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It Had to Be Us by Harry and Elizabeth Lawrence http://www.bettyjotucker.com/   Susan Sarandon:  A True Maverick by Betty Jo Tucker http://www.bettyjotucker.com/   Confessions of a Movie Addict by Betty Jo Tucker http://www.bettyjotucker.com/   Death By Candlelight by Billie A. Williams http://www.billiewilliams.com/   Knapsack Secrets by Billie A. Williams http://www.billiewilliams.com/   Storm by Joyce A. Anthony https://joyceanthony.tripod.com/   Conduct Unbecoming by Nina M.Osier http://www.geocities.com/nina_osier/   Redemption by Judith Rochelle http://www.judithrochelle.com/   Shepherd's Pie by J. D. Webb http://www.jdwebb.com/   Heal and Forgive:  Forgiveness in the Face of Abuse by Nancy Richards http://www.healandforgive.net/   Cherry Blossoms in Twilight: Memories of a Japanese Girl by Yaeko Sugama Weldon and Linda E. Austin http://www.moonbridgebooks.com/   I Romanced the Stone by Marvin D. Wilson http://inspiritandtruths.blogspot.com/   Different Roads by Joyce Sterling Scarbrough http://www.authorsden.com/joycelscarbrough1   True Blue Forever by Joyce Sterling Scarbrough http://www.authorsden.com/joycelscarbrough1   Gentle Journey by Elaine Lyons Bach http://www.shoutlife.com/profile_view.cfm?uid=39176   Angel's Dance by Lynn C. Johnston http://www.lynncjohnston.com/   Bank Roll:  A Max Stryker Mystery by Janet Elaine Smith http://www.janetelainesmith.com/   Dakota Printer by Janet Elaine Smith http://www.janetelainesmith.com/

Posted by joyceanthony at 12:57 AM EDT

Updated: Sunday, 1 June 2008 1:05 AM EDT

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Isn't this wonderful work?  Just one more of Steven Bradley's talents!  He makes these banners for others as well as for himself.  I shared a few other examples not long ago.  Anyway, on this final day of our vist with author, Steven Bradley, he has consented to share a peek into his recent project, Patriot Acts.  You are some of the first to see this, as the book has yet to be released.  Enjoy!!

***

Patriot Acts...Strategic Planning - Part One


What Do You Think...?

There are some stark days ahead for the United States its efforts to stop the Islamic Republic of Iran from developing nuclear weapons. There is an intrinsic need to deal with Iran which is in the process of building a nuclear reactor and enriching uranium that it says would be used for its energy needs. Now we see that this nation has been thrust upon the world stage and is now at the center of international debate regarding its nuclear ambitions.

Therefore, it is only logical that we should take a look at whether this fanatical Shiite State should be allowed to possess such technology. Does a land that is sitting on a sea of oil really have energy needs that could not be met by its massive reserve of crude? Would it be wise to trust the nation that launched the present wave of terror through out the world in 1979 with a nuclear arsenal? Can we continue to work closely with any nation, such as Russia, that would help Iran to achieve this goal? These are questions that must be answered.

I present to you, "Strategic Planning" a chapter from Patriot Acts, my next novel. Tell me, do you know those who truly have the nation's best interests in mind. Can you recognize them immediately? Even the most naive ill-prepared of men, since the nation's conception, had played the role by sheer virtue of the weight of such a burden the office bequeathed to the most powerful ruler in the tinderbox that was the world. The office is bigger than the man and forces either the growth of stature and inspiration or disasters of great magnitude which change the world forever.

Read about the President of the United States of America, Christopher A. Tate in the vice grips of a crisis that is devastating in its proportions. Live the workings of the office and of those set on bringing down the Republic. Whatever one of us does, for a brother or a sister, completely disregarding their color, faith or creed, that is what makes up Patriot Acts.
Strategic Planning

April 15, 2009 2:15 PM

It seemed as if the room was lit brighter than usual. Today there would be no Biographer or Official Photographer during this ‘Top Secret’ Cabinet meeting. Both were only allowed into the room for the introduction and then were politely excused from the room and the door was locked behind them. Strategically speaking, the White House had gone black, deep down into the dark reaches of secrecy; the concealment from which wars are born. The administration was hunkered down and had not let nary a peep out to the press that America was about to undergo a crisis that would make the Cuban Missile Crisis appear to be a day at Disneyland.

The air in this commanding room was always one of officialdom and supremacy, but today, with the present state of affairs that were both historic and tumultuous, the room took on an atmosphere of insecurity, turbulence and out-and-out calamity.


The walls were blessed with the presence of portraits of historic figures and placid scenes of a simpler and a far more hopeful day for the young nation called the last, best hope of man. On a normal day, these metaphors caused the men and women who met there to take pause before any decisions were taken that would eventually affect the nation for ill or for gain. Today, the same precaution came over those who had single-filed into the room, but also it seemed to each one that the pictures appeared murkier than usual and the vista that had always made their underpaid and often overworked jobs in the Administration worth the frustration was not so ceremonial today and made them all look beyond the status of their positions and realize that they held the future of the nation in their trembling hands. The table itself gave a luster of authority to the serene stress that pervaded the room at every meeting of the talking heads. Today, heads were not talking! Instead, hearts wanted to fail and groans could be heard exuding from the mouths of the President’s cabinet members in the form of pleas for ideas, solutions, plans of attack, threats and Armageddon scenarios!

There would be no phone calls to the President during this meeting except from the chosen few and only those relating to the issue at hand, an issue that threatened to make this meeting perhaps the last meeting they may ever have if they could not stop the nation from drifting toward disaster. They had to strangle the enemy before it surrounded them! For now, they all sat there opening their files, closing them and opening them again as though they had to make themselves believe what their eyes were reading as they were about to discuss the various war plans and attack plans that could add up to their only prospects.

President Tate sat in his seat and stared straight ahead at the fireplace where a porcelain design of George Washington reposed portraying the first President of the United States bowed to one knee in the snowy field at Valley Forge with his men surrounding him in humble prayer. President Tate looked from the left to the right at those he himself had chosen to lead the nation. He looked at everyone seated at the table directly and the spoke his first words amongst those who so vitally needed to see him lead in a way he had not as yet been forced to do in his still young administration.

“I have seen a lot of them in this old mansion.”

Everyone stared at him with a look of fear that Tate was losing his nerve, the quality that had got him elected in the first place.

“The portraits I mean. I’ve seen a lot of them. But none have affected me more since the first day I saw it up close as that one on the staircase of JFK with his arms folded and his face pointed downward and expressing something that was not even close to depression, my friends! His is a look that we all should have today, this day that we all prayed would never present itself, but somehow knew it surely would! No, Kennedy’s face is one of complete determination to find a resolution to the crisis of his day. His was neither dejection nor retreat but a profound burrowing into the tender regions of his heart and finding the tenacity and resolution to fulfill his oath to preserve, protect and defend! Let us emulate him this day.”

Tate then shook himself loose of the profundity and got to the business at hand.

“What we have here is an ultimatum. I fear we are being placed in a noose that if allowed to be placed around our necks will strangle us into superpower mush! Let me defer to Jamie O’Rourke.”

“Mr. President, We have thought it would be significant to take a good look at the various facilities around the nation of Iran. Now, we cannot destroy them all, but we need to determine which ones are of vital interest to these crazy people and which ones should be classified as high value targets for our munitions. In addition, their most developed plants are deep underground and would require Nuke Bunker Busters to take them out. Mr. President, I yield the floor to National Security Advisor Blake. Roger, its all yours.”

