The Two Most Beautiful Words in the English Language

Most agree the three most beautiful words in the English language are "I love you," but I know the two most beautiful words - at least for a writer. I have to disagree with Dorothy Parker (American poet and satirist). She said it was "Check Enclosed." I agree it comes in a close second, but "The End" beats it. I just typed "The End" on a manuscript I started at the end of September 2021.

Wow! I hadn't realized it had been four years until I looked it up. I could list several reasons behind it: working on other projects, having to complete a boatload of research, creating something concrete from nothing but an idea, etc. But who cares? I DID it.

Of course, my work's not done. Next comes the editing. Over the four years, I had new ideas, completed research to be included, and got to know my characters better. The rule I follow is to keep writing, making notes about possible changes with the plan that I will work it out in the edits.

The result is a dumpster fire of a manuscript. One that will take a lot of work to make it even become a coherent story - let alone something I could share with anyone.

But now I have something to work with.

Excuse me, I'm going off to celebrate.

P.S. I'll share more once I have put out the worst of the fires in the dumpster. I'm not even sure of the title yet.

Upcoming Book Signings and Appearances

Once again, I'll be selling and signing books at several local libraries and craft fairs. I do hope that if you are in the area, you will stop by and say. Here's a list of the upcoming events:

September 27: Garland Central Library's Curiosity Fest. A free event. More about it here.

October 4 - 5: DFW Writers Con. I'll be conducting a class on "Story First, Facts Second: Mastering the Art of Historical Research." I'll also have a booth with North Dallas Sisters in Crime. This is a great conference for writers, and I hope you'll check it out here.

October 18: Lewisville High School Craft Fair. More about it here.

October 25 - 26: JJ Pearce High School Craft Fair. Find out more here.

November 8: Terrell, Texas British Bash: Food, Music, and Fun here.

November 9: Coppell High School Holiday Fair. Directions and more here.

December 6: Hebron High School Craft Fair. Check it out here.

Giveaways and Book Promotions

Booksweeps Crime Fiction Giveaway

Win a $250 ultimate crime fiction book prize package, featuring 10 thrilling crime fiction books and a copy of Folio’s Illustrated Special Edition of THE GODFATHER by Mario Puzo. The runner-up winner receives one copy of each author’s book.

Enter today here!

EbookFairs All Genre Book Fair

In two days (September 16), the EbookFairs All Genre Book Fair opens to offer readers a chance to explore a diverse range of books, from fiction and non-fiction to poetry and graphic novels. Don't miss this chance to discover new favorites, connect with fellow book lovers, and immerse yourself in the vibrant world of literature!

Remember to scroll to the end to enter for a chance at a Gift Card! Check it all out here.

Baked with Love and Murder

When baker Hannah Harper returns to small-town Ogilvie to rebuild her life, her charming pie truck is the talk of the Fall Festival—especially when she’s pitted against her smug rival, her ex-boyfriend shows up as a surprise judge, and her aging oven goes on strike. But when someone turns up dead, Hannah finds herself caught in a recipe for disaster that’s anything but sweet.

With a loyal dog at her side and a brooding handyman who might just be more than he seems, Hannah must uncover the truth before her second chance turns deadly.

A delicious blend of romance, rivalry, and murder—with a side of pie.

Order your slice here.

The Beast of Baker Street

Part V

Recap: In 1903, a werewolf attack cursed Holmes, leaving him plagued by dark moods and vanishings until Watson realized his friend was behind a series of attacks in London. Their first attempt to contain him with laudanum failed, forcing Watson to fire a silver bullet to keep him at bay.

Refusing to give up, they reinforced a cell and tried silver nitrate injections. But under the next full moon, Holmes became something half-man, half-beast—recognizable yet monstrous. Chained, he lunged for freedom until Watson’s revolver ended the night, leaving Holmes human and broken on the floor.

I cautiously opened the door and rushed to his side. Carefully, I checked for any wounds, relieved to find none. His breathing was still ragged, but he was alive. After checking his vitals, I removed the leg shackle and helped him into a sitting position. He reached out and grabbed my forearm, his grip surprisingly strong for someone who had just undergone such a traumatic experience. 

"Thank you…Watson," he whispered hoarsely, his eyes still glassy with confusion. "I...can't remember much." With a wry smile, he added. “At least I’m alive.”

