After two years of research, frustration,delays, deaths, life and other assorted detours The Mad Hatter has finally left the building so to speak. For those of you who are lovers of The Ripper, The Mad Hatter is right up your alley. Without giving too much of the story away, let me just say, 1888 in the East End of London was a busy year. This book is fiction but has a lot of historical facts in it.
This book is close to my heart as I have studied the Ripper for years.
So, while all of my little twisted minded children gleefully await the release, let me leave you with a teaser. Now you must ask yourself this, Was the Ripper and the Mad Hatter the same person? I leave it for yo to decide after you read the rest of the story!
1888, the year of living dangerously, as least that was what Johnathon Rhoades surmised as he gazed out of window of his newly purchased carriage as it slowly wound its way among the streets of the East End of London. The East End was comprised of several Burroughs, among them were the cities of Algate, Mile End, Poplar and Bethel in the Green, which stopped at the London Docks waterfront.
The heartbeat of the East End were the small parishes of Whitechapel, Spitafields and St. George’s, these were connected by the main highway of Whitechapel and Commercial Roads. It was on this highway that Johnathon Rhoades traveled and observed the over population of the poverty ridden who lived in dirt and degradation. Sadly, their housing was shabby, rotten and vermin infested which only added to their plight. These pitiful excuses for dwellings were located on crumbling dark streets and alleys which were connected by even darker courts and passage rich with crime of every imaginable sort.
As Johnathon’s carriage rumbled across the cobblestone road and passed through Spitafields he heard the hawkers of fresh vegetables, fresh fish and meat peddling their wares. The smell of blood from the animals as they were slaughtered on the spot by butchers for their customers assailed Johnathon’s nostrils as his carriage rolled through the street known as Algate or “Butcher’s Row and Blood Alley. The wheels of the carriage slung blood up on the undercarriage staining it as it quickly dried. Johnathon inhaled deeply of the aromatic, metallic smell. There was nothing like it. He smiled.
Johnathon’s carriage continued toward Whitechapel which was located on outside of the walled city of Algate. As his driver carefully maneuvered his way around the sea of humans making their way to the main coaching inns and workhouses, he paid particular attention to the poor and uneducated, especially the women who had turned to prostitution as a means of survival.
It was an environment in which the very rich strolled side by side with the destitute, while the criminal element lurked in dimly lit streets and in alleys that were darker than the darkest night. The streets were filled with all manner of garbage from the droppings of the horses, to the waste from the bodies of men, women and children and the combined everyday trash from leftover food scraps to whatever else was tossed to the side of the road including bodies of humans whose lives had been snuffed out for any number of reasons, from gambling to prostitution, to drinking to accidents to murder.
It was the perfect place for the perfect storm.
The population consisted of 286 people per acre of land with entire streets of tenement houses that were rented as common lodgings by the most unscrupulous landlords. There were single, two-up and two- down houses on Dorset Street and at any given time between fifty and sixty people took turns by day and night sleeping in the same beds covered in unwashed bed clothes and lice and vermin infested mattresses.
Defective water supplies, lack of washing facilities and almost non-existent sanitation only added to the misery of those who dwelled there. Disease and epidemics periodically swept across the great city, while healers and physicians died what they could to stem the tide of squalor, hopelessness and death.
There were two groups of people who lived and tried to eek a living out of the East End, those who tried to survive by making an honest living and those who did not.
The honest ones, including the children, worked twelve to sixteen hours a day in sweatshops creating slave like conditions while try to earn a living. Female matchbox makers earned two pence farthing and bootmakers earned three to five shillings for making six pairs of boots. By the time men were forty years old, if they lived that long, they were completely burnt out wrecks just waiting to die. The East End was the perfect breeding ground for every form of the criminal element from pickpockets to rape and murder. Crime became one of many accepted ways of life if one wanted to survive.
In spite of the hardships of high unemployment, poor wages and even poorer living conditions, the residents of the East End found ways to entertain themselves. On just about every corner of every main street one could find public houses better known as pubs. They also visited the music halls where dancing and singing could be found.
