River Fork, sequel. Nearly There!

Yes, yes. YES!angelica_kauffmann_003-josmuse

You see me with my laptop and muse at the right. Right?

I’ve been working on the to sequel to River Fork.

The characters (my kids) from River Fork learned about love, loss, faith, acceptance, and life in my first manuscript. These same kids have grown up. It is two years later. Everything should be fine. Right?


Life is tough. Tougher for some than others. Especilly in 1959. Especially when you don’t know where Mom is. Especially when you are in love and your love interest is not accepted by society and you don’t understand why there is a problem? You are from the northern states and don’t understand people from the southern states? Where you live shouldn’t matter. People are people.

My kids are dealing with love, hope, faith, coming of age, social issues, and freedom. All overshadowed by a quest to find Mom and a dad no one knew existed  until now…because life is tough.

I listen to my characters, protect them, and offer my advice. Will they listen? Will they return home safe and sound? Will they be happy? Nobody knows that at the moment.

Though I am the writer, I can’t make promises. Life is tough at times.

Your comments are appreciated.

Are you a Beta Reader? Want to swap?

Hello fellow, writers, authors, publishers, readers,

I’ll swap with Beta Readers for my MG, historical, paranormal manuscript. Approx 53,000 words. Want an honest critique. I’ll do the same for you.

Theme: loss, guilt, frustration, anger, love, acceptance, hope and coming of age.

The setting: 1957, New Hampshire, fictional farming town on the Saco River, cradled in the White Mountains.

Tim will be 13 in 4 days. His two friends are 15 and 14. Each has experienced loss.

Here is the blurb:
Tim’s refusal to accompany Dad cost him his dad.

One year later, desperate to have things back as they were, Tim convinces his best friend to help him find the key—a bear—that could help bring his dad back.

His dad had spoken of the bear. But Tim hadn’t asked enough questions. Where and how can he find this creature? On their quest to the Saco River, searching for the bear, an unexpected storm unfolds.

A girl, and neighbor to Tim, spots the boys’ early morning departure from her kitchen window. Hurt at not being included, curiosity takes over. She follows, unwittingly placing herself in danger. Unable to get back home she is lost. A storm is brewing nearby and it’s coming her way.

The boys are trapped in a cave with little food. How long will it take for the River to recede? How can they find the bear if they are trapped? Tim has to convince his friend to believe in the bear, that it will rescue them like it had rescued his dad years before. Without belief, the bear would not help. But did Tim truly believe?

Tim’s roller-coaster emotions confuse him. Is he angry at Dad for leaving? He doesn’t think so. But then—

The three find themselves in a world that is like theirs—but not like theirs. They befriend a very old Indian couple. Perhaps the old couple knows where the key to Tim’s desire can be found.

Please leave a comment, share and like if you truly like.

Helpful critiques are always welcome.

Thanks for reading.

My Four Year Battle With Lyme

No, not a story I’m working on.

What have I been doing? Well. For the last four years, I’ve been battling Lyme. Chronic Lyme.

I spent two years visiting six MDs in Maine and Florida. My family MD, a PA, three ENTs, and an Immunologist. Prescriptions varied. Cortizone in its varied forms, baby powder, skin lotion, and high doses of anti-histamine 4x/day. Allergy free detergents.

I asked what caused my problem.
“Everyone itches at one time or another.”
“Part of getting older. You have dermatitis.”
“No worry. Just apply this cream daily. It’ll stop some day.”

Cortizone and all its cousins were a palliative. I wanted to know What? Why? How to be rid of this nightmare keeping me awake, and not letting me be normal?

I should not “feel” my skin on my forehead, my arm, my torso, my neck, my elbow, and all those other places screaming for my attention.

I wanted to take my skin for granted. To go about my day without feeling that spot itch and burn all of a sudden. I wanted to be peaceful, because I habitually cared for my skin with diet, hygiene, protection from heat and cold. But I felt betrayed by my body’s largest organ. It was not fair. Without it, wouldn’t I fall apart?

In spring of the third year, I sought a Naturopath. She listened and ordered bloodwork to find out why I was itching. The tests indicated my immune system was waging a terrific battle against Lyme. And I had SIBO.

Lyme had been in the back of my mind. When I brought it up as a possibility to the other doctors. They shook their heads and smiled. Not Lyme. They treated people like me all the time. It’s just a rash. Dermatitus.

