tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25645166025028954312024-03-05T21:52:23.238+10:30James Houston Turner's blogWelcome to The Infrared Highway, the blog of James Houston TurnerJames Houston Turnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08990976544289212635noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2564516602502895431.post-29070154305635721672012-07-10T15:03:00.001+09:302012-07-10T15:26:12.131+09:30A chat with veteran book critic, Alan Caruba<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Today we chat with Alan Caruba, who has been reviewing books for more than forty years. I submitted my novel, <i>Greco's Game,</i> for Alan's consideration only to hear back that he was unable to accept because of time constraints.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>So it made me want to know more about Alan. I mean, there are two sides to this complex dance between author and critic. Mine as the author is that I've worked for a year on this one project. In other words: I've had tunnel vision while toiling to profile, outline, create, and edit, edit, edit the manuscript into a finished product that I <i>hope</i> impresses not only my publisher, but the Alan Carubas of this world, who in turn will publish a review that makes people who don't know me from a stump want to order my book (as well as reinforce the loyalty shown me by those friends and fans who <i>do</i> know me from a stump).</b></span><b style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /><br />Then there is Alan's side of the story as he gets hit by an avalanche of requests from authors like me.</b><b style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /><br />So I asked Alan what it was like being, well, <i>Alan Caruba</i>. And Alan was gracious enough to share a window peek into his life.</b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">1) Okay, seriously, Alan: how can one person do so much? Not only have you provided editorial services to think tanks, public relations and public affairs agencies around the nation, but you’re a published journalist and novelist who’s been profiled numerous times as the nation’s expert on boredom and its impact on individuals and society. You also founded The National Anxiety Center as a clearinghouse for information about scare campaigns designed to influence public policy and opinion on a wide variety of issues. You write a daily column, “Warning Signs” (<a href="http://factsnotfantasy.blogspot.com/">http://factsnotfantasy.blogspot.com/</a>), that’s disseminated around the world. You’re a frequent guest on radio shows throughout the United States, Canada, and Great Britain. You’re a daily contributor to Canada Free Press (<a href="http://canadafreepress.com/">http://canadafreepress.com/</a>), an influential news and opinion website, where you regularly examine issues such as national security, politics, education, immigration, Islamic fundamentalism, and popular culture. You’re also a founding member of the National Book Critics Circle, and you maintain a monthly book review site, “Bookviews” (<a href="http://bookviewsbyalancaruba.blogspot.com.au/">http://bookviewsbyalancaruba.blogspot.com.au/</a>), which examines the best in new fiction and non-fiction. What is a typical day for you, and are copious amounts of coffee required?</span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The short answer is that I am 74 years of age and what you describe are aspects of a long life spent putting my interests and talents to work on things that interest, amuse, or evoke serious concern on my part. I write a commentary of about 1,000 words or so every day because I am a polymath, interested in a broad range of topics from politics to science, environmentalism to education, Islam to history, and much more. I do so with considerable ease insofar as I began as a reporter in the early 1960s and one acquires the necessary skill to research topics rapidly and write about them against deadlines.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(2) The fact that you have reviewed books for over forty years presupposes a love of reading. How did it begin for you? Was there someone in your life who was instrumental in fostering that love of reading?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: red;">I grew up in a home where books filled the rooms. Both my parents were avid readers, and my Mother wrote three books as an international expert on haute cuisine and wines. They also read the newspaper daily. Reading for me has always been pure pleasure. I read at a rapid pace and retain much of what I read.</span> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(3) The fact that you’re a veteran writer enables you to bring an experienced eye to the review process. Focusing for the moment on fiction, what do you look for in a novel? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: red;">Oddly enough, I have never been a big reader of fiction. What I want, frankly, is a story that grabs me from the first page and never lets go. I want well-formed characters and a story that tells me something about people and cultures I have not otherwise encountered. Lots of people write novels these days. Few have the God-given talent to do it well.</span> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(4) I know time constraints require you to refuse many review requests. How long does it take to review a book? </span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I read the books in the My Picks of the Month section of my monthly report, Bookviews.com, though some are included because they are entertaining or unique and get a brief perusal. The books on history and serious topics get read cover to cover. Since my reviews are brief, it doesn't take long. The rest of the report is based on experience and a perusal of the book to determine that it is well organized, offers useful information, and can prove helpful to the reader. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: red;">As a reviewer, the growth of self-published books has put a strain on many in my trade, largely because many are quite poorly written. That said, there are a lot of books from publishers, large and small, that make me wonder why they bothered. The switch to digital books is one I will not make for reasons of age and preference to hold a book in my hands. In addition to history and science, I have a fondness for coffee table books that are big, full of art and photography, and delight the mind and senses.</span> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(5) Have the demands of reviewing books diminished your simple love of reading?</span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">No, reading for me is far more fun that mindlessly watching TV. I do watch, but it's usually something educational or news. I like to watch boxing as a sport and diversion, but not other sports. I will ignore the Olympics for the most part.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(6) Do you ever read just to relax, and if so, what kind of books do you read?</span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For me, reading is not about relaxing. It's about learning. The world is a very complex place and I am forever trying to understand it and the history of nations, cultures, etc. That said, I find reading very relaxing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(7) You’re a charter member of the National Book Critics Circle, which was founded in New York in 1974 with the purpose of honoring outstanding writing and fostering a national conversation about reading, criticism and literature. Is there a particularly rewarding moment in your association with the NBCC that allowed you see the impact you’re having?</span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have been a member of the NBCC since its founding, but have never taken an active part in it. I keep up with what it does, the books it awards prizes to, etc., but much of what passes for reviewing is a self-congratulatory exercise in demonstrating one's intellect and often one's biases. That part of reviewing doesn't interest me. Sharing news of interesting new books does.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(8) Who serves the best pizza and what is your favorite topping?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: red;">I am from New Jersey where they take great pride in making pizzas. I like a slice on occasion, but it's not a food of choice for me so I really don't have a favorite topping.</span> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(9) What is one item on your “bucket list”?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: red;">Having traveled extensively throughout the U.S. in the 1980s, I have visited all its major cities, but I have never been overseas. If I had the money, I would like to visit other nations. It won't happen. I live in a beautiful upscale apartment complex just minutes from the home in which I've lived for 62 years. It was and is a good life, a comfortable routine, and one via the Internet that allows me to interact with people from all over the world.</span> </span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">ABOUT GRECO'S GAME:</span></b><b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />Colonel Aleksandr Talanov -- the “ice man” -- is married to a woman he wishes he could love. But he can’t, and it's an ugly consequence of his training with the KGB. Even so, no one should have to experience what Talanov experiences: the brutal murder of his wife in front of his eyes.</span></b><br />
<b style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />Wracked with guilt and suspected of plotting her death, Talanov spirals downward on a path of self-destruction. <i>He</i> should have been killed, not her. <i>He</i> was the one whose violent past would not leave them alone. Months tick by and Talanov hits rock bottom on the mean streets of Los Angeles, where he meets a hooker named Larisa, who drugs and robs him.</b><b style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /><br />But in the seedy world of prostitution and human trafficking ruled by the Russian mafia, this hooker made the big mistake of stealing the ice man’s wallet. In it was Talanov’s sole possession of value: his wedding photo. Talanov tracks Larisa down to get that photo because it reminds him of everything that should have been but never was, and never would be because an assassin’s bullet had mistakenly killed his wife.</b><b style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /><br />Or <i>was</i> it a mistake?</b><b style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /><br />The answer lies in Greco’s Game, a chess match played in 1619 that is famous for its Queen sacrifice and checkmate in only eight moves. In an unusual alliance, Talanov and Larisa team up to begin unraveling the mystery of what Talanov’s old KGB chess instructor regarded as the most brilliant example of how to trap and kill an opponent.</b><b style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /><br />The question is: <i>who was the target?</i></b><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /><br />More information, along with sneak peeks and the entire first chapter, can be found in the Books section of James Houston Turner's website (</span><a href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.com/" style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">www.jameshoustonturner.com</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">). More information can be found on the official </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Greco's Game</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> Facebook page (</span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/GrecosGame" style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">https://www.facebook.com/GrecosGame</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">). James and his wife, Wendy, live in Adelaide, South Australia.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>James Houston Turnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08990976544289212635noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2564516602502895431.post-65624547918864676982012-05-24T20:39:00.001+09:302012-05-24T20:43:20.310+09:30<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;">Happy sounds.</span> Life is full of them. And where would we be without them? </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Children laughing. . .a babbling brook. . .a tornado named Wendy. . .</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Which is precisely what I heard this morning at dark-thirty with the thump-whump-whump of the food processor shredding cabbage. Yes, cabbage. This was WAY before breakfast or coffee, mind you, as my wife leaped from bed because she wanted to make FERMENTED cabbage. Sauerkraut. Kim chi.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was lying there in the darkness listening to all this noise and had to smile at how good I have it. So I got up and there she was, all alone in our little lighted kitchen, with the rest of the house dark, singing away, happy as the proverbial lark, shredding and banging and mashing cabbage in this huge bowl with the speed of an F-22 Raptor. Naturally, she finished her task long before the coffee had brewed. And I am now blessed with the magnificent, joyful, happy, <i>happy</i> sound of sauerkraut. It's a memory I'll never forget.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yes, I absolutely LOVE the happy sounds of life. Are you listening to yours?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Indeed, what would life be without them?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>James Houston Turnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08990976544289212635noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2564516602502895431.post-60843708332673192242012-05-11T11:45:00.000+09:302012-05-11T22:46:24.186+09:30The Hunter Becomes the Hunted<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Okay, so maybe I dramatized the title of this post just a wee bit. After all book reviewer </span></strong><a href="http://www.danielcann.com/" target="_blank"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Daniel Cann</span></strong></a><strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> is not exactly a skin-clad, bull-necked Neanderthal pursuing his next meal, only to discover the sabre tooth tiger he's been tracking is actually tracking him for exactly the same reason. At least I <em>hope</em> that's not how he viewed this interviewee's request to interview the interviewer. (Did I just over "view" that?) Besides, my cuspids are not nearly that big.</span></strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I decided to interview Daniel because Daniel just posted his review of my latest Aleksandr Talanov thriller, <em>Greco's Game, </em>and what better way to get back at him! Seriously, after reading his review, I began to wonder what made Daniel click. What motivated him to become a reviewer? I mean, think about it: reviewers, bloggers and critics read <em>huge</em> amounts of material and then write equally huge amounts of articles about that material, which in Daniel's case includes reviews of books, film, travel, and his favorite sport of boxing. As you can tell, he's a typical underachiever! Hence, it seemed only natural -- and fun -- to turn the tables and let you catch a glimpse of the <em>real</em> Daniel Cann.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /><br />This blog will be divided into two parts. <strong>Part One</strong> is my interview with Daniel. <strong>Part Two</strong> are Daniel's additional remarks about <em>Greco's Game</em> and what led him to make the comments he did about my book. To set the stage, you can read his review of Greco's Game here -- </span><a href="http://bit.ly/INWKBG"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">http://bit.ly/INWKBG</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> -- and his interview of me, the author of <em>Greco's Game,</em> by clicking here: </span><a href="http://bit.ly/JDPl6L"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">http://bit.ly/JDPl6L</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">PART ONE</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">JHT: You're a prolific writer. You review books, film, boxing, and travel
destinations. How do you do it? Dangerous amounts of caffeine? Guarana?
Tequila??? Seriously, how do you manage to produce so much witty, informative,
incisive material and still have a life beyond the borders of your Daniel Cann
Independent Review site? What's your daily routine?<br /><br />D</span></span></b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><strong>C:</strong> <span style="font-weight: normal;">Thank
you very much Jim! My website is an eclectic collection of things from my past
and present. So the travel section documents places I have visited a few years
ago in all their quirky and entertaining glory. I want to share my experiences
with my readership so they can have an idea how I felt to see a sunrise at Uluru
(Ayer’s Rock), a sunset at the Grand Canyon, or what it was like to swim at the
Great Barrier Reef. </span></span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small; font-weight: normal;">There
were so many great memories from my travel diaries that I had to serialise them:
Surfing and White Water Rafting in Australia, jet boating, glacier climbing and
whale spotting in New Zealand, exploring the ruins of Mexico and trying to
capture the majesty of Niagara Falls and what it felt to go right up to the
Falls in the “Maid of the Mist.” Travelling broadens your outlook and makes you
realise how small and insignificant you are next to the awe-inspiring and
beautiful planet we live on.</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><br />Travel
writers like Pete McCarthy of “McCarthy’s Bar” and “The Road To McCarthy” and
Bill Bryson both had a huge influence on me in the way I wish to capture my
experiences. What I like about that duo is they are clearly very intelligent,
curious and enthusiastic but also self-deprecating and witty. This style ensures
repeat reading and over the years I have lost count of the times I have re-read
their books. </span></span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small; font-weight: normal;">And
yes, I have to admit it. I am a compulsive reader. As soon as I can remember I
have had a book in my hand. My parents told me that when I was a toddler I once
held a book and pretended to be reading it!</span></span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I
grew up on Robert Louis Stephenson, Walter Scott and Mark Twain: Lots of books
about adventure and exploration, rites-of passage stories that all had a big
impact on my imagination and personality. </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">My
Grandpa would tell me stories about his days as a soldier serving in India,
Burma (he was awarded the Burma Star) and Egypt. He then spent most of the 1950s
working at the mines in Africa and his stories of his exploits, the places, the
people he met and the cultures that were introduced to him fascinated and
captivated me, so from an early age I always wanted to try to emulate him or at
least try to see as much of the world as possible. It also helped that he told
me about pirates, smugglers and miners in Cornwall (where he lived) so when the
family took a holiday and we visited our grandparents it was not long before my
young imagination was fired up!</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /><br /><br />As
for boxing? I have always had a passion for it. My father took me to a few
amateur shows as a boy and in the 1980s when I was growing up Barry McGuigan’s
fights were being beamed into every living room in the United Kingdom and
Ireland and the night he won the world title was unforgettable. Needless to say
the whole Cann household were on their collective feet that night cheering him
on! </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I
like to keep up to date with the sport, but I am also fascinated by its history
and have read countless autobiographies and books of fighters from the past.
Many of them have been reviewed by me on my website in the “Books” section. I
will continue to follow boxing and my thirst for information on its
practitioners and characters involved in it will never be fully
satisfied.</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /><br /><br />I
have always been a film buff. My Dad took me to see a Star Wars double bill as a
boy and I found myself totally immersed in the escapism, the sweeping music
score, the special effects and the sheer spectacle of it all. From that moment
on I have been totally hooked by films. Obviously your tastes evolve as you get
older but I enjoy films from all genres and eras. For an emotional punch and
powerful life journey I found “The Hurricane” to be a fascinating and moving
biopic. But I also enjoy feel good comedies and am equally at home with the
likes of “When Harry Met Sally” or “Groundhog Day.” I still find myself angered and appalled by
the downbeat ending of “Easy Rider” and also enjoy the oldies from the 1940s and
the bleaker films of the 1970s. Once you start to delve into things a little
more there is a treasure trove of styles, themes and ideas to explore. So don’t
just watch the Summer Blockbusters people! </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">So
films and books are a way to express so many things – you cannot watch a film or
read a book passively, and I hope my reviews bring out my honest and heartfelt
thoughts on them.</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /><br /><br />I
must admit I don’t really have a daily routine as such. I can be laid back at
times then burst into frenetic activity. Before my website </span><a href="http://www.danielcann.com/" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">www.danielcann.com</span></a><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"> existed I had boxes of
unfinished projects and reviews that may have never seen the light of day had it
not been for the World Wide Web! So you can blame my current and continuing work
output on the internet!</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /><b><br /><br />JHT: What
inspired you to become a critic?</b></span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><strong><br /><br />DC:</strong> I
see myself as more of a “reviewer” than “critic” as I don’t gleefully take
things apart like a lot of “critics” tend to do. One of my pet dislikes is
people who delight in rubbishing someone’s hard work, casually dismissing it
with no thought of what actually went into it. I like to be as fair as possible
and even if I don’t like what I am reading or watching, I at least try to see
what the writer or film director was attempting to communicate, then I will add
constructive thoughts on how it could have been better (in my humble
opinion). </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I remember writing a few reviews for my University magazine after some encouragement from a few friends. There was a gap of a few years until recently I launched my review website and here I am finally doing what I really love.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /><br />When I studied law, one of the tenets of natural justice was to "hear the other side" and I believe that this is the job of a reviewer. Try to think who the piece is aimed at? Who would like to read this book or see this film? What would appeal to them?</span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><b style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br /><br />JHT:</b> <b>What
do you do to relax?</b></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><strong><br /><br />DC: </strong></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I
enjoy walking a lot as that usually clears my head as well as giving the body a
good workout, so sometimes I walk in the surrounding countryside near my home
other times I like to explore Dartmoor. I enjoy watching rugby, particularly the
Exeter Chiefs so I go to as many games each season as I can. I am also a fan of
boxing, especially its history so I watch and read up a lot on that. If I really
need to unwind I listen to music and try to go somewhere else in my head.
Otherwise I just enjoy catching up with friends and family.</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /><b><br /><br />JHT:</b> </span><b style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Do
you have any quirks or peculiar habits?</span></b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><strong><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />DC:</strong> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">None
that I am aware of but maybe my friends and family have noticed some?!! I can be
a very compulsive person really getting into one subject or project. I have been
told at times like these I am like a dog with a bone! I can be very laid back
and then spring into action, an all or nothing person really. </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I
am always up for a laugh and don’t need much persuading to try new things. Going
to Newquay with a football team all dressed as Morrismen and going to Ireland to
watch a goat crowned King are two spontaneous events from my life that I enjoyed
and are typical of me (both episodes can be found in the “Travel” section of my
site.</span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Ultimately
I have a light outlook and approach to life and believe that nowadays people put
too much pressure and expectation on themselves to achieve and become “the next
big thing” and forget to relax and step back and enjoy the more quirky, fun
aspects of life. In this celebrity obsessed era a lot of people really beat
themselves up if they are not seen to be achieving something. I don’t understand
that. Life is to be celebrated and enjoyed and if you are not the best then you
can still live vicariously through sports, film or music. Have your own goals
pertinent to who you are and remember to have fun!</span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><b><br /><br />JHT: </b></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><strong>What
is one “yet-to-do” item on your bucket list?</strong></span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><strong><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />DC:</strong> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">To
write a novel or travel book of my own, and I still want to see more of the
world. There will always be another project to do and another place to
explore.<br /><br /></span></span></div>
<strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">PART TWO</span></strong><br />
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<b style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />JHT: </span></b><b style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Now,
to <i>Greco’s Game</i>. You describe the book as “emotional” and “gritty”. What
scene(s) in particular struck you personally in that regard?</span></b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><strong><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />DC:</strong> R</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">ight
from the start the book pulls the rug from right under your feet when you
discover Andrea, Aleksandr Talanov’s wife, anchor and love of his life is dead
and he has hit rock bottom.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Lots
of things hit home, Talanov is in a very bad place emotionally and physically
but the prostitute he befriends through circumstance resonates well. Her story
is such a painfully familiar one these days of someone who has nothing and is
being manipulated by lies and false promises then drawn into a terrible
situation.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">“Greco’s
Game” may be a suspense thriller but it is not a typical one, rather it
highlights a very real contemporary problem: the plight of the many innocent and
unwitting women who fall victim to human trafficking across the globe.
</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">All I can say is when people read this they should expect their jaws to clench [and] their knuckles to go white. . .</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />There
are many scenes in the novel that jar and hit you in the stomach. I don’t want
to spoil it for other readers but let’s just say that by the time Talanov is
aware of Larisa’s plight and decides to “get involved” you are willing him on to
do as much damage to the network of criminals who are ruining so many lives as
possible. He really is like a modern day knight who is going to do all he can to
save and avenge the oppressed. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">He
is also dealing with grief, guilt and self-loathing. The novel is very raw in
that respect and you can feel his fury and rage pulsing from the page. That made
it more exciting for me as this is not a case of a cool, calm operative going
about his job, but rather an angry and vulnerable man who wants answers and is
willing to risk all to bring the wrongdoers to task. </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">All
I can say is when people read this they should expect their jaws to clench,
their knuckles to go white and above all to think “Go get them!”</span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /><b style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br /><br />JHT:</b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span></span><b style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">What
was a favorite scene of yours from the book?</span></b><b style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><br /><br />DC:</b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"> I
enjoyed the exchanges between Talanov and his old friend Bill Wilcox. It is
clear they have a friendship going back some years and it is one ray of sunshine
that the otherwise pretty dark novel needed. James Bond had Felix Leiter,
Sherlock Holmes had John Watson and Aleksandr Talanov has Bill Wilcox as his
trusted friend and ally.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><br />There
is a lot going on here, Talanov can be contemplative and analytical and he can
also be like a force of nature as he tears into the opposition, but there are
some tender moments with Larisa and I think it is a case of two damaged souls
coming together and helping each other which truly appeals.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">Talanov can be contemplative and analytical, and he can also be like a force of nature as he tears into the opposition.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">There
is one scene in particular that is a favourite and it may surprise you Jim as it
is not a frenetic action scene with your trademark chaos ensuing. I loved the
scene where Talanov is stood with his arms folded across his chest, his hand
thoughtfully stroking his chin whilst all around him are running around in total
disarray unsure of what to do next. The US authorities mistrust him and are
clearly reluctant to work with him and yet here he is standing in the middle of
all that pressure and madness, the eye of the hurricane and yet he remains stoic
and calm. The perfect example of why he was known as the “Ice Man” back in the
day.</span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /><br />Sherlock
Holmes had “deductive reasoning” and Talanov has “inverse logic” and any scene
that illustrates his brain power is every bit as thrilling as the ones packed
with action.</span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><b><br /><br />JHT:</b> </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">What
do you like best about Aleksandr Talanov?</span></b></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><strong><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />DC:</strong> H</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">e
is one of us. He does not belong to any organisation and is independent of any
paymasters. He is not the establishment; rather he is a well-placed civilian
who, thanks to his KGB background and training as well as his unrelenting
physical fitness regime is an asset to whoever needs him. Although he is from
the Cold War era and from a regime that did not celebrate the individual, he has
very strong independent traits and personal beliefs. He is clearly for the
“little guy” and despite being nicknamed “Ice Man” I don’t think he is as cold
as we are sometimes led to believe!</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /><br /><br />What
is interesting in the Talanov series is his interaction with others. You
introduce so many colourful characters and I really enjoy how they bounce off
him. They often provide the lighter flourishes that the novels have for some
much needed humanity.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">He is clearly for the “little guy”. He is one of us.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I
also find the idea of a hero in his fifties far more interesting and compelling
than a superhuman, indestructible, twenty-something, programmed agent.