“Mr. President, I have put together a video brief that details the level of threat that each nuclear facility present to the United States.”

The National Security Advisor pressed a button and a screens set up in front of each cabinet member lit up and the brief began to describe the two facilities, which posed the greatest threat to the US.

“First of all, there is the facility at Arak. Mr. President, the existence of a secret nuclear facility at Arak was revealed during a press conference by the representative office of the National Council of Resistance of Iran held in Washington DC, in mid-August 2006. It is located at the Qatran Workshop near the Qara-Chai river in the Khondaub region, in Central Iran, 150 miles south of Tehran.”

“According to National Council of Resistance of Iran, a front organization, named the Mesbah Energy Company, has been used to prevent unwanted disclosures. The headquarters of the Mesbah Energy Company are located in Tehran.”

“On 12 December 2006, The Institute for Science and International Security (ISIS) released an issue brief expressing concern that Iran is trying to develop "The capability to make separated plutonium and highly enriched uranium, the two main nuclear explosive materials." ISIS acquired satellite imagery of a site near the town of Arak. It is at this site where a plant produces heavy water. Heavy water is used to moderate the nuclear chain reaction in one type of nuclear reactor, that could be used either for civilian power production or to produce bomb materials. The nuclear reactor that was under construction at Bushehr at the time is now fully operational. It does not use heavy water nor do current Iranian research reactors need it in amounts that would justify construction of such a facility. The only logical conclusion, therefore is that this plant was built for the express purpose of building nuclear weapons. We have concluded that the Tactical weapons that have entered this country were produced in the Arak plant and its sub-plants.”

“I can’t do this Fisher, but I can’t say no either! That’s my family they have in the palms of their hands! How could you expect me to say no!”

“Listen Dog, I did a lot of extensive training in my line of work. Yea, we were taught that there were several lethal places in the human body that demanded hardly any pressure to kill someone. I did my share and yours too in the field. Yet, the best training I ever got was not how to kill, but how to stay alive! They are going to take you away from here today and you have to stay alive for your family and for your country!”

“You aren’t going to kill Tate? After all you’ve gone through?”

“I never said that, but I believe timing is everything. I’ll probably decide that when I see him. Your job is to get me alone with him. You have to play the part with this Mason Ball. My God, you played the poker face perfectly at Anvil Mountain, you’ve got to get in the game again. If your family lives and you die what use will you be to them. From here on out you are Mr. Cooperation, Got it?”

“Mr. President, construction of the heavy water production plant at Khondab near Arak was reportedly begun in 2004 by the Atomic Energy Organization of Iran (AEOI). The heavy water plant at Arak is reportedly using the Girdler Sulphide process. The location of the facility was reportedly determined by the need for large quantities of water, which can be easily supplied by the Qara-Chai River.”

“The second site, Mr. President, of greatest concern is the nuclear facility at Natanz, also known as Kashan. During a press conference by the representative office of the National Council of Resistance of Iran held in Washington DC, in mid-August 2004, the existence of a secret nuclear facility at Natanz was revealed. Israeli military intelligence refers to the site as Kashan."

“Natanz is located between Isfahan and Kashan in central Iran. The facility is reportedly 100 miles north of Isfahan, and is located in old Kashan-Natanz, near a village called Deh-Zireh, itself located about 25 miles southeast of Kashan, and falls under the jurisdiction of the Governor's Office of Kashan.”

“Will you look at this Dog? They are really doing their homework about casualties. They plan on putting the weapons in strategic locations to bring down all three branches of the Federal Government!

“Yes, five in the White House, ten in the Capital Building, five at the Supreme Court and ten at the Pentagon! The country will be without a government and no one will have their finger on the strategic nukes!”

“You can bet that Garret will try to put his thumb on the trigger!” Fisher predicted. “Ball will have the codes we need Dog and you have to get them to me. There is an underground tunnel that Johnson used to use to get out of the White House for some privacy. It’s been closed for thirty years.”

“You’re crazy Harrison! I’ve heard about that tunnel. It’s been blown up more times than I care to imagine! That could be really dangerous!”

“Oh, yea, danger. Tell me what is not dangerous about anything we’ve done in the past twenty years!? While you’re at it, tell me a better way to get to Tate and to kill him if you have one…! I didn’t think so. Just get me into the tunnel and I’ll do my thing!


Empathy, that's the word that goes beyond merely feeling sorry for someone's horrible or treacherous state of affairs. By far the most vital part of a story and it's characters is to get the readers to feel their sorrow and their joy. In "Last Ounce of Devotion Part One" you read about a young man and the decisions he faced as though he were being force fed with an over-sized mouthful of reality combined with responsibility.

I recently visited the Museum of Psychiatry – An Industry of Death. This was a very sad and important look at the treatments of Mental illness over the past three centuries. Many strange and unbelievable treatments were used and abused by so-called doctors who recommended everything from bleeding the brain to drowning therapy. Yet, the area of the museum that gripped my attention the most firmly was the section on the Holocaust. It was there that I realized the Hitler, in his demonic rage against Jews, Gays, Gypsies and the infirm was the final result of an age of teachers in favor of racial cleansing which eventually led to the final solution.

Young Len Garret learned to hate the country his dad had defended and, in young Len Garret’s mind, the nation that that had murdered his father. The words he learned from his father and the attitude and lethality inert in their aim made this young man know that one day he’d stand up to them all and show them! Read "Last Ounce of Devotion Part Two" and feel the fear, anguish and hatred in this young man. Don’t feel sorry for him. Empathize with him, feel his fear, his anger and his determination as he prepares to lay down his last full ounce of devotion.


Patriot Acts - Last Ounce of Devotion Part Two

Northern Indiana 2009

The image of the day that had necessitated his presence in a place that he deemed as one of the temples of the usurpers who had overtaken the nation. That was what dad had said and this young mind had received a crash course in plotting retribution. The image formed and behind Len Garret’s closed eyes, he saw them coming, all dressed in black, and covered by the absorbing darkness of a night off of Toto Road. The dogs were barking, the lights around the compound flashed on and the invaders dispersed. The radios blared like a rock concert in the silent night air, and the front door flew open with Russell Garret exploding out of the door and waving the assault rifle in all directions…

“Get off my land!” There wasn’t a sound. “You got a warrant?” Russell Garret screamed. “Did you hear me?”

Inside Len Garret’s dream, he could hear something so distinct and clear and the sound was so recognizable, but not immediately understood. Then he knew. He began to whimper and the glass full of Tequila fell to the floor and rolled against the wall. Len Garret’s eyes flashed open and closed up tightly again. He heard the sounds of blades turning and growing in volume. He saw his father holding the assault rifle and looking straight into the air, turning frequently to get his bearings. Russell Garret turned and saw his wife Amy and their daughter, Belinda and their son, Leonard standing in the front door of their house.

“Go back in the house!” Russell shouted

“What are you doing out here in the middle of the night, Russ?” Amy asked in worried voice.

“Go back inside!” Russell screamed as he looked frantically in ever direction trying to locate the direction of the sound that was really loud now and which sounded increasingly like a…helicopter.

“Something’s happening here and it could be…just get inside the house Amy and get the kids outta here!”

Amy looked behind her and found her daughter, Belinda, but her son, Leonard was gone.

“Where did that boy go?” Amy thought. “He’s fourteen…almost fifteen. He’ll be alright.”

