Tips to Improve Your Proofreading - Part 1

Once settled on a process that picks up spelling and grammar errors easily, concentrate on their proofreading speed. Often authors find themselves consistently misspelling the same words or repeating the same consecutively making a sentence seem boring and bland. Repeated misspellings come from a mental block or the word is not well known, they also come from the authors typing skill. By understanding the nature and reason for frequent errors and finding the most misspelled and repeated words, a writer will learn to take extra care not to use them so often. Authors should pace themselves by evaluating each sentence alone, consciously going through the spelling, grammar and structure.

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Xlibris Book Review: The Cloak of Deception

The Cloak of Deception

''Memoirs of a Rural Undercover Cop''

Written by: Darryl Parker

Published by: Xlibris LLC

Date published: 06/08/2009

Edition: Casebound Hardcover

ISBN: 978-1-43633-302-3

Available in Hardcover

Review:

The Cloak of Deception is written to provide insight into the criminal justice system as it relates to the politics of drug enforcement in rural America. Its content illustrate the events, actions and incidents that occurred on the flatlands, back roads and waterways of a small region of Virginia. This book could spark a new wave of debates over crime, justice and society.

Book Teaser:

XIV

DON'T CRY OVER SPILT BEER

A drug enforcement investigator learns early in his career that his ability to successfully infiltrate and serve his community will rely heavily on his down to earth approach in interrelating with the general public. This effort is not reserved for the in the clouds, can’t see the forest because of the trees, social upper elite. (They wouldn’t know that there was a drug problem unless an aircraft filled with cocaine crashed through their $500,000.00 home in the middle of the night). I am referring to the hard working blue-collar people who after work. raise hell, drink beer, and curse the damnation of their struggling existence. Of course, some of these individuals are members of the dark criminal element and it is a drug agent’s responsibility to identify, confront, and effectively bring them to justice. This can not be accomplished by comfortably propping yourself up behind a desk in a safe, tranquil, air-conditioned office. A fisherman can not can not bass while sitting in his boat resting in the middle of a cornfield.

I chose to be a law enforcement officer for the people and among the people. I opted to frequent various establishments across the region and intermingle with the true populace. I refused to pretend that I was somehow “better” than the people I swore to serve and protect simply because I wore a badge.

I had numerous conversations with, and befriended, many people in the area by meeting them in popular nightspots and holes in the walls. I considered it good, basic, and straightforward police work. I wasn‘t pulling any punches. The drug dealers knew who they were and they damned sure knew who I was.

---------------------

I could have cared less that the information provided to me by a drug dealer during a game of nine-ball was in retribution of another sleeping with his wife. That was none of my concern. Illegal drugs were. I had no personal animosity against any of these people. In fact, I found most to be quite amicable and they all shared a common and admirable quality that

governmental officials and upper crust community activists often fail to posses. Lack of hypocrisy! These people have nothing to lose and could care less. Their information is genuine, raw, and reliable, and if you fuck them over they will kick your ass without hesitation. They were fully aware that given the evidence of criminal activity I would arrest them in an instant. They also knew that I would buy them a beer, shoot a friendly game of pool, and help them fix a flat tire in the parking lot after last call. They more importantly realized that I would risk my life to assist them in an emergency situation or aid them in a personal crisis.

The Circuit Court Judge deeply resented my activities of this nature. He openly, according to Sheriff Clarke, complained about my drug enforcement approach and methods. Judge Spruill probably would have been less objectionable and much more at ease if I had spent my time dressed in a three-piece suit and frequented upscale cafés drinking martinis with my pinkie extended. Actually, I do not think that the judge really cared how I was dressed or what establishments I patronized. I feel Spruill was much more concerned with whom I was talking to and the potential of their disclosures.

Obviously, individuals that distribute illegal substances on the street level are human beings and not demons released by Satan through the gates of hell to poison the world (even though sometimes it does appear they are). These people have families, problems, and personal goals not unlike any other member of society. The conflict exists in the route they chose to pursue their wants and needs. The reasons drug dealers enter a lifestyle of criminal activity vary from one individual to another and range from mere survival, to desperation, to depression, to peer pressure and intimidation, to just plain greed.

Constant interaction with elements of the drug culture on a daily basis takes a heavy toll on an officer. Neither an undercover agent’s superior officers nor the general public can send someone in to clean up a cesspool and then complain when, upon his return, he doesn't smell like a rose. I am not insinuating that any strayed actions conducted by an undercover officer should be overlooked, nonchalantly discarded, or negligently tolerated. They do, however, need to be expected, understood, and properly addressed. It needs to be accepted as fact a. truly effective undercover operative will never be able to embed him or herself into the bowels of the criminal element until becoming bi-cranial and learning to think fluid shit.

