Tag Archives: The Rogues Gallery Writers

Attention Rogue Nation!

It’s been a while since we’ve been present out here (nearly two years!,) but we have some exciting news to share. This summer, the paperback release of The Method Writers will be published by Dreamer Publications! Please stay tuned for future updates both on this site and www.DreamerPublications.com.



The Rogues’ First Friday Book Signing Event – Tomorrow Evening!!

The Rogues Gallery Writers will be at Anastasia Books on Friday, November 2 from 7 – 9 PM. Anastasia Books is located on 812 Kings Street, St. Augustine, FL.

The Rogues will be meeting and greeting our fans during this special First Friday event. We’ll also be autographing copies of The Method Writers. Refreshments and light appetizers will be provided, so please come out and eat, drink and be merry with the Rogues!

Suspense/adventure author, Ron Harrington, will also be present for this event.

We hope to see you there!

The Method Writers as a Free Kindle Download!!

Tomorrow, October 28th, the Rogue Gallery Writers’ group novel, The Method Writers, will be available as a free Kindle download!!

The Rogues put a lot of time and energy to making this a unique and enjoyable read, and now are giving away their labor of love for free. So please don’t miss out on this opportunity to download the antics of four distinct and colorful, yet disturbed and struggling, writers who get lost deep within their Methods. Once you get caught up in their stories, you won’t want to put the book down.

Download the free Kindle here!!

Book Excerpt – The Method Writers

One of the great experiences of writing a novel with three other talented writers comes in reading back over what we created. We built this microcosm of life out of our imaginations. We directed (as often as they would allow) the characters. We lived in a writing cocoon for a year.

What spawned from our collective creative muses feels fun. Energetic. Fresh. Even half a year later. I enjoy reading back over the letters and words and paragraphs that stack up to form our story. Case in point, in Chapter 30 when Georgie Mae is on a date with detective Joe, the interplay between the characters feels quirky yet warm and exciting. I love Bridget’s writing style. This tiny excerpt finds Joe probing Georgie Mae with a few questions:

“What do you like outside of working at the track?”

“I, uh, I devote a lot of time to the writing group.” And I rob banks here and there.

“That’s right, Dorian told me about the writing group.”

“Yeah, we’re helping each other out with…projects.”

“What are you writing about?” Joe is staring deep into my eyes, into my soul. As if in a trance, I respond to his question with a light voice. My gaze is fixed on his.

“I’m working on a play…a musical.” Where the hell did that come from? Secretly I’ve dreamt of writing and directing a musical. I’ve never told anyone, not even Dorian, David, or Marty. Why that came out is a mystery.

“I love musicals,” he states.

Bullshit.” I can’t believe I swore. That’s classy Georgie, why don’t you hock a wad of spit on the ground while you’re at it.

Bridget runs with dialogue, personal narrative since the book is written first-person in each main characters’ voice, as well is internal dialogue. This excerpt shows some pretty cool interplay between two characters. I still think it’s fun reading.

This post comes as a tip-of-the-hat to Bridget, who I regard as a wonderfully talented writer, and for you, the reader, as an enticement to check out The Method Writers. Yes, all writers must promote their books. When you have a gem like The Method Writers, simply picking a section from the book as a teaser, I feel, lends itself well to promotion. It works on me! 🙂

Get your copy today at; The Method Writers

Back in the Saddle Again…

The creative mind. What a wonderful beast. Unfortunately, this same mind can perform quite similar to a regular mind. Take situps for example. I determined I would do 50 situps and 25 pushups each day. Time requirement? 5 to 10 minutes. Consistency of performance? Sporadic.

As writers, we fall into this often. In some respects, failing to write causes more problems than skirting the exercise regimen. (Yes, it can be called a regimen even if the numbers are as tiny as mentioned above…)

The Rogues worked hard on pulling off a large book launch. Good things came of the effort. We did get some unexpected exposure, we learned some lessons, and we sold some books. Then we stumbled a bit on our writing exercise. I for one fell into a pattern of not writing my blog posts.

Did you realize the Rogues Gallery Writers have produced four Kindles and two books? Fictitious Fiction, More Writing is Easy, Writing is Easy, andThe Method Writers. When I look at those numbers on the screen, I marvel at our productivity. We all write. We all are involved with other projects. Yet we still produce. To see a slight lull in our productivity does not seem to set well with us though.

Our meeting tonight addressed the fact that we (I am royally one of the “we’s”) allowed our blog posts to slip like my situps and pushups. The great thing about being a member of a focus writers group is accountability. When we meet and talk and discuss and plan, we inspire each other to pick ourselves up, brush ourselves off, and get back to it again.

We are proud of our book, The Method Writers. We feel if people would pick it up, they’d find themselves a good read. The only way anyone will know for sure is to get a copy. So I’ll make it easy for you. Here’s the link to the Kindle version of The Method Writers, and here’s the link to our fully autographed hardcover copies of The Method Writers.

Pick one up. Give us a shot. We’re betting you will be glad you did! We’re also bringing our blogging back to full capacity. Read on!

