Can you hear the Evil Cries?

Lala FormalToday, I’m thrilled to welcome my friend, Lala Corriere, to my blog today. Here’s a short bio:

Since early childhood, Lala Corriere has been passionate about all the arts. She is a painter and a former stage performer. Early work careers blended as a Realtor of high-end real estate and President of an interior design firm.

Her fifth grade teacher, Miss Macy, was the first mentor to suggest she consider a career in writing. That extension of the arts, the written word, turned into a fulltime passion in 2001.

Career Highlights:
· Endorsement and long-term mentorship by the late Sidney Sheldon
· Published in regional magazines, newspapers, writer’s guides and journals
· Award winning poetry
· Endorsements from Andrew Neiderman [author of the Devil’s Advocate], Paris Afton Bonds, and many others remarkable authors
· Her first novel, Widow’s Row, was released in November, 2010. Now available as an e-Book, trade paperback, and audio book
· Her second book, Coverboys & Curses, released January, 2012 as an e-Book, will soon be out in trade paperback.
· Evil Cries, coming Summer, 2013.

Readers and reviewers applaud her hallmark original plots, her in-depth character portrayals, rich scene settings, and authentic dialogue, all delivered with a fresh new voice. Oh, and her TWISTS!

Lala is a desert rat. She nestles there with her husband of over 25 years, a Ragdoll, an American Curl, and Finnigan, a 5-pound Teacup Yorkie.

Sounds like a full house, Lala. The blog is yours. Take it away.

LIAR! LIAR! By Lala Corriere

As much as we good humans are reluctant to admit it, we’ve all lied. As children we scream, “I didn’t do it!” As teenagers we may tell our parents, “Mom, the party is being chaperoned.” Adults like to call it a necessary and kind white lie. “No! Those jeans do not make you look fat.”

Remembering lies can be a bit tricky, if not burdensome. Think of the detective that, over and over again, questions the subject. The detective keeps copious notes, if not video. The suspect forgets what he told the detective. Over time his story morphs. The so-called facts change.

Now imagine what it might be like to write about 70-90,000 words, and they’re a compilation of total lies. That’s what the fiction writer does, after all. Everything is made up. We have to remember every scene, every conversation, and every color of the day. All lies.

Last night I changed one little course of action in my new manuscript, Evil Cries. Crap! Not only did I have to go back and change certain elements in certain scenes, I also had to remember where in the manuscript these scenes might be. And did I forget any?

Here are some of my most infamous lies my fabulous beta readers and editors have pointed out to me:

“Lala, she threw her engagement ring on the table in the wedding planner’s studio in Chicago. Now you have her in Colorado shipping the ring back to him. ”

“You started with a fourteen story building. Now it’s only twelve. Did it shrink?”

“Oh, Lala. She was twenty-five, and now she’s twenty-nine. Only three years have passed.”

You have the idea. Her white satin dress WAS torn and now it’s new. It was fall and the cherry blossoms were in their full glory. She hasn’t even met him yet. She met him six chapters ago. UGH! This lying business is exasperating!

I’ve found infamous lies in the best of the best of writers. I won’t name names, but one queen wrote of a blinding snowstorm one night, in winter and in a notoriously cold city, and early the next morning her protagonist was hailing a cab in the rain. No snow boots needed. Just an umbrella.

Be kind, if you will, when you read and find these boo-boos. Let the author or publisher know, if you can, but be gentle! It’s a very tough thing, this lying business!


Evil Cries, Lala’s latest book, will be released this summer. Here’s a short excerpt:

The sociopath notices the panties lying on the floor next to his motionless victim. He picks them up, wads them in his hands, delighted at the prospect. He shudders with delight and maybe apprehension. Should he keep them? Yes, he should. Trophies. But what will he do with them? Where should he hide them where they will live on forever?

The psychopath snatches the panties from the dead. Once in his hands he gently folds them, starting from the left, then center to the right, then up from the bottom to meet the top. He tucks them inside the silk case he has in his left breast pocket. He’s been adding to his collection for years. And like all new trophies, he knows exactly where this newest pair of intimates will go.

And all should cry.

Chapter One
Not the Welcome Wagon

SHE SMELLED LIKE Hell’s testicles. Rotten teeth. Bleeding gums and grimy hair in a rat’s nest of wiry mesh. And urine?
We hadn’t even officially opened our new second store and Bag Lady decides she can stagger right through the front door.
I should have kept the door locked but all of our jewelry pieces were sealed in the vault until I had the security alarm fully functioning and we were open for business.

Bag Lady stumbled toward the center of the store. I slid behind the counter but in full stance, which is a pretty tall drink. She didn’t scare me. She reeked.

“Can I help you?” I asked. I tried to be patient. This was not the first customer in Tucson I had imagined for Falls & Falls. Jeweler to the stars in Beverly Hills and all that.

She turned around. Her grubby hands braced against my beautifully polished glass display cases awaiting their shiny treasure chest of gold, platinum, and gems.

“I don’t think I have anything here you want,” I said.

She remained silent. Her eyes searched mine.

“I don’t even have any food. Look, I can give you bottled water and maybe twenty bucks, but then you need to promise you won’t come back. Do you understand?”

Bag Lady nodded. A speechless beggar. I expected to encounter some language barriers living so close to the border but this woman was lily white. Except for the grunge.

She followed me to the back of the store. When I entered the office I asked her to wait in the small alcove.

Turning my back to retrieve the water and my purse, I heard the tumultuous blast of sound along with the shattering of glass.

Bag Lady reeled around and pulled something from her purse with her right hand. A blow to my shoulder with her left hand pushed me further into the office.

The sound of bullets blasted out from the front of the store. Someone was shooting Bag Lady.

Bag Lady fired a single shot and hollered at me to dial 911.

231Lala’s book, Cover Boys and Curses will be FREE from June 1-5 on Amazon

Thanks so much for visiting with me today, Lala. Best of luck with your books.

You can learn more about Lala and her books on her website or contact her by email at or by mail at PO Box 69194 Tucson, AZ 85737

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