A narcotics agent, over time, learns to embrace danger, fear, and anxious anxiety as his friend. Consequent anxiety and stress become part of your evolution into the matrix of the dark side of the criminal justice system.

Unfortunately when your assignments are completed there is no outlet available to purge cynicism and other parasitic side effects from your system. Even more discouraging. though, is the realization that there is nobody that actually gives a shit. The professional abandonment leaves a narcotics officer buried with confusion, frustration, and a bitterly sarcastic belief that his sacrificed efforts are being taken for granted. (Or even being used against him).

The physical and mental scars of a drug agent are deeply rooted but any plea for help, either overt or latent, is often discarded with, "What have you done for me lately?" Still, somehow you crave it because you learned long ago that as you weave your way through the world of drug enforcement theres no time to cry over spilt beer.

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Xlibris Book Review: The Quicksilver

Michael C. Madden. The Quicksilver. Bloomington: Xlibris Publishing, ISBN 978-1-46530-018-8. 2011. Perfect Bound Softcover.

Overview:

It wasn't supposed to be like this. This is all too real... time travel is real - irreversible! You can go forward, but you can never go back! We should have listened to him... what have we done??...the deepest thoughts of Mason Tucker. They found it in the bush and it took them to the Quicksilver. The Quicksilver showed them adventures beyond their wildest dreams... and devastated their lives. Now, Wynter Barnes and his five unlikely companions from Merrick Springs, have more power and responsibility than should ever be given to anyone. Least of all, those so young.

Awards:

The Quicksilver by Michael Madden received an honorable mention in the 2013 SAN FRANCISCO BOOK FESTIVAL Competition under the Young Adult Section.

Book Teaser:

Chapter one

A New Day Threatens

Morning came all too fast. Wynter Barnes showered and got ready to go. It was a relief not to have to wear his school uniform for the rest of the week. The jeans. hooded top, and sneakers he wore felt particularly comfortable.

It was Tuesday morning, the first day of year eleven camp. 'l‘he students of Merrick Springs Grammar were to be picked up by buses from school and taken to a place high in the Victorian mountains called Camp Wilson. Wynter did not know ifthe bully Mason Tucker was going on the four day trip, but desperately hoped he was not.

Wynler considered his reflection in the bathroom mirror and sighed. To his own mind, he was an average-looking boy, of middle height for his age, with a slim build. He had dark hair, blue eyes. and a plain face. Average and plain was Wynter Barnes in all areas except for his intellect. Wynter was smart, very smart, and he knew it. For a sixteen-year-old boy, however, that was more often a curse than a blessing.

---------------------------------

[2]

He sighed again, feeling dread at what was to come in the day ahead-dread at the thought of facing the boy Mason Tucker. For reasons Wynter could no longer remember, Mason had decided it would be fun to start

picking on him at school. Despite his reputation for being something of a super brain, Wynter did not regard himself as a nerd or an outcast in any particular way. Mason was going to great lengths to make him feel as though he should however.

The bully had arranged for the two of them to have a light after school the afternoon before. Wynter had agreed to nothing however; he wanted no part of it. He had managed to get the jump on Mason and slip away unnoticed, thanks mostly to his best friend, lett Nguyen, who had distracted Mace while Wynter snuck away.

Wynter knew he would pay for that today. Mason would surely come for him. The thought of standing toe to toe with another human being, pounding relentlessly on each other’s heads, held little attraction to Wynter. even less considering that the so-called human being facing him would be a year older than he and considerably larger. Mason had been kept back at the end of the previous year, forced to repeat year eleven.

Wynter gave himself one more ruthless assessment, grabbed his bag, and headed out into the kitchen. He was having breakfast with his mother, father, and younger sister, Casey, when there was a knock on the door, lett Nguyen. Wynter’s next-door neighbour and best friend, let himself in. 

‘Morning, Barnes’s.' lett called as he strolled into the kitchen, looking as much at home as anyone else. Iett wore dark grey cargo pants and a blue jacket. His ever-present green baseball cap sat crooked on his head, long strands of black hair jutting out here and there, lett was of a similar height and build to Wynter.

‘Oh hi, Iett,’ Wynter's mum said. ‘Excited about your trip, darling?’ Wynter’s mother was a short, slightly plump woman with mousey brown hair. She had a kind face and large blue eyes which people often said were a

-----------------------------

[3]

mirror image of Wynter‘s. Or was it that Wynter’s eyes were a mirror image of hers?