One of the biggest and most widely accepted forms of crime was prostitution, and the East End widely known for its brothels and it prostitutes.
There were over 12,000 prostitutes in all of London and 1,200 of those lived and worked in Whitechapel. The deprivation of the East End was so bad that many women were forced onto the streets to earn the four pence they needed just to pay for a bed for the night. While their mothers sold their bodies to eek out a living, their children were turned out into the streets to fend for themselves.
The largest contingent of those women lived and worked on Dorset Street, a short narrow street 400 feet long and 24 feet wide. Dorset Street ran parallel to Brushfield Street to the north, with an Alley called Paternoster Row which connected the two streets. White’s Row was to the south and connected to Crispin Street to the west and Commercial Street to the east. Dorset Street had the reputation as one vast Brothel, so filled with miscreants and crime that the police had to walk their beat in pairs and were still subjected to verbal and physical abuse.
A murdered known in most circles as Jack the Ripper was wreaking terror and mayhem in Whitechapel while leading Scotland Yard on a merry chase. The industrial age was making its way into the lives of the people of London. The poor were scratching a living out of the workhouses as the women of the night worked the street corners to feed themselves and their children. The influx of immigrants created a housing nightmare and crime became the norm.
Between the influx of immigrants and the lack of proper work the environment was ripe for murder, mayhem and madness. It was to this environment that the Rhoades Family brought their Hat Factory, filling it with some of the same pitiful human souls that lived, loved and died in Whitechapel.
Johnathon Rhoades thought of all of this as he absently looked down at the unread paper in his lap. The page was turned to the latest escapades of the Ripper. Johnathon smiled to himself as his carriage hurried through the cobblestone laden streets. “Ah,Jack. What tortured souls we are.” Johnathon mused as he watched the city through the window.
September 12, 2015 Posted by yvonnemason | New Releases | award winning best selling indie author Yvonne mason, books, fiction, historical fiction, Jack the ripper, new book releases, suspense, the mad hatter | Leave a comment
Welcome to Your Nightmare received its first review today. Nuff Said!
5.0 out of 5 stars “Welcome To Your Nightmare” compiled by Yvonne Mason November 30, 2013
The tales written in this anthology will stand up the hairs on the nape of your neck as you read them and palpitate your heartbeat. Horror in its best form anytime of year is marvelous but I find it most welcome when October rolls around and Halloween looms nearby. Most of these offerings are written by a new author giving their very best to scare the scream out of you and several well-known writers stepped up to contribute as well to polish off that scream very expertly. The book is compiled by a well-known author, Yvonne Mason, who is a marvelous story teller in her own right and she has a very shivery story in the book as well.
I read each one of these tales with writing respect growing in leaps and bound.
One in particular scared the yell out of me and I dreaded the nightmares I was sure it would give me. It was written by Nicholas Grabowsky and is titled, “The Yuletide Thing.” I may never be able to think of Christmas in the same light again.
I highly recommend this to any lover of horror books and to anyone who loves a good chill, even in the cold of winter.
There are too many excellent stories and too many authors to name individually so go buy it and dive in. You won’t be disappointed. This analogy is coupled with a sister book titled, “Satan’s Holiday.” Read them both…and be prepared to scream.
Even though I am an author my husband and I are both avid readers. Avid as in almost insane readers. However, what we have found here lately is that we are running out of books to read by our favorite “traditional” authors. They are not producing books like they used to. My question is why? This is the time of year that books should be being released like mad ahead of the silly season also known as Christmas.
But they are not out there. It is like they have gone underground. I don’t know what is happening. I do know that more and more indies are blooming and I am loving it.
Traditional houses and all that goes with it including agents, etc for so many years has dictated what we as readers can read and what authors can write and how much of it they can write that the market is flooded with the same story line, the same characters and the same dialogue all under a different title. Are we getting smarter as readers or are we just getting bored. Frankly I am the later. Which is a shame because I at one time looked forward to the latest release by many of my favorite traditional authors. Now not so much. They are in a box and must write what they are told. That is sad. Now they are running out of ideas, characters and plots. They are not allowed to use their natural talent to explode with new ideas. They have to crank out books like they are machines and then they are ripped by the houses to nothing. Greed comes into play here. Not on the author’s part but on the part of the houses – Such a shame. We are losing authors to death every day and we are losing their talent along with it.