</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Clearly
Talanov is not your typical fifty-something as he has the conditioning of someone
much younger, but it is his brainpower and experience as much as his physical
ruggedness that makes him so effective. I prefer reading about fallible,
vulnerable and more importantly believable characters and he is definitely one
of them.</span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><b><br /><br />JHT:</b> <strong>A</strong></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><strong>ny final comments about <i>Greco’s Game?</i></strong></span></span><b style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><i><br /></i><br />DC:</b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"> As a child of
the 1980s I can remember the last years of the Cold War and what it was like to
live slap bang in the middle of two superpowers with vastly different ideologies
as well as a frightening stockpile of weapons of mass destruction (we simply
called them “nukes” in those days!) So to read about a hero (or anti-hero) that
is not only from that era, but also an ex KGB agent now living in the West is
fascinating.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /><br /><br />I really enjoy
reading James Bond and Jason Bourne novels but Talanov is not another clone,
being Russian, albeit with Western tastes and ideology, he is perfectly placed
to strike a balance between both cultures and provide added perspective. He has
a very clinical and very Russian way of analysing and solving problems too which
makes him very interesting and compelling.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">. . . my jaw hit my chest.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">If you enjoyed
“Department Thirteen” and “The Identity Factor” you will really enjoy this one.
I honestly did not see the scenario Talanov finds himself thrust in coming at
all. I thought (and please don’t take offence at this Jim) that we would get
another hectic espionage story where Talanov and his wife were having again to
stay one step ahead of his past. So when I read that Andrea had been killed off
right at the start my jaw hit my chest. A very bold and unexpected
move!</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /><br />I get the
feeling that there are plenty more Talanov adventures to come with the surprises
and unexpected turns coming thick and fast. Finally I believe one day we will
say “that novel was “Turneresque”” rather than “Ludlumesque.”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><b>WANT A COPY?</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><i>Greco's Game</i> is available <i>NOW</i> for pre-order!!! Just click the link below.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Official <i>Greco's Game</i> launch date: September 1st, 2012.</b></span><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Grecos-Game-James-Houston-Turner/dp/1936695480" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Amazon USA</span></a><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/grecos-game-james-houston-turner/1108208059" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Barnes and Noble USA</span></a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Grecos-Game-James-Houston-Turner/dp/1936695480" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Amazon UK</span></a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.co.jp/Grecos-Game-James-Houston-Turner/dp/1936695480" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Amazon Japan</span></a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="http://www.angusrobertson.com.au/book/grecos-game/31153748/" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Angus and Robertson Australia</span></a></span><br />
<br />
<br />
Follow <i>Greco's Game</i> on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/GrecosGame" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Facebook</span></a>.<br />
For more information, visit James Houston Turner's website: <span style="color: red;"><a href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.com/"><span style="color: red;">www.jameshoustonturner.com</span></a>.</span><br />
<br />
<br /></div>James Houston Turnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08990976544289212635noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2564516602502895431.post-18979387699407204912011-11-29T07:03:00.000+10:302011-11-29T07:03:36.065+10:30The Paul Franco AwardPaul Franco is one of my Facebook friends...<a href="http://www.loganbruin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">a Los Angeles-based photographer</a> who recently told me he was traveling across Europe by train when he saw a young woman reading one of my novels. He approached her with his usual flair and swagger and said, "I know the author." Paul never made it clear whether he approached the woman because she was tall and gorgeous or because she was reading my book. Nevertheless, I decided to create an award dedicated to that moment.<br />
<br />
Unlike the mind of its namesake, The Paul Franco Award is simple: I will give an autographed copy of my next thriller to the very first random person I meet in public who is reading one of my novels. Plane, train, rickshaw, bicycle, hover craft, skateboard -- it doesn't matter. To win a free copy of my next book, all I need to do is see you reading one of my other novels. Yes, digital eBooks count. (Please, no reading while driving your car or big-rig, although passengers are certainly encouraged to partake!)<br />
<br />
Which brings up an important point.<br />
<br />
With the proliferation of high-speed hand-held internet devices today, if you see me coming, you can quickly go to Amazon and order a copy of <em>Department Thirteen</em> clicking <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Department-Thirteen-ebook/dp/B005QSSMYM" target="_blank">HERE</a> or <em>The Identity Factor</em> by clicking <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Identity-Factor-ebook/dp/B004TO5JLI/ref=pd_sim_kinc_1?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2" target="_blank">HERE</a>, or if you're a Nook fan, go to Barnes & Noble and purchase a copy of <em>Department Thirteen</em> by clicking <a href="http://search.barnesandnoble.com/w/department-thirteen-james-houston-turner/1101006374" target="_blank">HERE</a>, or <em>The Identity Factor</em> by clicking <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/identity-factor-james-houston-turner/1102359983" target="_blank">HERE</a>, and that simple strategic purchase could win you FREE autographed copy of my next book! Easy!<br />
<br />
What are you in for if you do? Well, <em>Department Thirteen</em> chronicles a week in the life of former KGB informant Aleksandr Talanov, who discovers he has broken the first rule of survival by unwittingly falling in love with the woman he must now fall <em>out</em> of love with if he is to save her from a mysterious group of assassins from his past. Released in 2011 by <a href="http://www.comfortpublishing.com/" target="_blank">Comfort Publishing</a> and set in Los Angeles, Australia, Vanuatu, and Switzerland, the novel was inspired by my years as a smuggler behind the old Iron Curtain, where it was recently awarded the Best Thriller of 2011 by USA Book News. You can read the official press release by clicking <a href="http://www.prlog.org/11716983-james-houston-turners-department-thirteen-wins-hottest-new-thriller-in-2011-best-books-awards.html" target="_blank">HERE</a>, or watch the two-minute trailer by clicking <a href="http://www.talanov.info/" target="_blank">HERE</a>.<br />
<br />
<em>The Identity Factor</em> is a completely different story altogether. Also published by Comfort Publishing and set in Austin, Cairo, Jerusalem, Washington DC, and San Francisco, <em>The Identity Factor</em> is attraction versus antagonism when a headstrong, mouthy rookie profiler with the CIA competes with a charming Texas journalist to identify a phantom terrorist. The book scooped finalist awards in four US book competitions, including the National Best Books Awards and the Eric Hoffer Award.<br />
<br />
And what is my next book, you ask? I can't tell you that right now other than to say it is the second in my Talanov thriller series. "Book X," as I am presently calling it, will be announced officially by its actual title in June at the giant <a href="http://www.bookexpoamerica.com/" target="_blank">Book Expo America convention in New York</a>. Naturally, some quotes and teasers will be leaked before that time, but if you like the likes of Aleksandr Talanov, you're in for a real treat.<br />
<br />
So, in conclusion, I wish you happy reading, and on behalf of The Paul Franco Award, I hope to see one of you soon!James Houston Turnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08990976544289212635noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2564516602502895431.post-23328360489555114372011-08-05T10:44:00.002+09:302011-08-05T10:59:22.235+09:30Department Thirteen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUOHhKflEXvjN9P_vEymZ99ghdhYiAf_IhVmjL8wWH3k-bqgvXcyFcjBDgo6bGaI9j078htCy-8IM3cVxuvzeHpWynH3CI6LL1icnbocvQZ0zWEQLol_3lOpVb7UA3xm-Y9FEqDVQSRnI/s1600/Aleksandr_Talanov_poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="625" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUOHhKflEXvjN9P_vEymZ99ghdhYiAf_IhVmjL8wWH3k-bqgvXcyFcjBDgo6bGaI9j078htCy-8IM3cVxuvzeHpWynH3CI6LL1icnbocvQZ0zWEQLol_3lOpVb7UA3xm-Y9FEqDVQSRnI/s640/Aleksandr_Talanov_poster.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Moscow: 1983. Colonel Aleksandr Talanov of the KGB was trained to keep other people safe. It was his job. He was good at it. Unfortunately, the people he was protecting tonight were not the targets. He was. And not in a way he could ever have imagined. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 14px;">~<i>Department Thirteen</i>. Opening lines.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"> <br />
James Houston Turner's latest novel,<i> Department Thirteen,</i> is a modern-day thriller about retired KGB informant Aleksandr Talanov, who is happily married to a woman he does not love. But when a mysterious group of assassins from his past narrowly miss killing him and his wife, Talanov discovers he has broken the first rule of survival by unwittingly falling in love with the woman he must now fall <i>out of</i> love with if he is to save her.<br />
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Want a taste of the adventure? View the exciting new <i>Department Thirteen</i> book trailer by clicking <a href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.com/Talanov.htm"><span style="color: red;">HERE</span></a>.<br />
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Want to order a copy?<br />
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Go to Barnes & Noble by clicking <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/department-thirteen-james-houston-turner/1101006374"><span style="color: red;">HERE</span></a>.<br />
Go to Amazon.com by clicking <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Department-Thirteen-James-Houston-Turner/dp/1936695421"><span style="color: red;">HERE</span></a>.<br />
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</span>James Houston Turnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08990976544289212635noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2564516602502895431.post-8308854214060979302011-06-08T07:28:00.015+09:302011-06-09T17:28:36.849+09:30SAM WORTHINGTON, STAR OF THE BLOCKBUSTER FILMS, AVATAR AND CLASH OF THE TITANS, CONGRATULATES JAMES HOUSTON TURNER ABOUT HIS TWO-BOOK PUBLISHING DEAL.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">"It all starts with the writer: film, TV, book -- it doesn't matter -- it all starts with the writer." <i>Sam Worthington</i></span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><b><i><br />
</i> </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRQ3m-Q-teZmr5tXqbj0bbw2vDvEii5wOZYUkyMWyA48-Cr0hJHfDDkOtcRh-tSnXuzSy_AGx7kUK-C-eX__EOUaIwK8K8fyVljdwqnw-CRXurAS3PNszA-RUDUEJNVn18yxqQzsdBX9o/s1600/James_Houston_Turner_2011Tour_Announcement3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="490" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRQ3m-Q-teZmr5tXqbj0bbw2vDvEii5wOZYUkyMWyA48-Cr0hJHfDDkOtcRh-tSnXuzSy_AGx7kUK-C-eX__EOUaIwK8K8fyVljdwqnw-CRXurAS3PNszA-RUDUEJNVn18yxqQzsdBX9o/s640/James_Houston_Turner_2011Tour_Announcement3.jpg" width="470" /></a></div><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">James announces his upcoming <i>Department 13</i> book tour on the glamorous online entertainment magazine, <i>Artist Interviews,</i> and explains why he calls it his "Too Ugly Tour."</span></b></span></strong><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial;"><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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EXCERPTS FROM THE INTERVIEW:<br />
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AI: You're an award-winning author of suspense thrillers. Your two novels -- <i>Department Thirteen</i> and <i>The Identity Factor</i> -- are about to be launched in the United States with tremendous fanfare and a nationwide media blitz. You have Hollywood celebrities supporting and congratulating you. Why call your promotional tour the "Too Ugly Tour"?</span></strong></div></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 11px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>JHT:</b> As many people know, my face is disfigured from an operation I had back in 1991. It was a low point in my life as a writer, where I felt my career was going nowhere and we needed money. So I applied for a customer service job with a large company here in Adelaide, Australia, where we live. I was refused, not because I lacked skills, but because I was too ugly. At the time, it was a kick in the guts. But it was also a blessing in disguise, because if I had been hired, I may well not have persevered with my writing to become the published author I am today. So I decided to call my tour the "Too Ugly Tour" as both a reminder of and dedication to the hard knocks of life that are actually blessings in disguise. So while I will be appearing in bookstores and doing media interviews about my novels, I will also be sharing my story in schools with the hope of encouraging students not to give up when those kind of things happen. Kids today get hit with lots of those same kinds of judgments: you're too fat, too dumb, too poor, too...whatever. If we believe those lies, we become our own worst enemy and are defeated in life much more easily. Don't fall into that trap!<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial;"></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">AI: The highs and lows you have experienced! What enabled you to keep going through so many heartaches and disappointments?</span></strong></span></span></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><strong><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>JHT:</b> Belief in myself and in my writing. I've worked at all sorts of jobs to support my passion to write. I've shoveled concrete, washed windows, mowed lawns, worked construction and cleaned houses. I cannot tell you how many nails I've hammered or toilets I've scrubbed. I did it because I was willing to do whatever it took to support my family while pursuing my writing. That's because I felt a sense of purpose in what I was doing...that I had beaten the odds and been spared from cancer for a reason...that my books were not just "donut novels" -- all fluff and air -- but stories with a difference...the result not just of my imagination, but my life: the emotions and pain that I've felt, as well as the triumph. Each book contains glimpses into the extraordinary people I've met -- many of them heroes, many of them victims -- and the experiences I've lived, and the places I've traveled. That having been said, my books really aren't about me; they're about my readers. It's about each of them -- each of <em>you</em> -- being able to count on me using every available tool in my writer's toolbox to pack each and every story full of meaty characters, provocative storylines, interesting settings and a satisfying conclusion. I know I won't please everyone all of the time. But I try hard to achieve that high standard...to give my readers something worth reading.</span></span></span></div></div></div><br />
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<div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>AI: Your international thriller, <i><a href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.com/the%20identity%20factor.htm">The Identity Factor</a>,</i> has already been adapted for film and scooped finalist awards in four international book competitions, including the National Best Books Awards and the Eric Hoffer Award. <a href="http://lastheplace.com/2007/09/16/1615/"><i>LA's the Place</i> magazine</a> called it "One killer of a thriller...a Jason Bourne meets <i>The DaVinci Code</i> kind-of mystery inside a puzzle." UK book and film critic, <a href="http://www.danielcann.com/content/view/456/156/">Daniel Cann</a>, who loved your new headstrong action hero, Zoe Gustaves, wrote one of the most stunning reviews I've ever read. He said, "Comparisons have already been made with Dan Brown and Robert Ludlum. After reading this novel, I can see why. Turner is a master at creating tension and suspense. Ludlum, Grisham, Patterson, Child...you can now add James Houston Turner to that esteemed list." Accomplished actor, <a href="http://www.prlog.org/11427877-who-better-to-know-great-villain-than-the-master-villain-himself.html">Adoni Maropis</a>, who played the master villain, Abu Fayed, in the hit television series, 24, had this to say: "I love a great villain. Great villains demand great heroes and <i>The Identity Factor</i> has both. This book is full of twists and turns that will keep you guessing until the very end." Adoni was brilliant in his role as Abu Fayed, and if anyone knows heroes and villains and how essential they are to a story, it is he. </strong></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>How does all this incredible praise make you feel?</strong></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>JHT:</b> To be compared with such A-list authors as Robert Ludlum, Dan Brown, John Grisham, James Patterson, and Lee Child is an honor I find hard to articulate. It is very, very humbling. But this amazing praise came ten years after I wrote that book. That's right, <i>ten years</i>. Let me set the stage for you. I finished writing <i>The Identity Factor,</i> which plunges into the heart of Arab/Israeli issues in the Middle East, back in 2001. Hollywood had even expressed interest in it as a film. Then came the attack on the Twin Towers, and virtually overnight, no publisher wanted anything that was Middle Eastern. And virtually overnight, my book was a pariah. Another rug yanked from beneath me. But I refused to give up on the story, and in 2008, decided to publish it myself here in Australia, where it won those awards (which I felt exonerated me for not discarding it like people said I should do). Now, of course, the Middle East is a hot topic of interest and there are all kinds of TV programs, films, and books set there, which is what attracted Adoni's praise as well as the interest of Comfort Publishing, who will be launching <i>The Identity Factor</i> in the United States when it launches <i>Department Thirteen</i> (my retitled 1999 novel) at the University of Houston Clear Lake, followed by a nationwide tour to promote the books. Aussie <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0941777/bio">Sam Worthington</a>, star of the blockbuster films, <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Avatar_(2009_film)">Avatar</a></i> and <i><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0800320/">Clash of the Titans</a>,</i> had this to say to me at the <a href="http://www.australia-week.com/">G'day USA</a> black tie gala in Hollywood last January, when I told him the good news about my publishing contracts: "It all starts with the writer, mate: film, TV, book -- it doesn't matter -- it all starts with the writer. Congratulations on scoring your deal. You deserve it."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sam Worthington at G'day USA</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.artistinterviews.com/">Artist Interviews magazine</a> is one of America's first online celebrity magazines and the winner of numerous awards. You may read the entire emotionally-moving interview with James by clicking <a href="http://www.artistinterviews.com/web/content.php?idE=493&pag=1">HERE</a>.<br />
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Keep up with all the latest info on James's <i>Too Ugly Tour</i> by visiting <a href="http://www.toouglytour.com/">www.toouglytour.com</a>, or by following James on <a href="http://twitter.com/jhoustonturner">Twitter</a> or <a href="http://www.facebook.com/jameshoustonturner">Facebook</a>.<br />
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Additional information on James, including all the latest news and reviews, may be found on his website: <a href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.com/">www.jameshoustonturner.com</a>.<br />
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<b> See for yourself why people are talking! Order an eBook edition of <i>The Identity Factor</i> from Amazon by clicking <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Identity-Factor-ebook/dp/B004TO5JLI">HERE</a>.</b><br />
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For all of Comfort Publishing's titles, visit <a href="http://www.comfortpublishing.com/">www.comfortpublishing.com</a>. </span><br />
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</span></div>James Houston Turnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08990976544289212635noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2564516602502895431.post-34828537168178205732011-02-18T09:11:00.003+10:302011-04-17T15:59:57.030+09:30James Houston Turner's Book Cover Photo. Which One???<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>Friends, Romans, Countrymen...lend me your eyes. I need help choosing an author photo for the cover of my upcoming suspense thriller, <i>Department Thirteen</i>.</b></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">As many of you know, I'm pretty self-conscious -- at times terrified -- when it comes to the camera. Especially the flash. Which seems to highlight the facial distortions of my 1991 cancer operation at the Royal Adelaide Hospital. But I'm alive and married to the girl of my dreams. And my publisher, <a href="http://www.comfortpublishing.com/">Comfort Publishing</a>, is about to bring you a series of thrillers inspired by my experiences as a smuggler behind the old Iron Curtain. So I'm not one to complain.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Nevertheless, when Comfort's Director of Author Relations, Kristy Huddle, told me I needed a photo for the book cover, I got nervous. So I mentioned this to my good mate -- veteran photographer, <a href="http://www.therichimage.com/">Bill Rich</a> -- who has worked with many of Hollywood's A-list. Bill is an absolute genius when it comes to the camera, so we spent an afternoon together in Los Angeles doing a photo shoot. Bill knows how to provoke, coach, guide and goad subjects into giving him just the right look. And believe me, I took some goading.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Bill took over 200 images that afternoon, and together we went through them. We tossed out the lousy ones and kept eighty or so good ones, which I've edited into a shortlist, which I've posted below.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">So I'd like you to vote on which photo (or photos) you think best represents me as an author. None of the ones below are vastly different from the others. The differences are subtle. I discarded some otherwise good shots because I didn't feel they were "author" shots. I know author photos are supposed to have some kind of "X" factor -- whatever that is -- and maybe one of these photos does. Maybe not. Regardless, I'd like you to help me decide which one is best. Simply click the "Like" button at the bottom of your favorite image here on the blog site. For my Facebook friends, please cast your votes here so that I can forward the stats to my publisher. Feel free to leave comments as well, as I welcome all input into this decision.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b>I'd also like you to share this page with your Facebook friends, to get their votes. As you can tell, I'm a little nervous about all of this. But the book -- and one of these photos -- will be going international, so I'd really like to know what people think.</b> There's a bar of icons at the bottom for Facebook and other social networking sites. Just click the icon and post a link to your friends with a request for their assistance in helping me select which photo is best for a book cover. Thank you!!! Here is the selection:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><br />
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</div>James Houston Turnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08990976544289212635noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2564516602502895431.post-91546575908457661822011-02-11T07:32:00.008+10:302011-02-14T15:44:37.577+10:30In the Beginning...<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font: normal normal normal 13px/19px Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0.6em; padding-left: 0.6em; padding-right: 0.6em; padding-top: 0.6em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>I was asked recently what influenced me to become an author of suspense thrillers. I had been asked that question before, so I was ready with my standard answer about how I began writing at the age of ten. </b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br />
</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>But then I thought: <em>why</em> did I begin writing at the age of ten? The question stumped me.</b></span><br />
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So I began at the beginning and thought back to those halcyon days of childhood. For me, it was a time of curiosity about the complexity and diversity of the world. A time of wonder, pranks, invention, country roads, and old deserted houses. Imagination ran wild. I scouted ravines for arrowheads. I took apart clocks to see what made them tick. I had a chemistry lab in our basement. A photo lab in my closet. I dug tunnels and built tree houses and blazed trails through the forested hills outside that small university town in Eastern Kansas, where I was born. I made rafts and swam in lakes. I restored an old multi-band radio and listened to strange languages from all over the world. I had wonderful parents, inspirational teachers, and a foundation of unconditional love.<br />