Like a giant stinging bug rising from the Earth, Amy saw it as she looked out past her husband, Russell. She saw it and pointed at it and Russell turned toward the sound, raising his weapon as he swiveled. When Russell Garret had fully turned and aimed his gun at the chopper hovering over them, a shot rang out from the chopper’s gun and a large caliper round buried itself inside Russell Garret’s brain. He fell to the ground and Amy reached behind her and pulled an automatic rifle out in front of her and began to fire.

Someone ran from the woods and stood directly under the chopper. The pilot and his crew were busy getting ready to blow away the country woman standing at her own doorway believing herself to be defending her own property and family, just like Russell had told her to if something happened to him.

“I thought he was crazy, but I paid attention!” she told herself. “Now I know he was right!” She confirmed as she changed guns and kept firing at the chopper.

The person under the chopper back up and got as far away from the hovering craft and then raised his riffle and aimed it at the engines. He started to squeeze the trigger when eight year old Belinda came around in front of her mommy just as four rockets propelled grenades roared to life and took flight in a preordained course.

“Oh, Dear God!” Amy cried out. “Forgive me of my sins, Jesus!” Amy looked at Belinda.

“I love you, my baby!” Amy Garret took her little daughter up to her breasts. Belinda looked up at her mommy.

“Mommy, I…” The RPG’s exploded into the house and Amy and Belinda were torn apart.

“NO! YOU BASTARDS!” screamed the boy just before fourteen year old, Len Garret fired and brought the chopper down in a sudden drop that exploded upon impact. Len had not expected the helicopter to fall so close to him. He jumped to the ground, face first, as a piece of metal flew from the chopper and tore open Len’s neck.

The boy opened his eyes. There was nothing but darkness, later mutating into a place with ornate surroundings which jolted the boy's mind to take notice that he was in the court room. Voices echoed throughout the hallowed chambers as Len Garret sat there, appearing oblivious, but fully aware of his situation and what he would do one day to make his family’s sacrifice have meaning. The surrounding guards looked at him and smiled.

“He was just a Child. He only did what his radical father had taught him.” The witness declared. “I treated him for over a year and I can attest to his right state of mind and that he is fully healed mentally. He exercised excellent social skills and participated in all the team sports and…”

“Thank you Dr. Molar. No further questions.”

Would the counsel approach the bench.

The lawyers conferred with the judge and young Len Garret thought about the Psychiatrist’s words. Len knew he had healed, kept up in school, learned a lot about many things that really didn’t matter now, because three years after having seen his father, mother and sisters murdered before his eyes didn’t change one damn thing for the seventeen year old Len Garret.

“Son” The austere Judge announced. “Stand up please, Mr. Garret.” The boy rose from his chair.

“Do you realize that you killed those officers in that helicopter and that it was wrong to have done that under any circumstance?”

The boy’s thoughts told him that “They deserved it and I’d like to blow your brains out too!”
“Play nice to be bad later!” he speculated.

To the judge, his mouth said, “Yes sir, I know I was wrong and I am truly sorry.” Tears started to flow from his eyes, some that were manufactured, but many that were real and produced by the sheer weight of the burden of what he had gone through and the understanding of what he would have to do, in the future.

The judge looked into Len Garret’s face and the longer he looked the more the magistrate’s face softened. “Young man, I believe you. I also have a lot of sadness over what happened to your family. It is my admonition to the government rather than you. Go out now and make yourself someone who can help keep the power of this nation in check. Get an education and raise a great family and I promise you’ll die one day, a happy man.”

“The hell with your “happy man” crap!” Len thought. To the judge, he just nodded in the affirmative.

“I am releasing you. You are a free man, Mr. Garret. You are under the custody of your aunt until you reach the age of eighteen, and I hope to never see you in this judge’s court again. . .”

You can read lots more from Steven Clark Bradley at these Sites:

Steven Clark Bradley's Stories That Read You!
Steven Clark Bradley's Underground Controversy
Steven Clark bradley inspiredauthor.com/promotion
Steven Clark Bradley - Published Authors.com
Steven Clark Bradley at Blog Talk Radio.com
Steven Clark bradley at Communati.com
Steven Clark Bradley at Inspired Author.com

Patriot Acts is still a work in progress. You can't get your own copy yet, but Steven Clark Bradley has three published novels, Nimrod Rising!, Stillborn! & Probable Cause.
amazon.com
barnesandnoble.com
bordersstores.com
booksamillion.com
powells.com
copperfields.com

Posted by joyceanthony at 3:20 AM EDT

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Steven Bradley has so much work online, I thought I'd send you some links to help you read more.  Give yourself plenty of time, folks--there's a ton here and you won't want to miss any of it!!

Here are some links to some amazing excerpts from Steven's Novel Nimrod Rising:

http://stevenbradley.blogspot.com/2007/06/new-novel-imrod-rising-at-publisher.html

http://stevenbradley.blogspot.com/2008/03/patriot-acts-last-full-ounce-of.html

http://stevenbradley.blogspot.com/2008/12/last-full-ounce-of-devotion-part-three.html

Here are some of his book trailers:

Click this link to watch one of my book video trailers, "Are You Ready For Nimrod Rising"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sKHofQi2pRI

Watch them all here:  

http://stevenbradley.blogspot.com/2007/08/nimrod-rising-in-beginning.html

You can read lots more from Steven Clark Bradley at these sites. You might even find some Stories That Read You! at:

Steven Clark Bradley's Stories That Read You!

Steven Clark Bradley's Underground Controversy

Posted by joyceanthony at 5:46 AM EDT

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Today I'd like to share with you a third excerpt from Steven Bradley.  Tomorrow, I will be sharing more information on Steven's upcoming book and share with you some places where you can read even more of this wonderful author's work. Now, onto the excerpt....

Introduction

April 1, 1988, 2:03 AM

She had insisted upon hating it but there was no denying it any longer. The blowing night breeze gave a false sense of serenity to a tense evening with the growing thing inside her always bringing her back to reality. The moonlit night sky above caused a glimmer of misty light through a window into the land of the so-called living to expose the sleeping silhouette of a beautiful woman. Her restive eyes shifted radically behind her closed eyelids. She saw it all so clearly; that same evil nightmare that had plagued her since the thing had begun to sprout within her. She had purposed in her heart to abhor it because she was sure that would be the only way to survive the inhumane measures the thing's appearance would unleash.

The dream was like a night in some evil cavalcade of misfits that always seemed to leave the taste of hostility on her tongue. She couldn't see it, but she felt it. There was a sense that she had to walk the length of the environs and that she could feel arms pulling at her to compel her. It didn't feel like she was heading toward anguish, but was actually being invaded by it, almost surrounding her! She ran into a pavilion as though in slow motion, with her feet moving as though they were treading upstream in a fast flowing river and traveling in the opposite direction! It was gloomy, sinister even rancid. She saw no one but heard the wailing hideous cries of babies in some hidden away place that made her blood crawl. She grasped her abdomen and followed the shrieking sounds to a hallway. She tried to open several doors and found the third one on her left unlocked and slowly slid it open. This had been the farthest she had ever ventured down the lingering hallway that had so often occupied her dreams. The weeping sounds stopped, but a vista appeared before her; a landscape she had seen before. There before her own eyes she saw herself sitting handcuffed in front of a police officer's desk. As she watched the scene unfurl before her eyes she spoke the words out silently to herself in unison with the man seated in front of her in this obscure panorama before her dreaming eyes!

