A Writer’s Journey | Between the Beats

A Writer’s Journey | Between the Beats



Thinking about writing a book? Stop thinking and just do it!

How Much is Too Much? Paris Fashion Week Reveals Little Style | Between the Beats

How Much is Too Much? Paris Fashion Week Reveals Little Style | Between the Beats

Free on Kindle!

Grab a copy of this 5-star reviewed book! It will be free on Amazon through Jan 23. 2015.

View From the Sixth Floor: An Oswald Tale

Why are strangers suddenly appearing in a sleepy North Carolina town asking about Lee Harvey Oswald? What do they have to do with widow Olivia Roberts? Why is her neighbor and friend Bill Horton so dead set against her traveling to Dallas, Texas? When she journeys from her North Carolina home to Dallas in search of answers to questions from November 22, 1963 she learns more than she ever expected. 
“View from the Sixth Floor: An Oswald Tale” is a story of “what-ifs”? What if the assassination of President John F. Kennedy on November 22, 1963 was a conspiracy? What if accused assassin Lee Harvey Oswald was innocent? What if someone knew the truth and could prove it? What if someone you trusted turned out to be hiding a secret so big it could change history? 
This is a tale of friendship, love, political intrigue, and murder.

As the Embers Burn

January 13 would have been my father’s 90^th birthday. He passed away on September 19^th, 2006, three months after I saw him for the last time. He was in a nursing home in the Bronx. My half sister had put him there. I was living in Knoxville, Tennessee, his hometown. My father was still mentally cogent, knew who I was the minute I walked into his room, and was delighted to meet my husband. It had been about 17 years since I had seen him. He was no longer ambulatory and spent our visit in his hospital bed. I brought him a University of Tennessee throw blanket for his bed and a big UT cold cup to keep at his bedside.

Daddy had not been back to Tennessee since the 1980’s and I knew his heart ached to see his sister again. She was his youngest sister and the only one still living. She was the sister I was named for. I would have given anything to bring him back with me but the very complicated situation between his current wife and my half sister made that impossible.

I think about him often; when I go on a long because he always enjoyed driving, when I’m on vacation because he took such delight in traveling to new places and teaching me about them, when I read a good mystery or detective novel because he liked them. This past fall I published my first book. It is a thriller with action and romance tossed in for good measure. I know he would have been proud and would have read it and shown it to everyone he knew.

Although he had been out of my life for many years and we only had a few hours together over eight years ago I still miss him terribly. I miss his laugh which came from deep in his chest and rumbled like a merry train. I miss his long winded tales of World War II and things that happened to him and his ship mates. Most of all I miss his big warm hugs which were like being enveloped by a lovable bear.

I have some of his ashes in a silver heart I wear around my neck and I find in moments of stress or uncertainty I will rub it like a talisman. This year my husband took me on a Caribbean cruise for New Year’s Eve. I wore my pendant because I knew Daddy would have had a blast celebrating on a cruise ship as the New Year rang in.

I was blessed to have him for ten years as a child, and blessed again when my husband convinced me in June 2006 to travel to New York to visit him for Father’s Day. I like to think of him now in a sort of heavenly after life, driving around in a big old Chevrolet with my mother at his side, and the radio playing light jazz. He’d be pointing out all the sights, looking for a good place to eat or spend the night, and going just a little too fast. Have fun Daddy! You earned it.

"View From the Sixth Floor: An Oswald Tale"

My first novel is available on Amazon and has received excellent reviews. Here are a few:

"The trip is thrilling and suspenseful, as reported above---a masterpiece." 

"It grabbed me in the beginning with her smart prose and kept me reading until I couldn't see the page and had to stop to rest my eyes."

"I loved her book. Let me say that again – I loved her book."

"The premise was clever, full of twists and turns. It involved everyday people, unexpectedly involved in extraordinary circumstances."

"THAT'S where the story picks up steam and the reader gets thrown for a loop!"

"I had to keep flipping pages as I had no clue what would happen next but one thing became increasingly apparent."

"Amazing read! The very talented author tells a story that captures you from the very beginning and continues to amaze and delight the reader."

"I read the book in one day because the twists and turns in the story made it hard for me to put the book down!"

"This is one of the best books I have read in a long time. I just couldn't put this one down!"

"A terrific read, and would make a great movie!"

"That's what writing is all about--entertain me and keep me. She did perfectly."

"I think you'll find the book hard to put down after the first third."

