Up and Coming January 2021 Wounded Angels and Black Hell Drowning What's Happening? Wounded Angels is still garnishing new reviews. I am very pleased to share the latest one with you here. As I mentioned earlier, I intend to finish Black Hell Drowning, at its own pace rather than rushing to finish it in order to get the "next book" published. I also said that I would share it with you as I wrote it, so I have included the draft of the first chapter below. I welcome your comments. The Latest Wounded Angels ReviewReview by Kellinewton42 -- Wounded Angels by Chuck Miceli 10 Jan 2021, 12:58 4 out of 4 stars Wounded Angels-Sometimes the Only Way to Heal a Broken Heart is Through a Wounded Soul, is a gripping story that takes us on a journey through the life of Maureen Bowers. Told from Maureen’s point of view, the story is organized into five parts, each covering a time in her life with an emphasis on particular relationships that were integral during that time. The story begins in 1937, when a 14 year old Maureen experiences the unexpected and tragic loss of her father, leaving Maureen, her mother, and her brother, to pick up the pieces. This horrific experience leaves her with the fear of being left alone and abandoned, one that would reemerge several more times throughout her life. When she meets Frank Russo, a handsome young skating instructor, Maureen’s life changes forever. It doesn’t take long for the two of them to fall in love and start to dream about their future. Throughout their 52 years of marriage, Frank and Maureen would share the many blessings of a true and enduring love, the joys and challenges of raising two wonderful daughters, and the adventures of deep friendships. With the good would also come many hardships, such as separation during World War II, emotional baggage that can result from the atrocities of war, and more loss and sadness along the way. Though Frank is a huge part of her story, Maureen and Frank’s love is not the only relationship told about in the book. Maureen shares a close bond with her daughters and she also becomes unlikely friends with an eccentric and adventurous woman named Doris Cantrell. All of these people are important and instrumental in helping Maureen work through her fear of abandonment, feelings of guilt, and even depression. Chuck Miceli writes with such beautiful description, creating settings and describing characters that are so vivid and clear for the reader. With captivating detail, the story flows smoothly, making it easy to follow and a delight to read. I truly have no negative feedback for this story. I wholeheartedly give this book a rating of 4 out of 4 stars. Not only do I feel that the author was a master at writing descriptively, but I also love that his story was so rich with content. It wasn’t just a book about enduring relationships and love, it also touched on the historical events that were happening throughout the specific times in the story line such as, World War II and the Vietnam war. The story also dealt with some very real topics such as depression and PTSD. I would recommend this book to anyone who enjoys realistic fiction novels that include complex relationships involving friendships, family, and love. Those who enjoy historical fiction may also enjoy the references to the important events that occurred throughout the story as well. ****** Wounded Angels View: on Bookshelves | on Amazon Latest Review: Wounded Angels by Chuck Miceli The First Draft Chapter of Black Hell Drowning Chapter 1 - Carmella “Angelo and Giuseppe, stop throwing stones in the water,” Carmella yelled out the open kitchen window. The boys dropped their rocks and climbed further up the bank, away from the stream that ran under each of the outhouses. With the evening chill and the breeze blowing sideways across the hill, Carmella could leave the kitchen window open as she continued preparing dinner. The sewage smell was barely noticeable. After replacing the cover on the heavy iron pot, she moved it from the sink to the stovetop. It will need more coal, she thought. Franco will be hungry after work and if I don’t have dinner ready, his foul mood will last the rest of the night. She took the poker and pried open the side-door of the cast-iron stove, took a couple scoops of coal from the pale and laid the new coals on top of the embers. In a few minutes, the hot coals would boil the soup and keep the house warm until bedtime. She opened the oven door to take in the aroma of the apple pies she made for the church supper and then wrapped her knit shawl around her shoulders and stepped out into the cool night air. Carmella looked down at the shanty rows to each side of the outhouses. Dusty walking paths in front of each row connected the buildings from the top of the hill to the bottom. At the base, the paths continued past the houses of the supervisors’ and mine bosses and on to the colliery. Her house was near the top of the hill. While it made for a longer walk for Franco, the breeze was a Godsend during the stifling summer heat. Carmella enjoyed the view and the boys didn’t have to walk far to get water from the patch well. With the sun low in the sky, each of the gray, weathered shacks took on a golden glow. For a few minutes each day, the sight was almost pretty. Beyond the patch, the enormous breaker blocked the sun entirely. Standing over a hundred feet tall, decades of coal dust cloaked it in black. The tipple shack topped it like the head of a helmeted warrior. The shaft running from the left side reached down like a giant arm to seize the heavy-laden coal cars that spewed out of the mountainside. Below the tipple, a conveyor formed its right arm, stretching out over the culm bank, where it discharged its coal-laced slate and stone. Its thick legs straddled the tracks running beneath it where it discharged streams of stone coal into the giant gondola cars that carried the anthracite to every corner of the country. Silhouetted against the pink sky, the breaker stood