For two years, the Naturopath prescribed regimens of anti-biotics with re-testing. After each bout of antibiotics, I felt like a new person. For two or three weeks. Then it started again. I was re-tested. The titer counts were high. They got higher. They got lower. New bacterium counts appeared. Then I got a new tick bite. Twice in a month. Back to antibioticsjust in case. Then my count was climbing from a low. The last prescribed antibiotic was herbal.

Then Zinc, a mineral she had recommended early on, was added.

I take few vitamins and minerals as needed. I had dismissed zinc. Then a month ago, decided to try it. Two days later, I felt much better. The itching…90% gone. Now weeks later, I feel even better. I feel my immune system is working like it should. The itching is 99% gone.

Meantime, Covid 19 struck the country. With my immune system just recovering, we decided to stay put in Florida until next year.

Now we pray not to get infected with COVID-19…I wish people would follow logical steps…masks, social distancing, and avoid crowds, wash hands often.

Smile in your mirror every day. Jo

So what about that Manuscript thing… ?

Oh. River Fork?

I had planned a coming of age, YA story. With a bit of fantasy aka paranormal.

Why did I write it?


As a former teacher, I encouraged my high school students to write. Several of my students had dealt with a major loss. They wrote about it, but no one talked about it.

Neither did I—Mother died in a fire. My sister and I witnessed the event. I was five, sister was seven. We never forgot. We never talked about it. Nor did father. Assumptions and rumors spread.

During my teaching career, a story slowly evolved in my head. Picture book? Children’s book? Family story book? My brain cranked out scenarios. It was a morass of imagery. How would I best present my idea? I wasn’t a writer. I wrote poetry. Still do and tuck it away in a briefcase. But writing a book?

I’m an artist. So, I started with cute pictures and poem-like stories.

The story grew. I dropped the cute — loss is not cute.

I needed a plan, feeling, a theme, a plot, etc… . What did I get myself into?

My head said, put it into words. I began writing, finishing the Manuscript the year I retired because I had more time to myself.

Then I researched the writing craft, improved my writing skills and investigated publishing options. Needless to say, publishing  surely changed from when I first put pen to paper.

The story:

  • Timeline: 1956-57
  • Theme: the loss of a parent.
  • Setting: River Fork. A farming and logging community. In the mountains near the Saco River.
  • Characters: Three neighboring friends: Tim, Charlie and Roach. Tim will be 13 in three days. The others are teens.
  • It is about coming of age, death, forgiveness, hope and faith. Oh, and there is a budding romance.
  • There is a bit of paranormal (no magical potions, witches, vampires, violence, etc…)


So, Has Anyone Reviewed It?


The Manuscript has been line critiqued and gone through lots and lots of revisions.

A year ago I found three beta readers.
I did not write to the YA audience. It is suitable for the Middle Grade audience. Disappointment for sure here.
Okay. I asked for an honest review.
I received three great reviews. Two people pointed out what didn’t work and what could be done to make the story more interesting. One Beta Reader recommended a few resources. With expert advice and suggestions, I learned a lot. I am grateful.
So. I’m doing lots of editing, developing my characters and setting a bit more. And DUMPING stuff that was kind of iffy even as I first wrote it.
  • If it’s IFFY for the writer – It most certainly will be IFFY for the reader. DUMP IT. Ahhh. Yes. You’ll feel better. I did.

Once this latest revision is complete, I’ll need a couple of Beta Reader(s) again. Then on to an editor and publishing—self-publishing.


For those who work with me in this endeavor, your name will be mentioned in the credits and you will receive a free digital copy of my novel once it is published.

The sequel—Roach’s story—sits in my laptop. Waiting.

Please like, comment and share this post.
J.M. Orise

Again With the Edit Thing


Will it ever be right? Photo credit: Pxhere.com

I’ve edited my MG manuscript sooo many times since the first draft from way back when. Years ago. At first it was whenever I could fit it in, now I spend much more time.

I finished another edit a month ago. I smiled. Does anyone else smile at their screen after finishing a “terrific” edit/re-write?

With each draft, a sense of having finally arrived makes me feel so good. I did it! It’s the one. This one works. I put it aside, dreaming about the publishing part. No. That would be more like having a nightmare, wouldn’t it?

After a week or more of being busy doing stuff needing to be done, I open the manuscript, giving it a peek.

What! An error? On the first page? No. Who did this?  Me? Drat.


Why are you doing this? Photo credit: Pxhere.com

May as well re-read. Just in case. I know this is a one-time thing.  Wait. A typo here. And there. One chapter disappeared! No it got moved down three chapters. I can’t believe I did that. But I remember adding more scenes, that was what happened. I forgot having moved that chapter out of sequence.