"great book couldn't put it down"

"AN ABSOLUTE MUST READ!"

http://www.amazon.com/View-From-Sixth-Floor-Oswald-ebook/product-reviews/B00NPCZW6W/

Where Was the US Leadership? | Between the Beats

Where Was the US Leadership? | Between the Beats

Where Was the US Leadership?

JANUARY 12, 2015 / LIZZI NEWTON / EDIT

The world has been stunned by the horrifying terrorist activity in France last week. Seventeen people were killed in attacks on the satirical publication Charlie Hebdo and a Kosher supermarket in Paris. Universal response has been loud and clear, we all stand with Charlie Hebdo as well as the Jewish citizens of Paris. When any nation is attacked world leaders speak out against the violence and often step forward to attend events supporting the injured country. 

A group of world leaders led a chain of 1.5 million people in a march along Boulevard Voltaire in Paris on Sunday. Joining French President Francois Hollande were British Prime Minister David Cameron, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, German Chancellor Angela Merkel, Spanish Prime Minister Mariano Rajoy, Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov, Turkish Prime Minister Ahmet Davutoglu, Jordan’s King Abdullah II and Queen Rania, and even Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas. Many other leaders from Africa and other European countries were represented. This has been called the largest demonstration in the history of France by some.
US Attorney General Eric Holder was in Paris but he did not attend. The United States was represented by the US Ambassador to France Jane Hartley and Assistant Secretary of State Victoria Nuland. There is something painfully disturbing about this. President Barack Obama was at the White House in Washington, DC, and Secretary of State John Kerry was previously committed to be a lead speaker at a summit in India.
The streets of Paris were filled with Christians, Jews, and Muslims speaking out in unison against the Islamist terrorists who perpetrated the attacks in Paris. 

What does this lack of participation by the United States leadership say? White House Press Secretary Josh Earnest said it today. “We should have sent someone with a higher profile to be there”. Concerns about security were also stated. Attorney General Holder apparently had to hurry back to Washington and Secretary of State Kerry plans a stop in Paris on his way home.
Personally I find this very disturbing. When world leaders unite despite concerns about security to show solidarity against terrorism and the United States is under represented I feel we are sending a questionable message. Are our leaders any more valuable than these other representatives who stepped forward to demonstrate unity? Are the attacks by Islamist (not Islamic) terrorists on the side of the ocean any less important than an attack on American soil? When Christian, Jewish, and Muslim leaders lock arms to lead over a million people in standing against the vicious attacks and we are not properly represented we appear either frightened or uncaring.
Let me assure the world as an American citizen, as a country we are neither afraid nor uncaring. We stand with Paris and the rest of the world saying Je Suis Charlie, Je Suis Juif, Je Suis Francais. 

Holiday Giveaway!! | Between the Beats

Holiday Giveaway!! | Between the Beats 

Vanessa Coleman Wants to Do Hair | Between the Beats

Vanessa Coleman Wants to Do Hair | Between the Beats

Exclusive Interview With Olivia Roberts | Between the Beats

Exclusive Interview With Olivia Roberts | Between the Beats

Conspiracy

Read this new political thriller by Elizabeth Horton-Newton. How well do you know your neighbors? Who can you trust? How far would you go for someone you love? Some truths must be revealed whatever the consequences. Do you think you can trust the government?

Elizabeth Horton-Newton

Elizabeth Horton-Newton

Conspiracy

sixthfloor

"View From the Sixth Floor: An Oswald Tale"

My new novel, "View From the Sixth Floor: An Oswald Tale" will be released on Kindle on October 18, 2014; this would have been Lee Harvey Oswald's 75th birthday.

"Why are strangers suddenly appearing in a sleepy North Carolina town? What do they have to do with widow Olivia Roberts? Why is her neighbor and friend Bill Horton so dead set against her traveling to Dallas, Texas? When she journeys from her North Carolina home to Dallas in search of answers to questions from November 22, 1963 she learns more than she ever expected. 
“View from the Sixth Floor: An Oswald Tale” is a story of “what-ifs”? What if the assassination of President John F. Kennedy on November 22, 1963 was a conspiracy? What if accused assassin Lee Harvey Oswald was innocent? What if someone knew the truth and could prove it? What if someone you trusted turned out to be hiding a secret so big it could change history? 
This is a tale of friendship, love, political intrigue, and murder."

http://www.amazon.com/View-Sixth-Floor-Oswald-Tale-ebook/dp/B00NPCZW6W/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1413174394&sr=1-1&keywords=view+from+the+sixth+floor