like an enormous gladiator, ready to cut down any would-be challengers and, like the battle victor, it bellowed out a constant roar that filled the valley as it crushed huge chunks of coal to pieces with its iron fists. “It’s going to be a chilly one tonight, eh Carmella?” Her neighbor stood on the common porch of their adjoining shanty. “Have you got enough coal?” “Yes, Sophia, thank you. I sent the boys to looking along the railroad tracks. They came back with two buckets full.” “Why not just send them to the Culm bank? They could have brought you back six pails in the same time.” “Not unless I go with them. They have too much energy. I’m afraid they might try to climb up the bank and cause a slide, especially if there’s no one to watch them. The two buckets will keep us until Sunday and then we’ll go to get more. How is Anthony? I heard him coughing again last night.” “He’s getting worse. When he’s not coughing, he’s choking. Lately, it’s been so bad he can’t even lie down. Most nights he sits up in a chair and can only sleep two, maybe three hours. The miner’s lung is bad enough, but he won’t quit those damn cigarettes. The foreman said the next time he catches him smoking in the mine, he’s going to send him home and lose him his day’s pay. I swear if he doesn’t kill himself first, he’ll cause an explosion and take the whole crew with him. What’s the use? He won’t listen to me anyway, so I’ve stopped trying. Have you made your pies?” “Yes. I got a half-bushel of apples and the pies are baking now. What did you decide to…” The sound of the breaker whistle cut short Carmella’s question. Both women stood still as the color drained from their faces. Up and down the hill on both sides, shanty doors opened as women and children poured out of their homes. Anxious mothers wrapped their arms tight around their children as they looked toward the breaker. Some of the younger women nearest to the colliery ran toward the mine head. During their first few years in the patch, Carmella and Sophia ran too. Each time, however, Carmella’s heart pounded so hard she could hear it. Each time, she anxiously waited for word of what happened, sometimes for hours, until Franco finally arrived. Each time, it tore a little more of her soul away. Now, she and Sophia waited in front of their homes. It was almost an hour before the breaker’s grinding stopped and the entire valley fell silent, but that was a good sign. The mine wouldn’t stop operations for one or two men. For the breaker to stop right away, it would have to be a terrible disaster. Carmella looked down as the mining supervisor’s wagon made its way into the patch. If the wagon started up the right side of the hill, she and Sophia could breathe a sigh of relief. This time, it came up on the left. They watched for it to stop in front of one of the shanties below. For a moment, it stopped in front of one of the Polish shanties near the steepest portion of the hill. Carmella felt a pang of sorrow for the panicked women at the door. They had only recently been married. The supervisor snapped his whip, shook the horse’s reigns and yelled. The horse and wagon jerked forward and the young Polish girl slumped against her door. Carmella and Sophia watched the wagon slowly continue up the hill. With each house it passed, Sophia’s anxiety grew. “Oh my God,” Sophia started trembling. “Oh my God, please no,” as tears started streaming down her cheeks. Carmella hugged her and yelled out to the boys, “Angelo, Giuseppe, quick, go inside.” Angelo, at nine, was the oldest and protested, “Awe mama, it’s still early and papa isn’t even home yet.” “Do as I tell you and go inside now.” The boys did as told while the supervisor’s wagon made its way further up the hill. As the wagon passed the last shanty before theirs, Sophia became hysterical. “Oh my God, no.” Carmella tried to console her but Sophia’s arms flailed wildly as she screamed, “No, God, no. Please no!” Both women stood motionless, wrapped in each other’s arms until the wagon stopped in front of the house. The supervisor and his helper retrieved a body rolled in fabric from the wagon. They carried it to the house and rolled it out like a carpet until Franco came to rest against Carmella’s front door. His shirt sank in on his left side as though there were no bones in his chest to support it. His left arm slung limply behind him as if barely attached and blood oozed out onto the porch and pooled beneath him. Carmella fixed her gaze on Franco. She said nothing but her legs gave out and Sophia gripped her tight to stop them both from falling. “Don’t look.” Sophia blocked Carmella’s view as she eased her down onto a chair. Anthony’s coughing announced his arrival. “Quick, Anthony,” Sophia directed. “Go inside and bring me a blanket and a glass of water.” When Anthony returned, Sophia handed the water to Carmella, “Drink.” Carmella rested the glass on her lap and stared blankly into the distance. Sophia moved to Carmella’s door, draped the blanket on Franco’s body and returned. “Oh, my God. The boys!” Carmella looked up to Sophia. “They can’t see him like this.” “No. They won’t.” Sophia looked to Anthony. “Get some help and bring Franco in here. Then hurry and wash off the porch.” Then she returned to Carmella. “Don’t say anything to the boys yet. You go inside, feed them and put them to bed. We’ll take care of Franco.” As Sophia helped Carmella to her feet, Anthony and another man carried Franco’s body away. Carmella had to step over Franco’s blood to go inside. Before she closed the door, she looked out over the patch. The deep red sunset faded to black as the stars showed overhead. “What do I do now, Sophia?” Carmella asked. “Right now,” Sophia answered, “you just look after your boys.” That's All For Now, Folks That should do it for now. If you have the time and inclination, I welcome your questions, comments and feedback. In the meantime, I hope this finds you and yours safe, happy and healthy. Until the next time. Warmest Regards, Chuck.