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But as I thought about all that, I realized it was my grandfather, Fred Florance -- "Pop" -- who inspired me to become a storyteller. That's because he was one of the originals himself.<br />
<br />
<div class="mceTemp" draggable=""><br />
<dl _mce_style="width: 239px;" class="wp-caption alignleft" id="attachment_518" style="background-color: #f3f3f3; border-bottom-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-bottom-left-radius: 3px 3px; border-bottom-right-radius: 3px 3px; border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-top-left-radius: 3px 3px; border-top-right-radius: 3px 3px; border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; float: left; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center; width: 239px;"><dt class="wp-caption-dt"><a _mce_href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=6310112&l=0625a8e069&id=542952468" href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=6310112&l=0625a8e069&id=542952468"><img _mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2011/02/florancebrothers.jpg?w=229" alt="James Houston Turner's grandfather, Fred Florance" class="size-medium wp-image-518 " height="300" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2011/02/florancebrothers.jpg?w=229" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="florancebrothers" width="229" /></a></dt>
<dd class="wp-caption-dd" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 4px; padding-right: 4px; padding-top: 0px;">Fred Florance (front, left) and his brothers.</dd></dl></div>Pop was born near Dallas, Texas, in 1879. He was one of eight children born to Civil War veteran, George Alvis Florance, and his young wife, Charlotte Johnson Florance. Pop loved swimming, and as a boy living in Arkansas, used to swim a mile every day in the White River. He loved working among the Native Americans of Oklahoma, and he spoke fluent Osage. He was a gambler who won and lost large sums of money. He eventually owned a tavern near Kansas City, where he played cards and shot craps with <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harry_S._Truman">Harry Truman</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tom_Pendergast">Tom Pendergast</a>, and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_James">Frank James</a>, older brother of the notorious outlaw, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jesse_James">Jesse James</a>. So I grew up on Pop's stories about his life, his travels, and his adventures.<br />
<br />
One such story involved moving in a covered wagon from Waverly, Kansas, in 1904, to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indian_Territory">Indian Territory, Oklahoma</a>, when my mom was an infant. After swimming a swollen river with my mom wrapped in a blanket, Pop laid my mom on the other bank and swam back to lead the team of horses and wagon across. In the wagon was Pop's young wife, Aria, my grandmother. Once they were across, they set up camp on the bank of the river.<br />
<br />
In those days, it was customary to give strangers who rode into camp a cup of coffee and food, which was usually salt pork and beans. Picture a starlit night on the banks of a river with a small fire crackling. The horses were grazing quietly and Aria was in the wagon nursing my mother. And suddenly, out of the darkness rode a tall stranger wearing a six-gun.<br />
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<div class="mceTemp" draggable=""><br />
<dl _mce_style="width: 122px;" class="wp-caption alignright" id="attachment_522" style="background-color: #f3f3f3; border-bottom-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-bottom-left-radius: 3px 3px; border-bottom-right-radius: 3px 3px; border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-top-left-radius: 3px 3px; border-top-right-radius: 3px 3px; border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; float: right; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center; width: 122px;"><dt class="wp-caption-dt"><a _mce_href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2011/02/molina.jpg" href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2011/02/molina.jpg"><img _mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2011/02/molina.jpg" alt="" class="size-full wp-image-522" height="84" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2011/02/molina.jpg" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="molina" width="112" /></a></dt>
<dd class="wp-caption-dd" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 4px; padding-right: 4px; padding-top: 0px;">Actor Alfred Molina</dd></dl></div>When I recall this story I think of the actor, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alfred_Molina">Alfred Molina</a>, from the film, Maverick. A rough and tough character. Intense dark eyes. A scowl -- almost a snarl -- on his face. Dirty. Stinky. And packing a huge Colt .45. You know the kind I'm talking about. I have no idea if the stranger actually looked like Alfred Molina in that film. Pop never described him in much detail other than to say he was a big, rough-looking guy.<br />
<br />
The stranger asked if he could have a cup of coffee. Now, Pop stood six-foot-one, and said he was afraid of no one. And if he actually was afraid, he would never let on. So he offered the stranger some beans and coffee. No fancy French plunger coffee, either, but the kind that had been boiled for an hour in a tin pot at the edge of a campfire.<br />
<br />
To set the stage for you here: Pop and Aria had just sold the farm in Kansas and had a substantial amount of money with them in the wagon. But Pop was concerned the rough-looking stranger might rob them if he let on. So he made up a story about how broke they were, how he had a sick wife and baby in the wagon, and how they were heading down into Indian Territory to try and make a go of it. On and on Pop went, detailing their troubles. <a _mce_href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2011/02/1884silverdollar.jpg" href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2011/02/1884silverdollar.jpg"><img _mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2011/02/1884silverdollar.jpg" alt="" class="alignleft size-full wp-image-524" height="126" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2011/02/1884silverdollar.jpg" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; float: left;" title="1884SilverDollar" width="126" /></a>Finally, the stranger said, "That is the saddest story I've ever heard. I only have one dollar to my name, but I want you to have it." The stranger dug in his pocket, took out a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dollar_coin_(United_States)">silver dollar</a>, and gave it to Pop before thanking him for the beans and coffee and riding off into the night.<br />
<br />
Pop said he never hated to take a man's last dollar so much in his life. But he was afraid to tell him the truth -- that he had made up the entire story -- for fear the stranger really <em>would</em> rob them.<br />
<br />
So if you wonder where I get my propensity for spinning wild yarns and telling tall tales, I got it from Pop. And like Pop, I get a lot of my story ideas from the life I've lived. From what I've experienced.<br />
<br />
Incidentally, Pop gave me that silver dollar -- an 1884 <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morgan_Dollar">Morgan</a> -- and I still have it. It's worn and not worth much apart from its priceless contribution to my beginning as a writer.<br />
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Q4U: Was there a defining moment in your life that inspired you in a particular direction?<br />
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</div>James Houston Turnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08990976544289212635noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2564516602502895431.post-62302626001926570782011-01-24T16:47:00.027+10:302011-03-11T05:41:45.805+10:30A Cool Dude Writer Goes To G'day USA. The Photos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Okay, so I had a little run-in with the law while I was here.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-JSjbI-7TcAN2r9HM9WHn6pNbPYyNB52dbhmRVagRXnvichHu3TNCxrBr9ctpxPnM8PaneznpmzbJvDOLzJw2j_JS4YXJ9T-v26yOlNMsollMDteoY6Y-t8nUDyNrYtZt8ViaallrAfY/s1600/James+Houston+Turner+meets+the+Hollywood+cops+%252817%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-JSjbI-7TcAN2r9HM9WHn6pNbPYyNB52dbhmRVagRXnvichHu3TNCxrBr9ctpxPnM8PaneznpmzbJvDOLzJw2j_JS4YXJ9T-v26yOlNMsollMDteoY6Y-t8nUDyNrYtZt8ViaallrAfY/s320/James+Houston+Turner+meets+the+Hollywood+cops+%252817%2529.JPG" width="259" /></a></div>You see, I have this Facebook friend named Beth who dared me to dress differently when I attended the black tie gala. To wear something distinctive, such as lime green cufflinks. So I thought: I'll really go green. After all, going green is "in," so I decided to wear a spiffy green shirt. A little green is good, which means a lot more green is better. Right? Wrong! It was a close call, let me tell you. And I almost got cited for numerous fashion offenses. Good thing I'm a fast talker. They let me off with a warning if I promised to <em>never</em> wear green again. Yes, officer. Of course, officer.<br />
<br />
Little did they know who I really was and that I tell lies for a living...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyrlfgb16VBogLWlf8VLyWzPAl2pf1Je64jtIYEHvUW6_45ydC8JVYjdu_zyw0TKiS_atjnYA6Nhf_begWx5UzeAQs51rRepuV_v9meP8AOSTQBfEDFBHUUOyGnkE8M-D-QFGHajLI4e0/s1600/007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="279" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyrlfgb16VBogLWlf8VLyWzPAl2pf1Je64jtIYEHvUW6_45ydC8JVYjdu_zyw0TKiS_atjnYA6Nhf_begWx5UzeAQs51rRepuV_v9meP8AOSTQBfEDFBHUUOyGnkE8M-D-QFGHajLI4e0/s320/007.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
The media awaits my arrival in something other than green. Or they may be waiting for John Travolta. I'm not sure...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYs-wiM1qZ0iqqOHFF770im10PTGFoSY0a2KM-OAQEsAhFe7JhjbdNIckhE3PUo8-NnbRVGW3RHfdEmg4QmaVOR0adP4WDfnvrvsPVQXllZJy06S0EM8KteYZ-biWhOUGNWl5zlZ15BZI/s1600/BSR_5847.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYs-wiM1qZ0iqqOHFF770im10PTGFoSY0a2KM-OAQEsAhFe7JhjbdNIckhE3PUo8-NnbRVGW3RHfdEmg4QmaVOR0adP4WDfnvrvsPVQXllZJy06S0EM8KteYZ-biWhOUGNWl5zlZ15BZI/s320/BSR_5847.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">John Travolta and his gorgeous wife, Kelly Preston.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixMnVscLlV2OO2WfUrXnueV3y1IvKM5gBhhjVYdcUCzzVgguPlEYOJuq4c8wFN_BRD1pVvrDJRCvaxGcZQj5-gnrAaT8LPeVSy4hi8XTXR9XBN0cXcuoISCy9ZfVdDIgaTLjE__y8jglk/s1600/BSR_5840.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="309" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixMnVscLlV2OO2WfUrXnueV3y1IvKM5gBhhjVYdcUCzzVgguPlEYOJuq4c8wFN_BRD1pVvrDJRCvaxGcZQj5-gnrAaT8LPeVSy4hi8XTXR9XBN0cXcuoISCy9ZfVdDIgaTLjE__y8jglk/s320/BSR_5840.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYDM_8L6nQjGqwvyTVaDt640I-w-pgmjUjpMSxf7CijpxxFNrKOZz_cFiUn4VqiOUcf2JoOJZn3Rs7zyLb267hL1qSSo1i-nmscG6P8Ozn9eFk_Z37X4eM_tyamZvJZ_wmg2Lj8JGEd7U/s1600/016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYDM_8L6nQjGqwvyTVaDt640I-w-pgmjUjpMSxf7CijpxxFNrKOZz_cFiUn4VqiOUcf2JoOJZn3Rs7zyLb267hL1qSSo1i-nmscG6P8Ozn9eFk_Z37X4eM_tyamZvJZ_wmg2Lj8JGEd7U/s320/016.JPG" width="317" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The great Hollywood actor, Jon Voigt, arrives on the red carpet. (Not the green carpet, mind you, which should have been a clue for me earlier.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXbKlI4407jvFMegDrA0Ax3ZUl_390mVyUvFYMR2yTWy53Kjcng78Rad5c8liNqC1_q5Rrcm_ZTwDZ9jlnISzT1LQLMk40ZjlRuIgsho0C46f1-FFINe9UlhlwH3KPGnGvt_GPuKqjWLc/s1600/James+Houston+Turner+with+veteran+Hollywood+actor%252C+Jon+Voigt.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXbKlI4407jvFMegDrA0Ax3ZUl_390mVyUvFYMR2yTWy53Kjcng78Rad5c8liNqC1_q5Rrcm_ZTwDZ9jlnISzT1LQLMk40ZjlRuIgsho0C46f1-FFINe9UlhlwH3KPGnGvt_GPuKqjWLc/s320/James+Houston+Turner+with+veteran+Hollywood+actor%252C+Jon+Voigt.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLsqw-QpMJ9hMU0Mzh77DmZ3009v7yPWqOeeMPHnwwqiyR04iRc8ls7PVE7q_cyYp6IDgiLTgckzOjL_brc9XAxa0Qdj8YFgGbTWbD_Uq23oMg8GNz_STUHPdvtjT7K57f-z5iPpXggvs/s1600/025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLsqw-QpMJ9hMU0Mzh77DmZ3009v7yPWqOeeMPHnwwqiyR04iRc8ls7PVE7q_cyYp6IDgiLTgckzOjL_brc9XAxa0Qdj8YFgGbTWbD_Uq23oMg8GNz_STUHPdvtjT7K57f-z5iPpXggvs/s320/025.JPG" width="285" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Excellence in Film" award recipient, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abbie_Cornish">Abbie Cornish</a> (I loved her as American wine brat, Christie Roberts, in the film, <em>A Good Year,</em> with Russell Crowe), talks to the media. Beside her is Olivia Newton-John, and her husband, John Easterling.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv7sJh7FGe40BHi7kzkD9jZ7_eiVfV_ir62LLEU3KHFOxTxylimBDVnjsDYMhr5RgNBoVZ6M84nVf2AU8RAwb2FyjXPfp9VkqzrajllvewGtBB2R4xRp7IMTJOIoc-sCDX5LzS7QuJluE/s1600/James+Houston+Turner+and+Olivia.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv7sJh7FGe40BHi7kzkD9jZ7_eiVfV_ir62LLEU3KHFOxTxylimBDVnjsDYMhr5RgNBoVZ6M84nVf2AU8RAwb2FyjXPfp9VkqzrajllvewGtBB2R4xRp7IMTJOIoc-sCDX5LzS7QuJluE/s320/James+Houston+Turner+and+Olivia.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Olivia is truly one of the most radiant, warm individuals on the planet. She and I had met at another G'day USA, but when I told her 2011 was my 20th anniversary of beating the odds against cancer, and that I was kicking off my celebration year tonight, she gave me a high-five and said, "Put it there, brother." Olivia, as most of you know, is a breast cancer survivor and has just broken ground on the <a href="http://www.oliviaappeal.com/">Olivia Newton-John Cancer and Wellness Centre</a> in Melbourne, Australia.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHJQbQz2GKh9IGDSH8x8RcsIbZ31jB4mPMj0uBb8CegjBEC6OT8HBOR9L7RuT7Lf_dHHw8e8ox-14ItTdzUED3P3pFLjxK-dFo_LKkAgowCgRYH1ZfiMjrzKvJNkhFU5MHj4d277r8A0M/s1600/James+Houston+Turner%252C+Olivia+Newton-John%252C+and+John+Easterling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHJQbQz2GKh9IGDSH8x8RcsIbZ31jB4mPMj0uBb8CegjBEC6OT8HBOR9L7RuT7Lf_dHHw8e8ox-14ItTdzUED3P3pFLjxK-dFo_LKkAgowCgRYH1ZfiMjrzKvJNkhFU5MHj4d277r8A0M/s320/James+Houston+Turner%252C+Olivia+Newton-John%252C+and+John+Easterling.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiKxkEtEKvWAy_2eCU9YS0sc4AncDk296KdiOTD9NgQsMZ1peORBcz6E84NvTYz4Huno-VQB1-xMDas0pu4IN_mxnagUdoYZeas1Fqxl5PwqEC18cZ0dNiPWKKOsuj4eroOpWG9w8twuE/s1600/BSR_5799.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiKxkEtEKvWAy_2eCU9YS0sc4AncDk296KdiOTD9NgQsMZ1peORBcz6E84NvTYz4Huno-VQB1-xMDas0pu4IN_mxnagUdoYZeas1Fqxl5PwqEC18cZ0dNiPWKKOsuj4eroOpWG9w8twuE/s320/BSR_5799.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Wally Mariani, with actor Simon Baker, John Easterling, and Olivia Newton-John.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUY3wW8FgL8j0PvR7tVnowCF4-8KZ-G0EKMdJQ1_k9SPL8xNeSGEhxPVhpln9M2eQ3zGfkHj4_QpZzOAApUUdqEbOmFbl5X1YfQz1rbokiIIocqfrLAhtzyWhNoYNgcViXA9N3hfqacfQ/s1600/James+Houston+Turner+and+Wally+Mariani.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUY3wW8FgL8j0PvR7tVnowCF4-8KZ-G0EKMdJQ1_k9SPL8xNeSGEhxPVhpln9M2eQ3zGfkHj4_QpZzOAApUUdqEbOmFbl5X1YfQz1rbokiIIocqfrLAhtzyWhNoYNgcViXA9N3hfqacfQ/s320/James+Houston+Turner+and+Wally+Mariani.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">James and Wally Mariani, AM, Chairman of the Australia Week Committee.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwNp2U8L7_iq9DHRvqE_w4r-ZNYnGZAu8Eb1aG5BGBBaZbVXCZx34xfYs6ZL1dwJMsfFl0-SgXxzgjYTxmlMXL_q8Xv-2NgLM92TkBlnY-sVFELrX8vtmKm2M5qKFyIBRwHxsBuqUgOPk/s1600/BSR_5821.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="276" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwNp2U8L7_iq9DHRvqE_w4r-ZNYnGZAu8Eb1aG5BGBBaZbVXCZx34xfYs6ZL1dwJMsfFl0-SgXxzgjYTxmlMXL_q8Xv-2NgLM92TkBlnY-sVFELrX8vtmKm2M5qKFyIBRwHxsBuqUgOPk/s320/BSR_5821.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Excellence in Music" award recipient, <a href="http://www.barrygibb.com/">Barry Gibb</a> (who with brothers Robin and Maurice formed the iconic pop group, the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bee_Gees">Bee Gees</a>), with Kelly Preston and John Travolta. Clips from the Bee Gees were played on giant screens, including video clips showing a young Travolta demonstrating his disco dance moves to the Bee Gees legendary hit song, "Stayin' Alive". The song also sets a <a href="http://firstaid.about.com/od/cprbasics/qt/07_cpr_tips.htm">perfect beat for administering emergency CPR</a>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0uIl7JqNjC21Rvia9argX47cSC8bI5rQD24_CQfcxYB3nWHp1QKFY4hfM1DEkqdctdz43xpT6SjrfjR08EQsNqagZfz1ALi2WQZWK_xN6-kBjmkNfG5r14Q0CEPXstzEex4FbHa0gmjU/s1600/BSR_5829.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="249" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0uIl7JqNjC21Rvia9argX47cSC8bI5rQD24_CQfcxYB3nWHp1QKFY4hfM1DEkqdctdz43xpT6SjrfjR08EQsNqagZfz1ALi2WQZWK_xN6-kBjmkNfG5r14Q0CEPXstzEex4FbHa0gmjU/s320/BSR_5829.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKASkLiIziBw8pd8Y_7gDTtYCza7gR3TSIchJhSx5NNUm5kPewfDdStW4sIzInjRz7vVFTYh6xQL0VTL7aaZXreyOYhKaeF8n3twO1Ts5EELEcgnTnNUcihx6P4CFuBmVm9nN1z4IfkX4/s1600/Author+James+Houston+Turner+with+actor+Daniela+Ruah%252C+from+NCIS+LA.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKASkLiIziBw8pd8Y_7gDTtYCza7gR3TSIchJhSx5NNUm5kPewfDdStW4sIzInjRz7vVFTYh6xQL0VTL7aaZXreyOYhKaeF8n3twO1Ts5EELEcgnTnNUcihx6P4CFuBmVm9nN1z4IfkX4/s320/Author+James+Houston+Turner+with+actor+Daniela+Ruah%252C+from+NCIS+LA.JPG" width="310" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I absolutely <em>love</em> the hit TV military crime show, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/NCIS:_Los_Angeles">NCIS LA</a>, so how cool was it to meet <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/LL_Cool_J">LL Cool J</a>, who plays lead agent Sam Hanna, and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daniela_Ruah">Daniela Ruah</a>, who plays special agent Kensi Blye, the kickass American/Portugese beauty who adds spark to the already great chemistry between lead agents Chris O'Donnell (who plays G. Callen) and LL Cool J? I think Daniela would make a <em>terrific</em> Zoe Gustaves and LL Cool J would make an <i>awesome</i> Jackson Teague in a film version of <i>The Identity Factor</i> (yes, a script has been written and is being represented in Hollywood as we speak). Don't know who Zoe and Teague are? Don't worry, <em>The Identity Factor</em> will soon be available as an eBook. Keep watching this space for more news.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqhmSJuJZN5O6D3Vf34dpOadaxfH7aMNpm3riyiVXwcXmvXk2NgmPrCJT122tJy_O8dVn3KdcxIvzsVMZ6w3QN8wJousxvN9h4eA1-ylmHDOC4p9s1xhWdwx2-2hNG8SvPQBmvB3avSUE/s1600/LL_Cool_J_and_James_Houston_Turner_02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqhmSJuJZN5O6D3Vf34dpOadaxfH7aMNpm3riyiVXwcXmvXk2NgmPrCJT122tJy_O8dVn3KdcxIvzsVMZ6w3QN8wJousxvN9h4eA1-ylmHDOC4p9s1xhWdwx2-2hNG8SvPQBmvB3avSUE/s320/LL_Cool_J_and_James_Houston_Turner_02.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh6pdOzHlhFQaZli6TN48FIbvxPjTipx9xgFlijgw22QR7ZFH-5E9SlMt_rd7PvOV0OPzS4LN7WfzrDbBKvkib4hkLq2sKCxYcuaNftfR2gFgSqnkdACBLrRHcpxeTfPob8L9bYAQyEsQ/s1600/BSR_6098.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh6pdOzHlhFQaZli6TN48FIbvxPjTipx9xgFlijgw22QR7ZFH-5E9SlMt_rd7PvOV0OPzS4LN7WfzrDbBKvkib4hkLq2sKCxYcuaNftfR2gFgSqnkdACBLrRHcpxeTfPob8L9bYAQyEsQ/s320/BSR_6098.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hollywood_Palladium">Hollywood Palladium</a>, on Sunset Boulevard, where G'day USA 2011 was held.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjp0HYy-Vs0pj-h8jiWhWLQSnQGEUv42EJwqBj7hmdB-zabPu8CZAKrWyIuHZLmRM-j9AOzMPqHnXp2o-QLIYtqSj-2hC01nkc32ehk9Wp8u8S3qJsOqDGCX3fG5ImCjwTahubtFVDVzI/s1600/BSR_6077.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjp0HYy-Vs0pj-h8jiWhWLQSnQGEUv42EJwqBj7hmdB-zabPu8CZAKrWyIuHZLmRM-j9AOzMPqHnXp2o-QLIYtqSj-2hC01nkc32ehk9Wp8u8S3qJsOqDGCX3fG5ImCjwTahubtFVDVzI/s320/BSR_6077.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The "Excellence in Sport" award was given to tennis legend, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roy_Emerson">Roy Emerson</a>, shown here with his lovely wife, Joy. Roy was introduced by fellow tennis legend, <a href="http://agassifoundation.org/andre-agassi-blog/">Andre Agassi</a>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoHdyHa6h5okiYrtLjkTlSEvBhU5qLGotDa0tT-pC0QbvAB6bh8S4ZlqHaZUBMu9aBINY61tZvgISJwMSxbJZVq4F62cirWi0q5qgP6GhTfdLrxB0eO6HmGePZQpeZBhCl0uLq-NvFvBw/s1600/008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoHdyHa6h5okiYrtLjkTlSEvBhU5qLGotDa0tT-pC0QbvAB6bh8S4ZlqHaZUBMu9aBINY61tZvgISJwMSxbJZVq4F62cirWi0q5qgP6GhTfdLrxB0eO6HmGePZQpeZBhCl0uLq-NvFvBw/s320/008.JPG" width="315" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Andre Agassi with his wife, Steffi Graf.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlGKgcfndJNq_aaK5tDkmcyEMTR8PwX5lJpKsrPfXp7Qw_GfJyC7oVfX59uIx7EneFR__XBN1dsvxr8aGZxpQvaabGnPuPGTCdGx0_W8PATrnappd3EivDSIZ9-s05XrhUQyDtyPS20KU/s1600/BSR_5893.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlGKgcfndJNq_aaK5tDkmcyEMTR8PwX5lJpKsrPfXp7Qw_GfJyC7oVfX59uIx7EneFR__XBN1dsvxr8aGZxpQvaabGnPuPGTCdGx0_W8PATrnappd3EivDSIZ9-s05XrhUQyDtyPS20KU/s320/BSR_5893.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The menu (prawns and grapefruit salad, succulent, melt-in-your-mouth roast lamb and beef) was prepared by celebrity chef, <a href="http://www.curtisstone.com/">Curtis Stone</a>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPZ1xLbYvbXqukmZ-cAwibMMXeNKEhVE4W_7r0Mw5vqcKf2NOEFbq9NkPcclbe0Wu0ijQCBGX1jukSUV9vbNMAUsjhBrI8RAEyw6U1qUKwRMn3efXvmaySK32Q_qUgjOUAnij5AgvdHOs/s1600/BSR_5897.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPZ1xLbYvbXqukmZ-cAwibMMXeNKEhVE4W_7r0Mw5vqcKf2NOEFbq9NkPcclbe0Wu0ijQCBGX1jukSUV9vbNMAUsjhBrI8RAEyw6U1qUKwRMn3efXvmaySK32Q_qUgjOUAnij5AgvdHOs/s320/BSR_5897.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">An outstanding <a href="http://www.myer.com.au/fashion.aspx">Myer</a> department store fashion show began with swimsuits, then showcased the latest trends in men's and women's fashion.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizpGYbsfal0-h0InXfqnhBrABg0wmeCYgt08b0WDM0PJiULsD_qii8QYpsdGAMhzWy_HKQWjgZ0XUdLmIHm25rc7T7inNHeKCOIjvaucbnrRVTccQMhbfenlFpT2TzmKofRmp8k63_DWI/s1600/BSR_5899.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="292" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizpGYbsfal0-h0InXfqnhBrABg0wmeCYgt08b0WDM0PJiULsD_qii8QYpsdGAMhzWy_HKQWjgZ0XUdLmIHm25rc7T7inNHeKCOIjvaucbnrRVTccQMhbfenlFpT2TzmKofRmp8k63_DWI/s320/BSR_5899.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilJcRL3qASfwpysWiG9jeBXIx4kgV9VAS0mrkQOQz_MGuJbSMYw6TYzk8ckacGx3aeJuIJXmTcvluhAMO-9OGzURDQUKSNllm8XHvdWMA88KYb8ImGfP11nz3uN1Jucxm8v3584RDOWPI/s1600/BSR_6139.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilJcRL3qASfwpysWiG9jeBXIx4kgV9VAS0mrkQOQz_MGuJbSMYw6TYzk8ckacGx3aeJuIJXmTcvluhAMO-9OGzURDQUKSNllm8XHvdWMA88KYb8ImGfP11nz3uN1Jucxm8v3584RDOWPI/s320/BSR_6139.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">International pop singer and the first Australian Idol winner, <a href="http://www.guysebastian.com.au/">Guy Sebastian</a> (from Adelaide), performed a medley of Bee Gee songs as a tribute to Barry Gibb. He also raised the roof with a brilliant performance of his latest hit, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qbG2I895QbE">"Who's That Girl?"</a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2JtJkdvGwGBhrpj2v7cmgKBSUgjpk0oFDXJA5YrQRPHvTpIJ_OrqNNrEbHXywzl1-_LkVTjAsCWarOFgkTU3gxe1HLXj3Z2O4whYstYmD9Z76SxXgE5A-koEk_x4QKJjDs0RCRmi65_o/s1600/James+Houston+Turner+with+singer+Guy+Sebastian.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2JtJkdvGwGBhrpj2v7cmgKBSUgjpk0oFDXJA5YrQRPHvTpIJ_OrqNNrEbHXywzl1-_LkVTjAsCWarOFgkTU3gxe1HLXj3Z2O4whYstYmD9Z76SxXgE5A-koEk_x4QKJjDs0RCRmi65_o/s320/James+Houston+Turner+with+singer+Guy+Sebastian.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Guy Sebastian and I.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbHoL9O3-rc-ueRoDWsSZmf3ttZibaIEE6k_QgkT1q72H7isbwp11H_VHVjLlGml3TXy10gE_jXoMRy2bDGru-P7oVBjYA_Z8pKs5VF-2OZcgtj6NCJJiEh2EtE4xWHYycL6nLCJrM9pQ/s1600/James+Houston+Turner+at+G%2527day+USA+2011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbHoL9O3-rc-ueRoDWsSZmf3ttZibaIEE6k_QgkT1q72H7isbwp11H_VHVjLlGml3TXy10gE_jXoMRy2bDGru-P7oVBjYA_Z8pKs5VF-2OZcgtj6NCJJiEh2EtE4xWHYycL6nLCJrM9pQ/s320/James+Houston+Turner+at+G%2527day+USA+2011.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSN4k9rlEXxoyo1Le9Zit7WkYW8bL_G7xWRl48HR3PYwN0ke8A-utt6iCDQm-CWD_twms4EFivnRdqgkleyr8Ql7nWUTKiTIQJe80EJ_92HpfRBfBOon1Cc2_QZgyDLU_VHhXVcejYUeY/s1600/James+Houston+Turner+with+members+of+the+Qantas+Australian+Girls+Choir.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSN4k9rlEXxoyo1Le9Zit7WkYW8bL_G7xWRl48HR3PYwN0ke8A-utt6iCDQm-CWD_twms4EFivnRdqgkleyr8Ql7nWUTKiTIQJe80EJ_92HpfRBfBOon1Cc2_QZgyDLU_VHhXVcejYUeY/s320/James+Houston+Turner+with+members+of+the+Qantas+Australian+Girls+Choir.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">With some of the Australian Girls Choir.</div><br />
I would like to thank veteran Hollywood photographer, Bill Rich (<a href="http://www.therichimage.com/">http://www.therichimage.com/</a>) for most of the photos in this collection. Bill is not only a good friend and close mate, but one of the finest photographers I know. And I have worked with a lot. Large job or small -- if you want the best, contact Bill.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" src="http://www.facebook.com/plugins/like.php?href=http%3A%2F%2Fjameshoustonturner.blogspot.com%2F2011%2F01%2Fcool-dude-writer-goes-to-gday-usa.html&layout=standard&show_faces=true&width=450&action=like&colorscheme=light&height=80" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; height: 80px; overflow: hidden; width: 450px;"></iframe></div>James Houston Turnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08990976544289212635noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2564516602502895431.post-12788619754204009302011-01-16T20:01:00.007+10:302011-02-17T11:45:45.744+10:30A Cool Dude Writer Goes To G'day USA<div style="background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-origin: initial; font: 13px/19px Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0.6em; padding-left: 0.6em; padding-right: 0.6em; padding-top: 0.6em;"><a _mce_href="http://www.australia-week.com/" href="http://www.australia-week.com/">G'day USA</a> is one of the highest profile international promotional events in America. Hosted in eight cities by the Australian Government, G'day USA endeavors to strengthen bilateral collaboration between the two countries and promote new business opportunities.<br />
