Goodbye, Lorrie

Lorrie in Happier Times

My dear friend, Lorrie, died yesterday. She’d been having a lot of health problems, one piled on top of another. The final straw was lung cancer. She already had lung problems with a fairly rare disease of the lungs which required her to carry around oxygen with her. Between the two diseases in the same organs, she didn’t have much time left. She told me about this latest diagnosis in early November. She had maybe six weeks, the doctor said. Well, she didn’t get much more than that, but I really don’t think she wanted any extra weeks.

She had her family gathered around her and she peacefully passed away on January 5th. A mutual friend who lived near her let me know.

It’s always sad to lose a loved one. The funny thing is that Lorrie and I have known each other for around ten years, but we never met face to face. Only toward the end did we even speak on the phone. I’m not a good speaker (I don’t get much practice), so I was trying to convince her to at least keep her email account open. But, no, she was done with it.

A lot of people condemn the internet for making close friendships too difficult. You know what? Lorrie and I beg to differ. We stayed in constant contact and even worked together on writing projects for those many years. I first met her in an on-line critique group. When the group went off in a different direction, many of us dropped out, but stayed in touch. Liz, Lorrie, Emmy for sure and most likely several more who I’m still in contact with, but many have wandered off in other directions.

I’m going to miss Lorrie a lot. She was funny, loving, and kind. She had many, many friends. However, she told very few people of her health situation. I asked her if I could privately contact a few we’d known together for years, but she said she didn’t want anybody to know, so I swore a vow of silence.

When she did pass on, I put up a post on her page in Facebook to let everybody know. I especially want to thank Darla for being my liaison in Lorrie’s town. She visited her often and passed along information to me through Facebook messaging. See. The evil internet helped us see Lorrie through her last few weeks even though she had dropped out of any email or posting.

I don’t know what will happen with Lorrie’s books she still has on sale on Amazon and other places. I imagine her publisher will arrange something with Lorrie’s daughter to either continue selling the books or unpublish them. I hope they don’t do that. Her series on a wacky old lady who grants dead people their last wishes is a total hoot. Lorrie always said she was Winnie in those books (Call On the Dead Series).

A few months back, I tried to get her to do one more Winnie book and I’d collaborate. I even volunteered to be the dead person. We were trying to come up with a really good last wish. Not magical wishes, but practical things like letting the family know where the deceased had hidden the family jewels. That kind of thing.

She also wrote a western involving a shy sheriff and a thieving monkey. Again with the funny business.

So, good-bye, my friend. Damn you for not finishing the Winnie book we were doing together. You weren’t the one who was supposed to die. Then, you could call on me and make it all better.

See her books on Amazon. I’m sure you’ll like Winnie’s tales in “The Call on the Dead Club” anthology.

Lorrie Unites-Struiff - NEW BOOKS!!

The Call on the Dead Club series with BTGN (http://www.bookstogonow.com/).


Story 1&2 will be included in the first book.

Come and meet Winnie Krapski who hugged a cherry tree during a lightning storm. The bolt slammed her, splitting the tree in half. The near-death experience bestowed her with a gift–one she’d rather not have.

Drafted into the C.O.D. Club (Call on the Dead) by Fat Phil Phillips, her mission is to grant the newly deceased’s ghost one last reasonable request. Can Winnie honor her oath?

Well, she tries, but not before she lands in humorous situations that almost get her killed. She’s one spunky broad.

I hope you try a copy and look forward to more of Winnie’s adventures.

Release date coming soon. Just get ready to laff your ass off.

Also coming this fall from MuseItUp Publishing:

A  Heap of Trouble

Cole Walker, Sheriff of Cold Creek, has more woes than he can handle.  He thought chasing rustlers would be the worst of his problems, until the newly arrived, Mattie Wells, jingles his spurs with a smile, and he falls head over heels for her.

Cole's fear of critters comes to light when a runaway monkey named Beggar takes a liking to him. He remembers when his pa's hound dog left teeth marks on his butt when he was just a tyke.

But, Mattie thinks Beggar’s adorable, so what’s a man supposed to do? Now, he’s forced to put up with the little fur ball...uh...ringtail monkey even when the furry thief starts stealing the townsfolk’s trinkets.

The rustlers roaming the hills, stealing the Double J’s cattle are a mighty puzzling crew. JJ blames the farmers and an all out war is in the making.

Trying to keep the peace between the farmers and the cattleman, Cole and his deputies, Wade and Sully, have their hands full. Mayor Farley gives them a month to find the thieves before calling for outside help.

Mattie has a dark secret and vows never to marry. While harboring a secret of his own, Cole pushes to pry out her secret in hopes of changing her mind.

Cole chases Mattie, the rustlers, and Beggar in a town full of fun characters and chaos. 

Can he bring the rustlers to justice, peace and order to Cold Creek, the townsfolk’s loot back to their rightful owners, and win Mattie’s heart?

Yep. Cole has a heap of trouble on his hands.