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View on MailChimp Black Hell Drowning, "Miner's Lament," and A Writing GiftAs I posted in my last newsletter, I am sending these announcements when there is some significant development, or I have something to share that I think you will find interesting and/or useful. In this one, I want to give you a writing gift. My father was a coal miner and Black Hell Drowning is a story about life and death in the anthracite coal mines of Pennsylvania. I have been doing some rewriting of that manuscript and, as I continue, my intention is to share it directly with you. For this one, I wanted to share something I did finish regarding coal mining. A Writing Gift for You; "Miner's Lament"In addition to writing long-form novels, I less-often try my hand at writing poetry and short stories. Once in a great while, I submit my writing to contests. My poem, "Miner's Lament," won third place in the world-wide Writer's Digest competition in 2015. Now I am including it here followed by an explanation of the terms and illusions in the poem. I trust my comments will greatly enhance your understanding and pleasure in reading it. I recommend that you read the poem first, then read the explanations, then re-read the poem again. Once you have read the explanations, I think you will have a completely different and much more satisfying experience reading the poem the second time around. I would also welcome and appreciate your questions and comments. Now here is "Miner's Lament." Miner's LamentPink: the color of sky, blossom, organ. Pink, the day education ended and heaven faded to black in a cage dropping six hundred feet. Pink, invisible in the darkness save the lamps lighting the way of blind mules, fat rats and sacrificial birds. Dark pink after a year, waiting in the blackness for each mule, opening , closing, salvaging precious air. Light grey after three years, straddling chutes in the breaker’s deafening roar, sifting stones in the black clouds. Grey after seven years, racing alongside two-tons of runaway coal car with only sprags to stop them. Dark gray after twenty years, surviving black damp, white damp, falling bells and singing timbers. Black after thirty years, wheezing up blood and never smoked a damn day in my life. The Meaning Behind "Miner's Lament"My father was an anthracite coal miner in Pittston Pennsylvania, as was my older brother Nick and many other uncles, cousins and friends. This poem was inspired by and dedicated to them and their spouses (like mom, pictured above with dad) and their families. Now here is the meaning behind "Miner's Lament." Miner's Lament: What's in the Title? The title of this poem serves an important function. It tells us that everything in the poem itself relates directly to a miner. In addition, the word lament tells us that this poem focuses on something for which the miner is expressing regret. Keep this in mind as you read it. Pink: the color of sky, blossom, organ. Pink, the day education ended and heaven faded to black in a cage dropping six hundred feet. I'll expand on the color references toward the end. I expect you might have figured them out for yourself by then. I'll start here with the second stanza, My father was eleven years old "the day education ended." He was pulled out of school in the fourth grade to work in the mines. Like many boys in mine-country, his income was needed to support the family. The elevators that were used to take miners down to the mine and carry the coal cars back up were called cages. In Pittston, many of the anthracite coal veins were six hundred or more feet underground. If you looked out the top of the cage as you descended, the early-morning pink sky above would darken and eventually disappear completely as "heaven faded to black." Pink, invisible in the darkness save the lamps lighting the way of blind mules, fat rats and sacrificial birds. Without light, the darkness in the mines is absolute. You literally cannot see your hand in front of your face. Before the introduction of "electric motors" to pull the coal cars from the working face to the cages, mules were used. Stables were hune out of the rock in the mine, and many mules spent their entire lives underground. Eventually, the mules went blind because of the dim surroundings. If you asked a miner what he would do if he saw a rat, his answer would be to "feed it." Many miners believed that in the event of a cave-in or flood, the rats would sense the danger, so if the miners saw the rats running, they would start running too. There were many forms of poisonous gases in the mines. Many of us have heard the expression "the canary in the coal mine." Before the advent of gas detectors, miners often brought canaries with them to work. Since the bird's lungs would succumb to the gas sooner then the miner, if his "sacrificial bird" collapsed, the miner would immediately leave the area. Dark pink after a year, waiting in the blackness for each mule, opening , closing, salvaging precious air. Young boys working in a mine complex or "colliery" usually started out above ground working as "breaker boys." One of the first jobs a boy was given within the mine itself was that of a door-boy or "nipper." Mines could stretch out for miles underground in a maze of shafts and tunnels. Huge exhaust fans forced fresh air from the surface through the mine. It was crucial that the air be channeled to those areas where the miners were working, otherwise they could suffocate to death. To accomplish this, heavy doors were installed to cut off the sections of the mine that were already "worked out." It was the nipper's job to open the door only when a coal car was coming through and close it immediately afterwards, thus "salvaging precious air." Before electric lights were installed, the only light the nipper had came from the head-lamp on his helmet. In order to save the light for when it was most needed, the nipper would "wait in the blackness" with only the rats to keep him company. If he fell asleep and didn't open the door in time, a mule might crash through, slamming the heavy door against the sleeping boy. Light grey after three years, straddling chutes in the breaker’s deafening roar, sifting stones in the black clouds. The first job many young boys had in a colliery was that of a "breaker boy." The breaker was a huge, tall building that served as the heart of the mine complex. Coal cars were transported to the top of the breaker where they dumped their load of coal and stone. The load worked its way down via chutes. Breaker boys sat "straddling chutes in the breaker's deafening roar" and separated the stones from the coal. The stones were dumped into huge mounds called culm piles. The chunks of coal continued downward into the metal grinding wheels that broke the chunks into various sizes for different commercial and residential applications. The coal exited the bottom of the breaker into gondola train cars for transportation throughout the country. The fingers of newer breaker boys would bleed until they became calloused and the coal dust from the constantly churning grinders submerged the boys in "black clouds." Workers with sticks supervised the breaker boys and hit any who appeared to be falling asleep. If a boy nodded off and fell into a chute, he could be drawn into the breaker and crushed to death. Grey after seven years, racing alongside two-tons of runaway coal car with only sprags to stop them. A loaded coal car weighed several tons. Before the cars were equipped with breaks, a worker, usually an older boy, was assigned to slow or stop the car manually using a wooden wedge called a sprag. The worker would run alongside the car and insert the sprag between the wheels and the body of the coal car. If they missed their mark, they risked losing an arm or leg. My uncle Sam recounted a time when he rode atop a car and his sprag didn't hold. He rode the runaway car to the breaker and jumped up to catch the door railing just as the car crashed into the breaker. He lost his job but not his life. Dark gray after twenty years, surviving black damp, white damp, falling bells and singing timbers. There are multiple ways to die in a mine. As I mentioned earlier, there are many forms of poisonous gases. Carbonic acid, or "black damp," is fatal in large doses. When exposed to fire, it becomes carbonic oxide, or "white damp," and is fatal in even small concentrations. Often in mines, a chunk of rock will loosen and fall from the ceiling. The rock often took the shape of a bell and could be smaller than a breadbox or larger than a chair. Landing on a man, a "falling bell" could cripple or kill him instantly. My brother Nick narrowly missed having one fall on him when he heard something odd and quickly stepped out of the way. Seeing pictures of timbers in mines can mistakenly lead us to believe that they are preventing the mine from caving in. Apart from holding loose rock from falling, the weight above a mine several hundred feet below the surface would quickly destroy even the strongest timbers. Prior to a cave-in however, the ceiling can shift, exerting its weight on the timbers. When that happens, the "singing timbers" will emit a loud cracking sound which can give the miners time to evacuate before the ceiling comes crashing in. Black after thirty years, wheezing up blood and never smoked a damn day in my life. My father worked in the mines for many years, ending up as an electrician and working on the motors that replaced the mules for pulling the coal cars out of the mines. He left the mines and tried to start his own business, working for a time as an independent appliance repairman in Pittston. When I was six, he moved our family to Brooklyn, New York and took a job as a factory worker, so his children would have the opportunity to earn a living without having to work in the mines or dress shops. That however, did not save him from his years in the coal dust. For years, he struggled with his breathing and shortly after retiring died of the "black lung" disease. By now, I expect that many of you have figured out that the colors referred to in the poem relate to the lungs of those who worked in the mines. I often wonder how many other writers, poets, artists, and others were never able to express their creativity because they never got the opportunities my father gave us. For that, I will be forever grateful. Now that you know the meaning behind the poem, I invite you to read it again and visualize the meaning of each sentence. I trust it will be a completely different experience. Now, here again, is Miner's Lament. Pink: the color of sky, blossom, organ. Pink, the day education ended and heaven faded to black in a cage dropping six hundred feet. Pink, invisible in the darkness save the lamps lighting the way of blind mules, fat rats and sacrificial birds. Dark pink after a year, waiting in the blackness for each mule, opening , closing, salvaging precious air. Light grey after three years, straddling chutes in the breaker’s deafening roar, sifting stones in the black clouds. Grey after seven years, racing alongside two-tons of runaway coal car with only sprags to stop them. Dark gray after twenty years, surviving black damp, white damp, falling bells and singing timbers. Black after thirty years, wheezing up blood and never smoked a damn day in my life. Thank you for spending this time with me. I hope that you found this to be of interest and hopefully, value. I would love to hear your reaction and I welcome you comments, questions and suggestions. You can write to me via the "contact" page of my website, AuthorChuckMiceli.com. On that same site you will find information about my other writings and you can learn much more about my most recent book, Wounded Angels at my book website, WoundedAngelsBook.com. Until the next time, I hope this finds you and yours happy and healthy.