I have taken a step back and have stopped reading those authors that I once enjoyed- they have become boring. I would rather spend my time watching paint dry as to read some of their books. I know they are better than what they are putting out there- but alas they are not allowed to step out of the box –
I am turning more and more to those authors who are not so well known- you know those hated indie authors- yea those who make the traditional houses cringe. The reason is simple they don’t have to work inside a box, in fact they don’t know what a box is. They write from the heart not the pocket book.
So if you are as tired as I am of reading the same old thing- of knowing the end before you get through the first chapter- then look up some indie authors you might find that you have discovered diamonds that you didn’t know were out there.
Yes, we do exist and we are not going anywhere except up. We might not get rich and from the looks of it neither are the mainstream authors, but we do know how to pack a punch in our books. We know how to keep the reader turning that page wondering if they have the correct ending in their head and then finding out no they didn’t. So if you like me are sick of the same old thing and want to titillate your mind then check out indie authors. You won’t be sorry.
A few minutes ago my cover designer Debi DeSantis posted a status on her facebook, it went like this:
“I was honored to receive a very unique opportunity yesterday to design a book cover for actor Bruno Amoto and his cause Wounded Worriers Project. This is very exciting and I will keep you all posted as to how things are going…there are a lot of very important people involved and I will share as the reveal gets closer!”
I sent her a comment letting her know how proud I was for her. She in turn posted this on my facebook page:
“Hey mama, he saw your cover Pennies from Heaven and that is how he found me. So thank you my friend. hugs, Debi”
Now some of you might say “So?”
Well let me just tell you the “So”. In this business we as indies including cover artist have to not only claw our way to the top of the heap we have to fight those in the traditional industry as well. They think we are stealing their readers. That conversation is for another blog- however, the bottom line is we have lived and worked and published in the dark for a long long time. For someone like Bruno Amoto to think that the cover Debi did for Pennies from Heaven was good enough for the Wounded Warriors Project is a compliment to all of us in the industry. She is being recognized for the talented artist that she is. That makes me one proud and happy person.
Debi and I have had a relationship for many years. She has done and redone everyone of my covers for all of my books. That is the first thing people notice when they see my books- my covers. That is what is supposed to happen. The cover is supposed to grab a potential reader. She never ceases to astound me with her creations – All I have to do is give her a small synopsis and let her do her thing. She never fails me. This new venture is a testament to her talent and craft.
I believe that everything in our life happens for a reason. There was more than one reason why I felt compelled to write Pennies from Heaven- maybe this was one of them. It appears that Pennies from Heaven is helping more than those who are grieving- it is helping another part of mankind in a different way.
Check out her website (she is also an author) http://debidesantis.com/
her book covers: http://www.debidesantis.com/book_covers.html
make friends with her on facebook: Author Debi DeSantis Author Debi DeSantis (Book Cover-Designer)
Trust me when I say that when one pays it forward good things always happen.
This is the cover that Mr. Amoto saw and decided to choose Debi for his project.
I am proud that she is not only my friend but also my partner in Crime so to speak- Way to go Debi
I may never become “rich and famous” or be on high society’s “A” list. I may never be recognized by strangers in public and I may never make the New York Times Bestseller list. But it does not matter. The reason is simple. Those that want to or need to and enjoy my books will find me and them.
Case in point, the same group that from Keiser University who contacted me about Silent Scream has spent two days this week with me and at my home working on their project for their Forensic Investigations class.
For those of you who don’t know their assignment was to show how they would have worked the crime scene of Susan Place and Georgia Jessup after they were found on South Hutchinson Island after being tortured and murdered by Florida’s first Serial Killer Gerard Schaefer. They had no idea where to start- the information (other than mine) which they looked at on the internet was so wrong on so many levels. They had doors slammed in their faces- no one wanted to talk with them and them that did knew nothing about the case. To make matters worse all of the case files had been destroyed. Schaefer was murdered in 1993 in prison so there was no need to keep the files even though there are several unsolved cases with his imprint on them still sitting out there.