Drat, drat. Let’s get back to Chapter one.

Two weeks later, I finished. Good thing I happened to peek. Not only did I fix those errors… and all the others that followed, I changed a few things to make my characters more interesting, added more detail about the setting, and I improved the dialogue between characters, working on character arc.

My mantra:
I’ve edited my MG manuscript sooo many times since the first draft. I just finished another. I smile. Does anyone else smile at their screen after finishing a “terrific” edit/re-write?

A sense of “having finally arrived” makes me feel so good. I did it! It’s the one. This one works.

Now I need to get to bed. Let’s keep the nightmares at bay.

My characters have the patience of  Job, waiting for me to notice them again. We get along pretty good.

What is your editing/re-writing like? I’d like to know I am not alone.



My Cramped Grey Cells

Must I? I must.

man hitting head on wall

photo by: Daniel Mingook Kim,  Hitting your head against a solid wall.

The deeper I travel into the Internet’s social networks, I seem to miss a step here and there.

Teaching Computer science years ago, social media was not tolerated. It was blocked from the classroom.

Social media was of no interest to me then.

Now I’m immersed in it with my art and writing sites.

I designed and still manage my websites. I solve most of our PC troubles.

I understand software, pretty much immediately. I try thinking like a programmer…”What would he/she want us to do at this moment. PC’s are programmed to do what you tell them to. If something isn’t happening. Then you’ve missed a step.

That’s me. The deeper I travel into the Internet’s social networks, I seem to miss a step here and there.

What’s it like?

It’s like my brain sitting upside down in my skull. Diagnosis: brain cramp.

Some of the quirky settings and setups written into a website’s instructions are sometimes confusing.


Flea markets. Yeah. That’s what it’s like.

I prefer order. Bring me to busy, disorganized flea market and I gag. I want everything ordered by color, size, price, quality, etc. Doesn’t everyone? Mass confusion is what I see. My whole body groans.

Meanwhile I am trying…my grey cells are trying…really hard to understand the nuances in some of these social media sites.

Am I learning? I think I am. Someone suggested I join etsy.com. That was pretty basic. I think. I joined, but haven’t made use of it yet.

Another recommended Instagram.com. Uh… What is that? People snapping pics, sharing? Why? Seeking comments. I haven’t figured how one even makes a post with pictures, and I can’t find links for posting comments, unless I comment on someone’s post. VERY frustrating.

These social media sites are purported to be a great help for my career. Whether it be xyz.com .org .biz .edu .mnlop site, I barely understand some of them. Their links are not obvious. Their goals unclear, at least, for me. 

My brain is working hard, doing push ups and sit ups. It ain’t quite up to speed for social networking yet. Well for some of it, anyway. Guess I’ll take a break. I feel a cramp coming on.

Anyone out there feel the same?




Gold Stars for Me?

Artists spend hours in a studio, closet, at a corner table, a space, creating art. Alone.


I stare at a blank canvas. Quiet, entrancing music plays in the background. Thoughts of food, lunch, dinner, breakfast slip by without notice. Hubby comes in.

“Have you decided what we’ll have for:
A. breakfast
B. lunch
C. dinner
D. other”

A daily multiple choice for which I sometimes earn a gold star.

A gold star?

I remember those.

Sometimes pasted on our foreheads for doing excellent class work. Our papers sported their gold star. We were a matching set. That was really cool from Kindergarten to second grade.


Convent/orphanage/boarding school

For my sixth birthday, Grandmother sent a  birthday present to the orphanage where I lived with my sister. A nun delivered the package to me at play time. Students crowded to see what I had gotten. Some stared across the room from their play area.

Inside were four pieces each of Grandmother’s special fudge: peanut butter, and maple walnut fudge.

She usually made fudge for special occasions like Christmas. I had never gotten it for my birthday before. But then, I was not in an orphanage before. Another small box sat at the bottom of the package. It was filled with gold stars! Lots of them. Smiling wide, I showed my loot to my classmates.

Big mistake.

The nun highly recommended I share with my friends.


Sister Saint Share

What friends?

She meant my Kindergarten classmates who happened to be in a similar predicament as I—enrolled in an orphanage. My sister and I were placed there after Mom unexpectedly died. Dad called it a convent. A place where nuns lived. We went to school, slept, ate and lived there without Dad for nine months. He complained about tuition for his two daughters. Why wouldn’t he just bring us home?