Warmest Regards, Chuck First, A Little Background About What's Been HappeningHello. It's been quite a while since I've communicated with you. To say that my life has changed dramatically in the interim would be an understatement. As most of you know, several months ago I developed a hole in the macular level of my right eye which significantly impacted my vision. That necessitated surgery and follow-up limitations on my mobility. Subsequently, the vision in my right eye is slowly improving but is still nowhere near what it use to be and a significant distortion remains. While my left eye had compensated for most activities, close work like reading and writing were a significant stain and to a lesser degree, still are. As a result, I curtailed my writing activities and filled my time instead by tackling long delayed home projects and, more importantly, by spending increased time communicating with family and friends. In the process, I have reconnected with people I care deeply about and found a renewed sense of calmness and peace that I had almost forgotten. The more I did, the more I realized how much of my life has been dictated by the pressure of the schedule and the clock and the less I wanted to return to my previous way of living. My priorities have now shifted and I realize that if I return to writing, it must be because I want to write rather than feel I have to. The same is true for my social media. I want to communicate when I feel I have something I want to share rather than post things because of some notion that if I don't, people might lose interest. That being said, I will no longer be posting every month, but rather on those occasions when I have something to share that I believe warrants your time and attention. While I still desire to finish my next and perhaps last book, "Black Hell Drowning," I also plan on writing it at its own pace rather than rushing to finish it in order to get the "next book" published. And at this point, I am inclined to periodically share what I write directly with you rather than wait until it is finished in book form. We will have to see where that goes. That should be enough background for now. Now here is what is currently Up and Coming. New Reviews for Wounded Angels![]() While I have been limiting my writing during my recovery, thankfully, people and been reading and reviewing Wounded Angels. People tell me on a fairly regular basis that they have read or are reading the book and have very much enjoyed the experience. In addition, I get write-ups of formal reviews of the book and was especially pleased with this most recent review from Online Book Club. Review by alyssajanel13 -- Wounded Angels by Chuck Miceli Post by alyssajanel13 » 02 Aug 2020, 08:03 [Following is a volunteer review of "Wounded Angels" by Chuck Miceli.] 4 out of 4 stars Share This Review 1 There can be a sweet delight in a safe, well-written story of romance. In Wounded Angels by Chuck Miceli, the author has created just that. This novel tells the story of Maureen and Frank. We first meet them as roller-skating sweethearts, before World War II changes everything. The novel follows Frank and Maureen as he goes to war, and comes back, with various issues coming back with him. Together, they build a life. The pair raise two daughters, with the conflict in Vietnam coloring their daughters’ lives, just as WWII did for them. But they carry one, and grow closer and more in love. Inevitable things happen, as no couple is together forever and someone has to pick up pieces. Miceli does a great job of creating layered imagery throughout the story. His descriptions are so skilled that you can fell the cold on your nose and the texture of the hand-written letter in your fingers. The story bounds forward, covering decades as the couple ages and raise their family. Not an easy task but the plot keeps pace and doesn’t lag or linger. The biggest draw of the story, for me, was authentic emotion. There is love oozing from the pages. For each other. For the family the star characters created. For the life they have built. When you have that much perfection, some disaster can only be around the corner. And there is a lot to be thrown at these two over a lifetime. Different backgrounds. War. What is left in Europe when soldiers return and what other dark shadows come back with them. And then. the ultimate challenge. The moments of loss are heart-breaking. Miceli is more than capable of juggling these years and characters. I loved the inclusion of different writing styles, such as journal entries and letters, to bring interesting perspectives. I would have enjoyed more if these offerings. The story flows well, briskly, and is deftly edited. There are only a few fiddly bits. I would have preferred a bit more dimension from our Maureen. She stated to annoy me, she was so perfect. The change from her abject loss to bright-eyed optimism seemed abrupt after such a prolonged time without any progress. There was some late addition of characters that seemed a bit forced. But, when it comes to Doris, she’s a force of nature herself, so that seemed spot on. She was an injection of brisk, jolting energy. And the plot made it necessary to keep her closed up until later in the story. The early dialogue seemed a bit stilted. This could be the author finding his flow, or an accurate attempt to try and capture 1940’s speech patterns that may sound formal and stiff to modern ears. Overall, a 4 out of 4 star read. Even if a little romanticized, it presented a beautiful love and lovers, and made me want to find a special someone with whom I could share morning eggs and coffee. Wounded Angels Will Be A Featured Novel in the Upcoming September "Great Indi Books Worth Discovering" Publications of Kirkus ReviewKirkus Review, one of the oldest and most prominent review publications in the country, contacted me several months back about featuring Wounded Angels in their print and on-line "Great Indi Books Worth Discovering" promotion. The book will be featured in several publications to be distributed to readers, libraries, agents, film and audio producers, and more. I don't know what, if anything, will come of the feature, but I am happy to be included in such prestigious publications. Here is a copy of one of the ads they designed for the promotion. That's All For Now FolksThat should do it for now. If you have the time and inclination, I welcome your questions, comments and feedback.