‘Yep. sure am, Mrs Barnes. Raring to go,’ Iett said, before turning to Wynter. ‘You ready?’

‘Guess so,’ Wynter picked up his bag, then kissed his mother. ‘See you later,‘ he said, then shook his father’s hand.

‘Behave yourself. Wynn.’ his father told him in his most stern voice. Wynter’s dad had serious features and steel grey hair. He was not a tall man, but was straight-backed and lean. ‘We'll see you in four days.’

Wynter nodded, then ruffled Casey's long blonde hair. The ten-year-old girl glowered at him with her large blue eyes. ‘Have fun at camp with Mia, Pooh Bear,’ she said in a mocking voice.

Wynter rolled his eyes at his little sister, then followed Iett out to the car. The morning air was still and cool. A heavy fog had settled over Merrick Springs, making the early morning light eerie. Wynter’s home appeared neat and modern in the grey glow of dawn. He smiled at Iett's twin sister. Mia, who was sitting patiently in the back seat. He waved through the car window to lett's mother. loaded his bag into the boot. and climbed into the back seat beside Mia. Mrs Nguyen drove them all to school.

When they arrived, they saw a large gathering of students and teachers in the school car park. The buses had already arrived. They unloaded themselves and their bags, said goodbye to Mrs Nguyen. then made their way into the body of students. Wynter privately marvelled at how different everyone looked out of school uniform. Excited babble filled the air, mixed with the scent of a dozen different types of girl's perfumes and boys deodorants.

As they moved amongst the other students, looking for the bus to which their class had been assigned, Wynter heard a few whispered comments along the lines of ‘Look, there he is’. ‘His face doesn’t look that bad‘, and ‘I didn't think he was going to show up today‘.

Click here to order this book available at Xlibris Bookstore, or contact:

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How to Edit Great Books

We at Xlibris Publishing believe that one of the most widespread errors that aspiring authors and, indeed experienced writers commit in writing is to try to edit their book as they are writing it.. So instead of getting your great masterpiece out and on paper you tend to get bogged down in the minutiae of editing. The general consensus amongst published authors is to write your book then edit your book.

 

Let’s say you wrote twenty pages yesterday. Please do not waste today by trying to edit those pages line by line. If you wrote that ....click here to continue reading How to Edit Great Books.

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Xlibris Book Review: Nothing is Strange with You

James Jeffrey Paul. Nothing is Strange with You. Bloomington: Xlibris Publishing, ISBN 978-1-43636-626-7. 2008. Perfect Bound Softcover.

Overview:

A young man kidnaps his own nephew and makes him his servant and sex slave. He abducts young boys, has his way with them, and, if they "know too much," kills them. He forces his nephew to participate in his crimes and to consign these little victims, sometimes still living, to their graves. His father is afraid of his own son. His son mocks and abuses him, falsely accuses him of incest and child abuse and still he supports his son. His mother loves her boy and will do anything to help him even commit murder. The Gordon Stewart Northcott case a part of which is fictionalized in the major new Clint Eastwood film CHANGELING, starring Angelina Jolie is still, eight decades later, one of the most nightmarish in American criminal annals. This book nearly two decades in the research and writing tells the whole story for the first time. Disclaimer: It should be noted that the film CHANGELING is not based upon this book, nor this book upon it. Both are entirely separate works, and one had no influence upon the other's creation.

About the Author:

Mr. James Jeffrey Paul's book entitled "Nothing is Strange with You" remains as one of Xlibris Best selling books and has captured interest from the media such as People Magazine, Talk Radio Production and Morning Edition

Book Teaser:

CHAPTER FOUR

"THE HEADLESS MEXICAN"

There was a Mexican’s head brought out there one day." Sanford said.

He could not fix the date, except that it was "[a]bout three months, two or three months" before two brothers named Winslow (ahout whom more later) were brought out to the ranch, which happened in May 1928. Early on the morning of this particular day (which was certainly 1 February 1928), Stewart told Sanford that he was going into Los Angeles, but did not say why. Around noon, Stewart drove his Buick Roadster back into the farm yard and told Sanford that he had killed a man-specially, a Mexican. As proof, he took a black tar pail out of the back of his car and showed him what was inside.

It was the blood-soaked head of a man with long black hair and dark skin. 

Stewart set the pail down inside the door of the ranch house and changed his clothes. Later, they built a bonfire in the now-drained duck pond behind the garage, and Stewart “just dumped [the head] out in the fire" along with a bundle of the Mexican’s black clothes. He didn’t tell Sanford the victim’s name or any details about the killing except that he had shot the Mexican because he knew too much. He added that he had left the headless body by the side of the road near Puente because "[h]e had no place else to put it."

