Here is my actual first line hook and the rest of the first paragraph:
Dirac sighed with relief when the US flag came down and the surrender flag went up on the mast of the titanic luxury yacht. He didn’t mind firing rounds from his AK-47 over their heads, but he hated killing people. He knew they were only infidels, but they were still people.
The reader learns: 1) a US yacht is surrendering; 2) the pirate’s name is Dirac; 3) He’s ready to use his AK-47 on them; 4) The pirate considers the US citizens infidels.
So I wrote the whole chapter pretty quickly. It’s a lot like performing magic: you lead the reader to expect one thing and then you make the opposite happen. I begin with the readers learning about zombie invincibility–and then put them in a seemingly impossible situation to escape.
Sometimes I lead you to expect a big fight and then all the villains escape. Sometimes I lead the reader to expect another adventure just like the last one–and have the heroes rescued by someone else.
Then just as you think you have the pattern of the chapter adventures established, I change all the rules of the game and add completely new and different villains.
Zombie Heroes Hired by the President – What is Paranormal Privateers All About?It’s one of my favorite books. It’s my most complex and surprising. So what is it about and why do I like it? I give you a free sample below. It’s in a unique humorous zombie hero genre.
Diane Newby, in her natural environment.
But let’s start at the beginning: My Undead Mother-in-law,introduces the Newbys, a zombie family. The son, Don Newby, shows up in Zombie Turkeys. The family, led by the matriarchal undead mother-in-law Diane Newby, fights for zombie rights and any criminals that cross their paths. It helps that my zombies regenerate from injuries and get stronger each time.
By the end of the book, they’re Zombie Heroes!
This leads to Paranormal Privateers where the President has given them a letter of marquis to fight as privateers on behalf of the United States. They’re given assignments that are too dangerous or sensitive for the US to intervene directly. Like Somalian pirates.
A heavy tread down the stairs announced George Newby. His eyes shone red too, but while Diane was built like a middle-aged woman, George was a classic wide-body. His shoulders filled the stairway. You’d think he was a truck driver or a lineman rather than an accountant.
“Hi, Karen. Hi, Ron,” he rumbled. He hugged his daughter, as if he held a baby bird, and shook my hand without hurting me in his bratwurst fingers. His bright red eyes looked squarely into mine.
“Sharon Windham – tall blonde bodyguard from England. “Her eyes shone bright red under a broad brow, with blonde eyelashes and a square chin. She could be a marble idol from a Greek temple. A zombie goddess”–from Paranormal Privateers
She was a former crime lord bodyguard who switched alliegiance to Diane Newby. Former Crossfit athlete, model, and competitive swimmer.. She deamt of becoming a UN translator. She speaks 11 languages: English, French, German, Norwegian, Swedish, Danish, Chinese, Korean, Arabic, Hebrew, Greek, and Russian. Trained in katana, nunchuks, and naginata.
Darkly beautiful bodyguard from Acapulco Mexico. 5′ 4″ Former cliff diver and rock climber. Former crime lord bodyguard, now protecting Diane Newby. Former MMA fighter and bodybuilder. Trained in katana, nunchuks, and naginata.
I examined my cell methodically. A drainpipe, two inches in diameter. A toilet. A hard bed. A steel door with hinges on the outside. I’d probably need to escape from somewhere other than this cell. Once they established a routine with my interrogation, I’d look for escape routes.
I chuckled to myself. Synthia Smith was my true name, in the sense it matched my birth certificate and other current identification. Before Synthia Smith, I was Rachel Rathbone, and before that Quinella Quincy, and so on, through the alphabet. My earliest memory was a toddler named Betty Botter. I had to be cute and pick pockets. Who knew what my original name was? Changing identities was a standard procedure for me with each new assignment.
This had been my most challenging operation, and I’d almost pulled it off. Those damn zombies! Had I blown up Harrods, the demands for billions in exchange for each national landmark’s safety would have been credible.
They had no idea of the bigger picture—and they wouldn’t get it. My terrorist cover story was completely true, but neither the terrorists nor Scotland Yard knew they were merely a means to an end. It was the truth: total subjugation of the United Kingdom was a reasonable goal for one like me, a child of the world’s greatest criminal.
I knew more about Papa Smith, my ostensible grandfather, than any of my siblings. I think I actually touched his feelings as a loving granddaughter, and I think he shared more with me than with any of his other crime-lord grandchildren. Of course, he might be manipulating me, just as I tried to manipulate him. That was the most reasonable assumption, especially if we were actually related.
What Is Paranormal Privateers All About? – Synthia Smith, Part 2
Regardless, I felt fond of him. When I overthrew him and took over his crime empire, I thought I’d keep him alive. I enjoyed our talks via our secured video line. When he’d shared Sid Boffin’s failure with me, I clapped in delight as he praised me for staying in touch with him. I think that was genuine emotion and not an act. It was hard to tell sometimes.
A motion on the floor caught my eye as I sat on the bed. A cockroach crawled up the drain and onto the floor. Surprising. Usually, Britain kept their prisons pest free. Then another. Then a dozen more. And then, hundreds.
