Jon Breakfield's Blog

Where is your story?

I am often asked, when I'm not working on my next KEY WEST adventure, what do I get up to - well other than catching up on lost time at our beloved Bull & Whistle bar in Key West or brushing up on my Spanish - over the years I have had the good fortune to help a few new writers on the path to publishing their works.
From simple grammar and format assistance in a novel to nurturing a vague concept into a full-length movie script.
From the basics of learning how to use style in Microsoft Word to understanding the technicalities of creating an eBook for Nook or Kindle.
It is a mighty, emotional step for any writer to reveal their essay or memoir or novella to a fellow writer for potential critique, so I do feel honored when a writer - no matter at what stage in their journey - asks for my input.
All of us writers as some point need the objective opinion of another - we've all been on the receiving end of critique and the ensuing cutting-room floor.
However there is nothing more rewarding than nurturing a writer on their circuitous path to achieving their goal.
I'm talking about writers from such different backgrounds who may not have ever dreamt about putting pen to paper: a lounge singer, a tightrope walker, a cleaner, a single mum. Writers who simple had a story to tell. And had a simmering desire to recount...not just to their bartender after a couple of mojitos or their four-legged best friend during a long walk on the beach. A story that emanated perhaps from their own incredible imagination (or bad dreams) to their genuine experiences. 

I'm talking about you - Have you been harboring a story? 
Is it time to share it? With our digital world it is easy to take those first steps. Try composing your idea into a blog. Invite some folk to view it. 
This is just the beginning.

Top o' the morning!Here we meet again.If you can keep a secret, I will let you have a sneak peek at an extract from my new book KEY WEST: See It Before It Sinks.Drum roll, please...I mean STEEL DRUM ROLL:At the corner of Caroline Street, we toddled right, and ambled down the darkened corridor until we came abreast with the Caroline Street Market. It was still open and we could see a transient in there who was up way past his bedtime. He was holding an iguana under his left arm as one would a loaf of bread and seemingly endeavoring to purchase a 40oz. bottle of Colt .45 with his remaining spare change. The transient had the change spread out on the counter and the rough-looking grey-haired female employee was flicking the appropriate coins her way building toward the final countdown. Somehow it was an endearing scene, possibly only endearing in this part of the world, a drunken customer being coached and aided by an equally drunk employee, two drunks shooting for the same end result.
Gabrielle and I tarried until the deal was sealed, then the transient unscrewed the top of his Colt and offered the first glug to his co-conspirator.
She smiled and complied.
We walked on past Peacon Lane and there was no other sign of life. It was peaceful and quiet back here and smelled of night-blooming jasmine. It reminded us of how Key West had been when we first arrived on the island years ago.
We turned left on Margaret Street and only passed one vomit slick, and two transients sleeping rough. The vortex had struck hard and heavy, and the first transient was asleep in the big planter out in front of the Cuban Coffee Queen. We saw a pair of bare legs sticking out of the planter and went to investigate.
"Is he alive?" Gabrielle asked.
I had a closer look. "Oh, that's just Marty. He's down from Pittsburgh. He does some work around the marina when he's sober."
We walked on, and came upon the second transient. He wasn't so much as asleep as passed out. He was lying sprawled in the bushes.
"Is he alive?"
"Not sure," I said. "Look there's an empty bottle of Popov vodka next to him, and by the stench, I would say he's the author of the vomit slick. Guess he couldn't afford the Monkey in Paradise vodka."
"Should we dial…"
"Oh, look, he just moved. Okay, he's good to go."
"He'll be over at the library tomorrow, enjoying some of the bought air," Gabrielle said.

