy alcohol on a Sunday or have a glass of wine with dinner. Grocery stores still prohibit the sale of alcohol (unless it’s 3.2% beer). There’re some really strange, detailed laws governing alcohol. The legislators had a whole lotta’ time on their hands since they weren’t drinking.

FACT: Kansas led the way in feminism and civil rights! The first woman mayor in the United States was elected in Argonia, Kansas in 1887. And the first black woman to win an Academy Award was Kansan Hattie McDaniel for Gone With the Wind. Take that California and New York!

FACT: Kansas has the largest population of wild grouse in North America and I don’t even know what a “grouse” is.

FACT: Kansas is home to two “Big 12” colleges: The University of Kansas and Kansas State. Oddly enough, they hate one another. I should know. I lived through the KU/K-State riots in the ‘80’s. Just like in the old Wild West, people ran through the streets smashing windows and beating people. I guess not too much has changed after all.

There you have it, everything you need to know about Kansas and then some. And, of course, you can read all about the seedy, secret underbelly of Kansas in my books. 

I dunno…maybe I should just move.

CLICK FOR KOOKY KANSAS COZY COMEDY

From Bedroom to Book: Chili Run by Stuart R. West

From pillow to page...

Despite the rather enticing, come-hither title of this post (gotcha!), I'm not going to start writing erotica.

Rather, it's a round-about way to chat up my new comedy thriller, Chili Run.

Sorry, sorry, sorry, a kazillion times sorry!

Let's back up...

I have a vividly wild dream life, ranging from talking cat gangstas to bathrooms that eat people. After these strange dreams--during that oddly drifting, half-awake, half-asleep state of mind where the dreams still somewhat resemble logic--I think, "Hey! This would make a nifty book!"

Then, I wake up and think, "Man, what was I thinking?" No one wants to read an epic fantasy novel about a family of royal lions who fly 1930's fighter planes to save the kingdom. I shower, go about my day, the dreams drifting away like cottonwood in the wind.

This wasn't the case with Chili Run. This dream stuck with me, absurd though it was. I toyed with it, determined to find a way to make it work. I knew what the gist was; now I had the unenviable task of trying to make sense of it.

Well, here...the blurb says it best:

When Wendell Worthy decides to blow off laundry for the day, he has no idea he'll soon be running across downtown Kansas City in his tighty-whities. But a murderous, psychotic drug dealer has his brother and the ransom's a cup of chili that has to be delivered within two hours.  The catch? There are rules in place: no rides, no money, no help. And Wendell has to do it in his underwear. Regardless of the rules, he knows he can’t go it alone. The only person downtown who might help is Alicia. Too bad their one and only date ended in disaster. Wendell can run like the devil’s on his tail, and he’s gonna’ need to, because all sorts of hell’s about to break loose.

Okay, I know dream analysts are gonna have a field day with the subject matter. There's the requisite recurring nightmare of being caught out in public in your underwear (or nude). I pay it full tribute and absolutely own it.

Researching the book was a bear. To accurately describe downtown, Kansas City, my wife patiently drove me around so I could plot out Wendell's trajectory and, I hope, paint a unique, darkly comic, nightmare vista.

While there's a streak (ugh on the pun!) of humor running (again, ugh.) through the book, it's not as in-your-face, silly as my Zach and Zora comic mysteries, but it's a cousin of sorts. (There's even a quick connection for eagle-eyed readers to the aforementioned series, cementing it in the same universe). Here the stakes are higher and lives are hanging in the balance.

For me, the book's kind of an experiment. As Wendell runs through most of the book, I strove to keep the book moving along from one bizarre and dangerous adventure to the next. It's told in "real time," too, kinda' like the TV series 24 (while writing it, the soundtrack in my head consisted of that annoying "ka-ching, ka-chung" of 24's clock running down; plenty of aspirin were consumed).

What I thought was going to be an easy-peasy, cakewalk of a book turned into a huge struggle due to the above-mentioned reasons and more. I mean, honestly, how many different ways can you describe running?

Along the way, just like my protagonist's character, themes developed and grew, some understated, some not so much. It's about racism, writing, and above all--most surprising--it turned into a love story.

All in a little book about a guy running through public in his tighty-whities trying to save his dumb brother's life.

Chili Run: The perfect thriller for the reader on the go.

What Has Liam Neeson Wrought? by Stuart R. West

Laughs, mystery, no Liam Neeson, just a click away!

Liam Neeson has single-handedly revolutionized the plots of suspense thrillers. Not necessarily in a good way, either.

But, wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. The shocking, highly researched results of my studies may surprise you...
 
Over the holidays, my wife and I were traveling to Oklahoma and got bored. On her IPad, I sought out the most critically acclaimed films of the year that we needed to see. That grew predictably dull. Yes, the movies are supposed to be good for you. So are lima beans, doesn't make 'em any more tasty. So for grins, we ventured over into the worst reviewed films of the year.

Much more fun. And very eye-opening.

Several actors popped up three or four times each. And none of these films ever made it into theaters. I got excited.

