BooksGoSocial
Mar 30, 2019 | Interviews, Religious
This week, we're talking with Tim Spiess about his new book, Christianity: A Successful Failure.
Tell us something unexpected about yourself!
I really like Nathan's hot dogs.
Why do you write?
To help people see really important issues, and to help them take the best path in life.
Where did you get the inspiration for your current book?
Look at the world, and look at the thing which calls itself ‘The Church'.
What do you enjoy the most about your genre?
I am passionate about finding, identifying, knowing truth.
How would you describe your writing process?
The process is different between fiction and non-fiction. For non-fiction, I focus on a logical flow of information leading to the main point I want to get across.For fiction, I start with an outline, and then I write sections that I want to include in the book. Then I just start writing and piece it together as I go.
What do you think authors have to gain from participating in social media?
Exposure to our books and a platform to reach people.
What advice would you have for other writers?
Write what you are passionate about and put all your heart into it, but DON'T forget to use reason well to put forth your ideas.
How do you select your books’ titles and covers?
Titles flow from what encompasses the ‘heart' of the book. Covers should be attention grabbing, for sadly, most people do judge a book by its cover.
What's your next step?
My next book is going to be a fiction story that will describe the failure of the U.S.; the hypocrisy of ‘The Church'; and how new disciples will navigate that landscape.
What book do you wish you had written?
None, at this point, although I think the order of my books could have been reversed.
How do you react to seeing a new review for your book?
Depends if it is a 1 star or 5 star review!
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Carole Brown
May 27, 2016 | Religious, 1st pages
Twenty years earlier
The shadow creatures on the wall shook their wings and legs. Heads with horns nodded. Scary, dark faces watched. The little girl clasped her floppy-eared rabbit against her chest and stared into the dark.
“Mmm …” Mommy’s murmur reached to her through the walls, and the giggles from her mother tiptoed in, shooing the fear away.
Whoosh. She blew out a breath and squeezed her rabbit tighter. “Mommy has a friend with her, Ramsey. She loves me just like I love you and will give me hugs in the morning after the man leaves.”
Ramsey said nothing. She ran her fingers over his face and could feel his black button eyes staring at her, trusting her to protect him.
“And she’ll read to us and I’ll sit on her lap and we’ll snuggle—all of us together.” She nodded and tugged on Ramsey’s left ear.
She rolled over. Real live whispers and laughter floated into the room. Opening her mouth in a wide yawn, she patted Ramsey’s tummy and whispered again, “Don’t be afraid. I’m right here.”
“Please. That hurts.”
“Mommy?” The little girl frowned but her eyes wouldn’t open. Just like they did when she and mommy put cucumbers slices on their eyes.
“Stop it—”
Rubbing at her eyes the little girl sat up. Mommy had never sounded like this before, and neither had any of the men—the men who brought flowers and candy and money. What were they doing? Maybe Mommy was angry at the man and had sent him away. She slid her feet to the floor and hesitated. Mommy didn't like her to leave her room whenever any man visited.
Brett W. Gillette
May 16, 2016 | 1st pages, Religious
Deborah Cox
May 4, 2016 | Women's, 1st pages, Religious
1. The Wedding Night
1988
My new husband looked like a mound of biscuit dough. He had his mother’s hips. Unless you actually saw his private parts, you might not realize he was, in fact, a man. He waited for me under the hotel blanket as I tiptoed out of the small Vanderbilt bathroom in my chenille robe, reluctantly exposing my skin to conditioned air as I slipped it off. He smiled like a dimpled three-year-old about to eat pudding. It was dark except for glowing shafts that wound around the open bathroom door. I hurried into the stiff, clean sheets with him, a bit of moonlight misting in through a crack in the heavy sixth-floor drapes. The clock on the polished nightstand said 1:15 a.m. I missed my mother.