Now available on Amazon

 A PAN AM Thanksgiving TaleWe departed Los Angeles on time and took off over the beach at El Segundo into a setting sun—destination London. We survived the drinks service, the dinner service, and then we dimmed the lights and started the movie. All the screens behaved and descended as they should, and all the projectors actually functioned and didn’t melt down. We flew through the night and I remember walking through the cabin offering orange juice and water to absolutely no one. Everyone was sleeping. Some snoring. No babies crying. Seatbelts fastened over the blankets so we could check them. Clipper socks donned. Eye shades in place. It was a picture postcard crossing of the pond. A couple of hours out, we turned up the cabin lights to start the breakfast service. It went without a hitch. We served seconds on coffee and tea, and passengers soon flocked to the lavatories. After we cleared the cabin, I went to my jump seat and peered out and down below as we crossed over the Irish coast and then the west coast of England. This always my favourite part of the trip: it was still pitch black out, no light in the sky, but I could see the glow from the sodium lights twinkling in all the little storybook villages. As we crossed over Cornwall and Devon, my view of the twinkling lights was blocked by an annoying ground fog. During our descent into Heathrow, the captain made an announcement: “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, there’s a fair amount of fog this morning and we’re going to hold until it clears.” London…Fog…No surprise. We circled for an hour. It started to get light. We circled some more. Then the captain came on again: “The fog is not lifting so we’re going to divert to Paris. We’ll refuel and the minute London opens back up, we’ll be in the air and back on our way.” We flew to Paris but were placed in a holding pattern thanks to the many other diverted flights. Eventually, we touched down at Aéroport Roissy-Charles de Gaulle, and were directed to an area of the airport where there were no jet bridges. We shut down the engines. No one was allowed to leave the aircraft. We served orange juice and water to our passengers. And we waited. An extract from the just published book -  PAN AM: No Sex Please, We're Flight Attendants

As a young lad my only career ambition was to be a comedian…to head off to California and ‘do stand-up’. I managed the former, by driving out to L.A. on the old Route 66 with high school buddy Mike Sokolowski in his rust-bucket MGA, but failed miserably at the latter: The captive audience (I fear they were all on ‘work release’) at the Blue Sky Café, a salubrious Hollywood dive, found me less than amusing and sadly my stint as a professional comic lasted for one set. But the act that followed me had great success (Teddy Neely. He ended up playing the lead in Jesus Christ Superstar). And so began my journey of a continual stream of new and then abandoned careers that would culminate in my printed résumé stretching to almost 6 pages (well, 6 ½ if I included the excitingly short stint in Hollywood as ‘parking lot attendant to the stars Now available in eBookAvailable on Amazon, Kobo and Nook Books

Research is the ground upon which all my books sit. It is hallowed ground. Back when we were living in Key West full time, I would grab my notepad and a few pens and hop on my conch cruiser, pedal out of Aronovitz Lane, up to the Green Parrot, turn right, go against the traffic and head on over to the library on Fleming Street. It would take me three minutes.Two, if I hit the green light on Duval and there was no traffic.The Key West library was a goldmine, not just on account of the many references books, maps, encyclopedias and newspapers, but because of the colorful library denizens. The place was full of them. And the majority were transients. Those souls who slept rough under your neighbor’s ‘conch style shotgun’ house or illicitly on a front porch, or even in a bush. The homeless in Key West loved to read.Everything they could get their hands on. They were voracious readers. Especially one chap called Eddie. I first met Eddie at the Beach at Fort Zachary. Sitting under a tree reading a tattered Carl Hiaasen. Eddie had lost half his brain in Vietnam – fortunately he still had enough left to read. Anyway I digress.Back to the library – the main attraction for many was its air conditioning and comfy seating.They also came to doze, dine (generally out of a paper bag) or debate. They would come early and stay late. There were toilets and a drinking fountain. The library was a serene venue to research, write and eavesdrop. There was that one librarian though who talked loudly enough to get through to the hearing impaired. She gave me an alarmed look when I asked her to “Go sotto voce.”The library was my office during the day, and I managed a modicum of work. The internet did exist but it was a third wheel. To check on one minor fact you had to look at many different browsers/portals such as Excite or Alta Vista or Ask Jeeves – each one often giving a slightly different version. The Bull was my office during the evening. I didn’t get much writing done, but the research was on a different scale: I was able to observe the good, the bad and the creepy. All great for building future characters: a tattooed bald head hanging over the balcony sipping a dainty mojito, a mousy pale-faced Mid-Westerner twerking on the stage with the amused guitar player.Things have changed. I now have Google. I spend less time in the library, but about the same amount of time at the Bull.Of course, for me, the internet can’t replace good, old-fashioned source experts: when I’m writing about women for example and I need to write some inspiring dialogue or describe their sense of fashion, I hit up my wife or a fashionista friend I have in north Wales. Her passion is shoes – from spikes to platforms. And anything with a designer name. But I do still miss the Key West library

The world is getting smaller and bigger.