The head hurned all that afternoon until darkness fell, by which time "all but a chunk of it" had been consumed. The remaining piece was placed in a bucket and broken up with an ax, then was placed in sacks along with the ashes, which Stewart then (so he told Sanford} disposed of at the dump yard near Norco where he normally dumped his garbage. He returned about forty-five minutes later, then informed Sanford that they were going to visit his parents in Los Angeles.

Before and during the drive to his parents’ Brittania Street home. Stewart told his nephew what to say: that Stewart “had hired this Mexican out there on the ranch and he had caught him stealing money and shot him.” They needed to tell George and Louise this story "so if anybody come, they would know what to say."

Later in the trial, under questioning by his son. George would testify. “You came in there [to the Brittania Street house] one evening, I do not know what time it was. It was early in the evening. It was not very late."

"About how early?" Stewart asked.

"Uh, it might have been seven o'clock."

"Was it a Saturday evening-let's see. Was it a Thursday evening?”

“I do not know the date. I could not tell you what night of the week it was, but you came in there. Sanford done most of the talking. You said very little. The statement was you had hired a Mexican to come to the ranch to do some work." He added. "I do not know whether this Mexican came to the ranch of his own accord or whether you brought him there or Sanford or how he got there, but Sanford was not very well at the time and you apparently wanted someone to do the work and you hired him."

"At that time," Stewart asked, "there was a lot of chickens being hatched at the ranch, wasn’t there?"

“I believe there was, yes sir.” George told his son. "Anyway, he had not had his dinner, his meal of some kind. I believe it was his dinner. You started getting him his dinner. Sanford, I believe, was in the next room lying down, I understand, and you started getting him his dinner. While you were around getting him his dinner. he [the Mexican] spied some money of yours lying there loose-you almost always had some lying around loose-and you caught him in the act of stealing it. You accused him of it, and he made a run for you with a knife. He said he would get you. Sanford apparently heard it in the other room and he got up and came in and seen him running for you and he grabbed a gun and shot him, and then you fainted. Sanford cut his head off. You took him and buried the head, I believe, and then you took the body out to Puente and dropped it."

True to his roller coaster pattern of behavior, Stewart would at times admit to this killing, at others deny it; but whenever he admitted having done the deed, he always, or usually, stuck to his first alibi-that he had killed the Mexican in self-defense. His most elaborate-and darkly comic-account of the episode was given on the evening of 29 November 1928, while he was being taken from Canada back to the United States to stand trial. It was given to Earl Redwine, who retold the story in court under direct examination by Stewart himself. It bears quoting in full.

“The defendant stated to me." Redwine testified, “that he drove the Mexican to his ranch in his Buick automobile about 1:30 P.M. on February 1st. He stated that he cooked dinner, and asked the Mexican if he had had dinner. The Mexican said yes, he wasn't hungry. Defendant stated that he had stopped at Norco on

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Xlibris Book Review: Eclectic Poems From The Soul

Jerry L. Robinson. Eclectic Poems From The Soul. Bloomington: Xlibris Publishing, ISBN 978-1-46532-102-2. 2009. E-Book.

Overview:

Eclectic Poems From The Soul is my journey through many conflicting situations in broken relationships, trust, depression and fully understanding my hurts and the hurting of others through forgiveness. Getting a firm grip in my personal relationships with Jesus Christ as expressed in each fulfilled promise based on the Word of God in my life. Each poem is a bit of me, yet much of my growth evolved from seeing other struggle to victory through similar situations. I am victorious and at peace in my life. I hope this helps you to find that peace that many times we evade.

Book Teaser:

Unspoken Words

Unspoken words have meaning. The impact of these words
penetrates the deepest segment of my soul. Sincere words for
Brown and Hopkins brought each of us to pause and focus on
the finitude of life, where hope and grace awaits us.

We spoke sacred words in songs, commentaries and prayers.
ln the stillness of the postlude, one tall lanky soldierly looking
man, with composure walked quietly, stopping with a small
wobble to the left . . . took his place at the Altar of Honor,
displayed eternal respect and esteem, like those before him
placed one memento of gratitude on the Altar of Honor.

What he did differently from the others, he slowly moved from
a vertical posture to kneeling. During those fleeting seconds, a
rush of spiritual and emotional energy swelled within and those
who saw his gesture without a word, knew he had experienced
the presence of the Almighty God.


Barrett, you humble warrior, mastered the essence of honor.
KNEEL to HONOR those who die that we might LIVE. Through
each tear within the soul. I say with thousands other as Barrett
walked away as we understood the essence of honor.

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