"Susan, Susan, this is the third time this week! Can't you spot a cop from a John anymore?"

"Mr. Policeman, I got no job but this one, no money, no family except back in Mexico. Me? I have only this beautiful body Mr. Policeman, and it don't last too long either, so..."

The young beautiful sleeping beauty saw two officers walk past her and it was clear to her in the dream that they could neither see nor sense her presence. She was startled at the face of the tall one and grabbed her stomach and scared to death by the short older one and it made her hug the contents of her expanded belly. She saw both of them look at her image shackled to the chair in front of her in the dream, the short older cop in front of her had an inquisitive look on his face. As the shorter, older cop talked with the tall officer, the short one turned and looked at the woman in the chair and shook his head up and down slightly while scratching his chin and smiling slightly. The tall officer waved at the short one; both with perverse smiles on their faces. The sleeping treasure began to stir as behind her closed eyelids, suddenly, the lights went out in the room she was in while watching herself in the dream and she had to stumble in the darkness!

The dreaming woman again clutched her abdomen! The thing within her was kicking, moving, heaving, and pushing her almost to the ground each time the woman's insides received blows from the product growing and protesting within her! She turned around and painfully walked out the door. The pain was taking her breath away. It was kicking her on all sides and without mercy! As her foot touched the hallway again the wailing cries of the babies blasted out again and her pain subsided. She turned in an almost frantic, maternal manner to rush over to the door from where the cries were coming. She looked down at her own stomach and the thing was gone! Suddenly, she tuned her ears to the sounds of the babies' cries at the end of the hall in front of her!

"My baby! I am coming baby!"

The woman lunged forward and ran at top speed to the door and saw it was partly open and the light inside the room was escaping out into the hallway. She aggressively pushed the door open. This time there was a background that she actually remembered from the previous times she had been there in her night visions. There was the short pudgy cop seated behind his desk. He leaned back in his armchair and looked her over. To the right was a man who had a face that looked like a mosquito. She recognized him! Best pimp she had ever had! The woman in the scene, of course she knew the insect looking thing.

"Richie, thought you were my pimp, not a pig!" the woman shouted at the bug-like man. She watched the vision unfold.

"You know you have become somewhat of a public nuisance!" the officer stated.

"Ah, business has been good and I feel quite well received, know what I mean sir? The public seems to like me very much, including several of Chicago's finest." The woman was smiling slightly.

The officer stared at the woman for a moment. His piercing look made the woman very uncomfortable and she began to look around the office to get a grip on her fear. As the woman in the dream and the woman watching the dream behind her closed eyelids surveyed the room, they both participated in on the eye parade. Together, they both noticed the diploma on the wall behind the dumpy old officer. It was too far away to read much of it but the part she could make out read, "Degree of Doctor of Forensic Medicine." Somehow the paper made the woman calm down knowing that his looks were misleading and that in reality he was a doctor. She wondered though,

"What kind of doctor becomes a cop?"

The sensuous street woman's eyes slid down the wall behind the doctor-cop and finally met those piercing eyes in the head of this elusive doctor-cop seated behind the desk. He leaned forward in his chair. The sound of the old rickety chair thrusting forward to draw the man's face closer to the woman in the dream alarmed the dreamer as she gasped.

"You know, I can have them throw the book at you. It's not exactly my purview here, but put in the years I have here and you can pretty much have anything the way you want it, just touch the right people, if you know what I mean sweetie?"

The woman in the chair was afraid, but she didn't dare let on!

"Just listen to the man, darling." the mosquito man pleaded.

"I just do my service to humanity senor. What you call it here, um, a free-market system or something like that?"

The dreamer thought that was a gutsy thing to say and felt proud of herself. In fact, she seemed to remember having said it herself at some point. The officer laughed, seeming to have appreciated the dexterity of the whore seated in front of him.

"She is perfect!" he thought.

She would be excellent and he could put up with her for 9 months anyway. She needed the money, wanted the cash, so why not go for it? He softened his facial expression and looked calmly at her. The woman watching the scene began to remember parts of the image before her and grabbed her stomach again!

"I have a proposition for you, Miss...?"

"My name is Susan," the woman informed the officer.

Suddenly, the observer remembered it all! She remembered the contract, the money, the treatment and the thing developing inside her and her inability to hate it! She remembered the officer!

"Tell him NO!" the dreamer screamed at the woman.

She knew who the woman was! She knew her well! She was this woman seated in the chair in front of the police doctor-cop! She ran up and tried to shake the image of herself in the scene and her hand simply reacted as if it was touching the nothingness of a cloud and the image disappeared into a hazy fog and the sound of the crying babies again filled the shadowy and eerie atmosphere of the dream. She ran out of the room, and back into the hallway, which had gone black. As she ran down the hallway, she realized again that the heavy load she had been bearing in front of her was gone and her abdomen was empty. She panicked but kept running to open door where the sounds were so piercingly throbbing at the night air! She threw open the door and was shocked to find two infants lying in the corner of an eerily lit room. They were wrestling in a pool of mud and were crying out for their mommy! Abruptly, they ceased their wailing and turned their heads towards her and stared at her. One began to reach out for her crying while the other one screamed, "I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" The dreaming woman began to scream and ran out of the room.

Suddenly, the dark haired beauty opened her eyes! She felt tremors at her insides forcing her to grab her abdomen.

"Oh God!" she prayed.

She turned and punched the man who was asleep next to her with his mouth gapped open.

"Wake up! Richie! Wake up, it's coming",

The body next to hers roused and suddenly sat up in bed.

"Ah, you ready to go?"

She looked at the man who had a bug-like face and shook her head in exasperation.   "Ah! It lives!" she grunted and pounded on the man's shoulder. He instantly lit a half-smoked cigarette. They sat up. She did so slowly because she knew her insides were very tender at the moment. The man took a cell phone and speed-dialed a number.

"Hello."

"Yea, it's Richard. Your product is on its way!"

"One second please" the voice at the other end ordered. "Be there in five!"

"Uh, Good!" The man closed the cell phone.

"Let's go Suzy Q. They'll be right here! Now come on!"

"Sometimes you are Mr. Sensitivity himself, you know that?"

She picked up her suitcase and tried to give it to Richie to carry. He paid no attention to her so she lifted it and walked down the steep stairs from her apartment to the street down below followed by the bug-man. When they reached the bottom, a car pulled up in front of them and the back door swung open. The bug-man nudged her into the back seat and the car sped away. She remembered her dream. What did it mean? Soon she would learn. People will always do for money what they would never even dream of doing for food. She was not exactly a whore. She had a pitiful ability to be a beautiful, soft woman when she wished to. A reason or opportunity simply presented itself so rarely. Now, here she was just gasping for breath in the back seat of a stranger's car ready to throw away the fruit of her loins. She had insisted upon hating it. The problem was that it had made its presence so well known in the last eight weeks. Against her own better judgment, she had allowed herself to commune with it. She had taken it as her own. She had finally found something she could not prostitute! She wanted it. Perhaps she loved it? Giving it away was such a vicious type of suicide. Giving it away would end her life! Some things were simply known far too deeply in the heart.

"How many minutes apart are they?"

"AH! Diablo! I think about three minutes. Richie, it feels like there's an army in there or a mighty big one." She clutched her abdomen and began to wince from the pain.

"Hey Suzy Q, you got to hang in there. We can do this."

"The father was a big man. It was good!" she thought to herself.