This blog was supposed to be about my big announcement that my books are now available not just in paperback and Kindle but also as eBooks for Nook and Kobo:
Click Here to check out my ebooks for Nook



 KEY WEST 

 DEATH by GLASGOW

 NAKED EUROPE

But this week, I was in a nostalgic (read: emotional with issues) mood after reluctantly selling my 14- year-old car that I had washed, polished and loved for many winters, springs, summers...you get the neurotic picture.
Signing over the car  'title' got me reminiscing about the good ol' days -  the early days. My first foray into the world of computing -
Ebooks are definitely here to stay and as a writer, despite my love of the paperback (and of course hardback), I'm happy to embrace the new technology. I must confess that the embrace does involve rather a large learning curve. From iPads to Kobo to Nook - how is the writer, who just a few years ago thought he'd mastered the ultimate in technology when he bought a Philips Videowriter word processor, supposed to keep up?
This beast served as my notepad/typewriter for all my writing for many years. It had 16K of RAM and 16K of ROM and no I didn't misstype and forget a 'Mega' or a Giga'.It weighed a mere 30 lbs. soaking wet and traveled with me across continents. Its main claim to fame was a supporting role in the Bond movie 'License to Kill'. If it was good enough for Bond then...In the days when the sneaking on of carry-on baggage was a little less stressful than it is today - I dragged the beast on board flights across the pond. In its large black carry case, today it would be refused by the likes of Delta Airlines or Ryan Air as too large and overweight for even checked baggage, never mind as a carry-on.
I was the guy shoving past you to board the aircraft first to make sure there was a seat with extra legroom - not for me but my brontosaurus-sized laptop. I used to pray that it would fit under the seat in front of me - terrified in case the economy-class cabin staff would confiscate it and send it tumbling down into the bowels of the aircraft along with all those other fragile items...never to be retrieved in one piece. Going through security was always a nightmare when the dutiful ex-Stasi employees insisted I turned it on...not always prudent in a foreign county whose electricity supply was measured in enough volts to incinerate my treasured iPad of the 1980s.
You typed away and saw your words on a little screen - made your corrections. Happily accepted your one choice of font. Saved your work on a floppy disk that cost about $20 for one and printed out your work...and sent it off to potential publishers.
Many years later, I bought my first laptop ( A Toshiba - that had no internet access and weighed a mere 8lbs from an ex-felon in Key West) and marvelled at the technology until I had to sadly send the beast off to the computer knackers.
So back to the 21st century and I may not have an iPad or a touchpad or an eReader but I'm proud to say that you can read my books anyway you like to: hard, soft, over-easy ... just like an egg.

If you like to read light, whimsical prose then hit your 'Back button' now. If you have a penchant for gritty, raw crime with a heavy dose of thriller and a splash of blood, then read on. My new crime novel has just been published.

Quite a departure from the style of my previous two books, this latest one is set in Scotland. My wife and I divide our time between Key West and Glasgow, so it was about time that I write something about Glasgow. It's a great city, from its history to its parks, to its architecture and of course the people, so when I decided to write a crime thriller I knew it had to be based in Glasgow. It's a cliche to say that the city has so many faces, but it is patently true of Glasgow and I love them all. Even the ones with scars on them. The city serves as a vibrant, pulsing backdrop for my characters and I hope that I bring it alive in this first in a series of crime novels featuring Detective Inspector Sharkey.

If you've never been to Glasgow then you have to put this city on your next tour list. If you know the city, I hope you'll enjoy walking the streets with me. But, keep looking over your shoulder.

Here's a quick blurb:

Detective Inspector Sharkey has a new partner to fight crime, problem is the new partner wears Gucci suits and Dolce and Gabbana 3-inch heals. Now his daughter's dead and he has to hit the mean streets of Glasgow with a fashionista side-kick to find the killer.  And what he doesn't know, just might kill him: his new partner is involved in his daughter's death.
The book is published by Gallowgate Press and is now available  as an eBook via  Amazon, Kobo or Nook. It is also available in paperback via your favourite bookstore virtual or otherwise..
For readers in the U.S.:
For readers in the U.K.: 




 

If you like to read light, whimsical prose then hit your 'Back button' now. If you have a penchant for gritty, raw crime with a heavy dose of thriller and a splash of blood, then read on. My new crime novel has just been published.

Quite a departure from the style of my previous two books, this latest one is set in Scotland. My wife and I divide our time between Key West and Glasgow, so it was about time that I write something about Glasgow. It's a great city, from its history to its parks, to its architecture and of course the people, so when I decided to write a crime thriller I knew it had to be based in Glasgow. It's a cliche to say that the city has so many faces, but it is patently true of Glasgow and I love them all. Even the ones with scars on them. The city serves as a vibrant, pulsing backdrop for my characters and I hope that I bring it alive in this first in a series of crime novels featuring Detective Inspector Sharkey.

