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Michael L Schmicker's Blog

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If you want to write a good novel, find a great heroine. While researching my first book, Best Evidence, I came across a fascinating woman – Italian Spiritualist medium Eusapia Palladino (1854-1918), a fiery-tempered, erotic, middle-aged Neapolitan peasant woman who levitated tables...
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Done. And I’m intrigued. It’s possible that I did actually communicate with the dead – specifically. my baby sister Marie, who died of alcohol poisoning in Las Vegas in 2011. She was my target – the discarnate I wanted most to reach. I was nervous before the sitting. I write about the paranormal,...
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Too many balls in the air, and one had to drop. My apologies to all of you who have emailed me asking when I’ll finally talk to the dead. I know, I know. It’s been six months now. The delay is inexcusable but not inexplicable. Last July, about the time I planned to talk to the dead, I got an email...
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 It isn’t easy, talking to the dead, but I’m making progress. It’s just taking more work than I expected. I emailed Dr. Beischel, hoping she would help me pick a medium from Windbridge’s list of 19 certified communicators, but she punted. “They’ve all passed the same test,” she emailed back....
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  I’m going to talk to the dead. Or at least try.  But I won’t be using some random psychic picked from a phone book – I’ll be using a “certified” medium.  We have certification procedures for all sorts of professions these days – from physicians and pilots, to electricians and...
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I was up on Google News this AM and found this hot-off-the press story: "Paris Hilton Cries at Cannes." This constitutes news? The booboisie are lucky Mencken is dead.    
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Who should play my heroine Alessandra when Hollywood options my new novel Séance? Salma or Penelope? Who can best capture the passion of a fiery-tempered, erotic, 40-year-old Italian woman who levitates tables and conjures up spirits of the dead in dimly-lit séance rooms all across Europe at the...
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Writers are tough sons-of-bitches. It’s hard enough to write a book. Then you have to wade into this street fight we call the publishing industry and start pitching your project. The tweed jacket crowd is gone, replaced by Darwinian corporate mergers, staff churn, the e-book earthquake, anti-trust...
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The “Mysterious Orient” has fascinated me from childhood. I spent five years in Asia as a journalist, entranced by the sing-song tones of the Thai language and the odd Western Romanization of Chinese characters. I had fun some years ago crafting this short piece for East West Perspectives magazine...
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Santa came early this year. I just received my copy of "Even the Smallest Crab Has Teeth: 50 Years of Amazing Peace Corps Stories". I contributed a tale about my nights spent at the notorious “Mosquito Bar” in Bangkok, trying to write the Great American Novel.  We all do crazy, embarrassing...
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 It’s Halloween night, so we'll share with you this woman's truly scary story: “Five years ago I was being strangled. I won’t go into the painful details, but I nearly died. At the time, I was living 1,400 miles away from my mother, estranged from her, hadn’t contacted her in...
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“Due to a series of bad relationships in my life, and to my rundown state of health, I just couldn’t see any sense in my life going on. With my thoughts running round and round in endless circles, I began to think of a way to end it all. Suddenly, as clearly as if she were in the room, I heard the...
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Betty and her son Chris, who live in Michigan, have a dog named Brady. When he disappeared for a week, they placed an ad in the newspaper with a $50 reward.   “At about 11:00 one evening,” Betty wrote us, “I received a phone call from a man who was sure he had Brady. He gave me instructions to...
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English poet John Donne, famous for his line “No man is an island, entire of itself,” would love this ESP story.  “I was giving my son a birthday party,” a woman wrote to us. “The party was in full swing, so to speak, when my eyes were drawn to a clock on the wall. I noticed it was 2...
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“My terminally ill husband was in intensive care at a hospital where he spent the last six weeks of his life. The day he died, I went to visit him before I went to work.  When I left him, I couldn't go to the office but wandered aimlessly around the neighborhood stores with an...
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