I am hopeful that a vaccine will be available soon and I can once again participate in some of the author events like book readings and signings, book clubs, the Big E, etc. Just before the virus struck, however, I ordered many paperback copies of Wounded Angels. If you or someone you know would like a highly discounted autographed copy for only $10, tax and shipping included, contact me at [email protected] to arrange to order copies and I will be delighted to ship them out. In any event, I wish you and yours all the best for your continued health and happiness. Until the next time. Warmest Regards, Chuck.
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View on MailChimp While I am limiting my computer time until after my June eye surgery, I wanted to share this important announcement with you. Online Book Club is featuring Wounded Angels as their Book of the Day this Thursday, May 14, 2020. You will find more information on their website at https://onlinebookclub.org/. They are also promoting the book through their Facebook, Twitter, and other social media outlets. Elm Hill and Harper Collins are reducing the Kindle eBook cost to 0.99 on that day, May 14, only. You can get your 0.99 eBook through the Online Book Club website or directly from Amazon at https://www.amazon.com/Wounded-Angels-Sometimes-Broken-Through-ebook/dp/B081J437KG/. And you don’t even need a Kindle to read it. Amazon offers a free download on the same page that allows you to read the Kindle version right on your computer, tablet or smart phone. Once you have read Wounded Angels, I would love to hear from you either directly or through your rating and review on the Amazon website. I have received many wonderful notes from people who have found the book uplifting, especially from those who have experienced the loss of a loved one. Many expressed comfort and hope through this story, which I based upon real people and events. Want to know more? You will find additional information about the “Story Behind the Story” at the “About Wounded Angels” tab on the book website at https://woundedangelsbook.com/. Wishing you and yours health and happiness during this challenging period. Warmest Regards, Chuck Micel Eye Problems Have Trumped I hope this finds you and yours safe and healthy during this surreal period. I'm sorry it's been so long since I last wrote and this email will be brief. Moreover, I probably won't be sending another until July at the earliest. It's also not the virus that has prevented me from writing. Actually, that should have given me more free time then ever. Unfortunately, at the same time as the virus kept me home, my eyes have kept me from writing. Several months ago I was diagnosed with a hole in the macular layer of my right eye. Because I had several book events scheduled, I opted to delay the surgery until I finished them. Then the virus hit and my book events were cancelled but, at the same time, the surgery was postponed until late June. Unfortunately, my eyesight has diminished significantly in the interim, making it difficult for me to spend any prolonged time in front of my computer screen. I have just arranged to move up the surgery to mid-june, but following the operation, I will have to keep my eye facing downward continuously for an additional one to two weeks. I am not in any significant pain, but my computer time needs to remain very limited. I thank you for your patience and understanding and I will start communicating again as soon as it becomes practical. Some Wonderful I want to express my deepest appreciation for readers who have taken the time to write and let me know their thoughts about Wounded Angels. Here are some I received recently: Dear Chuck, I read your beautiful book, “Wounded Angels” and enjoyed it from cover to cover. Many, including widows and widowers, will read it and know, because of their own loss, the heartache and loneliness that Maureen experienced. The book was filled with joyful as well as sad moments and I loved that she found another to bring happiness to her life again. Thank you for writing such an eloquently sensitive, important story. Warmest wishes, Beverlee M. Dania Beach, Florida Hello Chuck First...I loved your book Wounded Angels! Second... I am a friend of Chuck & Donna’s & I was so pleased that they let me read it right after they did. Could I purchase several autographed books from you? I read your book in one afternoon & immediately told my sisters & my kids about it & how much I loved it. Yes, I am a family of readers & young writers. One of my younger granddaughters has been a writer since she was age 5. Priya has already been accepted early admission (she is a high school junior) to NYU’s TISH writing program. Thank you for reading my email & I hope that you would agree to my request. Gini R. Freedom, PA ((In the following letter, I have included the reader’s words in normal text and my answers in italics.)) Good morning after Easter! I hope all is well with you and Judy and family. Yesterday I finished reading Wounded Angels on Kindle. My first read on the device (but that's another story :). I've never had the opportunity to communicate or comment to an author before and am not sure how to proceed. To say I enjoyed it and for