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<a _mce_href="www.jameshoustonturner.blogspot.com" href="http://jameshoustonturner.wordpress.com/wp-admin/www.jameshoustonturner.blogspot.com"><img _mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2011/01/lablacktiegala1.jpg" alt="G'day USA Black Tie Gala" height="132" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2011/01/lablacktiegala1.jpg" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px;" title="LABlackTieGala" width="450" /></a><br />
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The prestigious <a _mce_href="http://www.australia-week.com/events/los-angeles-events/la-black-tie-gala.html" href="http://www.australia-week.com/events/los-angeles-events/la-black-tie-gala.html">black tie gala</a> in Hollywood is the glamorous centerpiece of the fourteen-day event, which honors the contributions of Australians in their respective fields. Previous honorees include Cate Blanchett, Baz Luhrmann, Anthony LaPaglia, Mel Gibson, Nicole Kidman, Keith Urban, Olivia Newton John, Hugh Jackman, INXS, Naomi Watts, Russell Crowe, Kylie Minogue, Phillip Noyce, Eric Bana, Rachel Griffiths, Rod Laver, Simon Baker, Toni Collette, and Greg Norman.<br />
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Fashion is a big part of the G'day USA black tie gala. Actors, producers, directors, supermodels, rock stars, athletes -- they all scrub up and dress up and strut the red carpet lookin' good. Without airbrushing, too. Cool Dude Writers, of course, have the same highly-developed sense of fashion. I tell my wife that all the time although, as some of you may remember, we Cool Dude Writers sometimes get caught off guard.<br />
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The occasion was an interview that had been scheduled early one morning in connection with my previous thriller, <em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Identity-Factor-James-Houston-Turner/product-reviews/0958666415/ref=dp_top_cm_cr_acr_txt?ie=UTF8&showViewpoints=1">The Identity Factor</a></em>. And I do mean early -- 12:05am Adelaide time, which was 7:35am in Los Angeles. In my defense, I did not know the interview had been scheduled. It was a breakfast radio talk show for the captive audience on the LA freeways. A publicist in Los Angeles had arranged things with 1590 KKZZ but neglected to confirm it with me. Surprise. Surprise.<br />
<div><br />
Dark-thirty. The phone rings. I bolt out of bed wondering what's wrong (as we often think when the phone rings in the middle of the night). A cheery voice greets me: "One moment, please, for the Maria Sanchez show."<br />
<br />
So there I am, shivering, in the dark, in the <em>winter,</em> in a brick cottage in <a href="http://www.southaustralia.com/Adelaide.aspx">Adelaide</a> without central heat, with not a stitch of clothing on, conducting an interview on an abrasive rattan chair. An abrasive <em>cold</em> rattan chair. "How did you end up in Australia?" asked Maria. "What kinds of things did you smuggle behind the old Iron Curtain? How did you do all that amazing research for your book?"<br />
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<a _mce_href="www.jameshoustonturner.blogspot.com" href="http://jameshoustonturner.wordpress.com/wp-admin/www.jameshoustonturner.blogspot.com"><img _mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2011/01/003.jpg?w=127" alt="Cool Dude Writer James Houston Turner goes to G'day USA in Los Angeles" class="alignright size-medium wp-image-512" height="300" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2011/01/003.jpg?w=127" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; float: right;" title="The Converse or the Cowboy boots?" width="127" /></a>Was I coherent? Did Maria Sanchez wonder, "who is this clown with the chattering teeth?" I have no idea. Maria was one of those easy-to-talk-to radio hosts who makes you feel like you're having a friendly chat over coffee. My wife heard me answering questions and thought: <em>do I help him out here?</em> With a chuckle, she got up and brought me her fluffy pink bath robe. "Here you are, Mr.Cool Dude Writer," she whispered before going back to bed.<br />
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So you can bet your bottom dollar I won't be getting caught off guard at G'day USA. No way! I'm going to scrub up, dress up, and show everybody how I've got this black tie tuxedo fashion thing licked.<br />
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Let's see, do I wear the Converse or the Cowboy boots???<br />
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<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" src="http://www.facebook.com/plugins/like.php?href=http%3A%2F%2Fjameshoustonturner.blogspot.com%2F2011%2F01%2Fcool-dude-writer-at-gday-usa.html&layout=standard&show_faces=true&width=450&action=like&colorscheme=light&height=80" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; height: 80px; overflow: hidden; width: 450px;"></iframe></div><div><br />
</div></div>James Houston Turnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08990976544289212635noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2564516602502895431.post-2162464961221781062011-01-06T20:44:00.012+10:302011-01-06T21:19:44.045+10:30Defining Moments<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Wr5-97GSnszJaBsqCtsxA7lwJw5f4KbjovSl8QxHKwciXxCxTGlOZYC8cA-MeG2_VJ-dyROCbsR850QCKUmaUcW044kzUsj8YfZG16SP6GS7LozxXh77gyJCX35J8gOenC6ikR3ORcc/s1600/appletree.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Wr5-97GSnszJaBsqCtsxA7lwJw5f4KbjovSl8QxHKwciXxCxTGlOZYC8cA-MeG2_VJ-dyROCbsR850QCKUmaUcW044kzUsj8YfZG16SP6GS7LozxXh77gyJCX35J8gOenC6ikR3ORcc/s320/appletree.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559015395068887522" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px; "><p><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>James A. Michener, in his excellent memoir, <em><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/1991/12/30/books/books-of-the-times-michener-memoir-world-is-my-home.html?pagewanted=1" _mce_href="http://www.nytimes.com/1991/12/30/books/books-of-the-times-michener-memoir-world-is-my-home.html?pagewanted=1">The World Is My Home</a>, </em>tells a wonderful story from his childhood. Reading that vignette was a defining moment for me, for it expressed exactly why I write.</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span">Wrote Michener: "The farmer living at the end of our lane had an aging apple tree that had once been abundantly productive but had now lost its energy and ability to bear any fruit at all. The farmer, on an early spring day, hammered eight nails, long and rusty, into the trunk of the tree. Four were knocked in close to the ground on four different sides of the trunk, four higher up and well spaced about the circumference. That autumn a miracle happened. The tired old tree, having been goaded back to life, produced a bumper crop of juicy red apples, bigger and better than we had seen before. When I asked how this had happened, the farmer explained: 'Hammerin' in the rusty nails...reminded it that its job is to produce apples.' " Michener went on to say how a number of health issues were the "rusty nails" that goaded him into writing his memoir.</span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; ">My "nails," as many of you know, was cancer. Until that time, I lacked the discipline and skill required to be a successful writer. I had been blessed with a great education, an active imagination, a wide variety of life experiences, and I possessed an ability to collect ideas and boil them down into a story. But when the going got tough -- as it inevitably does for an artist -- I would move on to something else. I was a quitter.</span></p><div style="font-size: 13px; ">My fight against cancer, however, was a defining moment for me like the apple tree was for Michener. A line in the sand. A moment when I couldn't be a quitter. But it had its roots in an experience that had occurred many years before.<p></p><p>During my freshman year at Baker University, I studied <i>shorin-ryu</i> martial arts in the basement of the old Baker gymnasium. I learned eagerly, excelled quickly, and I remember taking my first test in Kansas City, at <a href="http://www.bushidokan.net/" _mce_href="http://www.bushidokan.net/">Bushidokan</a>. The legendary <a href="http://sakurabushidokan.homestead.com/home.html" _mce_href="http://sakurabushidokan.homestead.com/home.html">Jim Harrison</a> was Bushidokan's founder and master, and I will never forget him. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bruce_Lee" _mce_href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bruce_Lee">Bruce Lee</a> once called Jim Harrison "one of the most dangerous men in the world." Harrison was truly a modern Samurai warrior.</p></div><div style="font-size: 13px; ">Another student and I were called to the mat for our test. Harrison played with us for a while, allowing us to attack him with everything we had learned. He blocked and parried and deflected our blows, then suddenly turned on us with a vengeance. What happened next is still a vivid memory -- if you count blurs as vivid memories. After a flurry of fists and kicks, I found myself flat on my back. Both eyes were cut and swollen. My nose was bleeding. My body was aching.</div><div style="font-size: 13px; "><br /></div><div style="font-size: 13px; ">Screamed Harrison: "Get up or I'll kill you!" But I couldn't get up. I was exhausted. I could hardly see. Harrison ordered us again to get up -- and I wasn't about to lie there and discover whether he was screaming metaphorically or otherwise -- so I staggered to my feet only to be pummeled back down. That process was repeated several times, and each time Harrison would not let us quit. Finally, at the proverbial "brink of exhaustion" -- and it was more than a "brink," I can assure you -- we were invited to stand before him. The test was over.</div><div style="font-size: 13px; "><br /></div><div style="font-size: 13px; ">"Was that the worst beating you've ever experienced?" he asked.<br />"Yes, sinsei," we answered, gasping for air and struggling to stand.<br />"I didn't allow you to quit, did I?"<br />"No, sinsei."<br />"Okay, I want you to listen to what I'm about to tell you. If you <em>ever</em> find yourself in a fight, don't ever quit. I don't care how weary you are, how beaten, how bloody, how frightened -- <em>don't ever quit."</em><p></p></div><div style="font-size: 13px; ">He then looked at me and smiled. "Good job," he said, inspecting my black and swollen eyes (one eye was completely swollen shut). "The cuts will heal," he added, "but the scars will remain to remind you of this day. To remind you of this lesson."</div><div style="font-size: 13px; "><br /></div><div style="font-size: 13px; ">Don't ever quit.<p></p></div><div style="font-size: 13px; ">What we're made of -- our character -- emerges when the odds against us seem insurmountable. And sometimes it takes precisely such a fight -- a fight like cancer -- for us to recall the lessons we've been taught in order to achieve what we're meant to achieve. Without the challenge, we never truly rise. It's why I wear Jim Harrison's scar above my eye with a degree of pride. It's a reminder, along with my other scars, of the lessons I've had to learn the hard way, and what I am today: scarred but not defeated.</div><div style="font-size: 13px; "><span _mce_style="font-size: medium;" style="font-size: medium; "><strong><br /></strong></span></div><div style="font-size: 13px; "><span _mce_style="font-size: medium;" style="font-size: medium; "><strong>This year -- 2011 -- marks my twentieth anniversary of being alive. Back in 1991, I was given eighteen months. And while these twenty years have been exhilarating, especially being married to the love of my life, on other fronts they have not been easy.</strong></span></div><div style="font-size: 13px; "><br /></div><div style="font-size: 13px; ">Much of it was self-inflicted because of the path I've chosen: writing. And not just any writing, but fiction. As many of you know, the road to becoming a published novelist (same with actors and other artists) is one of the most difficult roads there is. It's no place for quitters. You've got to have "thick skin," strength, and stamina. "Sticktoitiveness," as I've heard it described.</div><div style="font-size: 13px; "><br /></div><div style="font-size: 13px; ">I started writing when I was ten, and my first professional writing job, for which I was actually paid, was in 1972, for the Dr Pepper soft drink company, in Dallas, Texas. Since then, when paid writing jobs weren't available, I've had to work at every kind of job imaginable to support my passion to write. I cannot tell you how many windows I've washed, how many nails I've hammered, how much concrete I've shoveled, how many toilets I've cleaned or floors I've vacuumed. And I didn't quit. Here I am!</div><div style="font-size: 13px; "><br /></div><div style="font-size: 13px; ">Robert Werden, a veteran Hollywood film publicist, once told me this: "the longer and harder the road, the sweeter it is at the top." And after having come through what I've come through, I can say this: the tougher the road, the more difficulties you encounter -- the greater the joy, inner strength and capability you will develop.</div><div style="font-size: 13px; "><span _mce_style="font-size: medium;" style="font-size: medium; "><strong><br /></strong></span></div><div style="font-size: 13px; "><span _mce_style="font-size: medium;" style="font-size: medium; "><strong>An easy life produces shallow roots; a hard life produces deep roots. It's true for trees. It's true for us.</strong></span></div><div style="font-size: 13px; "><br /></div><div style="font-size: 13px; ">So when my intrepid fictional hero, Aleksandr Talanov, gets the stuffing beat out of him in one of my books and later turns it to his benefit, remember: I've been there myself, just as many of you have. The world is full of hardship and triumph. My experiences help define who I am. Such experiences also make Talanov who he is: a character whose victorious battles against the odds always come at a cost, but produce solid character and lasting reward.</div><div style="font-size: 13px; "><br /></div><div style="font-size: 13px; ">I look forward to your partnership and comments in this exciting literary journey.</div><div style="font-size: 13px; "><br /></div><div style="font-size: 13px; "><br /></div><div style="font-size: 13px; "><iframe src="http://www.facebook.com/plugins/like.php?href=http%3A%2F%2Fjameshoustonturner.blogspot.com%2F2011%2F01%2Fdefining-moments.html&layout=standard&show_faces=true&width=450&action=like&colorscheme=light&height=80" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" style="border:none; overflow:hidden; width:450px; height:80px;" allowtransparency="true"></iframe></div><div style="font-size: 13px; "><br /></div><p style="font-size: 13px; "></p></span>James Houston Turnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08990976544289212635noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2564516602502895431.post-35060469986756266542010-12-14T16:13:00.024+10:302011-04-20T13:41:06.559+09:30Merry Christmas 2010<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font: normal normal normal 13px/19px Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0.6em; padding-left: 0.6em; padding-right: 0.6em; padding-top: 0.6em;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span"></span></b><br />
<div style="font-size: large;"><b>Most of us have Christmas traditions and I am no exception. Mine is a fairly recent tradition, dating back to the winter of 1992, which was our first Christmas after my successful cancer operation in Australia. At the time, I felt pretty chopped up and scared. I didn't know if I'd get to see Christmas, 1993. </b></div><a _mce_href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.blogspot.com/" href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.blogspot.com/"><img _mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/12/002.jpg?w=225" alt="James Houston Turner's first Christmas star" class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-496" height="300" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/12/002.jpg?w=225" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; float: left;" title="The Star of Kansas" width="225" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span"></span><br />
<div style="font-size: medium;">Broke, in debt, and in need of a roof over our heads, we left Australia (as required by my visa) and headed for my old hometown in Kansas, where my mom lived in a tiny little two-bedroom green house. She agreed to put us up until we could get back on our feet. We stopped by San Diego, loaded all our belongings into a rental truck (with "Old Blue," my 1983 Toyota 4x4 pick-up, on a tow-trailer on the back), and set off for Kansas. We nearly got stuck in a snowstorm in West Texas, but the skies cleared, the Interstate reopened, and we were able to push on.</div><div style="font-size: medium;"><br />
That first year in Kansas was hard. Wendy and I washed windows to survive. We mowed grass. Washed cars. Cleaned houses. Shoveled snow. And cut hair. But we made it. And we were happy. The hard times bonded us together stronger than ever and made us resilient and close.</div><div style="font-size: medium;"><br />
That first Christmas, we went out and got a tree. A farmer let us cut one off his property and we put it up in the little pink house where we were now living. (Yes, we actually moved from a green house to a pink house.) Anyway, we decorated the tree with a few ornaments. But we had no star. So I made one out of a coat hanger, wrapped it with tinsel, and stuck it on top.</div><div style="font-size: medium;"><br />
As the years passed and I continued to defy the odds by living another year, that star came to represent hope and happiness in the midst of hard times. And that star reminds me to this day about the most precious gifts of all: life and love, family and friends. You see, when I was facing the real possibility of dying, none of the other stuff was important. Everything I owned was unimportant. Any success I had achieved meant nothing. I simply wanted to live. I was not afraid of dying, for I had a deep faith in Yeshua and knew my life was in His hands. But I didn't want to die. I wanted to live and keep loving those around me: my family and friends.</div><div style="font-size: medium;"><br />
I got my wish. I beat the odds. Here I am. And that star still shines each year at Christmas in our home. That bent, cheap, hokey little coat hanger star made out of scraps. It's an ugly little thing by most standards. To me it's beautiful.</div><div style="font-size: medium;"><a _mce_href="www.jameshoustonturner.blogspot.com" href="http://jameshoustonturner.wordpress.com/wp-admin/www.jameshoustonturner.blogspot.com"><img _mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/12/0071.jpg?w=206" alt="The coat hanger star still shines on James Houston Turner's Christmas tree" class="alignright size-medium wp-image-501" height="300" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/12/0071.jpg?w=206" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; float: right;" title="James Houston Turner's Christmas tree" width="206" /></a><br />
I guess I can relate to it on another level, too, because I was once refused a job here in Adelaide because I was too ugly ("unpresentable," was the word used, referring to the facial scars from my operation). Did that bother me? Sure, it did. But a lot of people have it worse. A lot worse. So I realized there were always going to be a few jerks out there who judged people by their looks, and I decided to got on with the important aspects of doing something with my life rather than complaining. So I put up that little star each year as a reminder of everything I <i>do</i> have. It's also a reminder that the hard years need not be unhappy years.</div><div style="font-size: medium;"><br />
So this Christmas, I want to say thanks. For your love and friendship. And for taking the time to participate in the excitement of my new publishing contract by emailing and phoning me with your comments. It has been a long hard road to get here, but here I am. You didn't have to take the time to write, but you did. You took the time. You really didn't get anything out of the deal. It was your gift to me and I know that. And I am grateful. More than you can imagine.</div><div style="font-size: medium;"><br />
God bless each and every one of you. May your Christmas be filled with love, life, laughter, and good health.</div><div style="font-size: medium;"><br />
The rest is but tinsel on the tree.</div><div style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: medium;"><iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" src="http://www.facebook.com/plugins/like.php?href=http%3A%2F%2Fjameshoustonturner.blogspot.com%2F2010%2F12%2Fmerry-christmas-2011.html&layout=standard&show_faces=true&width=450&action=like&colorscheme=light&height=80" style="border: none; height: 80px; overflow: hidden; width: 450px;"></iframe></div></div>James Houston Turnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08990976544289212635noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2564516602502895431.post-748522175621039562010-12-09T10:05:00.007+10:302011-02-17T11:47:28.871+10:30The Fine Art of Opening Champagne<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"></span><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="strong" mce_style="font-weight: bold;" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">All Cool Dude Writers know the fine art of opening Champagne.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b> Whether aste spumante, sparkling cider, or the real stuff -- there is simply no better way to celebrate a book deal.</b></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">And celebrating I am, <i>because I've just signed a contract with Comfort Publishing</i> for my "Ludlumesque" espionage novel, <i>Department Thirteen,</i> which chronicles a week in the life of Aleksandr Talanov, a retired KGB informant who is happily married to a woman he does not love. But when a group of assassins from his past narrowly miss killing him and his wife, Talanov discovers he has broken the first rule of survival by unwittingly falling in love with the woman he must now fall <em>out</em> of love with in order to save her. It is the story of a man who is capable and suddenly incapable at the same time: fearless and afraid, ice-cold and yet struggling against the "thaw" that he did not had occurred in his protective insulation, which now makes him vulnerable. Set mainly in Australia, Vanuatu, and Switzerland, the book is based on Department Thirteen, the actual assassination and sabotage unit of the old KGB, as well as my years as a smuggler behind the old Iron Curtain.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><a href="http://www.comfortpublishing.com/content/default.aspx"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">Comfort Publishing</span></span></span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"> is a mid-sized general trade book publisher in North Carolina that publishes about 30-50 books per year (similar to what Bloomsbury was for J.K. Rowling!). <i>Department Thirteen</i> is slated for release in mid-2011. Details about its upcoming launch and United States book tour in October will be posted soon on <a href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.com/">my website</a>.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">"What I like most about this book is its twisting, turning, completely unpredictable storyline," says Pam Tolen, Senior Vice President of <a href="http://www.pubmatch.org/profile/461/comfort-publishing.html">Comfort Publishing's Book Division</a>. "No wonder <i>The Dallas Morning News</i> called it "Ludlumesque," after the great novelist, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Ludlum">Robert Ludlum</a>. Not only that, Jim's novel is extremely timely in light of the Russian spies caught operating in the United States. The time is ripe for a hero like Talanov, who helped the West during the Cold War and whose experience in KGB sabotage and spy tactics makes him a valuable asset. Jim has a series of Talanov thrillers planned, and this one definitely has film potential. Studios call us regularly looking for books like this one."</span></span></span></span></span></span></div><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">Soooo,</span></span></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"> can you see now why I've been into the Champagne? But opening it the right way is a must.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">I was instructed in the fine art of opening <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Champagne_(wine)">Champagne</a> (as well as how to dance tango and cook soufflé) by a close friend of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stanley_Marcus">Stanley Marcus</a>, of legendary <a href="http://www.neimanmarcus.com/">Neiman-Marcus</a> fame. That close friend was none other than my Aunt Hazel. Aunt Hazel was a super cool, world class, jet-setting, socialite ballroom dancer -- the original Auntie Mame -- my mom's fiery, red-headed younger sister. I still have the full-length Neiman-Marcus faux-fur coat that she bought me just after I graduated from Baker University. Eat your heart out, fluffy pink bathrobe...</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">But back to Champagne.</span></span></span></span><br />