Knock, Knock

Anyone home? The door’s open…I’d better check to make sure everything’s all right.

Hmmm, it’s awfully quiet inside. Seems empty. I see there hasn’t been a post in a while. I really miss the Rogues’ clever blog posts and their serial fiction. Wonderful stuff. I even see that one of the Rogues had drafted and scheduled a bunch of posts for a serial, but for some reason they’re not being published. Damn technology. It’s very useful, but not always reliable.

That’s why I prefer knives, pipes, explosives, and a quality handgun. Heh heh.

They may not be at home, but I know the Rogues are around the neighborhood and doing well. They’re just very busy. I’ve heard all the buzz. Seen their video and promotions. Even listened to their radio interview. And I can’t fail to mention that badass group novel of theirs–read it in a day! I know, it seems odd for a vigilante to be paying such close attention to a group of writers, but well, Kenny Black has a soft spot in his heart for these Rogues. And I know I haven’t been around much either. Sort of left you all hanging from a cliff. Sorry about that…but I’ve also been busy and have plans in the works to make it up to you. Plenty of Kenny Black will be coming your way soon enough.

Now, about those Rogues…I may just have to get into my truck and make a road trip. Wake up, Rogues, I’m coming to pay you all a little visit…Kenny Black style.


The Method Writers Book Launch Parties!!!

Information about the Rogues’ upcoming book launch parties for our group novel, The Method Writers, have just been posted on our “Upcoming Events!” page (link is at the top of this blog.)

The events will be held between Friday, September 7th and Sunday, September 9th, the weekend following Labor Day weekend. Please view the “Upcoming Events!” page up above and find an event near you. We hope you’ll be able to come out and visit!

Pinch Hitter, Part 13

(Click here for Part 12 of Pinch Hitter):

I grab a chair from the room and set it in front of Tim with the back of the chair facing him. I straddle the chair and fold my arms on top of the chair back and rest my chin on them.

“Okay,” I say then let out a deep breath. “Tell me the story.”

“DC and his lieutenants are into some weird shit.”

“Lieutenants? DC’s organization isn’t a mob family.”

“No, but he runs it like one. Uses a similar structure, terminology, even initiations.”

“Were you initiated?”

Tim nods. “Yeah, made an oath to their code of silence. That’s how this woman came into the picture. As I said, they’re into some weird things. They have their soldiers go out and round up young girls off the streets. Ones who won’t be missed.” He pauses to clear his throat.

“Go on.”

“Some they put on the payroll as working girls. But certain ones, they like to keep as prisoners. Do things to them.” He stops and shakes his head, seems a little choked up.

“What kind of things?”

“Sexual…if you want to call it that. It’s more like rape and torture. With Wendy—that was the girl’s name—they took it much further than that…they murdered her….” Tim’s fighting to keep it together. “Violently. Made me watch the whole goddamn thing. Said if I didn’t prove my loyalty the same would happen to me. Just a big fucking nightmare.” Tim drops his head and cries.

I get up and fetch a bottle of water, undo his wrist restraints, so he can drink. As I watch him guzzle down half of the bottle, my mind drifts to my past. Not something I like to think of very often, because it’s much too painful. Like a barbed wire drill bit being plunged into my heart. But it’s a big part of what made me who I am…led me down this path of heartless killing. All this because the most important woman in the world to me, was a victim just like Wendy.

The crushing of an empty water bottle snaps me from my trance. He must’ve been pretty damn thirsty.

“What are you going to do to me?” he asks.


“You’re going to let me go?”

“Eventually. I can’t release you yet. Just in case.”

“In case of what?”

“In case I still need you for information. In case you’re lying. In case you’re playing. I have to be safe. I have a cell. Kind of like a jail cell. You’ll have a bathroom, sink, and bed. I’ll bring you meals. And when I’m done avenging Wendy’s death, you’ll be free to leave.”

“But what if something happens to you?”

“Well…if something unfortunate happens to me…it will be bad news for the both of us.”

Pinch Hitter, Part 12

(Click here for Part 11 of Pinch Hitter):

I aim the adjustable floor lamp at Skinny Guy and power it on. The intensity of the bulb at close quarters is equivalent to that of a spotlight, which is why Skinny Guy is blinded when I remove the sack from his head.

Spit froths from his mouth as he tries to catch his breath while struggling against the arm and leg restraints that keep him glued to an uncomfortable chair. It’s my version of an electric chair—no way out of this mess for ol’ Skinny Guy.

“Wha-where the hell am I?” he manages to ask.

“It may as well be hell as far as you’re concerned.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Answers,” I say while touching clips of jumper cables together a few times. The jumpers are attached to a high voltage battery and a sizzling spark ignites each time I touch the clips together.

“What the fuck is that?”

“Just a little electricity. You know, a necessity in these days to keep a house powered, a car running, or to make a grown man shit his drawers like a little baby.”

“No, no, no—that’s not necessary. I’ll tell you whatever you want.”


Yes! I don’t owe those pricks a damn thing. I’ll tell you everything.”