For more information on my stories, please go to http://struiff.wordpress.com/cod-club-series/

Ya’ll have a great day now and thanks for reading.

It's A Crime Sunday - Detective Rita Muldova

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Rita is the brainchild of Lorrie Unites-Struiff. Created for Lorrie's first book, "Gypsy Crystal," Rita combines her inherent magic of her Roma heritage with street smart detective skills. Read about Lorrie's books and stories on her Wordpress site: http://struiff.wordpress.com/
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Hello,

My name is Rita Muldova. Allow me to tell you a bit about my early life.

I come from a long line of Roma people, some call us gypsies. My parents came to the States before I was born. At first we traveled with relatives and other families of migrant workers, setting up our pop-up trailer wherever our group could find work. My mom, Anna, would tell fortunes around the campfire in the evening while dad whittled away carving small toys for the kids. Though it was hard work, it was also a happy, carefree life.

Many in our family tree have psychic gifts, but of course custom forbids we use them for relatives, only for friends and strangers. And my mom has the most powerful gifts of our clan. I swear she has built-in radar.

When I was thirteen, Dad was offered a job as a carpenter and decided we had enough of roaming the States, so he settled us down in one place. They enrolled me in school, but with home schooling, I was ahead of the public classes.

Keyport, PA. is a nice little town, upriver from Pittsburgh, and nestled along the Monongahela River. We bought a three-bedroom trailer and lived in the rental park.

Then life got a bit tough for me. The kids in school nicknamed me “Gypsy Girl” and I was considered an oddity because of my Roma customs and traditions. A lot of jeers and taunts came my way. But, I coped. I’m damn proud of my Roma blood.

Two years later, Dad was killed in an auto accident while driving mom to market. Mom had this strong premonition, but Dad refused to heed her warning.

Well, life just got tougher after that. Money was scarce. Mom wrote to her older brother, Uncle Dragus, who still lived in Romania and had a small bakery. He traveled across the big pond and moved in with us. He opened another bakery and did fairly well. To supplement our money problems, Mom put out her shingle and did her crystal ball thing. Let me tell you, my mom is right on the nose with her psychic powers and she helped a lot of people. At times, she’s downright spooky.

When I left for college, Mom and Uncle Dragus borrowed money to open a quaint little restaurant in a theme mall near Keyport, sold the trailer, and moved into to the apartment above the restaurant. Mom still reads palms, tea leaves, and Uncle plays the sweetest violin music.

After college, I went to the police academy. Upon graduation, mom gave me a mystical amulet that has been handed down through our maternal bloodline. She said it would protect and help me with my chosen career path. The crystal amulet allows me to see in the eyes of a corpse the last image they saw before death. Well, let me tell you, this amulet propelled my career on the fast track. Of course I kept it a secret, but with more studying, making detective in our homicide division, I had to tell my chief about it. He freaked out, but promised to handle it discreetly.

That brings us to today. A serial killer is on the loose in my town and targeting prostitutes. What has me so confused is, the crystal seems to have lost its power. For some reason, it’s only showing me the person the deceased had seen before the killer struck.

Forensics can’t help on this one. They are as confused as the department. Matt Boulet of the FBI has been sent from Voodoo City, New Orleans, to lead our task force. He knows something we don’t about the perp and is playing it close to the vest. And, I don’t like secrets. My mother is holding back a secret, too. Matt is pushing her to use her powers to help him. When she gives in to his persuasiveness, all hell breaks loose, literally.

Guest Post by Lorrie Struiff

Hello folks,

I’m blackmailing Marva to post this on her site, and she has to take it whether she likes it or not. So there!

I want to thank Marva for being such a good friend, for the encouragement, and especially the help she has given me.

Now, you may ask, what help? Other than being a great crit partner, she realizes I am a complete computer klutz. Yep, that’s me. The klutziest of all klutzes.
(Marva: Not true! What Lorrie knows, she's got down pat. We can't know everything.)

She has helped me with many computer problems, helped me post on sites, and without her, my recently released short stories would never be out there.
(Marva: Aw, thanks.)

I think I nag the poor woman to distraction. Marva lives in Oregon and I live in Pennsylvania--thank goodness. If we lived next door to each other, I’m sure she would have smacked me upside the head a few times—and the smacks would be well deserved.
(Marva: LOL! Maybe a shaking, but never a smack!)

When I’m confused, don’t understand the geek language of dropping down this box, mark off this, shut off so and so, and it takes me five hours to figure out directions, or never figure out the directions, Marva is right in there saving my sanity and nerves. Of course, I don’t think I’m doing much for hers.
(Marva: Don't worry. I'm already wacko.)

So, other than Marva being a great writer—I’ve read all her releases and you should too—I do want to publicly thank her on her blog. Oh great guru, I bow to your knowledge. I wish I had it.
(Marva: I paid Lorrie to say that.)

So in appreciation, Marva, I am sending you by Fed-Ex a PROZAC LICK (like a deer lick) to hang near your computer so that when you start pulling your hair out over Super Klutz annoying you with endless questions, take a few licks.
(Marva: WOO HOO!)