"This kid will be the same."

"I'd swear there are four arms and four legs in there." She informed Richie, grunting and moaning as she spit out her words. She looked down at her baby's soon to be abandoned shelter. She rubbed her belly and said, "You will be ok. Oh God, let us be ok!" She was not at all sure about that herself. The car pulled into an abandoned industrial complex.

"What is this? Where are we? This is not what I agreed to!"

Susan began to panic. She was told that she would be in a hospital. She wanted to leave. It was out of the question! It was not the way it was supposed to be. The car stopped. This beautiful woman reached for the door handle! There was none! She was about to enter her own self-made hell and this was no dream!

Posted by joyceanthony at 12:38 AM EDT

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"Madam! I have no choice! Every other option sucks! She was my whole life.Will she come back to me?"

"She shall certainly never return to you if you kill yourself and why you come to me today, sir, from so far away, just to have me tell you to cut your wrists or to drown yourself in the tub or to jump off one of the bluffs here? I never knew I was so popular. From where you live?"

"Madam, Logansport is renowned for the likes of you. I had a friend who came to you once."

"Ah! Where is your friend now my?"

"He is dead!"

"He did not take my advice either, I see?"

"No, he did take it, quite literally!"

"Well, every case is different ya see, but yours is definitely one worth fighting for! I see death in your cards, but not your own, my friend. This life is all about what makes ya happy, sir. Is it suicide that will give you peace and make you most happy? Then do that!"

"Well, actually..."

"Or...is it getting her back that you crave and not just that, getting rid of the disease and its carrier that gave it to her?"

"You mean murder, don't you?"

"That is what some would call it. I call it justice, a new set of values and you of all people believe in justice, don't you? I serve my master because He never just sat by and let that so-called God just take everything away from Him. He fought back and does to this day! He is no coward!"

"Are you calling me a coward, Madam Lizza?"

"There is no need to call you a coward! You are doing that yourself! Is she worth it? Was she not a victim of all of this? Do you not want her back or perhaps you wish to kill her too, because that is what you will be doing if you die! What are you prepared to do to get her back? What are you prepared to do; let the thief win? I see right here in the cards that you are no coward. You can become death and make it your friend and the friend of the innocent and the enemy of the evil. Have you no values sir? So I ask you again, what are you prepared to do?"

"I cannot worship Satan! I have always been told that..."

"Is he evil, correct sir? He is the Prince of Darkness, but darkness is not always evil. Darkness is two-sided and both are friends and both are enemies. It depends on the situation. Sometimes it is your friend and sometimes it is your adversary. Let Queen Lizza assure you that in your case, darkness is your very good companion. It could certainly assist you in this endeavor sir? I know you will come back to visit me, but not concerning this situation. So now, you go from here and consider what I have said. I am not asking you to serve Satan, sir. I am imploring you to do justice and let the light of darkness guide you even in the light. But before you go, close your eyes and tell me what you see."

The Medium's client closed his eyes softly then his eyes tightened as a result of what he saw.

"Tell me, my child, tell Madam Lizza what you see."

"I see, I see a grave yard, a tombstone right in front of me."

"Whose tomb stone is it my friend? Tell me!"

"It is his, he is dead and..."

"And it makes you feel good? Makes you happy? Is it gratifying? Is it not peaceful? Is it not right? Sir!"

The seer's customer was startled and opened his eyes.

"Tell me, sir, did you come here to get some pastoral advice? If so, you came to the wrong place! Now, go out of here and if killing yourself and giving her to him is your greatest peace, by all means, do it sir! If you want her back and the evil one gone, then be a man and wipe out the plague that will leave her life after you are gone and destroy yet another family."

"Do you see that in my cards?"

"It is all here including how you felt when you found them out. Make this a new purpose for your life, to help those in such a plight as this."

Queen Lizza lifted her left hand and blew a powder from her palm unto the heart-wounded man's face. He was dazed by it.

"You should do the will of the master because it is the only one that works but go now and I ask you one more time, what are you prepared to do? You are sworn to uphold justice, are you not? So, go out and do so! I offer you a completely new set of core values!"

Posted by joyceanthony at 2:24 AM EDT

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Steps Toward Gomorrah

Behind the United States and its Constitution was a corrupt movement of evil, a small group of men whose sole objective was to enslave the globe and humanity in their Master's world, a world devoid of the presence of Elyon! Their plot was to turn the species into fossils so that the Master could reclaim His throne. The beginning of the final step was put into place in the middle of the 18th Century, and the man who put that plot into action was Adam Weishaupt.

Weishaupt had pretended to convert to Catholicism and later became a Catholic priest. It was he who had launched this satanic plot back in the 1760's under the name of "the Swarm." He was made of one thing: political intrigue. When his skills were finally noticed and his intentions known, the Financiers requested that he abandon his faith and realize his role in the seed of Nimrod. He quickly complied and defected from the Catholic Church and organized The Minders. They were called by many names: The Illuminati, The Bilderbergers, and The Guiding Hand; they were all financed by the International Bankers.

The founding of the invisible net of Luciaians became the source of every war since that very day. It began with the French Revolution, which became an orgy of blood and served as a fine sacrifice to the master, like those out of the Temple of the Innocents. After the Swarm was exposed and the darkness faced the light, Weishaupt and his co-conspirators were forced to operate under various other names.

Weishaupt was a Jesuit-trained professor of Canon Law, teaching in Inglecot University, when he defected from Christianity to embrace the Swarm. In 1770, he began to write out the Master's plan. It was designed to give the forces of Satan ultimate world domination so they could impose the Luciaian ideology. The master wished to destroy the weak and usurping species of Humanity. Weishaupt smiled when he understood what would become of humanity by what would remain of the human race after the final social cataclysm by use of satanic despotism.

Weishaupt completed his task on May 1, 1776, which, to this day, is internationally celebrated as the great May Day. That was the day Weishaupt officially completed his plan, requiring the destruction of all existing governments and religions. The objective was to be reached by dividing the masses of people into opposing camps in ever increasing numbers on political, social, economic, and other issues, the very conditions facing the United States in its teetering existence. The opposing sides were then to be armed; terror would crush the masses' resolve to defend themselves. Fatal incidents would be amply provided which would cause them to fight and weaken themselves, gradually destroying national governments and religious institutions, as well as family and the complete, utter breakdown of all social order! Meanwhile, all the normal affairs of the current day had already started to tumble downward. TORS had devastated the nation. The fledgling government was in a stupor of the drug they daily injected but which they withheld from the population at large. Monetary and sexual bribery was used to gain dominance over men already in high places in the various levels of all governments and other fields of endeavor. Once the leaders and the masses had fallen for the lies, deceits, and temptations of the beast, they were to be held in bondage.

The nation had lost its nerve! It refused to see that the means stood before them but they lacked the will to use it. The application of political and other forms of blackmail, threats of financial ruin, public exposure, and physical harm, even death to themselves and loved members of their families caused the detractors to remain silent. Plenty of examples of terror served as fit reasons not to expose one's self. It had become a nation that had sought to force Elyon's hand off of the country and now the Eagle was crashing! Guilty of the sins of the flesh, the lust of the eye and the boastful pride of life, it was clear that the Nation had failed. Babylon was falling!