They were told about me. So they called me. Not only did I NOT slam the door in their faces, I am the only one who has all of the known research anymore. I kept it after I finished Silent Scream. They are the second group to ask to come look at my work. I have things that no one else has. They told me that they were very glad that I had written Silent Scream the way I did because it was the best tool they had found before they came to my house where they found the mother lode.
I spent one entire afternoon with them at two crime scenes talking about the cases recording video and taking photos. Today they spent all morning at my house using my research working on their project. They will be back Monday to work on it some more.
I have received a few bad reviews because of the way I wrote the book. I have stated over and over again that this book is not for everyone. It is not for entertainment- it is for educational purposes. If you want to be entertained read Ann Rule. Don’t get me wrong she is a great author I own all of her books. We have different writing styles. I choose to show the criminal as the evil person they are. I do not sugar coat anything . Not even the deaths. I want the reader to understand on some small level if possible how those victims might have felt while they were being tortured and murdered. Where they went to school, what they ate for breakfast, who their friends were or anything else is trivial when it comes down to how they were stolen from us too soon by a monster. (Yes, I was criticized for not adding all of the fluff to the book)
This group of young people got it. They thanked me for writing Silent Scream the way I did. And one of them did something else that just blew me away. They know how I feel about the victims how they are in my soul. They know that I am always saying they are close to me and drive the train that is their story. The young man who was taking videos came up to me and asked me if I would be offended if he recreated the crime scene using a rope and hangman’s noose for the video he was making for this project. I almost cried. His comment to me was “I know you call them your girls and I do not want to offend you or their memory.” I told him I thought they would like that, to show what happened. For him to understand how much the victims mean to me personally and as a writer just proved to me how much they cared about this project and how much they wanted to not only be respectful- but to honor their lives. They will make great forensic investigators.
The real place that Goodenough and
Wilcox were murdered
part of the reenactment
If the forensic technology had been around in the years of the death of the girls- Schaefer might have been convicted of more than just the two. However that being said, the history is a great learning tool for those who are going into that field. They are getting a better understanding of just how hard it was to solve crimes of that nature. They are getting a better appreciation for the technology that is out there today.
So before you write that nasty review- before you judge my work based on your closed mind understand a few things. One it could have been your loved one that I wrote about- it still could be your loved one that is taken by an evil person. Two- Silent Scream was written the way the girls wanted it written. They drive the train- Three it is a tool for educational purpose to help those who are learning forensics how to do what needs to be done in order to solve a crime. Four if you are looking to be entertained this book is not for you if you are looking to know every little detail about the victims this book is not for you. How they girls lived is not the story- the story is how they died way before their time.
However, if you want to be part of a bigger picture – and that picture is keeping their memory alive so they will not be forgotten- then you will want to read this book. If you want to better understand some of the horror they went through before they died then yes by all means read this book. If you truly want to understand how evil Gerard Schaefer was then you want to read this book.
Just remember this- The dead do speak if we only listen.
For those of you who have been waiting for this little book of strength and comfort know that it has made its way to the editor. The next step is the publisher. The stories are as varied at the people who contributed to them. Below is just one story of the many which are included in this book: Bear in mind this is the raw copy – which includes any errors which were corrected in the final draft. Many of the contributors are not professional writers they are just people who have a story to tell. These wonderful people offered to not only open their hearts and the pain of loss but they were also willing to put in on paper. A huge thanks go out to them.
Still Daddy’s Girl
My parents married for the first time, later on in life. I was born when they were in their 30’s. I was born on New Year’s Eve the following year, and was “Daddy’s girl” from the get go.
My Dad and I always had a very close relationship. He was a very loving Father, and put mine and my Sister’s needs before anything else in life. He did without, so we could have what we needed, or went without to give us “special, little things that would make us happy.”