me, it was a fast read, seems insufficient. Thank you. I appreciate that very much. Here goes some of my thoughts! I was struck by your use of first person and wonder how that was for you. Actually, it was essential. I originally wrote the entire referring to Maureen and all of the other characters in the novel in the third person. When I finished however, the novel felt flat. I couldn't seem to get the emotion of what Maureen was feeling and going through down on paper. I finally came to realize that the only way I was going to fully convey those emotions accurately was to "get into Maureen's skin," to feel what she was feeling and to express those feelings in her own words. Once I did that, the entire story flowed, so I re-wrote the entire novel as her expressing herself in her own words. Funny, but it never felt forced or false and I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Your characters felt very real. Thank you. It's because they are based on real people in real situations. That was not always the case, however. In an earlier draft, a beta reader asked why all of the people at the senior center came off as so "frumpy." I realized that the reader was right. Even though I am in the "senior" category myself, when describing the senior center members, I resorted to the same old stereotypes. Seniors came off as being overweight, outdated and sedentary. So once again, I changed course. I spent one or more days each week for over three years, re-writing the entire book on-site at the Bristol Senior Center. There I found a group of people who were learning, living and loving, and fully engaged in life. People danced, took classes in art, ceramics, and woodworking, played pool, bridge and marjoram, told off-color jokes, flirted and vied for other's attention. I even got propositioned by a woman who looked like she was in her early seventies and turned out to be over ninety! That made the book and the people in it much more real. I know that Maureen was based on your mother-in-law, and would love to know more of the "true" back story. I invite you to go to my book website, WoundedAngelsBook.com, and click on the tab, "About Wounded Angels." There you will find pictures and narrative about the "Story Behind the Story." While it doesn't explain everything in the book, it does cover the main characters and their story line. Which daughter, if either, is based on Judy? Maureen's daughters are modeled primarily after my mother-in-law, Charlotte's daughters: my wife, Judy, served as the model for the older sister, Bridget, and Judy’s sister, Janet, became the inspiration for her younger sister, Megan. Remember, however, that this is a novel, so I took great liberties to fictionalize them and in some cases, reversed them completely. The emotions they express in the book however, are very similar to those Judy and Janet felt as they tried to help Charlotte through the difficult period described in the book. Same for son-in-law. Were Ryan or Steve based on you? Like Judy and Janet, the son-in-laws, were based primarily upon me and my brother-in-law, Eddie. Once again, however, their characters are fictionalized. While Steve is modeled more after me, some of Ryan's attributes were me as well. In particular, Ryan's back story regarding how he first met Megan and how he entered the family are all Eddie. His military background was actually mine and the argument over the chess game came directly out of one between me and my father-in-law. I need to point out however, that Frank's experience on Okinawa, although based on reports of actual events, was not based on my father-in-law's personal experience. His silence whenever the subject of the war came up, was true, as is so often the case with those who have served in combat. I loved how Maureen finally spoke her truth to Doris and how so many of the characters, although wounded angels themselves, transformed and made a difference for each other. That was the basis for the entire story. While Charlotte was going through the aftermath of her husband's death, there was a real-life Doris, who did befriend her, was quite eccentric, and did not allow Charlotte to drown in her despair. And the real-life Doris's background had similarities to the one in the book, although she was not nearly as "Out there" as I painted her. As I was writing the book, it became apparent to me that we all suffer wounds in life and, as the theologian, Henri Nouwen, points out in his book, The Wounded Healer, it is the wounds that Christ suffered that makes him more approachable for so many. That concept, that the wounds life inflicts upon us can make us more effective in healing others, became a cornerstone of the book’s message and so I used many of the characters as an illustration. It's interesting, for me, that I'm not a book club person, but the possibility of a conversation with you about the book, is very appealing. I hope this has provided a bit of the conversation you wanted. If you have additional questions, comments or insights you would like to share, please feel free to contact me to discuss. For some reason, many people from Florida have written to me about the book. At some point, when this virus is no longer a threat, I hope to schedule a book reading there. If that happens, I'll let you know where and when in case you would like to attend. Stay well, Be safe, You too and once again, thank you for your wonderful note. Judy C. Sarasota, Florida Chuck your book Wounded Angels is fabulous!!! I waited to read it when I had some quiet time. I’m sure it’s selling well because it should. Very gentle and inspiring. My love to you and Judy and be safe. Sharon A. Wolcott CT That's All For NowThat will have to do it for now. Thank you for spending this time with me. Sorry if there are typos in this but the screen is not as clear as normal. Be safe.