An hour ago, somebody else’s wedding party reveled in the lobby as we arrived at the hotel. The other bride still wore her finery, her updo falling in a sexy droop, and her friends laughed and glistened with perspiration in their cocktail dresses, like they’d been dancing for hours. They looked breezy and comedic, in the way of Eddie Bauer models. A hunky groom stood by this other bride, joking with tuxedoed friends. Her gaiety gagged me—I had no idea why. At this moment in the sheets with Ted, I thought of her. She was happier than me.
Just do it already.
Without prelude, my husband hoisted himself on top of me, facedown, balancing on his toes in plank position, ready to perform the deed for which we’d come to this fancy Nashville hotel. We observed this milestone in our human development as if following instructions from a textbook on how to create a Christian marriage—the chapter: “On Your Honeymoon.” I detected a faint breath of reluctance in him, the weight of his body pressed me into the fresh linens. I thought I might suffocate, my lack of oxygen causing hallucinations of “Eugenia,” who’d made this bed for us today and left her scraggly signature on a white envelope resting against the pillows. I saw her standing in a corner with her feather duster.
I saw myself leaping up from that bed, pulling the telephone into the bathroom with me to call my mother. At this moment, she slouched in a metal folding chair with a lapful of cranberry ribbons plucked from my wedding decor. You’re so fortunate to have a man who loves you.
Ted pounded against my tight young thighs while a screen full of inappropriate images played on the backs of my eyelids. I thought of all those Waltham boys I did not marry. Because they did not ask.
Rai Lindsay-Wallace
Apr 14, 2016 | Religious, 1st pages
Slam!
The final gate closed as Jonah Bates departed the place that had been his habitation for the past five years. Refusing to look back, Jonah put one foot in front of the other, feeling lighter with each step away from his past. It was liberating. The feeling was indescribable. Manchester Correctional Institution was a place that Jonah wanted to forget forever. For 1,825 days, Jonah had been stripped of his freedom.
He was imprisoned by man for the wrongdoings that he had purposely committed. His rights as a free man had been taken, and he had to do and say what others told him to do and say. Because of his choices, he had been enslaved for five long, dreadful years. Jonah had endured things that he vowed to go to the grave with, only he and the good Lord knowing the secrets of his heart.
Jonah went in to Manchester at the age twenty-four and came out at twenty-nine. He went in as an angry, bitter, violent young black man, and came out as a humbled Christian. Life had broken him, but by the grace of God, Jonah did not stay that way. He had been pieced back together, molded and reshaped by the hand of Almighty God. Jonah was a new creation. Old things passed away, and behold, all things were made new.
Today was the beginning of the rest of his life. Jonah felt like dancing and never stopping. The rhythm of his soul stirred to a triumphant tempo. His spirit tangoed to the tune of triumphant freedom.
Robert J. Goluba
Apr 8, 2016 | Religious, 1st pages
Judgment Day
His hands were shaking so badly that John could hardly take a sip of water. He loosened his tie, hoping it would relieve the pressure building in his neck and chest. It was his turn at the podium, and he knew he had to bring his A-game. John was campaigning to be chairman of a state political party—something he had dreamed of since graduating from college with a degree in political science. He had been involved with the party and running campaigns for the past eleven years, so he knew he was qualified. But his challenger, Brian, liked to intimidate his competitors.
Brian was six foot three and over 230 pounds, so he was physically imposing. Brian was also skilled at verbal intimidation, so John was not surprised when verbal punches were thrown at him. Brian had held several elected offices in the past and was well-known for smearing the opposition as a campaign tactic.
“I want to thank each and every one of you for allowing me to pursue my dream of becoming your party chairman,” John started after pushing aside his fear.
“You just heard from the opposing candidate. He gave you a laundry list of reasons why you should not vote for me—and very few reasons why you should vote for him. I am going to approach this from a different angle. I am going to tell you why I am the best candidate to run this party without ever mentioning another name.”
John felt a boost in confidence as he noticed some murmurs and nods from the audience. He cleared his throat, pushed up his glasses, and stood up tall to accentuate all six feet of his frame before continuing. “Let me start by saying that, first and foremost, I want to bring trust, transparency, and ethics back to this party…”