He always had time for us. Every summer, he would put up a swimming pool for our enjoyment. He loved to take us fishing during the summer, and he would take us to carnivals, and to Peony Park which was an amusement park, here in Omaha, so we could ride the rides and play the games… I can still remember the good times we had, and the happiness, closeness and love that it left in my heart.
My Dad looked out for us in every way possible. Like any child, I thought he was being mean or controlling, when I would get chewed out or lectured “as I called it,” but he was always right and it was love coming from his heart, trying to protect his “little girl.” Dad’s thoughtfulness and wise words and kind heart made me the person that I am today, and I am proud of who I have become.
Throughout my life, my Dad and I always had a special bond. When I grew up, I would take care of him when he got older, just as he took care of me, and that is exactly what I did. I took care of him and my Mother in every way possible.
My Dad’s way of dealing with death was cut and dried. People died, you went to their funerals and paid your respects. He wasn’t one to believe in life after death.
After my paternal Grandmother’s death (his Mother) I had some experiences with life after death. I was very close to my Grandmother also. I told my Dad and my Mom about my experiences. My Mom believed me, because she has had “life after death experiences also.” My Dad was not a believer of such things and tried to debunk my experiences, even though I know in my heart my Grandma was trying to let me know that she was with me and still loved me.
My Dad had a long, chronic illness that was slowly killing him. I was very lucky to have him with me until 2010, when he turned 87 years old. In 2010 he was struggling worse than ever, and I knew that our time together was limited.
Decisions had to be made on whether to have them put a tube down his throat, to help him breathe, or to let him die with “dignity.” He had always taken care of me and even though I didn’t want my Dad, “who was my heart to die,” I had to make sure that he was comfortable and let him go peacefully, without suffering.
When the decision was made to let my Dad go, I didn’t leave his side. I held his hand and talked to him, and made sure he was comfortable. I thought that he would pass on quickly, but my Dad held on for several days, which I was believe “for his girls.”
About a week before my Dad died, he was in the hospital, and still talking. I remember Dad looking towards the door of the hospital room, when I was there, and he said “there’s Donnie, why don’t you go talk to him!” His brother “Donnie” had died around 8 years earlier. When he told me to go and talk to my Uncle Don, and he said it with such clarity, and I could tell by the look on his face he was truly seeing his brother. I knew that, Donnie had come to take him “home,” even before the thought of “letting Dad go” was even considered.
Another thing that my Dad was doing around the same time was, “acting like he was reaching into his pant pocket,” even though he was wearing a hospital gown. He kept doing this and “handing something to me.” He wanted me to open my hand so he could, “put something in my hand.” I went along with it, because it was obviously something important to him, because he kept repeating this task. I asked him what he was giving me and he said “the keys.” I believe that he thought that he was reaching into his pants pocket and giving me the “keys to the house because he wanted me to have the house and remain in our home.”
I made the mistake of not responding to “taking the keys” and despite his 87 years of age and being so sick, his feistiness came out. He got a wee bit snippety and told me to “take the keys.” So, from there on out, he would reach into his pocket, take out the keys, I would take them from him and put them in my pants pocket. He repeated this, to make sure that I had the keys.
My Dad always liked to look nice when he went somewhere to visit. He would always be clean shaven, and smelling of cologne, and dressed in his nice pants and a nice shirt. Before his death, he couldn’t talk, but he took his hand and rubbed his chin area. He hadn’t shaved for about a week. I asked him if he wanted me to shave him, and he shook his head “yes.”
I asked the nurse to shave him because I didn’t want to cut him with my unsteady hands. She shaved him and I took a wash cloth and washed his face, and wet his hair down and combed it back like he would wear it, and I told him “you can go now, you are Heaven’s little hottie.”
Later that night we were moved to a much nicer room on another floor because the ICU was needing the room. We had a newly remodeled room and my Sister slept on the couch and I took the recliner, and held his hand in mine, and we all fell asleep. The nurse woke me, to tell me “that it was getting close.” His breathing was getting shallow. Within 15 minutes or so, my Dad was gone, and my heart was breaking.