<a href="http://jameshoustonturner.wordpress.com/files/2009/10/heidsieck01.jpg" mce_href="http://jameshoustonturner.wordpress.com/files/2009/10/heidsieck01.jpg"><img alt="" class="alignleft size-full wp-image-152" height="128" mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.wordpress.com/files/2009/10/heidsieck01.jpg" src="http://jameshoustonturner.wordpress.com/files/2009/10/heidsieck01.jpg" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; float: left;" title="heidsieck01" width="128" /></a><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">"<a href="http://www.piper-heidsieck.com/">Piper Heidsieck</a>, of course, is the <i>only</i> Champagne one should buy and it is to be opened this way," instructed Aunt Hazel in the formal dining room of her luxurious high-rise apartment in Dallas, on the banks of <a href="http://www.turtlecreekassociation.org/">Turtle Creek</a>. She carefully unfastened the wire cage, being careful to keep a hand on top of the cork to prevent it from shooting out unexpectedly. She then tipped the bottle to a forty-five degree angle, grasped the cork firmly and twisted the bottle. "Remember: twist the bottle, not the cork, at forty-five degrees. This is most important. The angle allows the carbon dioxide to escape without foaming the Champagne." She paused, an empty flute in one hand, the bottle of Heidsieck in the other. "Have you got all that?"</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">"Yeah, yeah," I said. "Forty-five degrees."</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">"Are you sure? One mustn't waste a drop. This <span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" style="font-style: italic;">is</span> Heidsieck, you know..."</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">"I'm sure," I said, nodding toward the empty flute, my implication obvious: <span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" style="font-style: italic;">get on with it.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">She raised a skeptical eyebrow and poured.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">Some weeks later, my girlfriend from Kansas City came for a visit and I decided to impress her with my newly-acquired skill. I was in my research-paper-writing-days (a skill that enabled me to wriggle out of many a test), and -- naturally -- I considered myself a Cool Dude Writer of sorts. I mean -- I wrote. I drank the finest Champagne. And none of that cheap stuff with the plastic stopper, either. Heidsieck had a <span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" style="font-style: italic;">cork!</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">Ready to impress, I filled a picnic basket with the finest gourmet items, loaded everything into my dune buggy (bright orange, no less), and to the grassy banks of Turtle Creek we went. I snapped a blanket out on the grass, and with a confident smile, spread out our Provincial feast. I then produced my prized bottle of Heidsieck.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">"M'lady," I said, allowing her to inspect the label.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">She nodded, clearly impressed.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">Turtle Creek is actually somewhat of a misnomer. It is not really a "creek" in the traditional sense (where it's often pronounced "crick"). In truth, Turtle Creek was more of a long narrow lake, the energetic stream of bygone years now tamed and lined with thousands of shade trees and flowering azaleas. With several black swans gliding by gracefully offshore, I handed my girlfriend two empty flutes, and with the cavalier flair of the Cool Dude Writer that I was, removed the wire cage from the neck of the bottle and tossed it aside.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">An instant later, the cork shot out of the bottle like a bullet, smacking me in the forehead before richocheting out into the middle of the lake. Champagne spewed everywhere as I reeled back, unable to see anything but spinning white spots. By the time my vision had cleared, a large "goose egg" had appeared on my forehead.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">It's not easy being a Cool Dude Writer. I mean, Lee Child, David Morrell, Michael Connelly, Rick Castle -- these dudes have got it down pat. Me? I keep practicing all the right moves, but -- alas and *sigh* -- someone always discovers the truth.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">Which is not good for a guy who tells lies for a living!</span></span></span></span><br />
<div style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" src="http://www.facebook.com/plugins/like.php?href=http%3A%2F%2Fjameshoustonturner.blogspot.com%2F2010%2F11%2Ffine-art-of-opening-champagne.html&layout=standard&show_faces=true&width=450&action=like&colorscheme=light&height=80" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; height: 80px; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; width: 450px;"></iframe></div>James Houston Turnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08990976544289212635noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2564516602502895431.post-60838830745698363852010-10-26T15:37:00.018+10:302010-10-28T19:26:09.786+10:30Jesus vs Christians<div style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font: normal normal normal 13px/19px Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; padding-top: 0.6em; padding-right: 0.6em; padding-bottom: 0.6em; padding-left: 0.6em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; "><p><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8QQtfjnvdJQ&feature=related" _mce_href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8QQtfjnvdJQ&feature=related" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Ask anyone what they think about Jesus</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> and most of the time you'll get answers like these: love, grace, mercy, forgiveness. Ask those same people what they think about <em>Christians</em> and quite often you'll get a different answer: condemnation, hypocrisy, hatred, division. What has happened? Why does Christianity as a religion provoke such a different response than the founder?</span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Have we as Christians turned Jesus from a blessing into a curse, not by our association with Him, but by His association with us?</b></span></p><p style="font-size: medium; ">To me, what gives Christianity a bad name are the protests, lectures, <a href="http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-2422138213120376038#" _mce_href="http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-2422138213120376038#" target="_blank">music videos of hatred</a>, the glares of disgust and disapproval. Does our world have problems? Of course. Are there evils worth fighting? Absolutely. Combat, however, doesn't change people. Jesus does. He changes hearts. He reconciles people with God. Which in turn changes actions. Christianity, however, has too often emphasized a strict moral culture that focuses more on external actions than internal values. In other words, we've got it bass-ackwards.</p><p style="font-size: medium; ">That kind of church culture is what grinds a lot of people. Don't get me wrong: it's awesome hanging out with people who are bursting with love and joy. Enthusiastic people who help one another. Who reach out to others. People who laugh when you laugh. Who grieve when you grieve. Who accept you as you are. Who take an interest in you. Who want your involvement with them. People who bring you food when you're sick. People you can trust. People who become family because of your common bond of faith. <i>That</i> is church at its best, and there are <i>huge</i> numbers of Christians who personify those qualities.</p><p style="font-size: medium; ">But sometimes church becomes a sanitized culture that refuses admission to those who are different. People who don't fit the mold. I attended a church once that declared a ban on wearing shorts. It was stinking hot back where they were in summertime, but rules were rules and shorts were not allowed. Conform or get out. Never mind those who had already left because they were not allowed to drink "demon" alcohol.</p><p style="font-size: medium; ">That kind of squeaky clean culture is not what Christianity is all about. Scottish clergyman, Lord George Fielden MacLeod (1885-1991) said it this way: "Jesus was not crucified between two candles, but on a cross between two thieves. On the town garbage heap. At a crossroads so cosmopolitan they had to write the charge against him in three languages. At the kind of place where cynics talk smut, and thieves curse and soldiers gambled. That is where He died, and what He died about. And that is where churchmen should be, and what churchmen should be about."</p><p style="font-size: medium; "><a href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.blogspot.com/" _mce_href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.blogspot.com"><img class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-485" title="yeshua1" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/10/yeshua1.jpg?w=300" _mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/10/yeshua1.jpg?w=300" alt="" width="300" height="291" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; float: left; " /></a>To do this, you've got to be made of tough stuff. Jesus was. He wasn't the cuddly stuffed doll we've been led to believe he was. Nor were his followers. They were rough, rugged, flawed individuals who defied the world rather than chased it, as is the case today, where outward affluence is valued more than inner character. I wonder: would that apostolic vagrant, Paul, be welcomed in church as a teacher today? Would Jesus? Maybe...if they wore long pants.</p><p style="font-size: medium; ">The fact is: Jesus changed lives by hanging out with people on the street. He partied with them: "Out of wine? Here, let me make some for you." (And we're not talking grape juice, either, but the good stuff. Better than a South Australian shiraz, if you can imagine that.) He associated with drunkards and prostitutes. With (gasp) non-Christians. With the reviled of society. With the sick. With atheists. With people of all religions, at the crossroads of the world. With people in need.</p><p style="font-size: medium; ">I once spent two years in seminary -- aka "cemetery" -- and found it so distasteful and lifeless I dropped out. Theology, I discovered, doesn't change lives. A changed life may decide to study theology, but theology itself doesn't change lives. Love does. That's why Jesus was such a revolutionary. He was, quite literally, God among us. And in that, showed us what God was all about.</p><p style="font-size: medium; "><a href="http://www.tonycampolo.org/" _mce_href="http://www.tonycampolo.org/">Tony Campolo</a> is the associate pastor of the Mount Carmel Baptist Church in West Philadalphia, and an emeritus professor of sociology at Eastern University. On that campus is the Campolo School of Social Change. It serves inner city schools as well as AIDS hospices and Christian service programs in Haiti, the Dominican Republic, Africa, and Canada.</p><p style="font-size: medium; ">When Campolo gives speeches, <a href="http://www.progressive.org/?q=mag_camp0805" _mce_href="http://www.progressive.org/?q=mag_camp0805">he sometimes opens them this way</a>: "I have three things I'd like to say. First, while you were sleeping last night, 30,000 kids died of starvation from diseases related to malnutrition. Second, most of you don't give a shit. [And third] What's worse is that you're more upset with the fact that I said shit than the fact that 30,000 kids died last night."</p><p style="font-size: medium; ">That kind of coarse language might offend people, and that's exactly my point: quit being offended about the stuff that doesn't matter and start caring more about people. Incidentally, the apostle Paul beat Campolo to the punch when he said, "More than that, I count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but <a href="http://bible.org/article/brief-word-study-skuvbalon" _mce_href="http://bible.org/article/brief-word-study-skuvbalon">shit</a> in order that I may gain Christ (Philippians 3:8).</p><p style="font-size: medium; ">Years ago, I belonged to a church that wanted to have a foot washing service for members, who were invited to bring along friends and neighbors. Church leaders wanted to do it because Jesus once washed the disciples' feet, thus demonstrating how Christians should serve others. I agreed with their motivation but suggested they wash cars instead. To me, that was meeting the needs of people in our area. My idea was shot down. It wasn't spiritual/biblical enough. The foot washing went ahead and was poorly attended. Friends and neighbors were simply not interested.</p><p style="font-size: medium; ">I'm not sure how to end this blog, because I don't pretend to have all the answers. And what is right for me may not be right for you. I do know when I decided to write mainstream fiction and not Christian fiction, I caught some flack from a few Christians. But I have never regretted my decision. I love gutsy non-conformist lovers of God who enjoy a stiff tequila or a swig of shiraz. People of character and integrity who live and die defending the lives of others. That is who Jesus was (okay, without the tequila, although I've toasted Him with blue agave on numerous occasions). And those are the characters you'll meet in my books.</p><p style="font-size: medium; ">Now, if only they'll hang out with me wearing these baggy cargo shorts...</p><p style="font-size: medium; "><iframe src="http://www.facebook.com/plugins/like.php?href=http%3A%2F%2Fjameshoustonturner.blogspot.com%2F2010%2F10%2Fjesus-vs-christians.html&layout=standard&show_faces=true&width=450&action=like&colorscheme=light&height=80" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" style="border:none; overflow:hidden; width:450px; height:80px;" allowtransparency="true"></iframe></p><p style="font-size: medium; "><br /></p></div>James Houston Turnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08990976544289212635noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2564516602502895431.post-17951320999676354062010-08-29T08:17:00.015+09:302010-08-31T08:44:49.389+09:30Those Pompous, Arrogant Know-It-Alls<div style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font: normal normal normal 13px/19px Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; padding-top: 0.6em; padding-right: 0.6em; padding-bottom: 0.6em; padding-left: 0.6em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; "><p><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">No, I'm not talking about the Idol judges. <i>I'm talking about writers.</i> You know the type: rodomontading, bombastic raconteurs, forever gasconading with big fancy words.</span></b></p><p>Thankfully, I'm not like that (as you can tell!). But it's not because I haven't tried. I just couldn't get away with it. Let me tell you what I mean.</p><p><a href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.blogspot.com/" mce_href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.blogspot.com"><img class="alignright size-thumbnail wp-image-361" title="James_Houston_Turner_EE07" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/james_houston_turner_ee07.jpg?w=104" mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/james_houston_turner_ee07.jpg?w=104" alt="Near Checkpoint Charlie, old East Berlin." width="104" height="150" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; float: right; " /></a>I was in Poland in my early days as a smuggler behind the old <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iron_Curtain">Iron Curtain</a>. The <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/East_Germany">East German</a> guards had reluctantly allowed our car past, having looked in every imaginable hiding place with sniffer dogs and mirrors on long handles. Finding nothing, they had waved us on. It was a warm, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indian_summer">Indian summer</a> day and I was bringing hard currency for the support of a contact.</p><p>After making our delivery, I paid a visit to a retirement home. It was more of an institution. A dilapidated old house with barrels outside where sauerkraut was prepared. The place was full of lonely old people. Much like today. Shuffled off to some other place so as not to interfere in the lives of their kids. Through translators, I spent a few wonderful hours chatting about our favorite topic: food. Not surprisingly, no one mentioned the sauerkraut.</p><p><a href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.blogspot.com/" mce_href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.blogspot.com"><img class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-362" title="James_Houston_Turner_EE05" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/james_houston_turner_ee051.jpg?w=300" mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/james_houston_turner_ee051.jpg?w=300" alt="James Houston Turner behind the old Iron Curtain" width="210" height="163" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; float: left; " /></a></p><p><a href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.blogspot.com/" mce_href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.blogspot.com"><img class="size-medium wp-image-364 alignright" title="James_Houston_Turner_EE08" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/james_houston_turner_ee08.jpg?w=166" mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/james_houston_turner_ee08.jpg?w=166" alt="Photo by former Iron Curtain smuggler, James Houston Turner." width="84" height="151" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; float: right; " /></a>I then had the privilege of attending a children's camp in a neighboring village. Ranging between the ages of nine and fourteen, the children spoke no English except for a beaming young boy named Norbert, who ran up to me yelling, "Pizza ... Mickey Mouse ... Disneyland!" That was the extent of his English. He gave me a hug and called his friends over. His friends all hugged me and began talking in rapid Polish. They were wonderful kids: generous and giving and honest in their affection, as kids usually are.</p><p>The town where the camp was located had a dilapidated train station that saw an old steam engine hiss to a stop twice a week with its string of sooty carriages. Huge trees shaded streets of broken pavement, and along each side were large three-story houses with louvered shutters, slate roofs and crumbling plaster walls. Years of war and Soviet occupation had been hard on the people. No one could afford the upkeep. Coal was the main source of heating. The air smelled of it. Food was also scarce. Bread lines were more common than bread.</p><p><a href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.blogspot.com/" mce_href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.blogspot.com"><img class="alignleft size-thumbnail wp-image-370" title="James_Houston_Turner_EEkids02" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/james_houston_turner_eekids022.jpg?w=150" mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/james_houston_turner_eekids022.jpg?w=150" alt="The undampened spirits of kids in an Iron Curtain children's camp." width="150" height="102" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; float: left; " /></a>But these hardships did not dampen the spirits of the children, who were singing happily as we walked to the station to watch the train arrive. It was the way kids hung out together in a country without shopping malls.</p><p>The station itself was an old wooden structure with scalloped trim. Once grand and picturesque, it was rundown like everything else. With the smell of coal heavy in the air, we marched up the ramp and onto the concrete platform as the train ground to a stop. Passengers paused to look at the music and laughter filling the air.</p><p>We approached an old woman with a wooden push cart piled high with strawberries and cherries. She was bent over with age and wore a faded floral dress. She had a bandana tied over her hair. The kids pooled their meager savings and bought two small paper sacks bulging with fruit. I offered to buy each of them a sack but they wouldn't hear of it. Nor would they permit me to buy a sack for myself. Instead, they then offered me some of theirs. Over twenty kids sharing two small sacks of fruit.</p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><b>I will never forget the magnificent taste of that fruit. Or those children that taught me so much about generosity and happiness. The joy for those kids wasn't in getting everything they wanted. The joy for them was in sharing.</b></span></p><p><a href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.blogspot.com/" mce_href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.blogspot.com"><img class="alignright size-thumbnail wp-image-372" title="James_Houston_Turner_EEkids05" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/james_houston_turner_eekids051.jpg?w=150" mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/james_houston_turner_eekids051.jpg?w=150" alt="Norbert" width="150" height="110" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; float: right; " /></a>Meals for the camp were furnished by a local restaurant. Breakfast consisted of a huge pot of spaghetti boiled in milk. Lunch was a huge pile of sandwiches made of dense bread and homemade jam. Dinner was chicken and vegetables. Remember, these were Iron Curtain days and food was both scarce and expensive. The East Bloc existed purely for the benefit of the Soviet Union, which took the best of everything Poland (and other occupied Eastern European countries) had to offer. I have personally stood in a bread line for over three hours, starting before dawn, in order to buy our rationed loaf of bread. On a train, I once gave a small "brick" of coffee to a woman. She grabbed me in a tearful hug and said, "This would have cost me two month's salary."</p><p><a href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.blogspot.com/" mce_href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.blogspot.com"><img class="alignleft size-thumbnail wp-image-368" title="James_Houston_Turner_EEkids07" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/james_houston_turner_eekids072.jpg?w=150" mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/james_houston_turner_eekids072.jpg?w=150" alt="Dorotha" width="150" height="133" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; float: left; " /></a>Dinner the first day consisted of chicken breast and vegetables. On the second day, we had chicken thighs and vegetables. On the third day, we had chicken wings and vegetables. And on the fourth day, we had what was left over -- chicken intestines and vegetables.</p><p>Yes, chicken intestines. They had been prepared in a sweet and sour sauce in order to masquerade the taste of intestine, not to mention the gelatinous giblet paste that had been packed inside them. It looked terrible. It smelled revolting.</p><p>But I wasn't about to let these kids see me as a spoiled Westerner. No way. I was a Cool Dude Writer. I knew big words. I could eat anything and not complain. So I dug in and made a big deal of how much I loved the meal.</p><p>"Ummm, yum," I moaned with mock delight while nodding and smacking my lips.</p><p>I could see the kids watching me carefully while they picked at their vegetables. Vegetables <span mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">only,</span> mind you -- while ignoring the intestines -- which should have been a major clue. But I was oblivious to the clue because I was so focused on letting them know how cool I was.</p><p>I sliced off more bites - "Ummm, yum," I exclaimed while washing them down with the artificially brilliant yellow drink we had been given.</p><p>Suddenly, nearly every kid at the table began scraping their sweet-and-sour intestines onto my plate. "I'm not eating this stuff," they all began saying. The translaters, who interpreted for me, howled with laughter at the shocked look on my face.</p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><b>Yes, those kids taught me a valuable lesson: </b></span><span mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><b>don't try to be someone you're not.</b></span></span></p><p>So you see: being a know-it-all Cool Dude Writer isn't something I'm very good at. Someone always discovers the truth. My abruptly grounded ego notwithstanding, I have never eaten chicken intestines since.</p><p><iframe src="http://www.facebook.com/plugins/like.php?href=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.blogger.com%2Fpost-edit.g%3FblogID%3D2564516602502895431%26postID%3D1795132099967635406&layout=standard&show_faces=true&width=450&action=like&colorscheme=light&height=80" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" style="border:none; overflow:hidden; width:450px; height:80px;" allowtransparency="true"></iframe></p></div>James Houston Turnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08990976544289212635noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2564516602502895431.post-5112298065125561412010-08-24T12:20:00.021+09:302010-08-28T15:26:30.846+09:30Australia's Political Message to the World: Grime Pays<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">Australia recently held an election and the subtext of that election was this: grime pays -- </span></b><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">he who plays the dirtiest wins</span></b></i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">.</span></b><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">Or, in this case, </span></b><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">"she".</span></b></i><div><br /></div><div>It was a sad day for politics. Not that politics has ever been for sissies. It's hardball. Your life becomes the proverbial fishbowl. Every detail is scrutinized, analyzed, sensationalized, paraded, caricatured, cartooned, berated, and blogged. You know the drill. "Par for the course," as the familiar golfing metaphor goes. People who go into politics know this. They've got to be tough. It's not just a recommendation; it's a requirement.</div><div><br /></div><div>Be that as it may, we still expect a certain amount of integrity from those we elect. We trust them to do what's right for us and for the country. That doesn't mean each individual gets everything he or she wants. It <i>should</i> mean the needs and concerns of individuals get heard and balanced with the needs and concerns of other individuals ... that decisions will then be made which benefit the greater community. In other words: <i>it's about serving the people</i>.