When Vultures Circle by Betsy Ashton

Vultures circling overhead cause chills to race along most people's spines. Omens of evil, maybe, or just one of nature's garbage disposals, not many people like watching them rise on thermals. On Saturday at a book fair in Danville, VA, the largest flock of vultures I'd ever seen in an urban environment flapped lazily overhead.

I'd written about vultures before. In a shameless moment of self-promotion, I'd like to share the opening section of UNCHARTED TERRITORY, the second Mad Max story:

In pre-dawn darkness, I eased the RV door open and tiptoed down four steps to bare earth. Coffee cup in hand, I turned three hundred and sixty degrees. A strong northern front had blown through overnight, sweeping the humidity out to sea and leaving a crystalline sky behind.

The underlying stench of death and decay, however, remained.

Johnny, Emilie and I settled into our new home the day before. While we waited for the rest of the family to arrive, I watched large birds ride thermals in lazy circles over a distant bayou west of our compound. I didn’t know what kind they were, but they were always in the same place. Black and large, they added to the ominous emptiness. I hadn’t had time to drive across the gray wasteland to find out what was going on.

The slamming of a trailer door and boot steps on packed earth announced Johnny’s arrival from the other side of my RV. He walked up, smiled and stared at the rising column of birds. Clad in jeans, boots and a clean T-shirt, he was ready for work.

“Good morning, funny man.” I tilted my face for a kiss.

“Back atcha, pretty lady.” He kissed my cheek.

“Do you see those birds?” I pointed.” More of them today than yesterday.”

“Yes. Something’s dying over there.”

“Dying?”

“Yes.” Johnny tugged my left earlobe.

“Not dead?”

“Buzzards circle until an animal dies. Then they land.”

“Whatever it is sure has attracted a crowd.” I hugged Johnny but kept staring at the birds. Day one, and I was already spooked by the alien landscape.

More flocks formed near the unseen bayou. Birds landed, rose and circled.

“That’s not all that’s attracting crowds.”

What did he mean by that cryptic remark?

Johnny clapped a ball cap on his head and walked to the cook tent for breakfast before leaving for the job site. His boots kicked up tiny puffs of dust in his wake.

Before I came down to Mississippi, I hadn’t expected such unbroken flatness, such a lack of color. Nothing taller than a car or trailer or pile of rubble. No flowers. In fact, nothing green except a few battered live oak trees. Had Charles Dickens written about spoiled lands instead of broken people, this landscape would have made a perfect model.

When I reflected back over the past few months, I could never have foreseen the changes I would make in my life. I never figured I’d be taking my grandchildren into a war zone.

At least it seemed like one to me.

I hoped I captured the mood of the place where Max finds herself setting up a new place to live with her family. Whatcha think?  

You May Not Be Able To Judge... by Betsy Ashton

... a book by its cover, but you can identify a series if the covers are done right. I love series, often reading several books in a row. Covers with a common look help me zero in on the next one.

Take a look at my friend Terry Maggert's The Fearless fantasy series. Each bookmark and cover have beautiful women and muted backgrounds. Not hard to see that he writes paranormal fantasy. Not hard to identify his books on Amazon or on a bookshelf in a bookstore as belonging to the same writer and series.

Think about the great Sue Grafton. Her Kinsey Millhone mysteries are branded with a large single letter befitting a series that began with A Is For Alibi. Small changes in variations of shading on the letters, but overall the typescript is similar. Ditto are the backgrounds similar. Bold colors with no images hidden behind under the letters. No one can pass a Sue Grafton book and wonder who wrote it or if it is part of her series.

My good buddy, Michael Murphy, writes Jake and Laura mysteries set in Hollywood's heyday. His book covers scream Hollywood noir,  whether it's Yankee Club, the first in the series, or All That Glitters. The reader knows at a glance what to expect. A hint of Raymond Chandler or Dashiell Hammett oozes from the cover and flows into the pages. (Enough of the purple prose, Ashton. Get on with the message.)

And now look at the covers my publisher pulled together for my two Mad Max mysteries. The bookmark accurately depicts two different looks. The top one, Mad Max Unintended Consequences, carries the essence of a rich woman with the little black dress and pearls. The gun warns that this has mystery elements. And the pearls and drops of blood hint at violence and, well, death. That's not a spoiler, because my publisher put, "And when her daughter is murdered" on the back cover. Bad boy!

The lower one for Uncharted Territory doesn't look like it's part of a series, other than it picks up the red lips from the first book in the red lipstick shotgun shell. Again, the shotgun warns of danger.

My publisher is excellent when it comes to working with his authors on cover designs. We tried to keep the black band in the middle with the shotgun and shell in the loser third for Uncharted Territory, but we couldn't find an evocative image for the top third. Since the book takes place in post-Katrina Mississippi, we tried images of desolation, actual photos from after the tidal surge, an Air Stream trailer, a fancy RV. All are part of the story, but the images didn't work.

With book three in progress, I wonder what we'll do for the cover. Book three takes place in a hospital. I'm thinking of a hypodermic filled with blood...

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Betsy Ashton is the author of Mad Max, Unintended Consequences, and Uncharted Territory, A Mad Max Mystery, now available at Amazon and Barnes and Noble.