Once again, I looked at his face, as I had done with my Mom. All of the years of suffering and the lines on his 87 year old face disappeared. He looked happy and so peaceful! He looked so young, and happy again.
After my Dad’s passing I was going through some major depression. I had lost my Mom in 2009 and now my Dad in 2010. Other than my Sister, that was my only family. I was struggling to find a job, had people in my life that “claimed to be friends,” but were treating me terribly, and trying to take advantage of my kind heart. The people that said that they would be there for me, bailed and I was left alone or with people that were not treating me right, and I was hurting so badly, that I excepted that, when I should have slammed the door in their face.
My Dad had warned me about one of these people, when he was alive and I lived in “major denial,” and would get angry because of “the lectures.” This person was trying to take advantage of me and brought others into the picture. My life turned into a living hell in every way possible, and I can truly say that I had hit my rock bottom, and really didn’t want to be on this earth, living like this any longer.
There were people living in my household that I could not get out of here. They would not leave and the police said that they were “residents” and I would have to do a “legal eviction” which takes 30 days, so they could stay. There was stealing going on, and other things that were terribly wrong. I would sit here and cry and was giving up on my life.
I would cry myself into panic attacks, then would fall asleep. I would pray and talk to my Dad, even though I knew that he wasn’t with me and couldn’t help me. I would feel my Dad’s presence with me though. I felt like he was listening. One day, I realized that he was still with me.
I was sitting in the recliner watching TV, and I caught something out of the corner of my eye. I looked over towards the hallway, and saw my Dad, walking through the hallway.
He was not looking sickly and 87 years of age, but instead he looked young, and healthy again. I would see him from his head down to his chest. He was young looking again. He looked like he was maybe in his 40’s or 50’s. He was wearing a light weight, gray jacket that he always wore in the spring. He would walk from the upstairs door in the hallway, and then disappear at the end of the hall. This gave me comfort knowing that my Dad was still here with me, and he knew what was going on, and listening.
I had seen my Dad several times in the same exact place, and wearing the same exact thing. It eased my heart to know that my Dad, who did not believe in life after death, was visiting me when I needed him the most. Daddy was looking out for his little girl and this was easing some of the pain and helping me get through the things that I had been goingthrough.
Throughout this time, I never mentioned this to anyone. One of my roommates came up to me though, and mentioned that he thought he saw my Dad. Well, before I opened my mouth and said anything, I asked him what he looked like, and he gave me the same exact description: he looked younger and healthy, and he would only see the upper half of him and he was wearing the same gray jacket. Now I knew that my Dad was making his presence known.
Over the next month or so, I would see my Dad. Even though we did not have any interaction, it gave me great comfort to know that he was there for me and I believe he is the reason that I struggled to go on, and got my household situation straightened out, and I was able to start my life over.
It means the world to me, knowing that my Dad of all people, the person that didn’t believe in “life after death,” made his presence known, and helped me in my darkest time. My Dad is still “my hero” even though he may not be physically with me right now, I know that he is still with me. I love you Dad, you are my heart!
Sharon J. Sobolik Sharons’ Father
May 6, 2013 Posted by yvonnemason | Books | award winning best selling indie author Yvonne mason, books, comfort, death, dying, family, grief, heaven, hope, life, love, new releases, pennies from heaven, strength | Leave a comment
This Sunday Evening at 7:45PM I will once again be on the radio. Be sure and tune in as you never know what I will wind up discussing. It can be anything from my books to my stalker to my fans to my haters – nothing is off limits. The beauty of technology is you can listen in the comfort of your easy chair because it is all on the internet. It should be an hour of laughter and fun. So come on by and join us. I know Christopher will have a chat room open for all you questions. Can’t wait to see you there.
Okay one more time, I am going to explain this to all of those people out there who do not understand a few things about this book. The reason I am going to explain it is simple I received a nasty review this morning by someone who obviously does not understand true crime. This person is used to reading the watered down versions of true crime that does not make the reader think. If you don’t want to think then please don’t waste your money and my time with this book. It is not for entertainment. It is to educate and to honor the victims and the families of those victims. It is designed to allow the reader to try and get inside the head of a serial killer on a level that most true crime writers do not write about.