This was not normal cockroach behavior. They did not come into the light in hordes. I sat cross-legged on the bed and watched the swarm with fascination. They climbed the door, walked its steel perimeter, and went back down the drain as others came up.
Curious, I nabbed one using my lightning reflexes. Examining it, I saw a metal dot under its thorax and a narrow tube attached to its abdomen. A pungent, acidic smell came from the tube. I looked back to the door. The acid ate a narrow trench in the door’s perimeter, right where the cockroaches still marched. Near the ceiling light, I saw mist curl away from the door.
Zombie Heroes vs Synthia Smith, Part 3
Modified and controlled cockroaches—like Sid Boffin’s cyborg-controlled animals. I’d read his Ph.D. paper as well as the Midley Beacon‘s declassified reports on his battles with the zombies. Since Sid was dead at the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico, this could only be one of my siblings or Papa Smith trying to rescue me.
Using my perfect memory of the twists and turns when they’d led me here hooded, counting my steps, and remembering the doors, I was confident I could retrace the route.
The last of the cockroaches marched around the door, leaving its trail of acid. They etched the door perhaps a centimeter deep. Couldn’t be much left.
I knocked on the door. Yes, it felt like a centimeter thick, and it echoed like it was almost cut through. Then someone knocked back, much harder.
“I’m here!” I called. I assumed this was my rescuer.
“Step back,” grated a curious, tinny voice, like it was coming through a small radio.
I stepped away.
CLUMP! CLUMP! Two metallic thunks hit the other side of the door. Then, SKREERK! The door tore off like the lid of a tin of meat.
I didn’t expect what I saw. A male silverback gorilla filled the doorway and the whole hallway beyond. Thick armor covered his body. Casually, he placed the door scrap against the hall.
This series was too easy to binge, I could not stop listening to the audible audiobooks once I started! This author is brilliant, the narrator(s) in all of the Life After Life chronicles books are wonderful, and the storyline was hilarious. At times I shook my head in disbelief and just cracked up at the ridiculousness surrounding this zombie story. My son is 12 and he listened with me at times and enjoyed the humor and different zombie stories as well!
The cover of my third novel Paranormal Privateers. Click to get yours.
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But why? Barbara Beyer was my mother-in-law. (She passed in 2020 at 88). She lived in our home while I wrote My Undead Mother-in-law in 2016 and 2017. Here’s the dedication page:
Fun zombie read! I love paranormal and supernatural books so I was intrigued to read this series. I’ve listened to it on audible and the narrators are really fun and easy to listen to, I feel like they’re talking to actual people rather than reading a story. The storyline is funny and it has just gotten better with each book in the series.
Great story. Really hilarious in a ridiculous way and I don’t mean that in a negative way. I love this story! Amazing author and an amazingly well done performance.
My Undead Mother-in-law Excerpt
My Undead Mother-in-law back cover
Sam arrived at the Deviled Turkeys farm in the dark winter evening. Sam could see the National Guard trucks and a couple of police cars along the snowy drive to the barnyard. They had distracted the flock of perhaps a thousand turkeys from attacking the house and were now barely holding their own position.
Sam heard the BANG of shotguns, and the pop, pop of rifles and pistols. Why did the police waste their time and ammunition? Those weapons proved ineffective against the zombie turkeys last November.
Grabbing his trusty Flaming Turkey brand flamethrower from the backseat, he approached the line of soldiers.
“Stay away, mister!” an officer yelled over the crackle of gunfire. Sam noticed he had a skinny neck and a shock of red hair.
“You should have a flamethrower!” Sam yelled back.
“We do! We can’t use them this close to the buildings. There’s a family in there!”
Good thing Lisa isn’t here, Sam thought. During the zombie turkey apocalypse, she’d flamed first and asked questions later.
Another car pulled up in the drive. The officer yelled, “Get away, ma’am! This is a dangerous situation!”
“I’ve come to reason with the turkeys,” Diane Newby yelled back, her red eyes gleaming.
“You can’t reason with crazed killer turkeys!”
“You watch me!” She leapt past the officer, past the line of soldiers, directly toward the mass of turkeys. The soldiers ceased firing, for fear of hitting her. The mass of turkeys washed over Diane like a tsunami. Sam reluctantly filmed her last moments, for her family’s sake.
The mound of turkeys burst apart, revealing Diane throttling a tom. She ripped off its head, legs, wings and then smashed the body into paste on the ground.
“Listen up, you turkeys!” she yelled. “I’m the boss turkey now! Follow me!” Obediently, the turkeys followed her into the barn. She led them back into their cages and shut them in. Where the turkeys had burst doors and wire fencing, using her bare hands Diane wove the tough steel wire into a tight net, holding them securely. “Good thing I’m handy with macramé,” she said to herself as she wove.
Diane’s clothing was shredded and bloody like she’d been through a wood chipper, but her skin showed pink and unbroken through the many holes in her pants and coat. Sam ran to her.
“Are you OK, Diane?”
“Never felt better! I told you I could reason with the zombie turkeys!”
“How did you find out?”
“It was on the zombie turkey Twitter feed on the Midley Beacon page, where I was reading your story about us!”
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