The hordes of the Swarm were engrained in the faculties of colleges and universities throughout the country. They had cultivated their crop of minds from the students possessing exceptional mental ability and who belonged to well-bred families with international leanings. Many of them were chosen for special training in internationalism, social destruction and moral execution of the established order; they granted scholarships, like the Rhodes scholarship, to those selected by the Swarm to put their ideas and levers all in place. There were those who just simply disappeared and were never heard from again. All those were scholars, those able to kill without remorse and those devoid of the fear of death because they had not gone along with the plan. They were to be first persuaded and then convinced that men of special talent and brains had the right to rule those less gifted on the grounds that the masses do not know what is best for them physically, mentally, or spiritually.

All the influential people who were trapped under the control of the Swarm, plus the students who had been specially educated and trained, were to be used as agents and placed behind the scenes of all governments as experts and specialists. They would advise the top executives to adopt policies which would, in the long run, serve the secret plans of the Swarm's One World conspiracy, and bring about the destruction of the governments and religions they were elected or appointed to serve. They were to obtain absolute control of the press so that all news and information could be slanted to convince the masses that the Swarm and the Minders were impossible to defeat. Gaining control of the media was never considered a problem. They had owned them for years!

Posted by joyceanthony at 12:24 AM EDT

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To the left you see my favorite picture of Steven Bradley--just one of the many facets of this fascinating man.  Here is a brief biography:

Currently, Steven Clark Bradley has authored three dramatic thriller novels titled "Nimrod Rising!" "Probable Cause" and "StillBorn!", which are published by Publish America. He speaks French and Turkish. He has been an assistant to a prosecutor, a university instructor and a freelance
Journalist.

Steven attended Knox High School in Knox, Indiana and graduated in 1977. In that same year, he began his college studies in at Emmaus College in Dubuque, Iowa until 1980. Steven finished his degree at Bethel College, and earned his B.A. in Organizational Management of Human Resources. In 1985, while in France, Steven earned a Certificate of Fluency in the French Language at Cavilam Institute of the French Language in Vichy, France. Steven obtained a Masters Degree in Liberal Studies at Indiana University in 2001.

Steven worked 17 years in various countries in Europe, Asia, and Africa. He has been to 34 countries and has worked extensively with Kurdish refugees from Turkey, Iraq, and Syria. Steven also established a school by correspondence for African students in the African countries of The Gambia and Senegal, West Africa. He is the founder of a Cultural Center for refugees in France, where he lived for six years. Speaking fluently in French and in Turkish, Steven has been in 34 countries. Before returning to the United States in 1995, Steven worked as an instructor of English and Business skills for four years at Bilkent University in Ankara, Turkey. He was responsible for the supervision of ten tourism instructors, and supervised the development of syllabi, course outlines, and the development of pertinent materials for Tourism and Business courses. Steven had the opportunity of assisting in the development of a Masters of Business Administration and Public Presentation skills course. Developing a specialized course in Business translation, Steven helped students seek a diploma in Translation and Linguistics. He also developed materials and taught a Specialized Writing course to deepen student’s abilities in communication for business and writing purposes. He was also involved in several World Bank courses, which were offered at the University as well.

Steven's wife, Jenny is from Mainland China. He has four children, Crystal Renee born 1982, Amber Jeanette born 1984, Stephen David born 1986 and Selin Alicia born 2000. He also has one grandson Joshiah David Acker.

Posted by joyceanthony at 3:13 AM EDT

Updated: Monday, 26 May 2008 3:38 AM EDT

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This week, we are visiting with author Steven Bradley.  This man is incredibly talented (you got a glimpse of his banners a week ago).  This week we will start with an interview that lets you in on who Steven Bradley is.  The rest of the week will be full of excerpts from his novels, the latest being Nimrod Rising, and a ton of other fun things--stop back often!!!

Steven Bradley the person:

1.  What three words do you think describe you as a human being?

Bold: I love to speak my mind, but with the temper of someone who realizes that I need to be open to other people's opinions and I need to be ready to moderate my view when shown that I am wrong.  My writing reflects this boldness and desire to record, in fictional terms, the issues and dangers that we as a people in our current society now face.  Boldness speaks in terms that get readers' attention. I strive to accomplish the goal of causing readers to consider what they believe and to open their minds to consider the peril of our ways so that we can take stock of the current direction of our lives.

Compassionate: I think the measure of a wise and tested man or woman is their ability to hold their views and opinions with tremendous vigor, but also maintaining an intellectual and heartfelt respect for those who do not agree with us.  Life is not only about agreement.  The true test of a mature and intense person is their ability to respect what is right in the eyes of all men and women, even when we are miles apart from our views.

Prophetic: When I say Prophetic, I do not mean some pie in the sky religious fanaticism.  I am talking about logically determining where certain changes will ultimately take us as a people and whether our ultimate place as a nation will be better and more secure or increasingly dangerous and hopeless.  I think the most important thing for a writer of such genres as I write such as Nimrod Rising is to be open-minded. I need to try to get beyond the physical world we see every day and try to accept that there is more out there than just us. I don't want people to consider Nimrod Rising as just another scary story. It is far more than that. Nimrod Rising is a book about the history of life and the origin of evil. As I write, I pose the questions such as: Who are we? Where did we come from? What was here before us? Where are we going? Are there answers to the question why the world faces such peril today? Nimrod Rising offers "possible" answers to those questions. I want to awaken the imagination and the cause self perception as readers taken in my stories.

2.  How do you think others would describe you?

Well, I know I would like to be described as determined and compassionate, understanding and creative.  I have lived in many cultures and that has given me a love for the differences amongst us. I am a student of American culture and write about the changes in our society. Yet, every place I have been and with everyone I have met, there has always been that same driving force; the desire to leave those who follow us something that says we were actually here and that I did my best to preserve a good, wholesome and livable world for them to live out their lives in! This is an intrinsic passion inside the heart of a real writer who has an intrinsic need and desire to get their stories and warnings out to the reading public.

My determination is not to be become well known for money or ego.  Many writers will not be discovered until well after they have graduated to a higher calling. Yet, all of us want to leave behind a written account, a treatise of sorts, of what we value, how we think and what we believe. That is my legacy so that many after me may gain a perspective on our hopes, dreams, fears and passions, in the day in which we live. That is why I write and that is what drives me and that is my passion and that is who I am. I bet you can relate.

3.  Please tell us what you are most passionate about outside of writing.

I am an avid reader and love to study history.  I love traveling and have traveled to 34 countries on four continents.  I am really also into the lives of my four children.  I have three children who are now married and have a grandson who is two years old and two grandchildren on the way.  I want to leave a heritage behind me for my children to follow by way of example.  I feel that all we do and learn will be a package of memories for our children to hold and carry on after we are gone.  I also love art.  I am an artist and have a passion for the expression of my heart and firmly-held beliefs in the form of metaphors that speak as loudly as words.

4. Do you have any pets?  If so, introduce us to them.

I have always loved dogs.  I have had some wonderful canine pets that have always become amongst my best friends.  I now live in California and where I live and with my schedule, it is difficult to have a dog and to give those lovely animals the attention they deserve.  So, at the moment I do not have a dog.  I do have an amazing collection of tropical fish, I mean big ones and I love them.  I often sit and watcher their interaction with each other and it is fun to have them.  They give a busy day a great amount of relaxation.

5.  What is your most precious memory?

I would have to say that my most cherished memory was the births of each of my four children.  When I held my first child, after counting fingers and toes, I was so amazed with the instantaneous love that flooded my heart and the unfathomable need of protecting the little human life that so captivated me.  Each of their births affected me in different ways and I still cherish my kids in ways that words cannot describe.  There is truly nothing greater than that.