If you've never been to Glasgow then you have to put this city on your next tour list. If you know the city, I hope you'll enjoy walking the streets with me. But, keep looking over your shoulder.

Here's a quick blurb:

Detective Inspector Sharkey has a new partner to fight crime, problem is the new partner wears Gucci suits and Dolce and Gabbana 3-inch heals. Now his daughter's dead and he has to hit the mean streets of Glasgow with a fashionista side-kick to find the killer.  
And what he doesn't know, just might kill him: his new partner is involved in his daughter's death.

The book is published by Gallowgate Press and is now available on Amazon as an eBook and will soon be available in paperback.
For readers in the U.S.:
For readers in the U.K.: 

My wife and I just returned from a trip to Key West. This trip was partly a chance to meet up with Popcorn Joe and some old friends and partly to do some last-minute real-time research. No, I'm not referring to 'sitting in the Bull & Whistle slowly enjoying a cool beer' kind of research -- for the sequel to KEY WEST.

For a back-water island, Key West is in a state of continual change; a new restaurant popping up here and a road dug up there (actually that was our problem at the start of the trip -- we could barely access the island as the main road looked like downtown Baghdad just after Saddam jumped ship. N. Roosevelt Boulevard, aka Highway #1, aka the only evacuation route during hurricane season, was having the dental equivalent of a root canal (route canal). Seemed like a bit of bad programming during peak tourist season, but who am I to moan?

We were actually thrilled we had made it down the long drive from Miami. No matter how many times you do that drive, as beautiful as it is (despite the new Adult Superstore), I always seem to forget just how long the trip can be. The day was also hampered by the inevitable and gi-normous annual flea market on Matecumbe Key (coupled with the extra, enervating traffic which comes with a long weekend).


The first item on our agenda was a quick jaunt around the Old Town. We marveled at the changes, and you got 100 points if you spotted anyone we knew from our old days.
'It was great to see the colorful houseboats, and the Conch House Inn looking as great as ever. "Wonder if they still have black carpets?" says my wife, remembering the day we did a guest appearance and cleaned all the rooms on a sweltering day in September with no air conditioning. The hardest job we've ever had!



Over on Caroline St, "My goodness is that Rene still selling his paintings at the Red Doors?"





"I think the Pineapple Apartments need a lick of paint. Popcorn Joe would never have let it look that shabby."
All around us we spied small changes - good and bad.  We parked the car, amazed that we had found a lonely spot that was not being guarded by a parking meter, and continued our reminiscing on foot. B.O.'s fish wagon was doing a trade. Where was the Greg O' Berry building? What a great new coffee shop. Thank goodness Key West Island Books is still going strong.

We met up with Popcorn Joe doing this thing on the "pier" at Sunset Celebration - 27 years on the job. We were a bit envious that Joe hadn't aged at all since we last saw him - must be the Key West ions (or the bottle of Russian Vodka that he had tucked away under his popcorn cart).

The charm was all still there.




Later that night we met up with friends on Geiger Key and dined at the Geiger Key Marina. The grouper sandwich was divine and live music to boot - it couldn't get any better.

And it was great to be back.

      There exists a group of people in the literary world who are unsung heroes and, as an author, I would like to sing their praises: I want to extend a digital-hug, to you the reader. Thank you for talking about a book on Facebook, thank you for passing on a book to a friend, thank you for accidentally leaving it on the train, and a big thank you to those of you who take the time to knock out a review on Amazon or Goodreads.

       I live to write – but once a book is finished it marks the end of what has been a long, loving, and sometimes enervating relationship. I then hand the words over to you. It’s like sending your child out into the world, but you never get an email or a tweet or text from your first born. Then suddenly – a sign.  It starts with a comment on Goodreads:  “I’m currently reading KEY WEST”. This then blossoms and 5 stars appear on Amazon.  My heart soars.  And then comes the icing (whipped cream) on the Key Lime Pie -- a review.

       It’s so gratifying to receive the feedback directly from the reader’s keyboard (or those of you who got a tax refund – touchscreen). To know that she or he has read your work is exhilarating – to know that he or she enjoyed it – is humbling.

      When reviewers take that extra step to pass on why they enjoyed the book, it means a lot to me. Most recently, the comments make reference to my many zany characters – it’s this unconditional feedback that opens my eyes to what the readers enjoy and thus helps me to shape my characters and storyline for my next book. I’m currently writing the sequel to KEY WEST and you, dear reader, are helping to enrich the DNA of my next offspring.

      If I wore a baseball cap I would now take it off in salute to you, the reader. Thank you.