A fantastic novella “Injured Reserves”

Injured ReservesInjured Reserves by D.C. Bourone
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

“Injured Reserves” is a haunting story by DC Bourone that will stay with you for a long time. Bourone’s artistic ability to weave a literary masterpiece out of ordinary characters that become bigger than life in the process is extraordinary indeed.

As a reader, I’m taken in by DC Bourone’s ability to tell a story. As a writer, I’m enthralled by the level of talent inherent in DC Bourone’s writing. It’s not an easy story to either read or write. “Injured Reserves” is, at times, horrific, harsh, and emotionally raw. Driven? Most definitely. Even knowing the inevitable ending at the very first will not sway readers or this writer from wanting to finish it in one sitting. And, at its ending, I predict that you will just sit there lamenting it’s over, even as you feel this captivating pall come over you because it’s finished and there is no more to do or say. “Injured Reserves” is like discovering a shooting star. We behold its glorious light and wondrous existence just as it flares across the universe and disappears. At the end of “Injured Reserves” you’ll sigh deep and struggle to breathe, if only for Billy and his men.

DC Bourone’s writing is amazing. Here are a few of my favorite passages:

“Lose the rhythm. Lose the mission. Lose your life.”

“They called it “the package,” and often, “The Bitch,” and ten feet away Keith lay beside her ribbed steel sheath the size of a child’s coffin, spot welded bolts and wire clips with lead seals every three inches around the stamped rim. Oh, how she had been loved. Cherished. Multiply buried and at least once poured into, and then chipped out of concrete, judging by her scabbed and sandy skin. A leprous queen, waiting decades for the right price and her crown bright as the sun. One of the fabled Six Sisters, lost in a distant age when the flagging Russian Bear had relaxed his grip.”

“They had lost the rhythm on another rocky beach, in Croatia, where they had just been shot into blood puppets. And Billy knew they were losing it here as the voices of the medics, normally clipped and dry as pilots landing a plane, grew increasingly frantic. Strangled curses, shouts for O negative and Ringer’s solution and Hespan blood extender rang high over the howl of the engines, merged with a rising crescendo of chirping Braun monitors Billy recognized as the last song of dying hearts.”

“Billy wondered if purgatory could be this dream, where he relived perhaps his finest moment and most certainly his greatest despair, and tried to find the balance.”

What an amazing literary style! “Injured Reserves” reads as poetic and lyrical as a sheet of music shimmering off the page. This is a fantastic novella by a very talented writer–however mysterious–DC Bourone. All I can say is more, please!

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Permissible living while writing

I know.

You just fell over in your chair because I’m posting a blog, an actual blog post, not a quote, not an image, not a photograph. No, I’m not using someone else’s thoughts to convey my own, for once.

I know.

It’s unusual. An anomaly. It may not last, but some things just need to be said, written down, if you will.

It’s true. I’ve written three novels and recently marked a year, since the first two were released (May 2011-Seeing Julia & Not To Us). It’s also been six months since When I See You met up with the world. It seemed like a good time to reflect upon these endeavors. Yay! If you glance through my past posts you will see that I struggle mightily with the writing process, at times, but there are also many days when success finds me and readers send kind thoughts and words my way. Thank you. YOU make it all worthwhile.

As it stands, I’ve tried many things with promoting my work, including the usual social media hangouts that are Twitter and Facebook and even Pinterest. All can be inspiring places, especially when readers find me and tell me what they like about my novels. Thank you. However, the point of this post is to reach out and tell you all that although I am thrilled that you enjoy my work and I love having best seller status on Amazon with all three novels, I also need to take a much-needed hiatus for the next month or so. The truth is I need time to decompress in order to make some kind of forward progress on the current WIP (work-in-progress) novel Finding Amy and/or This Much Is True. (The title seems to change, depending upon which day it is and where I think the plot is going.) Thus, you can see my need for solitude to be able to finish this work as I strive (and, sometimes struggle) to provide another most excellent read for my fans.

I really am going by the Anne Lamont adage at this point. (See Photograph). And, I thought it best that I should write this out, so you know where I’m taking things with my work.

I’ll continue to post the odd quote or photograph to convey my thoughts and love, but I just wanted to share what I was thinking of in terms of permissible living and writing.

Thank you for being here, for reading this.

Love to all,



Please welcome the fabulous Indie Chick, Carol Davis Luce, to my blog this week. Her story is inspiring to us all, in one way or another. Take it away, Carol!


Carol Davis Luce

My motto is, “If I can do it, anyone can do it.” I wasn’t born to write. I didn’t aspire to be a writer from the time I could hold a Crayon. I could, however, draw, and make things take shape through form and color on paper and canvas, and that’s the path I traveled well into midlife. The artist’s life opened up my eyes and mind to expression and sometimes stories through composition on that blank eighteen by twenty-four inch stretched canvas. Then one day it changed.

As a voracious reader, I was content to read what others wrote. I admired those writers who had mastered the craft. I was happy to dwell in their world for 300 pages, to laugh, cry, and be enlightened and surprised. Until one day when I closed a book by my favorite author and felt something was missing. The novel was a mystery/suspense with elements of romance. The suspense was killer. The romance, however, was lacking, missing those subtleties that resonated with me. I wanted more. The promise of romance was there, but fizzled somewhere along the way. For me, it wasn’t about graphic sex. It was about sexual tension, passion, love. After searching unsuccessfully for novels to satisfy my romantic suspense fixation, looking for just the right balance, I realized I had to write the book myself.

Only I knew nothing about writing a novel, let alone a genre book with a sub-genre. So I went to the library and checked out a reference book titled, HOW TO WRITE A NOVEL. Easy enough, right? If dedication is easy, then it was easy because I was driven. My artist’s passion shifted to focus on the writer’s canvas. That canvas was structure, words, emotion, and truth. And the rest is history.

Well, almost.

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Never Give Up On Your Dreams by Christine Kersey

Please welcome fabulous Indie Chick, Christine Kersey, to my blog this week. Here’s another inspiring story about never giving up on yourself or your dreams. Thanks for sharing, Christine!

Never Give Up On Your Dreams

by Christine Kersey

I love to read and lose myself in a good story – forget all that is going on around me and be in the story with the characters. One day in 1997 I finished reading a novel by Joy Fielding and realized she hadn’t needed to be an expert in a particular field, like medicine or law, to write a good suspense story. This fact inspired me to try my hand at writing. It also didn’t hurt that we’d just gotten our first computer and I can type much faster than I can write longhand.

At this time in my life I was thirty-two and my youngest child was three. I also had three other children who were in elementary school. A stay-at-home mom, I was able to carve out some time to work on this project. At first I didn’t tell anyone what I was doing. What if I couldn’t complete it? What if I failed? After a short time I told my husband, mother, and sister and they were supportive.

I kept working at it, day by day, until after about four weeks I’d finished a complete novel. At that point it was nowhere near ready to be published, but I’d proven to myself that I could write a novel with a beginning, middle, and end. I continued working on the story, then put it aside and began working on another.

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