What is the best kind of stories folks like?

         As all writers tend to wonder over time, what do the people of the world like to read about? Murder? Mysteries, Biographies, Dramas, Romance? What subject interests the most people in the world? Some writers find one area to write in and continue to write in it, until the day they die, hoping that it sells, others may take a trip thru them all, under assumed names and try to find a new niche. The real question is what is it that the people want to read, what would make you pick up a good book and sit and read it till you finish it? Is there an answer out there folks that, a writer can use and master? I kind of wonder about it, believe me, I have done murder stories, thrillers, mysteries, romances even, I already know I suck at biographies and admit to it. So where does a writer go top, to tell a story, others would want or love and actually buy? Can the public tell us, what would make someone buy a book, subject wise folks, can you tell me at all? Or is it too wide a subject for the masses to tell, or can an opinion poll tell me? I wonder all the time, believe me, cause I keep trying, and either my writing sucks, or I am in the wrong subject or something is wrong. I noticed if I put the books up as a free giveaway people grab them and read them, but once priced, they don’t sell, it’s a picky audience out there for sure!

         Here is a start to a new story I am writing now, you tell me what you think ok? Send Me an e-mail at b_mccurrach@comcast.net and let me know if you hate it or love it or just like it, how is that, can ya all do that?


The Church was old and Gothic looking large spires, all gray poking into the sky, the stairs going up to the doors, were gray slate too. The Cherry Red Stained doors were old and weathered and when you walked in, immediately on each side, sat two bowls of Holy Water to bless yourself with. A slate-covered foyer was here and then a second big set of cherry wood doors, next and then when you entered the church the pews were on both sides big rows about 30 deep then in front sat the altar with its podium and, lights, and candles burning, gold ornaments, and a big cross dead center. The Priest stood dead center smiling and waving guest into his web and parlor like a spider, in a web. His voice echoed off the walls and stain glass windows as he spoke, blessing people, condemning them for sins, and preaching sermons from the bible. The good people of the church would stand and kneel as directed and as they knew from experience of attending the church here.  The Alter Boys scurried about doing their duties and kneeling and standing as needed to make the hour of church going complete. No one knew anything except the church had it functions for them all, saving their souls and preaching. Follow the Lord, pay your Sunday dues to keep the church going and quietly come and go, was the pattern followed by many in the small town, of Bridgewater, they had no other thoughts about church, except the public persona of it all. But behind the scenes, strange events had been going on for years and no one knew except one man and he wore robes and never, ever ventured in speech or public to say anything on it.  The church is a place of worship kindness and giving they say and vital to many of the people in town and their families and children. How anyone could have any idea of what the priest, was hiding, and why it was always so silent after church hours. With the priest never hardly leaving the property and living it seems in peace there, and the altar boys and parishioners coming and going, it was the most peaceful and respected place in town for all. The Church was a respected and loved the place for the whole town, even those who didn’t attend believed it, Father Baldwin, was loved by all, who knew him, yet the vision or perfection and religious perfection was far from what it seemed. Old churches and Priests have things to hide, it seems and some more than others, thought Detective James. I have been coming here all my life and Father Baldwin has been here forever it seems, James thinks, how a man can preach and give sermons all the time, hiding all the time what he knew. Sadly, Detective James hung his head in silent prayer to God asking his forgiveness, for what he must do, but also, telling God it was his duty also. For father Baldwin has got to know what is coming, I suspect he does anyway, if not, well, I am sorry. I will wait till he is done with his hour long services and when all the good people of our community are gone. As I am told, Detective James thinks, what happened here in this church and rectory and home in the back has been going on since I was a baby, and I am lucky it didn’t affect me or my family, but how many families did it affect, we shall find out soon enough. Tipping his hat back and then removing it in the church, Detective James sits in a pew and grab a hymn book and opens it to the current hymn, and sings along, it’s like being on automatic for me, he thinks. Well, after today, it will be the last service I attend with old Father Baldwin, singing along James starts to remember and flashback to his childhood, and the things said Sunday School, days. The memories flash in James’s head and he drifts into memories as the song goes on in the church. All those years I attended with my parents and siblings and never once did anyone suspect. This church has always been respected and honored in this city, yet why wouldn’t it be, as a church accepting everyone it did all it could for the community. Yet……………..

OK, Please send me an opinion on it, is it



Or likeable and Interesting ?

Thanks Bill





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