6.  What is your most embarrassing memory?

I remember one day, when I was learning French in Vichy, France, my church had gone to a beach to have a picnic.  We were getting ready to swim in the Mediterranean and I was asked to pray in French that God would protect everyone.  Well, I started well, but finished very badly.  I actually prayed that God would kill us all as we swam in the ocean.  I was embarrassed and knew what mistake I had made.  Everyone was very nice and I could hear them trying not to laugh.  Finally, I burst out laughing followed by a chorus of hilarious voices who were almost falling on the sand in laughter.  That made it a cherished, and a very special and very memorable embarrassing moment in my life.

7.   If you weren't a writer, what would you be doing with your life?

Well, I am a teacher.  I think my passion to teach is just as great as my love of writing.  I have been teaching English for almost twenty years.  I have been writing for many years, but I believe my love of words and communication in teaching actually developed my ability to tell stories that stir readers' hearts.

I had always wanted to be in politics and I actually ran for Mayor of South Bend, Indiana.  Fortunately, I lost!  I found that the things required to win go against all the things I hold as values.  I recall that one man came up to me after having lost the election.  He told me that he knew why I had not won.  He went on to say that I had not won because I did not know how to lie well enough.  Those words made me feel very good and showed me that Politics was not my calling.  Instead, I realized that I needed to look at the country I love and the world I had seen so much of and point out the loss of values and seek to bring about a dialogue about the changes now flooding society.  All of this and the future before me is all because of being a teacher in so many countries which had made me much more open minded and willing to question and research and accept those who are different than myself in the way they seek to live their lives.  Education is the key.

8.   In two paragraphs or less write your obituary.

Well, I could write, "Here lies Steven Clark Bradley.  Only the shell remains, the nut has gone to heaven!"  Seriously though:

Steven Clark Bradley was a man of great passion and creativity.  He loved words and was well aware that the power of words could make a sad person smile, cause a happy person to fear and could resolve a problem or make it far more profoundly devastating.  Steven wrote books for the purpose of serving as a treatise on the days in which he lived.  Steven had a perception and ability to track the changes in society and to draw conclusions about the future he was leaving for his children.

Steven Clark Bradley held within his being the deep and abiding desire to leave a body of evidence on the printed page that would serve as his very own footprints in the sands of his times that conclusively show that he resided, studied, pleaded and warned his generation of the error of their ways with love, generosity and compassion.  He sought to show his country of their need of returning to the values that honored his God.  So many have graced the Earth without so much of a mention that they had actually even been here. Steven Clark Bradley left his heart in the form of words, words that speak his mind, his values his hopes and fears for a world that needs ears to hear and eyes to see.    

Steven Bradley the writer:

9.  Can you describe the time you realized you were indeed a "real" writer?

I have always said that writing fiction is the closest thing to the divine that humans do.  As a child, I always had a yearning to take a world that did not exist, fill it with characters who have never been, develop scenarios and plots which had never been conceived of before. 

As a teenager, I always sought to write out my dreams and found myself adding characters and information that sort of filled in the gaps that dreams almost always have.  I would almost instinctively draw conclusions that were profound and make them speak to those who have never imagined the stories before. As I got older, I wanted to try to answer the questions that we think of, but which we are afraid, for many perceived reasons, to ask. That is the greatest way to germinate the creativity of the world around us. There are no stupid questions and no answers should be considered too asinine to approach. If I can stir up the imagination and the heart and souls of those who read my works, I will have participated in taking the tragedy out of human and replaced it with unlimited courage and creativity. That is my passion and my devotion to my writing.
 

10.  What is going on with your writing these days?

I am currently editing and adding to my next novel entitled Patriot Acts.  It is about the danger of confronting a nuclear armed Iran which has covertly joined up with radical militia groups inside the United States of America. It is a powerful story about betrayal, patriotism and sacrifice.  I should have it published sometime this year.  I am currently researching a new publisher and hope to find one in the near future.
 

11.  What are your future goals for your writing?

I want people to know that there are novels out there like none they have ever read before. That is not a cliché either. I believe they will find Nimrod Rising very unique and thrilling as well as challenging to their long-held beliefs. I also know that my future novels will no less affect those who choose to read books that challenge their value systems.  I have already started my fifth novel that is entitled, Quality of Life. It is about the culture of death in America and how it is pushing euthanasia for the weak and hopeless amongst us.  It will be part four of Nimrod Rising.  I want to show readers that life is greater than they ever believed and that they are more than accidents on this tiny planet but vital living reasons to have hope and faith in a day lacking both.  I know that new novel will be controversial, but they will reevaluate their values and that is the goal of my writing.

12.  Can you describe a typical writing day for you?

Is there really a "Typical" day for a writer?  Everyday is an experience of its own.  I hate sleep, so, my days always start early, 5:00 AM generally.  I need to have time alone when I can give my undivided attention to the task at hand.  I also sleep late so I have an average of 5 hours sleep a night.  At the moment, I am very involved in marketing my books and also helping other writers and working on my new material.

When I write, it is a really amazing phenomenon that takes over.  I can have a general idea of where I want to go with a chapter or a new novel, but the story always somehow takes me into areas of thought I had never before visited. 

I have written seven novels and have published three of them so far. Each time I start a new novel, I have those flutters in my stomach that remind of the massive task ahead. The time, the effort, the hours that consume us can be a monster that looms behind out eyes as well as a lack of self confidence can tell us and make us believe we cannot do it. Perhaps we have started a project before that we got into and the burdens of life and the responsibilities to family and friends seemed to crowd it all out. I have suffered those feelings more in the area of book promotion than in the actual writing. They try to have the same affects on me though. Yet, after having written one novel, and finally convincing myself that it is as it should be, I have now understood that writing is an effort of starting the work and then following it as it takes over and guides my fingers. Perhaps only a writer will understand what I am going to say, but I always have the most spiritual and amazing phenomenon come over me when I write a new story. It seems that the story really begins to write itself. Some friends with whom I have bounced ideas off of before have often asked me how a new story is going to end. I inevitably respond, "I don't know, the story hasn't told me yet." It sounds crazy, but is perfectly logical to me. Also, we have to make ourselves believe that in writing, we are never late. Of course, some writers are under contract, but even in such situations, writers need to feel the words they are writing. So, during those times when the words are still making their way to us, it is not time wasted. If emerging writers can make themselves believe that, then they will overcome the feelings of failure and inadequacy. The only failure anyway is not trying at all.

So, I spend at least 8 hours a day either publishing my material on the net or editing a current novel or working on a new story that is in its infancy.  It is a challenging, stimulating and very enjoyable adventure that is never boring.

13.  Why do you write?

I know that I do not write to make people afraid.  I base my fictional material on issues that affect everyone.  I tell the truth and often, the truth scares them.  I am not against entertainment at all.  Some writers have a calling to make people laugh.  Others have a goal of scaring people.  I like them a lot.  That is not what I feel my purpose in writing is about.  I want to make readers take stock, analyze and decide if their current set of values is the right one or if they need to reevaluate what they current hold to be true and right.  The current waive of terror and war and social transformation is not without answers and I want to at least give my world alternative possibilities for the scourge of terror and mayhem now plaguing mankind.  I want to feel that I am free from the blood of all mankind by stating what I truly believe is even now placing our civilization in peril.  That is what drives me and that is what moves my heart and fingers. 