This particular nasty reviewer stated that I asked to many questions. All I can say to that is seriously? You are reading a true crime and you don’t ask questions? You also stated that it made the subject matter something that you really didn’t want to try and understand. My question to you is this why the hell did you buy the book in the first place? If you want a love story get a romance book. If you to read vanilla true crime read Ann Rule.
There is no excuse for a closed mind when reading a true crime. The reader should ask those questions. What are you afraid of? That would be my question to you the reader.
She also stated that I jumped around in the book. Lady – did you even bother to finish the book. The answer to that question would be a “No” you even stated you didn’t finish it. Had you bothered to finish it you would have seen that the book was written the way the crime was solved. Apparently you know nothing about solving crimes or law enforcement – you also apparently know nothing about the lack of education about serial killers in the 1960 and 1970’s.
The book has a thread one just has to follow it. Apparently you didn’t want to take the time.
Then she went on to talk about how she kept reading even though it was boring because she said my punctuation and spelling kept her awake. Again all I can say is Lady apparently you have no clue. That was all you could bring to the table? A trumped up statement like that. If it was really that boring to you why did you bother reading it at all? Why didn’t you return it after you got to the first question? Me thinks you protest to much.
Personally I think the book was way over her head and she knew it. Silent Scream is not for the faint of heart- not for those who want a vanilla true crime- does not sanitize the criminal – is not one of those feel good true crimes – will keep you awake at night- and does not answers questions- that is for you the reader to think about. Silent Scream is for that person who follows crime- knows how they are solved- understands the long tedious and sometimes disappointing process. It is for the person who studies serial killers who is working on a degree in criminal justice and who understands that serial killers leave all sorts of questions behind their wake.
If you a true crime the strips away all of the pretty wrapping and allows you the reader into the world of killers and what they do so that you the reader can in some small way identify with the victims then you will enjoy this book. However, and at the expense of repeating myself again, you are faint of heart- do not understand the justice system do not understand how crimes are solved and do not understand how we have evolved in the last thirty years in the solving of those crimes then you do not I repeat do not want to read this book.
However, if you are open minded, if you are a lover of the criminal justice system, if you understand how things are done in this arena and if you can handle the facts, then you will enjoy this book- it is a great teaching tool and it is written to honor those girls who were the victims of Gerard Schaefer.
For the Girls! They have finally found peace!
After so many months of waiting Dream Catcher Failure Was Never an Option has been released as an audio book by Brook Forest Voices. Now you can enjoy this wonderful true story of love, inspiration and success in your car, on your computer, your kindle audible your ipod or ipad. To add to the beauty of this you can also enjoy it through the enhanced ebook with sounds- photos etc through itunes Connect for ibooks. This will be available in about three weeks.
“Starting Monday, it will be uploaded to Audible.com, audiobooks.com, and iTunes for the audiobook. Next week the enhanced ebook (with sound, pictures, etc.) will also be uploaded and delivered to iTunes Connect for iBooks. I wouldn’t expect to see anything online for about 2-3 weeks. (Audible usually takes 3+ weeks especially at this time of year.)”
This is my second book in audio. This book is a must have especially if you have a child or family member who has challenges. This book is full of inspiration- love and success at a time when failure was the only option.
This is the story of Stan who was never ever supposed to succeed in any shape or form. This is his gift to the world. To let people know that all of us are here for a purpose- we all have a place and we all deserve to be here. The story can also be purchased in book for and on kindle and nook. IF you want signed copies to give for the holidays you can go to http://thebookattic.ecrater.com I will see that you get them before that big day.
December 1, 2012 Posted by yvonnemason | Audio Books | award winning best selling indie author Yvonne mason, brain damage, challenges, dream catcher failure was never an option, family, handicap, hope, love, retarded, siblings, stan | Leave a comment
Sweet Mystery Books Adds Me to their List of Must Read Books Which Include Vince Flynn and Dean Koontz
Sweet Mystery Books has included my books on their list of must read books. The authors that I am blessed to be among include, Dean Koontz, Vince Flynn, Michael Connelly,John Sandford,Alfred Hitchcock and others.