</div><div><br /></div><div>The background of the Australian election is this: Kevin Rudd was elected Prime Minister in 2007 on a platform of educational reform, cutting greenhouse emissions, and increasing Australia's profile in world affairs. Youthful, energetic, and full of promise, Rudd was swept into office by a landslide. But Rudd's progress stalled. His popularity plummeted. And Rudd's Australian Labor Party (ALP) did what any good political organization -- or tin-pot dictator -- would do: <i>they staged a coup</i>. They killed off their leader. In Australia's case, I'm speaking politically. But the similarities are tragically similar.</div><div><br /></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">You see, these days politics is not so much about policy, it's about popularity. How in the world is a leader supposed to lead -- to make tough choices -- when his party cares more about winning the next election than doing what's right by the people? No wonder nothing gets done. No one wants to make a tough choice for fear of falling ratings.</span></b></div><div><br /></div><div>Recalling the drama of ancient Rome, when Julius Caesar was stabbed by his good buddy, Brutus, Rudd was unceremoniously "<a href="http://www.perthnow.com.au/news/stalking-reporter-mark-latham-confronts-julia-gillard/story-e6frg12c-1225902497295">knifed</a>" by his deputy, Julia Gillard, who led a blindside revolt against Rudd's leadership. The ALP voted him out and installed Gillard as Prime Minister just days after Gillard was proclaiming her steadfast loyalty, insisting she was positively not interested in the job. Three cheers for the "grime" of politics ... for playing dirty to get ahead. Thankfully, the deed did not go unnoticed by the world, as this <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RQ_s6V1Kv6A">video spoof</a> from Taiwan illustrates (subtitled in English).</div><div><br /></div><div>Did Rudd deserve what he got? Was a change in leadership warranted? If he was a <a href="http://www.onlineopinion.com.au/view.asp?article=10601">waffler on making important decisions</a>, then his advisors should have kicked his butt. That's why you have trusted advisors. To tell you hard truths you need to hear. But that didn't happen. What happened was a betrayal.</div><div><br /></div><div>The rub for me wasn't that change occurred. It was needed to get Australia back on track. The rub for me was that the people Rudd trusted lied to his face and then stabbed him in the back. What does this say to the governments of other nations? It says beware of Australia. They will betray you if it serves their purposes, no matter what they tell you to your face. It means "fair dinkum" -- doing what's right and fair -- no longer is the Aussie standard. It's an unfortunate message, because there are many honest, hard-working people in government. Sadly, in this election, that's not what people saw.</div><div><br /></div><div>The good news is that a major segment of the Australian public voiced their disapproval at the ballot box. At least on the street (in many places, at least) "fair dinkum" still rules.</div><div><br /></div><div>"We the people." It's something elected representatives should never forget.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><iframe src="http://www.facebook.com/plugins/like.php?href=http%3A%2F%2Fjameshoustonturner.blogspot.com%2F2010%2F08%2Faustralias-political-message-to-world.html&layout=standard&show_faces=true&width=450&action=like&colorscheme=light&height=80" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" style="border:none; overflow:hidden; width:450px; height:80px;" allowtransparency="true"></iframe></div><div><br /></div><div></div>James Houston Turnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08990976544289212635noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2564516602502895431.post-37364650333029546682010-08-21T09:09:00.016+09:302010-08-23T05:51:28.404+09:30White Death<div style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font: normal normal normal 13px/19px Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; padding-top: 0.6em; padding-right: 0.6em; padding-bottom: 0.6em; padding-left: 0.6em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; "><div class="mceTemp" mce_style="text-align: left;" style="text-align: left; "><span mce_name="strong" mce_style="font-weight: bold;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">I'm a junkie. An addict. And I have been for a long time. It's a confession that's hard to make, especially here in public, but "white death" has been a part of my life for a long time. Too long. It's a situation that probably wouldn't have changed had I not spread rose hips jam on my scone that fateful day. Never mind the butter. I'll save that for another day.</span></span></div><p></p><div class="mceTemp" draggable=""><dl id="attachment_221" class="wp-caption alignleft" style="float: left; border-top-width: 1px; border-right-width: 1px; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-width: 1px; border-top-style: solid; border-right-style: solid; border-bottom-style: solid; border-left-style: solid; border-top-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-right-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-bottom-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-left-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); text-align: center; background-color: rgb(243, 243, 243); padding-top: 4px; margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; border-top-left-radius: 3px 3px; border-top-right-radius: 3px 3px; border-bottom-right-radius: 3px 3px; border-bottom-left-radius: 3px 3px; width: 310px; "><dt class="wp-caption-dt"><a href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/james_houston_turner10-01-aa1.jpg" mce_href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/james_houston_turner10-01-aa1.jpg"><img class="size-medium wp-image-221" title="James_Houston_Turner10.01.aa" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/james_houston_turner10-01-aa1.jpg?w=300" mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/james_houston_turner10-01-aa1.jpg?w=300" alt="" width="300" height="287" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-color: initial; " /></a></dt><dd class="wp-caption-dd" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 4px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 4px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; ">James Houston Turner</dd></dl></div><p></p><p>My wife, Wendy, sometimes gets on health kicks. She did it with millet. This time it was sugar. That friendly sweetener in the white porcelain bowl with the cute little spoon. The sweetener that put Hawaii on the map. The sweetener that made rhubarb pie edible. The sweetener that's naturally low in calories. Only 15 of the little buggers in every teaspoon. Which is not a lot. Except when you drink twelve of them in a can of soft drink. Or spread a hundred of them on a scone as I was doing.</p><p>And I got caught.</p><p>"Do you have <span mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">any idea</span> what you're doing?" Wendy asked.<br />"Making this scone taste really good," I replied. "Not that the millet didn't do the trick..."<br />"How can you say that when <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Otto_Heinrich_Warburg">Otto Heinrich Warburg</a> won the Nobel Prize in Medicine for proving <a href="http://healingtools.tripod.com/primecause1.html/">sugar consumption causes cancer</a>?"<br />"Otto who what?"<br />"He says the primary cause of cancer is sugar fermentation in the body. <span mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">Sugar!</span> White death! The stuff you're slathering on that scone! From now on, sugar is <i>banned."</i><br />"You mean like pornography, assault rifles, and microwave popcorn?"<br />Wendy was in no mood for jokes. Sugar was banned.</p><p>My wife can sometimes take a hard line when it comes to health. No nonsense. Cut to the chase. And she can be rather "enthusiastic" with her convictions. This time, as usual, she had reasons that were pretty convincing. The rise in cancer did, in fact, match the rise in sugar consumption. Eating foods or drinking drinks with added sugar spikes insulin, which in turn promotes inflammation and acts as fertilizer for tumors (says neuroscientist, <a href="http://www.anticancerbook.com/story.html">Dr. David Servan-Schreiber</a>, a professor at the University of Pittsburgh School of Medicine, in his excellent book, <span mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "><a href="http://www.anticancerbook.com/book.html">Anticancer: A New Way of Life</a>, </span>pages 76-82 [Scribe Publications, 2008). He writes: "Those who eat low-sugar Asian diets tend to have five to ten times fewer hormonally-driven cancers [ie, breast and prostate] than those with diets high in sugar and refined foods. All the scientific literature points in the same direction: people who want to protect themselves from cancer should seriously reduce their consumption of sugar [including high-fructose corn syrup]. There is no limit on fruit, so long as it is not sweetened with sugar or syrup. Another option is to use natural sugar substitutes that don't cause a rise in blood glucose or insulin."</p><p>And this is where it gets interesting!</p><p><a href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/024.jpg" mce_href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/024.jpg"><img class="alignleft size-thumbnail wp-image-222" title="024" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/024.jpg?w=150" mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/024.jpg?w=150" alt="" width="150" height="112" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; float: left; " /></a>I came home one day to see money changing hands in our dining room. A wad of bills was being given to Wendy by a friend in exchange for a "key" (kilo) of white powder. The exchange was not taking place in some dark, seedy alley. It was taking place right there, in our dining room, in front of the gorgeous photos of our grandchildren.</p><p><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">Wendy was trafficking white powder. A mysterious white powder called </span></b><span mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">xylitol</span></b></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">.</span></b></p><p>Originally manufactured from birch bark (although now made from maize/corn husks and cobs), <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Xylitol">xylitol</a> is a natural sugar substitute that tastes exactly like sugar. But it does not spike insulin levels like sugar and so is advertised as being safe for diabetics. And because of its anti-bacterial/anti-fungal properties, xylitol can be used to treat sore throats and ear infections. It has also been shown to strengthen bones, thus showing promise as a treatment for osteoporosis.</p><p>I had heard of xylitol because it helps remineralize teeth. Contrary to sugar, xylitol does not cause tooth decay, but actually helps <i>restore</i> teeth by killing bacteria. It also allows bio-available calcium to penetrate teeth. Having had massive radiation treatment on my face after my cancer operation, I now use a tooth mousse with xylitol that helps prevent gum erosion (a side-effect of radiation treatment). The results for me have been astounding.</p><p>So while sugar has indeed been banned in our house -- except small quantities for baking (xylitol's properties kills the yeast in Wendy's perfect bread) -- we now use this fantastic substitute.</p><p>But Wendy does not do things half-heartedly. She decided to order it in quantity. A large quantity. Meaning a big carton of the stuff arrived on our doorstep one day. It almost took a forklift to get it into the house. We took to selling it to friends and neighbors to whom she enthusiastically preaches the xylitol message.</p><p><a href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/0451.jpg" mce_href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/0451.jpg"><img class="alignright size-medium wp-image-303" title="Dealing Xylitol" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/0451.jpg?w=300" mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/0451.jpg?w=300" alt="" width="300" height="191" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; float: right; " /></a>So while my sugar addiction's been broken -- and without any night sweats or hard prison time -- I am now a dealer of xylitol for our sweet-toothed friends and neighbors. I don't know what my mom would think of all this: she was pretty old-fashioned about sugar. My dentist, on the other hand, is over the moon.</p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><b>However, I'm still working pet names to replace the banned names of "sugar" and "sweetie."</b></span></p><p>A cool-dude writer with no remaining sugar addiction, author James Houston Turner pushes xylitol and writes thrillers from his home in Adelaide, South Australia. You may visit him at <a href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.com/" mce_href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.com">www.jameshoustonturner.com</a>.<br /><br /><iframe src="http://www.facebook.com/plugins/like.php?href=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.blogger.com%2Fpost-edit.g%3FblogID%3D2564516602502895431%26postID%3D3736465033302954668&layout=standard&show_faces=true&width=450&action=like&colorscheme=light&height=80" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" style="border:none; overflow:hidden; width:450px; height:80px;" allowtransparency="true"></iframe></p></div><p></p>James Houston Turnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08990976544289212635noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2564516602502895431.post-190119652970116522010-08-16T06:14:00.039+09:302011-05-06T19:45:15.306+09:30Three Women Who Changed The World<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Every Mother's Day, and every late August and early September, I remember three women -- three mothers -- who changed the world. A wide spectrum of individuals and nations, families and fans, anonymous and infamous mourned when they died. Each woman is a powerful illustration of the impact one person can have on the lives of others.</b></span><b><br />
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<dl class="wp-caption alignright" id="attachment_320" style="background-color: #f3f3f3; border-bottom-left-radius: 3px 3px; border-bottom-right-radius: 3px 3px; border-bottom: rgb(221,221,221) 1px solid; border-left: rgb(221,221,221) 1px solid; border-right: rgb(221,221,221) 1px solid; border-top-left-radius: 3px 3px; border-top-right-radius: 3px 3px; border-top: rgb(221,221,221) 1px solid; float: right; margin: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center; width: 212px;"><dt class="wp-caption-dt"><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"><a href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/princess_diana_smh.jpg" mce_href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/princess_diana_smh.jpg"> <img alt="Princess Diana" class="size-medium wp-image-320" height="300" mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/princess_diana_smh.jpg?w=202" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/princess_diana_smh.jpg?w=202" style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Diana, Princess of Wales" width="202" /></a></span></dt>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"> <dd class="wp-caption-dd" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 4px; padding-right: 4px; padding-top: 0px;">Diana, Princess of Wales. Photo courtesy The Sydney Morning Herald</dd></span></dl></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;">The first was a woman of exceptional beauty and style. Born Diana Frances Spencer until her 1981 marriage to Charles, Prince of Wales, "Princess Diana" was tragically killed in a car crash on August 31, 1997. Ten years later, her extraordinary life was commemorated with the spectacular <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Concert_for_Diana">Concert for Diana</a>, in London's Wembley Stadium. Playing to a sellout crowd of 60,000 and a global audience of more than 500 million in more than 140 countries, the concert featured Sir Elton John, Rod Stewart, Fergie, Nelly Furtado, Sean "P. Diddy" Combs, Duran Duran, Josh Groban, and a host of other luminaries. Organized by Diana's sons, Prince William and Prince Harry, the concert was a virtual Who's Who of the music world.</span><br />
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And while the performances were outstanding, I was more impressed by the love and devotion of two young men who simply missed their mother and wanted her life and accomplishments to be celebrated. Even Australia's "Sixty Minutes" got in on the act by airing an interview with Prince William and Prince Harry. I felt an immediate bond with those two young men, mainly because I lost my mother just over a week after they lost theirs.</span><br />
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And whereas Diana was a passionate champion for the rights of the disadvantaged and people with AIDS, my mom was a passionate champion for a little fat kid with a wild imagination.</b></span></span></div><div id="_mcePaste"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;">Born in Kansas in 1904, Vera Anna Florance Turner was ninety-three years old when pancreatic cancer took her life. She was a petite woman who loved dirty jokes, butter fried chicken, designer labels and White Zinfandel wine. I'll never forget her serving up a pot of boiled turnips that looked just like mashed potatoes, then laughing so hard she almost wet herself when we spit them out.</span></div><div><div class="mceTemp" draggable=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"><br />
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<dl class="wp-caption alignleft" id="attachment_322" style="background-color: #f3f3f3; border-bottom-left-radius: 3px 3px; border-bottom-right-radius: 3px 3px; border-bottom: rgb(221,221,221) 1px solid; border-left: rgb(221,221,221) 1px solid; border-right: rgb(221,221,221) 1px solid; border-top-left-radius: 3px 3px; border-top-right-radius: 3px 3px; border-top: rgb(221,221,221) 1px solid; float: left; margin: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center; width: 310px;"><dt class="wp-caption-dt"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"><a href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/vera_florance_turner.jpg" mce_href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/vera_florance_turner.jpg"><img alt="Vera Anna Turner" class="size-medium wp-image-322" height="210" mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/vera_florance_turner.jpg?w=300" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/vera_florance_turner.jpg?w=300" style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Vera Florance Turner" width="300" /></a></span></dt>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"> <dd class="wp-caption-dd" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 4px; padding-right: 4px; padding-top: 0px;">Vera Florance Turner</dd></span></dl></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;">I learned a lot about laughter and pranks from my mom. She also cultivated in me two extremely valuable qualities: curiosity and imagination. She encouraged me to build things, collect things, invent things. I once drilled holes in my bedroom door, much like the points on a compass, in order to make an electric combination lock. She helped me build a photo lab in my closet and a chemistry lab in the basement. It's a wonder I didn't burn down the house. She taught me to cook and sew, and she attended every one of my football games, many of them in driving rain. Neighborhood kids were always welcome at our house, and often stayed for dinner (unannounced, of course). My mom was a wizard at making food stretch. I learned about sacrifice and giving from my mom. I also had the privilege of being with her the final weeks of her life, where we talked about life's lessons and the good ol' days. It was a chance to say good-bye ... to say things that needed to be said.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;">Although blind for many years, my mom loved strawberries. Especially Arkansas strawberries. If you've ever had one, you know what I mean. They are magnificent. One day during her final weeks of life, I happened to see some in the store and bought them. When I returned to her hospital room, I held one in front of her nose and said, "Here, Mom, have a sniff."</span></div><div id="_mcePaste"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div id="_mcePaste"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>"Oh, Jim, that's an Arkansas strawberry!" she exclaimed at the unmistakable fragrance. And she proceeded to eat the whole punnet ... after which she said she wanted a hamburger and fries for dessert! She was always one for doing things her own way.</b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;">As she sat there in bed eating her strawberries, she admitted she was frightened at the prospect of dying. So I read some verses from the Bible that talked about eternity and how there will one day be no more disease or suffering or getting old ... how we'll be skipping and dancing and singing ... and of course eating strawberries.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;">When finished, I said, "Mom, I don't know everything, but I do believe this: the strawberries will be sweeter in heaven. Even better than these Arkansas berries. So if you happen to get there ahead of me, would you <i>pleeease</i> save me one? I know you have a tendency to eat every one you can find." She laughed and squeezed my hand. "I'll do it!" she said. "I'll save you one! I may even save you a couple."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div id="_mcePaste"></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;">My mom died peacefully on September 9, 1997. A woman of newfound faith. A woman at peace. A woman I will always remember and whose life I will always celebrate in my writing.</span></div><div></div><div id="_mcePaste"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div id="_mcePaste"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>But there is another woman who died about the same time as Princess Diana and my mom. I wonder if anyone will ever give her a concert? I wonder if Sixty Minutes will ever devote any air time to her life? You certainly don't see her on many magazine covers, and to my knowledge she has never been listed in the Top 100 most beautiful women in the world. I reckon she should be, because she radiates warmth and love like no woman I've ever seen. Her name is Mother Teresa.</b></span></span></div><div></div><div id="_mcePaste"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div id="_mcePaste"><div id="_mcePaste"><div id="_mcePaste"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;">Born Agnes Gonxha Bojaxhiu, in Macedonia, in 1910, Mother Teresa felt the call of God at the age of twelve. At the age of eighteen, she left home and joined the Sisters of Loreto, an Irish community of nuns with missions in India. Soon after, she took her vows and began teaching at St. Mary's High School in Calcutta, where she was so moved by the suffering and poverty around her that she started an open-air school for slum children.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;">In 1950, she started what would become known as the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Missionaries_of_Charity">Missionaries for Charity</a>. Its purpose was to care for the hungry, the homeless, the crippled, the blind, the unwanted, the unloved, the uncared for throughout society, including lepers. </span><br />
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<dl class="wp-caption alignleft" id="attachment_327" style="background-color: #f3f3f3; border-bottom-left-radius: 3px 3px; border-bottom-right-radius: 3px 3px; border-bottom: rgb(221,221,221) 1px solid; border-left: rgb(221,221,221) 1px solid; border-right: rgb(221,221,221) 1px solid; border-top-left-radius: 3px 3px; border-top-right-radius: 3px 3px; border-top: rgb(221,221,221) 1px solid; float: left; margin: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center; width: 239px;"><dt class="wp-caption-dt"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"><a href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/mother_teresa1.jpg" mce_href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/mother_teresa1.jpg"><img alt="Mother Teresa" class="size-medium wp-image-327" height="300" mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/mother_teresa1.jpg?w=229" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/mother_teresa1.jpg?w=229" style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Mother_Teresa" width="229" /></a></span></dt>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"> <dd class="wp-caption-dd" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 4px; padding-right: 4px; padding-top: 0px;">"Mother Teresa" Agnes Gonxha Bojaxhiu</dd></span></dl></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">For Mother Teresa, serving God meant showing love and mercy to anyone in need. What a difference from those who claim to serve God but turn a blind eye to the suffering of others ... who blow up hospitals instead of building them. </span></b></span></div><div id="_mcePaste"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div id="_mcePaste"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;">In 1979 Mother Teresa was awarded the <a href="http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/peace/laureates/1910/peace-bureau.html">Nobel Peace Prize</a> because of all the lives she had saved. Not surprisingly, she asked that the $192,000 award be given to the poorest of India.</span></div><div id="_mcePaste"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div id="_mcePaste"></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;">Some fundamentalist terrorists were recently discovered working in England as doctors. They were cloaked with mantle of helping people while secretly plotting to kill them. Mother Teresa, by contrast, once commanded a temporary cease fire between the Israeli army and Palestinian guerrillas in order to rescue thirty-seven children trapped in a war zone hospital. When the Iron Curtain collapsed a few years later, her Missionaries of Charity initiated numerous projects in the former Soviet East Bloc. By 1996, she was operating over five hundred missions in more than one hundred countries. THAT, my friends, is serving God.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div></div><div id="_mcePaste"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;">If you believe in the "butterfly effect" – that the tiniest of actions can cause a chain of events leading to a large-scale result - then your actions and mine can lead to consequences that can and will affect others. Perhaps one, perhaps one million – who knows?</span></div><div id="_mcePaste"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div id="_mcePaste"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;">And while I don't know everything, I do indeed believe this: one person CAN make a difference. These three did.</span></div><div id="_mcePaste"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div id="_mcePaste"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;">Three women who changed the world.</span></div><div id="_mcePaste"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div id="_mcePaste"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: 19px;">Three women who changed <i>my</i> world.<br />