Please don’t make me use that self-annihilation object you sent me by courier.
(Kidding, folks.)
(Marva: No she's not.)

Sincerely, Marva, I can’t thank you enough for being such a wonderful, gracious person as well as a great friend.
(Marva: Deviously setting you up for reading my WIP forty-nine times. Mwuhahaha!)

Now stop blushing. Take my thanks like the brave woman you are. No rebuttals permitted. Remember, I’m blackmailing you. You have to post this or else.
(Marva: Will do. But I retain the right to rebut.)

Listed below are three tales for you short story lovers out there. Yep, if it weren’t for you-know-who, they would still be in my computer.

All have been previously published in various anthologies.

(Marva: Folks, I've read all three and Lorrie's wit and skill shows up nicely. Great way to sample Lorrie's work.)

Blurb one—Paso Doble

Lisa needs to win the gold medal to garner prestige for her dance studio. She lures Eduardo, a sizzling hot Latino dancer visiting from Miami, to be her partner in the contest. Will Lisa’s plan work?

Adult rating.  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/41324




Blurb two--Splat!

Winnie tries skydiving with her husband for their anniversary. Bad, bad idea! She learns about the halfway plateau, a busy place. Her accidental revenge is sweet. Come along for her humorous adventure.
G rating  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/40999

Blurb three—A Bloody Valentine

A historical fiction short story about one of the bloodiest Valentine Days in American History.
G rating  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/40361

Lorrie Struiff - Christmas Advice and Wild Blackberries Giveaway

Lorrie Struiff, the author of the paranormal thriller, "Gypsy Crystal," is here to offer some holiday suggestions and to giveaway a free copy of here story, "Wild Blackberries." Leave a comment to win. I'll choose a random commenter and announce the winner here on December 11th. If I can contact the winner by email, I'll do so, otherwise you'll need to send a note to mgdasef (AT) gmail.com

Read all about Lorrie's writing on her website.

Now, here's Lorrie:

Hi Marva, thanks for the invitation to your blog. I’m so happy to be here.


Well, it’s that time of year again, the hustle, the bustle, the parties, the food planning and the gift buying. Families gather to share the festivities. We start gift buying on Thanksgiving—or before—for the big day.

I don’t know about you readers, but by the time the holiday does arrive, I’m wishing it were over. In fact, I’m holidayed out way before the big day.

I get tired of the grandchildren yelling, “I want that, I want that” every time a toy ad is shown on TV.

Many of us would like a less commercialistic month, I’m sure.

But what do you do to make your holiday special? And I’m talking about you, personally. Something for yourself, something that gives you a warm glow inside and gives you the true feeling and meaning of what Christmas is all about.

There are so many things you can do.

Sometimes, I purchase a food gift card from the local grocery store and mail it to a needy family that I know--anonymously of course.

There may be an elderly couple I know whose children cannot come home for the holiday. I invite them to share my family and dinner for the day.

There is a handicapped person near who may need to get out shopping. I offer to take them.

There may be a shut-in living near. They appreciate a visit and some company.

There is so much more, but I’m sure you know what I mean.

Even the littlest of things you do can make you and the person feel good.

Help a neighbor carry groceries into their house.

Offer them a cup of hot coffee when they are hanging Christmas lights in the cold.

Shovel snow out of an elderly person’s driveway or sidewalk.

Haul out their garbage can for pickup day.

SPLAT by Lorrie Struiff

My good friend and critting partner, Lorrie Struiff has a newly-annointed website. To tempt you to go visit Lorrie, you can first read her story, "SPLAT." Guaranteed to give you multiple chuckles. Remember the name. You'll see more of Lorrie's work for sure.

SPLAT was originally published in The Cynic zine, then went on to be chosen to be reprinted in their “Best Of” edition.

Read the rest of SPLAT here.

"Winnie, skydiving with me is the best twentieth anniversary gift a wonderful wife like you could ever give me," Stan said. He gave me a quick hug before we climbed into the flimsy plane.

My instructor–of five hours had given me the final go-ahead to jump in tandem with my hubby who had already earned his two-star rating.

"Perfect togetherness," Stan called it. A few other names for this insane togetherness crossed my mind, but I refrained from voicing them. I wanted to prove I could be as adventurous as his other friends were, especially Barb, the gal piloting the plane. The one I referred to as 'the Barbie doll with a southern drawl.'

Our plane neared the jump point. The butterflies in my stomach morphed into crazed crickets. Untangling my hands from the wall webbing, I tethered my guide-wire and inched closer to Stan, nearer to the open bay door. I swallowed hard and my ears popped like two giant corn kernels in a microwave. The icy wind smacked my face and froze in my lungs.

The ground, way, way, down there, looked like a patchwork of small lumpy quilt squares. I trembled out of sync with the vibrating deck. My breakfast pushed up into the back of my throat, and I needed to pee.

Lorrie does have a way with comedy.