Warmest Regards, Chuck ![]() After more than fifteen years since I began writing it, Wounded Angels finally published today! I have worked hard to make this story the best it can be and I look forward to hearing your feedback. Here are some quick answers to questions you might have. WHAT IS IT ABOUT? In case you are unfamiliar with the story line, in Wounded Angels, you will follow the life of Maureen Russo, living in Brooklyn, New York at age 14, to her mid-eighties, living in suburban Connecticut. You will share in the teenage trauma that leaves her with a life-long fear of abandonment. You will experience her love, courtship, and fifty-plus year marriage to Frank and her and Frank's determination to overcome prejudice, war, and separation. You will share in her grief and utter devastation following Frank's death, until she meets Doris, an uncontrollable social misfit who becomes her unlikely best friend and confident. You will follow their quirky and sometimes hilarious misadventures and you will cheer Maureen as she finds love again, late in life. That second chance at love, however, will make you wonder, with Maureen, how her daughters will react to her newfound love and how it will affect her relationship with Doris. Through it all, you and Maureen will contemplate how God has acted throughout her life and the strange angels He has provided along the way. WANT TO GET A COPY IMMEDIATELY? You can purchase copies of Wounded Angels locally at Patrick Baker and Sons, 1650 West Street, Southington, CT. Phone - 800-243-6385. Click on their logo here to go to their website. WANT TO ORDER ONLINE? Wounded Angels is available in hard cover, paperback and eBook. You can order online by clicking here for Barnes&Noble, Amazon, and Kobo. It's also available at many other online sites and one of them, ChristianBook.com, is advertising discounted copies of both the hard cover and paperback. WANT TO GIVE ME FEEDBACK? I'd love to hear from you. You can connect with me via my contact page on either my author's website, AuthorChuckMiceli.com, or my Wounded Angels book website, WoundedAngelsBook.com. If you have the time and the interest, I would be extremely grateful if you would post your rating for the book and a brief review on any of the distribution sites, Goodreads, and / or any other site that features the book. WANT TO KNOW MUCH, MUCH, MORE? THEN TUNE INTO MY INTERVIEW TOMORROW NIGHT, JANUARY 15, ON THE EARLY LATE NIGHT LIVE SHOW! This show will broadcast live from Exeter NH at 7 pm. In New Hampshire, you can tune into local channel 98, on Berwick TV, or tune in from anywhere by clicking here to stream it live from YouTube. If clicking on the link here doesn't work, just enter this link address into your browser: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCLNNfbkseKZcl_qggsn_byQ YOU ARE INVITED TO ATTEND THE JOINT BOOK / SONG ALBUM LAUNCH PARTY! Come to the launch event for Wounded Angels and for Gordon Ellis's new song album, Love Heals on Saturday, January 25, at First Congregational Church, 37 Main Street, Southington. The event takes place from 3-5 pm in Memorial Hall. I will provide a slide presentation and the "Story Behind the Story" of Wounded Angels, along with selected readings from the book. Gordon will present the new music video, "Injured Angels," from the song album and will perform or present several songs from the album. Light refreshments will also be served. That's enough for now. Thank you for allowing me to share this with you. My goal is to provide you with information that you find useful and enjoyable. Feel free to let me know how I am doing and what I can do to make it better. In the meantime, I wish you and yours every good thing in the upcoming year.
Warmest Regards, Chuck Miceli
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AuthorChuck Miceli works like hell to write heavenly novels Archives
January 2021
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