Here is what she has to say: “Yvonne Mason has proved that indie authors are the wave of the future. She keeps cranking out entertaining novels that combine dark humor and good stories. Check out her titles and make her your next big read.”
I am honored to be among such greats in the literary world. These some authors have been on my reading list since I was old enough to pick up a book. To be list as one of them is almost overwhelming. To be told that as an indie I am the wave of the future is a dream that has finally come to fruition. If you haven’t read my works, they can be found on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kindle, Nook and my online bookstore at http://thebookattic.ecrater.com – My books are not sold in box stores because I am an indie author.
To be able to among the likes of Koontz, Flynn, Hitchcock and others just from selling online is almost unbelievable. But yet – here I am.
I am an eclectic author who writes what ever suits me at the moment. From true crime, to inspiration, to comedy, to crime fiction, to suspense, to historical fiction. My books are as varied as I am. My most current release is a crime comedy which markets the gay and drag queen community. The Pink Canary came about all due to a misspelled word. That word was supposed to be Camaro. It was if a lightbulb went off over my head as my friend told me she has typed the word wrong. I saw Lula – one of the main characters in my head as soon as the words were out of her mouth. This book morphed into one of the funniest books I have created to date. The Abbott and Costello dialogue between Lola and Leary the local Police Detective will have the reader wiping the tears from their eyes. Add one insanely funny sidekick by the name of Penelope with her Chinese Hooker Heels and Aqua Net Hairspray, who is drawn from my best friend and you have a story that you will not want to put down.
I write not to become rich – but because it makes me happy. I write to share the stories in my head with others and to give a voice to those who know longer have one with my true crimes. Those voices who have been forgotten and who never had the chance to live a full life. I write to give inspiration to those who feel as if they are to burdened to continue in life. I write to teach lessons in fiction. I write to leave behind a part of me that begs to be read. Yes, I am an indie author. I am proud of that title. It has taken over 30 years to realize my dream of being published. I had rejection after rejection after rejection. But in the end I found a way to live my dream.
I was asked a couple of days ago why I don’t just say I am a published author. That is the reason. I am an indie author. I did this without traditional houses houses telling me what to write and how to write it. I did it on my own with the help of others who have broken the glass ceiling of publishing. As artists we are growing in numbers, from music to books to art. No longer will the public be told what to read, what to listen to and what art to enjoy. We have arrived. That is why it is such an honor to be in the company of such authors as Koontz, and Flynn.
Thank you Sweet Mystery Books for recognizing that I have come into my own.
September 23, 2012 Posted by yvonnemason | Books | alfred hitchcock, award winning best selling indie author Yvonne mason, books, comedy, Drag Queen, gay, john connally, john stanford, key west, murder, suspense, sweet mystery books, The Pink Canary, thrillers, vince flynn, websites | Leave a comment
The Last Rites
Welcome to Your Nighmare
The Pink Canary
When Fates Collide
When Fates Collide Mardi Gras Bound
When Fates Collide Mardi Gras Bound
When Fates Collide Arm Candy
Voice From the Grave
Voice from the Grave Kindle Edition
Voice From the Grave MP3
Dream Catcher Failure Was Never an Option
Dream Catcher Failure Was Never an Option
Dream Catcher Failure Was Never an Option Audio CD
Pennies From Heaven
DreamCatcher Failure Was Never an Option
Halloween IV Special Edition
Genesis Book One of the Kingdom Come Series
Whispers in the Cries
The Price of Fear
Shadows in the Dark
The Wicked Haze
The Order of the Blood
Rusty Nails Broken Glass
Shocker II Original Treatment
Read Us or Die
Pray, Serpents Prey
Red Wet Dirt
Meat City and other tales
The Return of Spring Heeled Jack
In The Beginning
Magick and Misery
The Beast and The Walking Dead
In the Absence of Sun