Wednesday, May 25, 2016

Russell Nohelty's MY FATHER DIDN'T KILL HIMSELF Blitz

My Father Didn’t Kill Himself
By
Russell Nohelty
Genre:  YA Mystery. This book deals with death, loss, and grief. There are difficult concepts to deal with and uncomfortable situations.



How would you cope is somebody you love committed suicide?
Delilah's father is the greatest man she has ever known. When he commits suicide her world is shattered. She can't eat. She can't sleep. Her bubbly personality becomes ascorbic. All she wants is to be left alone.
When his insurance policy refuses to pay out, Delilah sets out to prove what she's known all along: that his suicide was in fact a murder.
A story of getting over grief and learning those you idolize aren't perfect, told in blog posts through Delilah and her best friend.
On the surface My Father Didn’t Kill Himself is a mystery book, but right below the surface is a story of how people get over grief. And not just how Delilah gets over her grief of losing the person she idolizes most in the world. Also about how a wife gets over the grief of her husband, a husband that was supposed to provide for her, but instead left her alone and destitute.
Mixed with that is the loss felt by Alex, Delilah's best friend, in losing her best friend to the anguish of grief, watching her slip away and pull back from the world, feeling helpless.

Buy Link:  Amazon

DROWNING

Posted by Delilah Clark × December 15 at 9:31 pm.
Here is what The Suicide Handbook says about drowning.
Drowning in cold water is supposed to be like going to sleep. For me, it was a nightmare.
Shivering, freezing, I sat for a minute until my body
Adjusted to the cold. Then I sunk down under the water. The cold washed over me, but my lungs were on fire. Before I could pass out my natural instincts kicked in. I couldn't fight them. I kicked and screamed
until half the water was gone. I gasped for air. It was frightful.

I performed my experiment much like J. I laid down in the tub until my body adjusted to the temperature. Once I was acclimated, I sunk below the water. I breathed out until there were no bubbles. And I waited. It didn’t take long for the fire in my lungs to start. Soon, it was unbearable. My body thrashed around for a moment before I shot out of the water and gasped for precious air.
I wholeheartedly endorse every word J said.
On top of that I realized something.
If I died in this tub, my bowels would empty, and I would be sitting in feces-filled water until somebody found me. That is not a dignified way to die—my bowel excretion muddying the water and coating me in a fine mist of poop. They’d be scrubbing for days to get me ready for the casket.
No thank you.

CEMETERY

Posted by Delilah Clark × December 16 at 7:22 pm.
Before every session with Dr. Bennett, Susie drives me to the cemetery and tries to coerce me into visiting my father’s grave.
I’d never been to his grave before; not since the funeral. It didn’t seem important to me.
It’s not like he's in there anyway. Maybe his body, but not him. If he’s anywhere, he's by my side as I try to fulfill his last wishes, not hanging out in a cemetery.
But Susie always insists on driving to the cemetery anyway. The cemetery is a weird place full of weird people. There’s this tall undertaker who seems a little too into the dead people’s families. He’s like overeager for them to buy something. His smile creeps me out. 
There’s a grave digger who has to be high on something because he moves slower than molasses. Sometimes I catch the funeral director yelling at him, as if that’s going to motivate somebody that digs graves for a living to pick up the pace. Shocker, it never worked. 
They’re not weird in a bad way though. Some of them I could like if I didn’t hate everybody on principle. There’s this guy who is always reading comic books. He introduced himself to me one day as “Roscoe. Roscoe Fay.” Like he’s James Bond or something. He just sits under this tall oak tree overlooking the cemetery and silently reads comics. I would watch him read sometimes, letting my eye catch a cool image every once and a while.
I would usually just sit there, looking out at the cemetery, until Susie gave up and drove us away. But today was different. Today, I felt a twinge in my stomach, a pang, not quite a stress baby, but maybe a stress zygote, or an unfertilized egg.
I needed to see his grave. I needed to talk to him.
Susie was ready to fight, but before she could open her big mouth I pushed out of the door and walked over to his grave.
It was weird.
For all my research on death, I had no idea how to act in a cemetery. I saw a few people crying over graves and placing flowers on them as they rehashed their day.
That isn’t me. I’m cried out.
His gravestone was simple and to the point.
Tim Clark. Devoted husband and father.
I read it over and over again. Have you ever noticed that any word you say over and over again sounds super weird? Just try saying neck two hundred times and tell me that’s not a silly word by the end?
By the eight millionth silent loop, my dad’s name sounded like an alien language. Maybe Zorgblopple, which I just made up.
“Hey dad,” I finally said. “How are you doing? Probably not so bad, right? I mean worms might be eating your insides, but at least you can’t feel how cold it is, right?”
I paused, waiting for a response from him. I felt like an idiot.
“It’s been snowing here a lot. Remember when Mom went out of town for the weekend and it rained? You always said that God was crying because he missed her. I thought that was silly, but I always think about that when it rains or snows now.”
I liked it. I liked it so much I skipped therapy and sat there most of the day. I really can’t tell you how much better than therapy it is.