I notice that he’s already wet himself, and believe he’s telling me the truth.

“But can’t I at least use my pliers to pull out a few of your fingernails?”

“No, please don’t do that.”

“Or get my power drill to tunnel through your molars and play with your nerve endings.”

“Please, no.” He begins to sob.

“Ah, shit.” I turn off the battery. “We’ll this isn’t going to be much fun for me, but let’s get started anyway.”

“No torture then?”

“Not as long as I get the answers I’m looking for. What’s your name?”


“Tim, the first thing I need you to explain is why you killed Eddie Snead.”

I didn’t kill him! It was that monster, Billy. All we were supposed to do was rough Eddie up a bit because he wasn’t kicking up what he owed. But Billy’s a maniac. Eddie tried to make it right, but Billy didn’t care. Just wanted to torture and kill him, then take all his money and drugs.” He stops to shake his head.

“Who else was with you?”

“Just me.”

“So you’re telling me that DC selected you to help rough up, Eddie?” I ask. “Do I seem that stupid?”

“No, DC picked Billy and let him figure out how best to handle the situation. He trusted him for some reason.”

“And Billy picked you.” He nods in shame. “Because he knew you were weak and would go alone with his plan.” He nods again.

Damn it, I’ve already killed the man responsible for all this, but didn’t even get the satisfaction of knowing that vengeance was being dealt.

“And I guess that Billy was responsible for the man that Eddie had to bury in his grandfather’s garden, right?”


“No? Billy didn’t kill him?”

“Oh God, you don’t want to know this, man. I’m telling you.”

I slowly pick up a pipe, so that it scrapes across the cement floor of my safe room. “I thought you didn’t want to feel any pain, Timmy.”

“No, I don’t…it’s just….” He starts to cry again. “Oh, man…Billy wasn’t involved and Eddie was forced to clean up the mess….”

“Who’s mess? Who killed that man?”

“It wasn’t a man or even a criminal. They killed…dear God…they killed an innocent woman.”

I drop the pipe and the clattering sound it makes against the floor echoes in my mind as a chill shoots the length of my spine. Looks like I’ll be getting that satisfaction after all.

Pinch Hitter, Part 11

Another public service announcement by Kenny Black: Hey, you may have heard that I’m featured in a new novel by the Rogues Gallery Writers, called “The Method Writers.” Well, now it’s available for order in hardcover edition from the publisher’s website, as well as Barnes & Noble, Amazon, and soon BooksAMillion. You should order it … unless you want Kenny Black showing up at your door.

(Click here for Part 10 of Pinch Hitter):

I wipe the ceramic lid for fingerprints then set it back on the toilet tank. With my switch blade, I cut off the riot cuffs. Billy the Dead sure as hell is heavy, but with some strain, I’m able to heave his big ass up and prop him on the toilet seat. After shutting and locking the stall door, I slide under the bottom of the stall. Hopefully this will buy me enough time to make a conventional exit from the Angry Pig Tavern.

Before I reach the bathroom door, the damn thing shoots open. A bald-headed muscular guy from the pool table pops in with a pool cue in hand. I take a couple steps back.

“Why the fuck is this door locked?”

“I don’t know—I didn’t do it.”

The other three idiots from Billy’s crew stumble in behind him. They’re all pretty muscular except for one skinny guy, who looks a little in over his head. Skinny Guy holds a cue as well, but the other two thugs are empty-handed. One has a long shirt and baggy pants and could be packing a pistol. Mr. Clean, wearing a tight black tank top and jeans, has a hunting knife strapped to his belt.

“Where’s Billy?” Mr. Clean asks.

“I don’t know anyone by that name, but someone’s taking a nasty shit in here. Must be your Billy boy.”

“Hey, Billy, you okay in there?” Baggy Pants asks.

“Actually, I have a question for you guys…what happened to Eddie Snead?”

“Wha-why you askin’ about Snead?” Skinny Guy says, slight panic in his eyes.

I grin. “You know plenty.”

Mr. Clean takes a step closer. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Your worst nightmare.”

He grabs hold of my shoulder, so I smash his nose in with my elbow and then easily snatch the pool cue from hands. Baggy Pants is reaching behind his back, so I swing and hit him hard in the temple with the fat end of the cue. He drops to one knee. Other Dude throws a punch, which I barely dodge and counter by ramming the cue into the base of his rib cage, right where the two sides come together. The sound of “Ooooooh!” comes out and he staggers backwards.

Skinny Guy is holding his pool cue like a bat, but is otherwise frozen by fear. A bloody-faced Mr. Clean goes for his knife, so I treat his nutsack like a football on a tee and I take the opening kickoff. Baggy Pants seems to regain control, so I break the pool cue over my knee and do a little Keith Moon number on his face. Other Dude comes at me again, only to receive the same treatment as his friend.

The three muscle heads lie on the floor, either moaning or unconscious. Skinny Guy takes a few test swings; none of them anywhere close to me. I draw my .45 and point it at him.

“Drop the fucking pool cue—you’re coming with me.”

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