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From his home in Adelaide, Australia, James Houston Turner writes suspense thrillers filled with these same kind of men and women. You may visit him at his website: <a href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.com/">www.jameshoustonturner.com</a>.</span><br />
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<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" src="http://www.facebook.com/plugins/like.php?href=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.jameshoustonturner.blogspot.com&layout=standard&show_faces=true&width=450&action=like&colorscheme=light&height=80" style="border: none; height: 80px; overflow: hidden; width: 450px;"></iframe></div></div></div>James Houston Turnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08990976544289212635noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2564516602502895431.post-44565753411715683832010-08-06T05:53:00.014+09:302011-05-04T16:36:48.105+09:30A Cool Dude Writer Eats His Own Words<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; line-height: 19px;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="strong" mce_style="font-weight: bold;" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">How can you respect white bread?</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="strong" mce_style="font-weight: bold;" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">I mean, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="strong" mce_style="font-weight: bold;" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">c'mon.</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="strong" mce_style="font-weight: bold;" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"> Soft, airy-fairy, doughy, wimpy stuff that you can wad up into a tiny ball. Bugs won't eat it 'cause it's got zero nutrition. Mix it with water and it melts into this gooey, sticky mess. When the Bible says, "Cast your bread on the water and it will come back to you," I think it was referring to white bread. People on the other side of the lake don't want it. They send it back. Keep trying to send it to them and they'll come and burn down your village. Especially the bakery. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="strong" mce_style="font-weight: bold;" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">No white bread</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="strong" mce_style="font-weight: bold;" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">.</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; line-height: 19px;"><a href="http://jameshoustonturner.wordpress.com/files/2009/12/no_more_white_bread.jpg" mce_href="http://jameshoustonturner.wordpress.com/files/2009/12/no_more_white_bread.jpg"><img alt="" class="alignleft size-full wp-image-135" height="104" mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.wordpress.com/files/2009/12/no_more_white_bread.jpg" src="http://jameshoustonturner.wordpress.com/files/2009/12/no_more_white_bread.jpg" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; float: left;" title="No_More_White_Bread" width="118" /></a></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; line-height: 19px;">I once had an upperclassman in my college fraternity who made me clean his room when I was a freshman pledge. He then took a slice of white bread and wiped the room down. Door tops. Tops of door casings. Chair rails. Places I didn't think to clean. He then made me eat the bread to teach me a lesson. Soon after, I switched to wholewheat.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="strong" mce_style="font-weight: bold;" style="font-weight: bold;">Cool Dude Writers, of course, are kitchen magicians,</span> and these days in our house we bake our own bread. I used to knead it by hand, but now we have a bread maker that makes the job real easy. We put in some water, olive oil, wholewheat baker's flour, dense wholemeal flour, whole grains, and a bunch of other stuff that magically turns into this fantastic elastic dough. You can then let it stay in the bread maker, where it bakes to golden perfection, or yank it out and divide into baguettes or little rolls, or pound out flat, throw high in the air in a circular motion, let flop on the counter, smear with tomato sauce and other goodies and bake as pizza on a stone in the oven. Over the years, Wendy and I have fine-tuned this recipe to our liking. It was perfect. Life was good. I was happy. No more white bread. Ever.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; line-height: 19px;">However, Wendy sometimes gets on health kicks and wants to start messing with perfection. You can see it in her eyes. They get this glassy, determined look, like a tiger about to strike.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; line-height: 19px;">And she had that exact look in her eyes the day she came home from the <a href="http://www.adelaidecentralmarket.com.au/" mce_href="http://www.adelaidecentralmarket.com.au/" target="_blank" title="Adelaide Central Market">Adelaide Central Market</a> and announced: "I'm adding millet to our bread."</span><br />
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</span><br />
<dl class="wp-caption alignright" id="attachment_305" style="background-color: #f3f3f3; border-bottom-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-bottom-left-radius: 3px 3px; border-bottom-right-radius: 3px 3px; border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-top-left-radius: 3px 3px; border-top-right-radius: 3px 3px; border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; float: right; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center; width: 160px;"><dt class="wp-caption-dt"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; line-height: 19px;"><a href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2009/12/millet.jpg" mce_href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2009/12/millet.jpg"><img alt="" class="size-full wp-image-305" height="112" mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2009/12/millet.jpg" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2009/12/millet.jpg" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Millet" width="150" /></a></span></dt>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; line-height: 19px;"> <dd class="wp-caption-dd" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 4px; padding-right: 4px; padding-top: 0px;">Millet</dd></span></dl></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; line-height: 19px;">If you don't know what millet is -- it's, well, <span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" style="font-style: italic;">bird seed, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" style="font-style: italic;"><span mce_style="font-style: normal;" style="font-style: normal;">simple and plain.</span></span> I once had a parakeet that loved millet. Parakeets are called "budgies" here in Australia -- short for budgerigar -- with the tight little Speedo swimming shorts that men wear called "<a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=budgie%20smugglers">budgie smugglers</a>," for reasons I won't go into here.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; line-height: 19px;">Anyway, some countries consider millet a staple food. It's a grain that is extremely high in protein, as well as being alkaline. Too many acid foods and beverages -- like coffee, soft drinks, meat, <span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" style="font-style: italic;">white bread</span> -- can create conditions favorable to disease. Alkaline foods help fight disease. That's why we need to eat fruits and veggies every day. Besides being full of nutrients, they are alkaline. So is millet. Which is why Wendy wanted to add it to our bread mix. Our <span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" style="font-style: italic;">perfect </span>bread mix.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; line-height: 19px;">"I already eat enough alkaline foods," I explained. "Besides, our bread is perfect."<br />
"This will make it better."<br />
"You can't improve perfection."<br />
"We won't know unless we try."<br />
"Millet's <span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" style="font-style: italic;">bird seed!</span> It'll ruin the bread!"<br />
"No, it won't."<br />
Foot down. Executive decision: "Yes, it will! Not going to happen!"<br />
With glassy, determined look in her eye, like tiger about to strike: "Wanna bet?"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; line-height: 19px;">Wendy started to pour the millet into the bread maker.<br />
I tried to stop her.<br />
She dropped the cup.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; line-height: 19px;">Had it been flour, it would have made a messy pile on the counter and I would have wiped it up. But it was millet. And each of the thousand or so little grains was perfectly spherical, like micro-BBs. The stuff scattered <span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" style="font-style: italic;">everywhere. </span>And then rolled even farther. Under furniture. In tiny cracks in our wooden floor. All across the living room rug. In fact -- all over the house. I knew I was in trouble by the dagger looks I was getting from the tiger.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; line-height: 19px;">"Oops," I said, smiling sheepishly. "I'll help you clean it up."<br />
"No, you won't be <span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" style="font-style: italic;">helping</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" style="font-style: italic;">me</span><span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" style="font-style: italic;">.</span> Nor will I be helping you<span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" style="font-style: italic;"> when you clean it up</span>. The vacuum's in the garage."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; line-height: 19px;">I vacuumed millet for the next half hour, and to my surprise, I occasionally still find it hiding under bookcases and in other tight spots. And I'm a pretty good house cleaner.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; line-height: 19px;"><a href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2009/12/015.jpg" mce_href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2009/12/015.jpg"><img alt="" class="alignright size-thumbnail wp-image-308" height="112" mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2009/12/015.jpg?w=150" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2009/12/015.jpg?w=150" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; float: right;" title="Wendy's perfect bread" width="150" /></a>But by far the greatest surprise was the bread. The millet added this kind of wild prairie taste that absolutely took our "perfect" bread to a whole new level. It was <span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" style="font-style: italic;">fantastic!</span> And I cannot tell you how hard it is not to overdose on the stuff, especially when it comes fresh out of the oven. This stuff is perfection!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; line-height: 19px;">I feel obligated to take some of the credit here, because had I <i>not</i> protested the way I did, Wendy might have wimped out at the last minute and not added the millet. Think of what we would have missed out on had it not been for me. (I know, I know -- I don't swallow it, either. But I had to try.)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; line-height: 19px;">So this Cool Dude Writer had to eat his words that day. But by far my greatest surprise -- and pleasure -- was eating that bread. That <span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" style="font-style: italic;">perfect</span> bread. So the next time you come over for dinner...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; line-height: 19px;">Originally from Baldwin, Kansas, author <b>James Houston Turner</b> takes partial credit for making perfect bread in his home in <a href="http://www.southaustralia.com/Adelaide.aspx">Adelaide, South Australia</a>, where he writes thrillers and does his best to keep Wendy away from buckwheat, another alkaline grain. He loves flying <a href="http://www.qantas.com/" mce_href="http://www.qantas.com" target="_blank" title="Qantas">Qantas</a> and is astounded the company hasn't asked him to be their chief bread consultant. You may visit him at <a href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.com/" mce_href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.com">www.jameshoustonturner.com</a>.</span>James Houston Turnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08990976544289212635noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2564516602502895431.post-42789192095584676652010-08-01T14:19:00.008+09:302010-08-02T07:26:23.570+09:30Trapped By My Great Expectations<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><b>Trapped. In a rut. Caught in the grind.</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px; font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:medium;"><div class="mceTemp" draggable=""><dl id="attachment_300" class="wp-caption alignleft" style="float: left; border-top-width: 1px; border-right-width: 1px; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-width: 1px; border-top-style: solid; border-right-style: solid; border-bottom-style: solid; border-left-style: solid; border-top-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-right-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-bottom-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-left-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); text-align: center; background-color: rgb(243, 243, 243); padding-top: 4px; margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; border-top-left-radius: 3px 3px; border-top-right-radius: 3px 3px; border-bottom-right-radius: 3px 3px; border-bottom-left-radius: 3px 3px; width: 310px; "><dt class="wp-caption-dt"><a href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/07/trapped2.jpg" mce_href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/07/trapped2.jpg"><img class="size-medium wp-image-300" title="James Houston Turner feels trapped by Great Expectations" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/07/trapped2.jpg?w=300" mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/07/trapped2.jpg?w=300" alt="" width="300" height="186" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-color: initial; " /></a></dt><dd class="wp-caption-dd" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 4px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 4px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; ">James Houston Turner feels trapped by Great Expectations</dd></dl></div><p></p><p>This pretty much describes how I've been feeling lately. I have an editing deadline I'm trying to meet and the last few days haven't been going all that well. The reason: my Great Expectations.</p><p>And the harder I try to meet those expectations, the harder it gets, and the harder it gets, the harder I try, which means it gets even harder!<span mce_name="strong" mce_style="font-weight: bold;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "></span></p><p>Stuff like this happens on occasion. I set unreasonable goals, get tunnel vision, forget to take breaks and find myself working longer and harder in an effort to finish.<span mce_name="strong" mce_style="font-weight: bold;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "></span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><b>But longer and harder doesn't always cut it.</b></span><span mce_name="strong" mce_style="font-weight: bold;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "></span></p><p>So I decided to make pizza. I knew I needed a break and making pizza is this hands-on, romantic tango between me and this pile of raw ingredients. And it <i>is</i> a romance: a coaxing and teasing out of flavors ... a whisper of hints and subtleties from just the right spices. I get flour and dough up to my elbows, millet is<span mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">everywhere</span> (those little buggers can sure roll a long way), and the kitchen is this insane war zone, with utensils all over the place, onions and vegetables sizzling in a century-old, four-generation blackened cast iron skillet, music blaring, and me -- occasionally -- swearing because I never follow a recipe and things -- occasionally -- go awry. It's a zany adventure into uncharted culinary territory each and every time. Which is why I love it!<span mce_name="strong" mce_style="font-weight: bold;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "></span></p><p>Writing, on the other hand, is quiet, solitary work. Which is a good thing because I like working on my own. I like my own company and I'm a disciplined self-starter. I get up every day at 5:15, check emails, do my exercise, take a shower, eat my breakfast, then show up for work at my laptop by 8:30 or so.<span mce_name="strong" mce_style="font-weight: bold;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "></span></p><p>But the very nature of writing means it's hard to share progress reports. There are no visible cues as in, say, cooking pizza.<span mce_name="strong" mce_style="font-weight: bold;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "></span></p><p>"How's it going?" my wife, Wendy, asks.<br />"I'm at the fifty-six-thousand word mark! Only forty-nine thousand to go. That's using a twelve-point Times New Roman font, double-spaced, which equals about 370 pages, at about 272 words per---"<br /><span mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">"Stop!"</span> she says, her eyes glazing over. "You lost me at fifty-six thousand."<span mce_name="strong" mce_style="font-weight: bold;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "></span></p><p>So I tend to push on so that I can finally announce, "I am done!" Those are the words Wendy likes to hear. Those are the words <span mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">I</span> like to hear. They are words to celebrate, even if we both know another edit may be just around the corner. <span mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">I am done!</span></p><p>And this is what gets me into trouble.<span mce_name="strong" mce_style="font-weight: bold;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "></span></p><p>The reason: writing, like pizza making, is a romance between me and this pile of raw ingredients. Sure, it's work, and there are days I don't feel like working. But I do because that's just the way it is when you've got deadlines and people are waiting. You suck it up and do what needs to be done. That's the business of writing.</p><p>But writing is not like house cleaning (and I have done my fair share of house cleaning over the years to support my passion to write). It's an art as well as a discipline. And there's a huge element of creativity that goes into it. It is not simply physical labor. So I must nourish my creative side, and that means hitting the "refresh" button now and then. It means taking a break.</p><p><a href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/07/013.jpg" mce_href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/07/013.jpg"><img class="alignright size-thumbnail wp-image-301" title="James Houston Turner" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/07/013.jpg?w=150" mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/07/013.jpg?w=150" alt="" width="150" height="139" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; float: right; " /></a>I was reminded of this when I was standing in the kitchen with flour all over my face. I was on a break and loving it. I was refreshed and rejuvenated ... I was singing and dancing and throwing large disks of dough up in the air. When Wendy came in to see what the commotion was all about, I began talking about my story with excitement and animation. (That was after she got over the shock of seeing the kitchen.)</p><p>It's such a simple and obvious lesson -- taking a break -- but one I had forgotten in my Great Expectation to be more of a writing machine than I am. The romance had slipped away. I needed to get it back. So I stepped away from the laptop and made a massive mess that was more satisfying than I can fully articulate here. (Yes, I cleaned it up!)</p><p><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">And guess what: when I sat down again at my laptop, the romance had returned.</span></b></p><p>Which goes to show what a miraculous food a good millet pizza can be.</p><p>Like I said, working longer and harder is not always the answer. Working <span mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">smarter </span>is what I need to keep doing. And that means taking time to live and laugh (and bake) "in between the lines" of my writing.</p><p>Hence, when the time comes to celebrate the release of my latest book, you can guess what I'll be doing.</p><p>Let's see: will that be pepperoni or picadillo...?</p><p>Originally from Kansas and a self-confessed pizza fanatic, author James Houston Turner writes thrillers and bakes pizza in his home in Adelaide, South Australia. You may visit him at <u><a href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.com/" mce_href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.com">www.jameshoustonturner.com</a></u>.</p></span></div>James Houston Turnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08990976544289212635noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2564516602502895431.post-63208255527629068122010-07-30T09:55:00.010+09:302010-08-01T07:27:06.697+09:30The Second Thirteen, 2010. An Excerpt<b>Where:</b> High in the mountains near Zug, Switzerland.<div><b>When:</b> Winter. The day before Christmas.<br /><div><div><b>Background:</b> When I was writing the climax to this story, I decided we needed to visit Zug and find out for ourselves what it was like. So I got on the internet and met the manager of a hotel in Zug, who generously offered to host our stay at the fabulous Parkhotel. Because this portion of the story took place on a farm, a limousine was arranged to take us high into the mountains, where we visited the actual farm you will read about in the book. It had a picturesque chalet, with white wooden shingles, scalloped trim, and a cute balcony. It also had a massive barn with broad eaves and enough perfectly-sawn firewood to last several winters.</div><div><br /></div><div>Here is what happens in the book:</div></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: normal;font-size:16px;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: normal; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">With fresh air filling his lungs, Johann inched forward.</span></span></span></div></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">He reached the path to the chalet just as the front half of the barn’s massive roof caved in. Sparks and debris billowed high into the air.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Falling onto his side, Johann turned to watch the other half of the roof collapse. A fire truck stopped nearby and several firemen raced toward the barn.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Two paramedics grabbed their gear and ran toward him.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Johann tried to sit up.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">"Lie still," one of the paramedics said, kneeling beside him. She placed an oxygen mask over his mouth.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">"Maria!" protested Johann hoarsely, pushing the mask away. The protest caused a spasm of deep coughing.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">"You must lie still!" the paramedic repeated, replacing the mask. "Your lungs have been damaged by the smoke."</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> "</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Maria," Johann whispered through the mask, his dark eyes erratic and wild.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> "</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">His sister. Check the chalet," the first paramedic said.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Her colleague ran to the house and soon returned.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> "</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">It's empty," he said.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">The first paramedic looked at Johann then at the raging barn.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>She swallowed hard.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><i>Where was Maria? </i></span></span></span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><i><br /></i></span></span></span></div>James Houston Turnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08990976544289212635noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2564516602502895431.post-16635977760558714022010-07-22T12:20:00.015+09:302010-08-07T11:13:21.822+09:30We Never Forget Our First<div style="background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font: normal normal normal 13px/19px Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; padding-top: 0.6em; padding-right: 0.6em; padding-bottom: 0.6em; padding-left: 0.6em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; "><p><span mce_name="strong" mce_style="font-weight: bold;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">We never forget our first, and Jessica Chapnik was mine. And although you're filled with anticipation and excitement at what might happen as a result, your first can be a frightening experience ... terrifying, even painful ... forever etched in your memory.