 
Russell Nohelty is a writer, publisher, and consultant. He is the publisher of Wannabe Press and its main author. Russell likes to write genre fiction with deep character studies. He’s sadistic with his characters, putting them in the worst situations and watching them claw their way back up, just to kick them back into the abyss again. Russell started his career writing comics, and now writes novels and children’s books as well. 
Social Media Links
Twitter  | Facebook 
          @russellnohelty (Instagram)
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Why I formed my own publishing company
I own a publishing company called Wannabe Press (www.wannabepress.com). It’s nothing fancy. Just a little website we cranked out, distribution through Ingram, and enough books published in the past two years to kill and very, very small spider.
Well, okay. Maybe a regular sized spider.
We’ve got a mascot, submissions policy, and everything! But it wasn’t always that way. At first I was a writer desperately looking for a publishing company.
I had great content, a spring in my step, and a really nice smile. I mean I practiced it and everything. Yet, I couldn’t get a major publisher to recognize me to save my life. The contracts I kept getting were from smaller publishers that wanted exclusive rights to my work in perpetuity, ownership over the IP, and all sorts of nonsense I wouldn’t ever agree to without downing a bottle of scotch or two.
I tried to publish with a few of the better companies I found, but I was underwhelmed at best. They missed deadlines, did absolutely zero promotion, and didn’t help building my name at all.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to find somebody that would take my books seriously. Luckily, I knew just the guy. Me.
So I struck out on my own. I funded a Kickstarter, ordered some books, hung a shingle, and Wannabe Press was born. I spent the first year royally messing up everything. Luckily, I was only screwing myself over. Once we got into 2016 though, I had a great handle on my supply chain. Things are rocking and rolling now.
So much so I started looking for other people’s books while publishing my own. So why did I form my company? Out of necessity. Why do I keep it going? Because I don’t trust anybody else.
Here’s the deal. Nobody is going to take your books as seriously as you. Even at a big publisher you are going to be their lowest priority.
I know most of you are waiting for a publisher to save you, but I’m here to tell you there is no publisher like that.
It’s time to stop waiting for your knight in shining paper, learn how to do the business part of it, and save yourself. I’m not that smart and this is not that hard. I promise you can do that. In fact, I even have a podcast called The Business of Art (www.thebusinessofart.us) that can help.
Writer. Help thyself.
Oh, and also buy my latest book My Father Didn’t Kill Himself on Amazon. It’s a black comedy mystery about a girl whose father commits suicide so she sets out to prove it was murder because she can’t stand the thought of losing him.  Basically it’s a deep character study wrapped in a plot that deals with grief, loss, and death. It’s great.
Russell Nohelty is a publisher, author, and consultant. He runs Wannabe Press (www.wannabepress.com) and The Business of Art podcast (www.thebusinessofart.us).

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