Nicolas Cage! Bruce Willis! John Travolta! Pierce Brosnan (I always confuse him with the Perfect Strangers "Belki" guy.)! These actors...several academy award nominated...apparently have shifted into direct to DVD territory. The winds of change.

Oddly enough, all of them appear in a crummy movie with plots that go like this: "Rock Hardguy is an ex Navy Seal. Bad guys have kidnapped his son. Rock won't stop 'til he gets his son back. And cause all kinds of mayhem and destruction--call it collateral damage--doing so."

Thank you, Liam Neeson! This guy cornered the market, made revenge a genre unto itself. And he just won't quit. There's even a TV series based on the Taken movie series. Seriously, how many times can one father's kids be kidnapped? 

The above-mentioned actors are all prancing onto Liam's bloody turf. Keanu Reeves, of all people, got into the act, violently enacting revenge over his dead dog ("Whoa. Dude you killed my dog.").

First of all: kids, if your dad's Liam Neeson, seek emancipation. Second, are people really watching all of these ridiculous revenge films? Is this the future of suspense books? Personally, as a parent, I can't think of anything less entertaining than reading about a kidnapped child.

And when did Liam Neeson become a tough guy? Wasn't he kinda' a Shakespearean, hoity-toity actor, all up in art and what-all? What's next, the brothers from Fraser in a Death Wish remake?

Anyway, my wife and I tried to watch some of these awful movies. Wine helped, but didn't quite diffuse the stink. We cringed while Kevin Spacey turned into a cat. We sighed as John Travolta played a redneck power and light man whose brother is electrocuted in a tragic line accident (and do I have to tell you he raised his arms in the rain and screamed, "Nooooooo!"?). I slept when Nic Cage flew a plane while the rest of the world was whisked away by the Rapture. And, of course, the endless revenge flicks.

So thank you, Liam. Thanks a whole lot!

Wholesome fun even Grandma won't hate (totally).

The True Meaning of Halloween, Charlie Brown by Stuart R. West

So many things frighten me. The odd thing is I love being scared. Just not by heights, serial killers, dirty bombs, nuclear fear, bio-chemical warfare, Trump, and shoe-shopping with my wife.

Maybe that’s why I adore dumb horror films. I know they’re not real, a vicarious and silly joy-ride. One I can easily recover from.

My wife doesn’t feel the same way. Recently, I somewhat hoodwinked her into watching The Babadook, a terrific Australian horror flick. I proclaimed it an art film to entice her into viewing with me. Not entirely a lie. Still, she hasn’t forgiven me.  (Hey, part of the fun of horror films is watching them with someone else, a communal experience. I love to hear people shriek in theaters...for all the right reasons, of course.).

Halloween is near. Spookiest time of the year. My daughter always says it’s her favorite holiday (a girl after my own heart). But, why? Where did Halloween spring from with its ghoulish visual aids and strange customs? 

As always, my faithful research assistant, Ms. Google, held the answers. 

(Read the following with Vincent Price's voice in your head; of course, for those spooky-challenged among you, you can always opt out for Morgan Freeman): Halloween was initially created to honor the dead. Somewhat like Memorial Day, only more morbid. Blame the Gaels for their ancient festival, Samhain, the origin of Halloween. The Irish would set out food and drink, offerings to the Gods for good health and livestock. Cheapskates would go door-to-door in costume looking for food. Back then, singing or poetry was recited for the food. No tricks. Not a bad gig.

Soon, pranking spread, instigated by the cheeky British. Call it door-to-door blackmail. “Gimme candy or I’ll do something rather naughty.” 

Christianity tried to adopt the holiday, turn it into a day of prayer for the deceased. I think they’re still trying to work the kinks out. 

To me, Halloween represents the time to embrace the spooky. Love it. The crisp falling orange leaves of Autumn fill me full of melancholy, a remembrance of my childhood and the horror films I used to seek out (which was quite hard to do when you only had three—sometimes four—fuzzy channels). Have you seen the Val Lewton produced films from the ‘40’s? Scary, yet subtle and artistic. A nice starter kit. Move on to the classic “The Haunting” from the ‘60’s (and, PLEASE, don’t even get me going on the modern remake). From there, the sky’s the limit. I broke my daughter in on “Abbot and Costello Meet Frankenstein” and Twilight Zone DVD’s. She hasn’t looked back yet.

So. Put out the kids. Tuck the cat in bed. Turn out the light. Fire up the chimney. Cuddle next to a loved one and get scared. Have fun with it.

In my book, Ghosts of Gannaway, I try to cover all spooky bases without being gross (the anti-scary). Kinda based on a true story, the book details the history of a small mining town in the ‘30’s. There are ghosts, murders, an evil mining magnate, claustrophobia, bad juju, nightmares, romance (gotta have romance), shadows, bigotry, pollution, photographs that move, a funny native-American, secrets, mystery, cancer, things that go bump in the night and the fear of being buried alive. Everything that scares me wrapped up in one book.

Click here for spooky Halloween thrills!

Happy Halloween! Boo!