It's my 61st birthday weekend. I never thought  I would live past 25; then at 25 I figured I was probably off by a few years and 30 would do it. I had big changes the year I flipped from 28 to 29 and I wondered if maybe I was using even numbers and that was why my predictions were incorrect. I decided on 33 since it was both an odd number and held particular significance for Christians and Catholics since that was the age of Jesus when he died. However it appeared I had a lot of life left in me yet. I had my last child when I was 36 (another even number). So here I am at 61, an odd number in an even numbered year. This past year has once again been a year of big changes. So I guess I need to recalculate yet again. I tried to look at my parents ages when they died. My father was 82 when he died and my mothers age was somewhere between 83 and 87 but we'll go with 83 since that is the date of record. That being said I should have a little more than 20 years left. I've decided to take a huge gamble with absolutely no reason, especially considering I am far from healthy, and go for 101. Yes I said 101 years. It's an odd number, that ends in an even year. 2054. Sounds interesting. A real gambler would shake his head and say lady you're going out on a real thin and shaky limb. Yup. I like the challenge. So here's to 661 and 40 more to come.

It was Emily who first came to my rescue. Emily, popular, blond, bright, and generous of time and spirit she stopped by the table where I ate my lunch alone. "Mind if I join you?" I was certain this would turn out to be a prank on the new kid. Might as well get it over with. Take the humiliation with good humor and fade back into the woodwork.

"Sure, have a seat, there are plenty of them." My tone was slightly sarcastic. If Emily noticed she gave no indication.
She sat across from me and popped open the small can of orange juice she purchased from the lunch lady, Miss Mary. I tried to surreptitiously hide my milk behind my lunch box. Emily wordlessly prepared her lunch. I say prepared because it was like watching an artsy film. She removed every item from her tray and proceeded to arrange it neatly in an order I didn't quite understand. Milk to the right, napkin folded below it, plate with one slice of pizza dead center, and in the upper right corner a small cup of what looked like green jell-o with pineapples. I looked down at the sliced turkey on wheat bread I had hastily put together that morning. A brown spotted banana lay in my lunch box, I knew I wouldn't eat it but Mom always got upset if I didn't eat right. Emily studied her food arrangement before smiling at me.
"It's just more pleasant when I pretend I'm in a nice restaurant being served an exquisite lunch by a tall dark waiter with a French accent." Looking serious she lowered her voice and said in a terrible French accent, "Ah m'amselle is everything to your satisfaction?" Then she winked and whispered, "Then he'll say how about a kiss?"
I felt my mouth drop open. This had to be a joke. I quickly looked around the lunchroom. Most of the other students were eating and talking, although there was one table of preppy looking girls that seemed to be studying us curiously.
Following my gaze Emily continued, "Don't mind them. I call them the Prep Patrol. They may stare and sometimes make rude comments but just ignore them and they'll go away."
I hastily began packing up the remains of my lunch. "I don't know what your game is but I don't want to play. Tell your friends I hope that had a good laugh."
 Not waiting for a response I strode purposefully past the preps well aware of their eyes following me. I looked sideways at them with what I hoped was an expression of distaste and ran headlong into David. Laughing he grabbed my arm, "Hey slow down there!"
I felt my face grow hot as I mumbled something unintelligible and rushed from the lunchroom. That was the day I met my future fiance and my future maid of honor.
The air had grown cooler and my eyes suddenly felt heavy. Maybe if I closed them for just a few minutes...

 

Chapter 1

Near-by the sound of the river chuckling over rocks is somehow soothing. I can feel the cool breeze on my face, and the shadows of the leaves above dance on my closed eyelids. Finally I have time to reflect, to look back on the winding path that led me to this moment.

My mother had always taught me to plan ahead. She instilled in me the need to think about where I was going and to design the paths I needed to follow to reach my destination. When I was ten years old my father disappeared. Well at the time I thought he simply disappeared. Years later I learned he had taken off with a woman he met at the PTA. But when I was ten he simply disappered. My mother picked herself up and suddenly I was a latch key kid in a neighborhood of two parent families. The other mothers watched out for me when I came home from school each day. During the summer I would spend a month at camp and a month visiting from neighborhood home to neighborhood home. I never knew I attended camp on a scholarship or that our church paid a small amount to various families to keep an eye on me while my mother worked.

Once I reached Junior High School my mother moved me into the public school system. I think the church would have continued to "sponsor" me since we were still struggling financially, I was a "good kid", and I was a VERY good student. But my mother wanted me to move out of the sheltered world I lived in undoubtedly because she was well aware she could not continue to keep me safe from reality.