He changed into the spare clothing we’d brought and returned to our flat. Only after we were in the privacy of our quarters did we compare experiences that night.

Sitting in his favorite armchair, still visibly shaken by the events of the night, he recounted what he recalled of the event. His posture remained tense, and his gaze haunted. Despite his physical appearance returning to normal, it was clear that the psychological effects of his transformation lingered. He described fleeting moments of consciousness amidst a haze of primal instincts. Hunger and aggression consumed him, punctuated by bouts of sheer terror as he fought against the beast within. The account was fragmented, pieces of a shattered mirror. Throughout, he felt trapped in his own body, a passenger to the monstrous transformation. 

As I shared with him my observations of the creature that he’d become, a surge of admiration for his resilience passed through me. While his past transformations had consumed his body and mind, the silver nitrate had lessened the change but plunged him into some in-between state.

When we had finished, he said, “Obviously, I need a stronger dosage.”

The next two nights, we followed the same routine: the room, the shackle, and most importantly, the silver nitrate—each time with an additional half-dosage increase. Each time, the transformation left him in a more human form, but not unchanged.

After the final night of the full moon, he sighed. “Next month, you will have to use a much higher dosage.”

“Any more and you can be permanently harmed,” I said with a shake of my head. “I’ll not be responsible for….” The word “death” stuck in my throat.

“Watson,” he said, “this treatment works. I am willing to risk my life. I can’t continue my work without it.”

I knew then that there was no use arguing with Holmes when he had already made up his mind. His determination was as unyielding as steel, and his commitment to solving cases unrivaled by any other. Despite my reservations, I could not deny him this chance to regain control over his own fate.

The following month, I prepared the highest dosage of silver nitrate yet and prepared him as we had the other nights. As the full moon approached, tension enveloped the warehouse like a thick fog, chilling me to the bone. The lantern cast shadows across the empty spaces, and every sound seemed magnified tenfold in the stillness. Those coming from the locked room, however, were different this time. No grating of metal on wood or rattling of chains. Instead, I heard labored breathing and soft muttering. Hesitantly, I slid back the cover on the observation window. Inside, Holmes was standing upright. His eyes met mine through the small slit in the door.

“Watson?” he asked. “Do you see any difference?”

Because he had not ripped off his clothes, my observations were limited to his hands and face—both devoid of any fur or changes I could detect.

“No. No changes I can observe.”

“I…feel different. Or rather, not different. The same as always.”

Before I could stop myself, I asked, “Do you wish to stay? In the room, I mean?”

Why had I asked that? The transformation could just be delayed rather than prevented.

“I think it is for the best,” he said. “But I would appreciate your keeping me company.” 

The full moon cast an eerie glow through the small window as Holmes and I waited together in the warehouse. Holmes paced back and forth in his small cell of a room, the chain dragging over the wood. I tried to engage him in conversation to reduce his anxiety, but after a few brief words or vague, mono-syllabic acknowledgments, I dropped the effort. The question that haunted us both but dared not voice aloud hung between us. If the silver nitrate injections kept his condition at bay, could he return to his previous pace as a consulting detective? 

The next two months followed the same routine. For the three nights of the full moon, I explained to my wife Mary that Holmes needed me, and saint that she was, would send me off without even a question. Holmes had quit his cell in the warehouse and spent the night at 221B. I kept him company, my service revolver with the silver bullets at the ready. Not once did I have to raise it to my friend. He even returned to work, solving the mystery of the blue carbuncle.

At the same time, I could see subtle changes that concerned me greatly. On the third night of the full moon in January, Holmes sat rigid in his chair, his lean fingers clenched around the armrests as I administered the injection. Though he made no sound, I saw the way his breath hitched, the slight tightening of his jaw. While he would never admit to the pain, I knew it burned through his veins.

To be continued.....

Those links again:

Garland Central Library Curiosity Fest: here.

DFW Writers Con: here

Lewisville High School Craft Fair: here.

JJ Pearce High School Craft Fair: here

Terrell, Texas British Bash: here

Coppell High School Holiday Fair: here

Hebron High School Craft Fair: here

Ultimate Crime Fiction Book Contest: here

All Genre Book Fair: here

Baked with Love and Murder: here.

See you in October!

Liese