</span></span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><span mce_name="strong" mce_style="font-weight: bold;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "></span></span></p><p><span mce_name="strong" mce_style="font-weight: bold;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">But it can also be exhilarating beyond description. In fact, it's the element of venturing into the unknown that makes it so alluring.</span><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="mceTemp" draggable=""><dl id="attachment_247" class="wp-caption alignleft" style="float: left; border-top-width: 1px; border-right-width: 1px; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-width: 1px; border-top-style: solid; border-right-style: solid; border-bottom-style: solid; border-left-style: solid; border-top-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-right-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-bottom-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-left-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); text-align: center; background-color: rgb(243, 243, 243); padding-top: 4px; margin-top: 10px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; border-top-left-radius: 3px 3px; border-top-right-radius: 3px 3px; border-bottom-right-radius: 3px 3px; border-bottom-left-radius: 3px 3px; width: 250px; "><dt class="wp-caption-dt"><a href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/07/jessicachapnik1.jpg" mce_href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/07/jessicachapnik1.jpg"><img class="size-medium wp-image-247 " title="jessicachapnik" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/07/jessicachapnik1.jpg?w=300" mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/07/jessicachapnik1.jpg?w=300" alt="" width="240" height="164" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-color: initial; " /></a></dt><dd class="wp-caption-dd" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 4px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 4px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; ">Actress and musician, Jessica Chapnik. Photo courtesy The Daily Telegraph.</dd></dl></div><p></p><p>Jessica has gone on to greater things. Aussies will remember her as "Sam Holden" on the hit television show, <span mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">Home</span> <span mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">and Away</span>. In 2008, she recorded the Ben Lee soundtrack for the Joel and Nash Edgerton film, <span mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">The Square.</span> The song was nominated for an Australian Film Institute Award for "Best Original Music Score," as well as an ARIA (Australian Recording Industry Association) Fine Arts Award for "Best Original Soundtrack". A singer of exceptional talent and beauty, Jessie has toured internationally with musicians Sarah Blasko, Ben Lee, the Kahn Brothers, and Old Man River. Her 2010 Appleonia Music video, <a href="http://bit.ly/97wNr6" mce_href="http://bit.ly/97wNr6">It's Not So Precious</a>, exemplifies the gentle, inspirational quality to her voice. Which surprised me since she is such a raging soccer fanatic (go Argentina!) who loves espionage thrillers and vegetarian pizzas (go pizza!).</p><p><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">So while most of you may know Jessica as an exceptional actress and musician, to me she will always be "the first" ... my first ... book critic to review </span></b><span mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">The Second Thirteen,</span></b></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"> when it was originally published in Australia in 1999.</span></b></p><p>At the time, Jessy was writing for <span mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">Who</span> magazine (the Australian version of <span mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">People</span> magazine), to whom I had sent a copy of my novel for review consideration.</p><p>A first review can play with your mind. It did mine. For one thing, I had no idea <span mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">Who</span> magazine would even look at my novel. <span mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">Who</span> was, after all, one of the premier celebrity magazines in Australia, and I was this unknown author whose book had been published by a micro-press no one had ever heard of. And if by some miracle they did review it, would they like it? Would they trash it? Was this going to be a painful experience? Fears collided with possibilities (and a wild imagination) to produce a tornado of emotional turbulence. I could hardly stand it. But, as I said before, it was the element of venturing into the unknown that was, in fact, its allure.</p><p>We need book critics. We rely on their seasoned judgment to sift the wheat from the chaff. Sure, some critics like to find something wrong with everything: "no turn unstoned," as the old saying goes. Some are snotty, uppity elitists who are downright arrogant and rude.</p><p>So are some writers.</p><p>Most critics, however, are decent people who devote a <span mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">lot</span> of hours to their craft. They're not in it for the big bucks. They're in it for the love of reading. Critics and writers (and publishers) have one thing in common: the desire to present a good book to the public. These days, with shrinking budgets and cutbacks, there are fewer critics writing for fewer publications, so the challenge of getting reviewed in a major publication is harder than ever. But in today's world, a good review -- or a bad one -- can spread "virally" like wildfire via twitter, Facebook, MySpace, and a host of other social networking sites and blogs, not to forget the customer review sites hosted by online giants like Amazon and Barnes & Noble.<br /><span mce_name="strong" mce_style="font-weight: bold;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">Like never before, the reader has become the critic with a voice.</span></span></p><p><span mce_name="strong" mce_style="font-weight: bold;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "></span></p><p><span mce_name="strong" mce_style="font-weight: bold;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "><span mce_style="font-weight: normal;" style="font-weight: normal; ">Which keeps a writer like me on his proverbial toes, especially since I have updated <span mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">The Second Thirteen</span> into what I hope is a sizzling thriller that will yank you in by the lapels and not let you go until the final page. Whether I succeed or not will be -- gulp -- up to you. </span></span></p><p><span mce_name="strong" mce_style="font-weight: bold;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "><span mce_style="font-weight: normal;" style="font-weight: normal; "></span></span>As for Jessica, with whom I stay in touch ... well,<span mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "> </span>my "first" had this to say: <span mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">"The Second Thirteen,</span> by Kansas-born, Adelaide-based James Houston Turner ... will delight aficionados of the genre with its punchy pace, intricate plot, compelling structure and, best of all, goose-bump-raising-climax."</p><p>Stay tuned for updates on when the new edition of <span mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">The Second Thirteen</span> will be available.</p><p>A self-confessed pizza fanatic, James Houston Turner writes thrillers and invents new topping combinations from his home in Adelaide, South Australia. You may visit him at <a href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.com/" mce_href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.com">www.jameshoustonturner.com</a>.</p></div>James Houston Turnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08990976544289212635noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2564516602502895431.post-65110180749956695142010-07-18T08:56:00.019+09:302011-02-17T11:49:47.089+10:30Honoring Simon Baker and Dr. William S. Bate.<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 13px/19px Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0.6em; padding-left: 0.6em; padding-right: 0.6em; padding-top: 0.6em;"><b></b><br />
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<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; font-weight: normal; font: normal normal normal 13px/19px Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0.6em; padding-left: 0.6em; padding-right: 0.6em; padding-top: 0.6em;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="strong" mce_style="font-weight: bold;" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">What a privilege to meet actor Simon Baker, star of the hit TV series, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="strong" mce_style="font-weight: bold;" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The Mentalist,</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="strong" mce_style="font-weight: bold;" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> who was honored at the prestigious G'day USA 2010 black tie gala in Hollywood.</span></span> Wendy and I had flown from Australia to meet with several film executives regarding my screenplay, <span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" style="font-style: italic;">Big John,</span> a true story based on the life of Big John Levi, the great 1920s Native American fullback from Haskell Institute in Lawrence, Kansas.</b><br />
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<dl class="wp-caption alignleft" id="attachment_197" style="background-color: #f3f3f3; border-bottom-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-bottom-left-radius: 3px 3px; border-bottom-right-radius: 3px 3px; border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-top-left-radius: 3px 3px; border-top-right-radius: 3px 3px; border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; float: left; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center; width: 310px;"><dt class="wp-caption-dt"><b><a href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/simon-baker-and-wendy-turner.jpg" mce_href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/simon-baker-and-wendy-turner.jpg"><img alt="" class="size-medium wp-image-197" height="225" mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/simon-baker-and-wendy-turner.jpg?w=300" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/simon-baker-and-wendy-turner.jpg?w=300" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Simon Baker and Wendy Turner" width="300" /></a></b></dt>
<b> <dd class="wp-caption-dd" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 4px; padding-right: 4px; padding-top: 0px;">Simon Baker and Wendy Turner at the G'day USA black tie gala</dd></b></dl></div><b>We then topped off the week by attending the gala, where actress Nicole Kidman introduced Simon to the crowd. She told us about the years Baker struggled as an actor, which eventually earned him a Logie Award in his native country of Australia for Most Popular New Talent. But his career never really ignited, so at Kidman's urging, Baker -- a former bricklayer -- moved his family to Los Angeles, where he scored a supporting role opposite fellow Aussies, Russell Crowe and Guy Pearce, in the 1997 Academy Award-winning film, <span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" style="font-style: italic;">L.A. Confidential. </span>This was followed by other successful roles, including the popular TV series, <span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" style="font-style: italic;">The Guardian,</span> the film, <span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" style="font-style: italic;">The Devil Wears Prada,</span> and finally the blockbuster TV series, <span class="Apple-style-span" mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" style="font-style: italic;">The Mentalist</span>.</b><br />
<b>Baker was affable and accessible and enjoyed meeting fans. Which may not continue for long given the shocking behavior of some people. Wendy and I were speaking with him at the gala when several young women in sprayed-on cocktail dresses shoved their way to the front and burst into the conversation.</b><br />
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<dl class="wp-caption alignright" id="attachment_281" style="background-color: #f3f3f3; border-bottom-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-bottom-left-radius: 3px 3px; border-bottom-right-radius: 3px 3px; border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-top-left-radius: 3px 3px; border-top-right-radius: 3px 3px; border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; float: right; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center; width: 145px;"><dt class="wp-caption-dt"><b><a href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/0791.jpg" mce_href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/0791.jpg"><img alt="" class="size-thumbnail wp-image-281" height="150" mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/0791.jpg?w=135" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/0791.jpg?w=135" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA" width="135" /></a></b></dt>
<b> <dd class="wp-caption-dd" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 4px; padding-right: 4px; padding-top: 0px;">Sam Worthington</dd></b></dl></div><b>Two of them held digital cameras my way while talking with him effusively. I snapped pictures, after which they grabbed them abruptly away and shoved their way toward Aussie actor, Sam Worthington, star of <i>Clash of the Titans</i> and <span class="Apple-style-span" mce_fixed="1" mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" style="font-style: italic;">Avatar,</span> who was standing a short distance away. Sorry about that, Sam.</b><br />
<b>One of the highlights of the evening was Nicole Kidman's introduction of Baker with husband Keith Urban. With Kidman</b><br />
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<dl class="wp-caption alignleft" id="attachment_279" style="background-color: #f3f3f3; border-bottom-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-bottom-left-radius: 3px 3px; border-bottom-right-radius: 3px 3px; border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-top-left-radius: 3px 3px; border-top-right-radius: 3px 3px; border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; float: left; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center; width: 160px;"><dt class="wp-caption-dt"><b><a href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/wendy-turner-and-keith-urban.jpg" mce_href="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/wendy-turner-and-keith-urban.jpg"><img alt="" class="size-thumbnail wp-image-279" height="130" mce_src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/wendy-turner-and-keith-urban.jpg?w=150" src="http://jameshoustonturner.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/wendy-turner-and-keith-urban.jpg?w=150" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Wendy Turner and Keith Urban" width="150" /></a></b></dt>
<b> <dd class="wp-caption-dd" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 4px; padding-right: 4px; padding-top: 0px;">Wendy Turner and Keith Urban</dd></b></dl></div><b>dancing around on the stage, Urban sang a humorous tribute to Baker to the tune of Men At Work's iconic Australian classic, <span class="Apple-style-span" mce_fixed="1" mce_name="em" mce_style="font-style: italic;" style="font-style: italic;">Down Under</span>. Some of the lyrics include, "From a small town in Tasmania, in the rugged country of Australia, came a little boy with wide-eyed wonder, destined to rise up from Down Under. And his name is Simon Baker, surfer dude, home renovator... he's a sexy baby maker, and secretly your laptop screen saver. He's a straight-up guy, no bullshit taker. He's CBS' big money-maker, The Mentalist, a ratings breaker." Baker then donned his "rockin' Buddy Holly glasses" to shouts of approval from the crowd. Urban's song brought down the house and you can watch it on YouTube here: (<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=31CsuFwYbsk" mce_href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=31CsuFwYbsk">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=31CsuFwYbsk</a>). Other honorees at the gala were golfer Greg Norman, who was introduced by the legendary John Travolta, and actress Toni Collette.</b><br />
<b>Toni was introduced by the gorgeous and zany Cameron Diaz who, after witnessing the roof-raising introduction of Simon Baker by Keith and Nicole, said to the audience: "After that, I looked at Toni and she looked at me, and I said, 'We are so f#*ked!' " The crowd went wild with laughter.</b><br />
<b>But as spectacular as the black tie gala was, by far the greatest highlight of our trip was seeing Dr. William S. Bate, whose cancer diagnosis helped save my life back in 1991. After a missed diagnosis by another doctor in San Diego, I was examined by Dr. Bate, whose biopsy confirmed what he suspected simply by looking at the swollen mass on my jaw: a malignant tumor was eating its way into the bone. Not having health insurance, we were forced to fly to Australia for medical help, where a team of surgeons excised the tumor, by that time the size of an orange. We had to pay for the operation, but $17,000 was a lot less than the $200,000 required in San Diego. I was given 18 months to live. It will soon be twenty <i>years!</i></b><br />
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<b>So imagine Dr. Bate's surprise when I walked into his office to say thanks. He and I had not seen each other since 1991 and he did not even know that I was alive. He asked where I had gone for my treatment and I told him. He said, "There are few places in the world better than Adelaide, Australia, for what you had done. They did a magnificent job."</b><br />
<b>We shook hands and a beaming Dr. Bate said I had made his day. I told him he had made my life.</b><br />
<b>Thanks to Dr. William S. Bate, Dr. Dan Hains, Dr. James Katsaros, Dr. Peter O'Brien, and Dr. Liz Coates, James Houston Turner continues to write thrillers from his home in Adelaide, South Australia. You may visit him at <a href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.com/" mce_href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.com">www.jameshoustonturner.com</a>.</b><br />
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</b></div></div>James Houston Turnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08990976544289212635noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2564516602502895431.post-73386542694210033332010-07-14T10:52:00.024+09:302010-07-14T15:39:34.624+09:30There is no God, says the Bible.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgroSE_LUwv_yeJXL_aMx9OJMsImmnj2FcFRZ5k4S5wYz6gDVyFFIhyQotrKdzth_zfXgW57L7V3uHgBC1jht4XuoabK7m2NsYUzQ7ucEER9W-yOlidJond0VGINPUPR18a6UXFF_MoXTg/s1600/bible.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgroSE_LUwv_yeJXL_aMx9OJMsImmnj2FcFRZ5k4S5wYz6gDVyFFIhyQotrKdzth_zfXgW57L7V3uHgBC1jht4XuoabK7m2NsYUzQ7ucEER9W-yOlidJond0VGINPUPR18a6UXFF_MoXTg/s320/bible.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493599510092326242" /></a><br /><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:Georgia, serif;color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">"There is no God," says the Bible. It's right there, plain and simple, for everyone to see. Psalm 14:1. Think I'm kidding? Check it out for yourself. Don't worry about which version of the Bible you're using; they all say pretty much the same thing.</span></span></span><div><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:Georgia, serif;color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:Georgia, serif;color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">There is no God.<br /></span><br /></span></span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:Georgia, serif;color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:Georgia, serif;color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="line-height: 115%; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Oh, yeah, I forgot about the first part of that verse. You see, in its entirety Psalm 14:1 says, </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">"The fool has said in his heart,</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> 'There is no God'."</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="line-height: 115%; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="line-height: 115%; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">The point of this has to do with what I call "hijacking" of religious texts to prove a point. I did it just now. I lifted a phrase out of context and made a misleading statement to illustrate my point.</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="line-height: 115%; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 18px; font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Hijacking is nothing new, and it usually has much more serious consequences. For centuries, men have been hijacking verses to keep women quiet and exert control over every aspect of their lives (naturally, while ignoring those verses that praise their multi-task skills, initiative, and leadership abilities). Still other verses have been hijacked to prevent people from drinking alcohol, to justify slavery, conduct inquisitions, shun outsiders, and declare "holy wars" (what an oxymoron that is!).</span></span></div><div><div><span style="line-height: 115%; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">No wonder so many people hate religion. How many wars have been fought in the name of religion? How many of us have had religion rammed down our throats? And yet how many good deeds have also been done: wells dug, people clothed and fed, houses built, hospitals built, lives saved. In other words -- faith in action. If religious zealots actually served God with something other than rhetoric, they would be building hospitals, not blowing them up. Feeding people instead of starving them.</span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="line-height: 115%; "><span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="line-height: 115%; "><span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Actions do, indeed, speak louder than words. But actions based on the whole truth, not isolated fragments.</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">There is a difference between passion and extremism, and the dynamics of both continue to fascinate me. Take the opening paragraph of Chapter 12 from my geopolitical thriller,</span></span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">The Identity Factor:</span></span></em><span class="apple-converted-space"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">"There are cities, there are great cities, and there is Jerusalem. Able to make small men feel great and great men feel small, Jerusalem is forever a passion to those who believe, a marvel to those who do not."</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /><br /></span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">There is nobility in passion. But there is a line -- a precipice, if you will -- between passion and extremism ... when individualism turns malignant. And hijackers are masters at finding just the right verses to justify their malignancy. Thankfully, there are those passionate enough about protecting our common humanity to take a stand against oppression and brutality.</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /><br /></span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">And not all of them are in novels.</span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="line-height: 115%; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span style="line-height: 115%; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="apple-style-span"></span>In my case, some of them are, which is why I've invited you here. This blog will be about life as seen and experienced by a writer ... <i>this</i> writer.</span></span></span></div><div><span style="line-height: 115%; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">It's about "the road between the lines," which was inspired by the book of Genesis, where one verse described Abraham being in one location, with the next verse describing him hundreds of miles away. So I asked myself one day: I wonder what happened on the actual road he traveled between those lines I just read. What took less than a minute for me must have taken weeks for Abraham. What were his days like? What did they talk about? What did they joke about? Did they get argue? Did they belch (and did everyone laugh then, as we do now when that happens)? What was the "road" for Abraham </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">really</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> like?</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="line-height: 115%; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span style="line-height: 115%; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">There is, of course, no way to tell apart from the historical and religious documents we have been given.<br /><br />But I hope to give you some insight into </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">my</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> road between the lines. This is a work in progress, just as I am a work in progress, so I hope you will leave comments, which will help guide me along this road.</span></span></span></div><div><span style="line-height: 115%; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span style="line-height: 115%; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I look forward to hearing from you.<br /><br /><br />James Houston Turner writes thrillers from his home in Adelaide, South Australia. You may visit him at </span><a href="http://www.jameshoustonturner.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">www.jameshoustonturner.com</span></a></span></span></div><div><span style="line-height: 115%; color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span style="line-height:115%;font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language: AR-SAfont-family:";font-size:10.0pt;color:black;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="line-height:115%;font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language: AR-SAfont-family:";font-size:10.0pt;color:black;"> </span></div></div>James Houston Turnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08990976544289212635noreply@blogger.com