I hated my first few months at Bay Ridge Junior High School. The other kids had all gone through elementary school together and knew one another by sight if not by name. Suddenly I had to decide what to wear each day instead of pulling on the same old uniform. That had seemed an exciting change until I actually had to do it. The first couple of weeks I struggled to fit in, often wearing the "wrong thing". Skirts when the other girls wore jeans, shirts tucked neatly in when the other girls wore loose tee-shirts.

And the Seasons They Go Round...

How much has changed? My 21-yr old moved into his own apartment. I have a baby granddaughter who is almost a year and a half old, my 2 teen aged grandsons live with me, my husband has lost a job, gotten a job, lost a job and is going to be starting a new job. I know I will soon be another year older (56!!) but I look at myself and still see 30 but with a few more pounds and maybe a few wrinkles. (Not many, go figure...) People have gone out of my life and new people have come into my life. I'm back in school and the past three semesters have seen me holding a 4.0 and managing to work full time and to be mommy to my grandsons. I forgot how much I love school. The excitement of new knowledge or the confirmation of things I believed to be true.
I've had more vacations and been pampered and relaxed and lay on the beach while Jose or Chico or Juan brought me mixed drinks whose names I could not pronounce and whose contents remain a mystery. I've been massaged, polished, cut and blow dried, facialed, and even curled. My feet have been reflexed and pedicured, my hair has been "blonded" and I eat every minute of it up.
This week we will go to a cabin in the mountains, just me and the hubby. I will lay in front of the fire and eat chocolate dipped strawberries, watch pointless films about serial killers and action figures, I will read and read and read, I will eat and drink far too much and soak in the hot tub until my skin is a hot dried prune. Then I will be lathered with oils and lotions and massaged to a blissful stupor.
Who says old age sucks? Damn but this seems pretty good to me!

Gave It Some Thought

Okay. So I have been remiss...
I am feeling VERY dark. People I thought I knew turned out to be VERY different. And so I write...

"Maybe it was turning forty that turned him around. He woke up one morning, looked in the mirror and realized he was losing his hair. And suddenly there was this little paunch where his stomach used to lie flat.
He looked around at his life and thought, "How did I get here?" He looked at his wife and wondered who she was. And was that HIS teen aged daughter?? Not possible, not possible at all.
Digging through the old file cabinet in the "office" he found some old photographs of himself, long hair and bloodshot eyes, throwing up a peace sign. That was him, not this balding, middle aged man who lived in a house of strangers.
He would go to work and watch all the sweet young things pass in and out of the office and realize he was not a candidate for their attention. When he had become good old Jack??
And then there was Chastity. Chas with her long blonde hair and tight skirts. Her shirts straining across firm high breasts and long legs ending in spiky high heels. He would watch her rushing down the halls of the office, skirt cupping her ass and wonder what it would be like to hold that ass in his hands... what would it be like to part those full luscious lips with his tongue and taste that sweet young nectar?
So one warm spring afternoon he took a shot. He knew her marriage sucked and she was miserable, she had told him details a girl tells an old friend (emphasis on old here). He would never forget that shocked stare when he offered her a little romance in her sad life. He would never forget the rejection and the overwhelming feeling of failure as she backed away.
And his wife would never forget the phone call from Chas's more than a little angry husband.
He only hoped his daughter would forget the sound of the gun when he pulled the trigger spraying his brains all over the nice neat bedspread his wife had just laid out that morning.
Yeah life sucked. But that wasn't his problem anymore. And neither was aging."

Mood Swinging

It's strange to see the changes. In my last post I was happy and optimistic. Now I am somewhere else, and I am not certain where that place is or why I am visiting it with such passion.
I look at my relationships as well as those of people around me and I wonder how we survive. All so different with small similarities that make us cling, however briefly, to one another. Do we fall in love with others because we see ourselves in their eyes or because we don't??? And if sameness attracts one to the other, is that a kind of narcissism? And what happens when one grows to the left and the other to the right? If we are attracted to the differences why do some people feel challenged to homogenize their partner, to make them the same? Are we afraid of the differences, threatened by what we don't understand?
Can one mistake in a relationship truly destroy it? Or is the error, the accidental moment, the breath of a lapse of judgement just be a first crack? Does the crack grow wider unaided by us, or does it require additional strikes of the hammer to make it urn to a chasm that can't be crossed?
Does everyone have little pieces of themselves that they hide from others and perhaps even from themselves? What is my secret? If I find out will I be able to accept it or will I be overwhelmed and swept away into an abyss of ...what??