14.  What writer most inspires you?  Why?

Ted Dekker and Frank Perretti are two authors who have written novels together.  They write from Christian perspective but stories that are secular in nature and with themes and issues that affect the religious and atheist alike. I admire their ability to go beyond the common Christian writers and to build on themes that are considered highly controversial in the religious community.  Both of them have served as a catalyst to spur me to take my genre and topic farther than they have themselves in their novels.  I admire them and appreciate their intensity and the power of their words
 

15.  How do you define your writing?

I often call my writing "Truth Fiction."  It is very interesting to me that two recent reviews of Nimrod Rising both asked the question if that powerful story is fact or fiction.  That is because I talk about current issues that are before us all and add what I believe is the final and ultimate outcome if these things are not correctly resolved.  I know that all my work in the future will be of a similar nature because I want my stories to bring about change and to make people think and consider the way the world is currently moving.

16. In one sentence-what do you want people to say about your writing in fifty years?

Steven Clark Bradley, with the uncanny ability to read the news between the lines and warn the world at large that all is not quite as it seems, had a call to all those who had eyes to see and ears to hear what was whispering in the winds of change sweeping across his land.

Steven Bradley the details:

17.  Can you tell us where to find more information on you? Website?  Blog?

http://www.stevenbradley.net   http://undergroundcontroversy.blogspot.com/

These are the main blogs I use.  Both of these blogs hold all my posts and lots of information about my books.  Also, there links at the bottom of each post that go directly to my other blogs and which can take readers to Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble.com and Borders.com. 

18.  Is there a place where readers can reach you?

I can be reached by e-mail at:

scbradley_2000us@yahoo.com

 or

Bradley.steven@gmail.com

Also, readers can comment on the posts on my blogs and I always respond.  That is a great way to get in touch.

Readers can also find my schedule of radio interviews on my blogs where they can call in to talk with me directly

19.  Can you list all your book titles so people can look for them?

Nimrod Rising (Synopsis)

Have you ever felt that the world was guided in ways that are beyond man's control? The constant changes in the world since the time of Nimrod 4000 years ago until today and all the events that have shaken the world have been to bring the universe back into the hands of the Prince of Darkness, Lucia, a world that he had ruled with his Watchers before it was all ripped from his grasp when man was created. Nimrod Rising paints a diabolical picture of how the Prince of Darkness executes his evil plot to take the world back by force and destroy civilization in the process. From the Great Builder Nimrod in 4000 BC to today, 666 generations later, you can ride the storm of Nimrod Rising and experience the death of a world and the birth pangs of another. You will swear it is really upon us!

Stillborn!  (Synopsis)

When two brothers are separated from birth they usually find great joy when at last they discover each other. It is not always so harmonious,
though. StillBorn explores what can happen when an Illegal adoption
causes twins to be born without love and sold without remorse. When one is rejected because of a physical defect and left in an orphanage
without identity and the other is adopted in his place into a wonderful
life the result is one of bitterness and ruthless revenge. When they
grow up and find each other a game of revenge and death is played out.
See what a life of pain, suffering and abuse can do when vengeance
becomes a driving motivation and humanity is shouting, am StillBorn!

Probable Cause  (Synopsis)

Have you ever wished you could simply decide the best way to correct a serious wrong done to you? Chief Inspector Corbett (Core) Mandeville was the best of the best in solving the worst crimes in his state, until now. This time, he has an uncanny affinity with a killer who has more than one attitude in common with his own. This time the crime was too close to Core's own heart for comfort. This killer had a reason for what he was doing and Core understood it as though it were he himself was stepping out and taking justice into his own hands. Get into the mind of the killer and the cop as both find a relationship that makes
for exciting, lethal and profound actions of vengeance and justice.
You'll have fun trying to figure out the crime. You may be amazed how
similar they both can be when all their actions are based on Probable
Cause!

20.  For new readers-what can they expect when they read your book(s)?

I know that new readers of my novels will be confronted with riveting plots with distinct themes that touch the human soul.  Each of my novels reveal the true nature of men and women and the steps that can be taken, for good and for evil, in order to achieve their placid or aggressive ends.  I think they will find that I write from the perspective of the villain as much as from the hero and/or heroine.  I seek to reveal what the baser traits of wounded or betrayed people.  Each of my novels show the collision of the forces of the purer and of the more evil natures that exist inside all of us.  I believe they will feel these forces tugging on their senses and emotions.  Stillborn is an novel about illicit adoptions of children from within the procreation industry.  As readers learn about the villain's purposes and the abuse that drives him to his ultimately vengeful acts of rage, they will struggle as they feel the urge to support the killer, having felt and lived his nightmare with so profoundly inside his head.  Nimrod Rising creates a whole range of feeling, from fear to empathy to rage.  I believe they will complete my stories with better understanding that often, we can overcome evil until we understand it.

In conclusion:

21.  Take as much space as necessary to speak to our readers-what would you like them to know about you and your writing?

There is nothing greater than writing & creating something from nothing. It's the closest thing to the divine! The ability to create worlds and personalities, to describe something so powerfully it can make the reader laugh with joy, shiver in fear or cry in sorrow and empathy and to then breathe into them the breath of literary life is a gift from God; a process that starts in human imagination and comes to life on the printed page. It is the thing that separates us from the rest of creation! It is exactly what God did when He stepped into nothing and created something new and living and breathing and powerful for all time!

I have written the genre of stories expressed in my books because I want to say something about my current society and to perhaps warn us of the things that could threatened the life we now have. I consider my books to be hard-hitting love stories that may frighten the reader, but which lead to a conclusion of hope and safety. Since i have traveled widely around the world, I think I can give a fair comparison of the life we share on this part of the small globe we call home. I also know how easy it would be to see it all blown away into the sands of time. So, the stories that flood my mind are to help us stop, perceive, reflect and perhaps alter our actions and cause us to look at where we are, where we have been and determine, perhaps with more clarity, where we are going.

There is no way to overstate the fact that the political, moral and financial ground is shifting radically under our feet. Though many seem to pursue this change as something that will bring about peace and prosperity, the reality is that the transformation of America from a nation founded on Judeo-Christian ethics to a land grounded on pagan principles will do nothing other than to hasten the arrival of an evil so ripe with death and destruction that the land that most of us have loved and cherished will cease to exist in any recognizable form. 

As you read this powerful section of Nimrod Rising, consider the dangers that now face us and remember the adage that is as true as it has always been that those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it.  The clock is ticking, the minutes are waning and Nimrod is Rising! It's as real as it gets!

Posted by joyceanthony at 12:01 AM EDT

Updated: Sunday, 25 May 2008 12:15 AM EDT

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The recent storms in the south have created devastation for many.  Author Lacresha Hayes ( you will remember her from a few weeks back when she was here with her book The Rape of Innocence) and her husband saw there church damaged considerably.  In addition. many of their congregation have been left with basic needs unfulfilled. 

 A group of Lacresha's friends, myself included, are setting up a funraiser to help .  We are gathering a large package of printed books to raffle off.  The chances will be 1.00 each and the prize will be the entire set of books we gather--all new, many authographed--there will be at least ten, but watch here for titles as the number grows.

Any author willing to donate a copy of your book is asked to contact me at rainbow@velocity.net and I will let you know where to send the book.  For those wishing to buy chances, you can also contact me at the above address or watch this space for further information.

Thanks, Everyone!!!

Tomorrow, we start a week-long visit with author, Steven Bradley.

Posted by joyceanthony at 12:57 AM EDT

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