Staring at my cache of fudge, and feeling obliged—coerced—to share, I ate one piece. The remainder was devoured by my classmates like corn tossed to a murder of crows.

But, I had a little box of gold stars! More than anyone could ever earn in one hundred lifetimes in Kindergarten. The nun and my “friends” gawked, oohed and aahed.

The stars were mine. No need to share. I could have given each one a star, sticking it on their foreheads for their excellent job of speed-eating my birthday fudge within seconds of opening the gift.


The stars were mine.

Off to lunch we went to our assigned seats at a long, well worn, wooden dining table. We each had a drawer in which were a plate, cup, and utensils. It was my drawer. No one ate there but me. So I thought. Scheduled eating for 100’s of girls didn’t occur to my little brain. Why would it? Didn’t the world revolve around me?

After the meal, a large basin of hot water and soap made its way down our long dining table. Each girl washed her dishes, and pushed the basin left to her neighbor. A dish towel followed. Once dried, every plate and utensil was returned to the drawer until the next meal.

Having completed my task, I slipped my stars in my drawer for safe keeping. I would retrieve them at dinner time and bring the box to bed with me. A plan whereby I could ponder how to make good use of my gold stars.

Dinner time arrived. Sitting at the table, I retrieved my dish, cup and utensils. The meal was the usual for Sunday evening. The cooks had Sunday’s off. No one worked on Sundays, except the nuns. Not trained to cook for large crowds of children, they turned to a simple solution of carbohydrates and calcium diet. That meant chips and milk. Desert–a popsicle.

butter pats

hard butter pats

One meal I can never forget included a pat of butter. We each had meat, potatoes, vegetable and a slice of bread. The butter arrived stacked in a plate. Obviously cut by the cook and stored in the fridge—or the freezer.

Taking one pat, I placed it on my bread. Spreading was impossible. No matter how hard I pressed, the pat stayed firm. I was determined to spread my pat of butter. The bread tore and twisted. No luck.

Frustrated, I reconstructed my bread, piece meal, placing the butter in the center. Folding the bread, I ate it. It was okay until I bit into the butter. Yuck!

Biting lard or butter is not a favorite of mine. Still isn’t.

I never forgot that pat of butter. I eat butter. I even keep it in the fridge. But I learned to slice it thin to spread as I please. But, I digress…

After dinner and dishes, I reached into the drawer for my gold stars.

They weren’t handy. Climbing off my chair, I peeked into the drawer’s inside. Nothing!

I was troubled. Sad. Angry. Hurt. Suspicious. Someone took my stars. It was my birthday and I had been robbed. Violated. It wasn’t fair. I went to bed, crying into my pillow. 

For a long time, I wondered who the thief was. I totally suspected the nuns. Whenever I got a gold star for my forehead, I thought, “Is this my gold star?” Had to be. The nun had lots of them to hand around…so it seemed.

Years later, I surmised a nun finding the box of stars in a student’s drawer, not knowing who’s it was, mine or the other assigned student’s, probably thought they were either stolen from a teacher’s desk or they were true contraband.

And then, I also think a haw-keyed classmate may have noticed my dumb plan, and stole them within seconds after I walked away.

Of all the colors, red, green, blue, silver or gold, I prefer the gold star.

As a teacher, awarding gold stars, I told my students, “This is a special star. Just for you. Cherish not the star but the super work you accomplished. If you never get a gold star again, remember this one. You don’t always have to get a gold star for work well done. Just always do the best you can. Be happy whether you get one gold star or a whole box full. But who needs a box full of stars? Look at the sky. Those are all the stars you need. And they are always there waiting for you to look up. No one can take that away.”


The nuns helped me survive a terrible time in my life. The pain and unhappy feelings were from the separation of parent and child, and the silence of death.

I survived and dwell on the good things that came out of my stay at the convent/orphanage/boarding school.

The gold stars are still with me in memory and in my heart. A gift from Grandmother.

Like, leave a comment and share.



Now You See Me, Now You Don’t. – Is That a Good Sign?

I did some major maintenance work on a couple of my other websites:

Is your sign distinctive?


All that behind the scene techie stuff.

NOTE: www.jomorise.com to be updated soon with new work. Keep on the lookout.
A little history about my websites:
Orise Designs originated in 1988.
I purchased the http://www.OriseDesigns.com domain and created the website around 1996.

  • The hosting site was and still is DirectNic.com.
  • NO advertising, ever! A clean site for just me.

Years later, I decided I needed a http://www.JoMOrise.com domain because I signed my artwork that way. Luckily, the domain name was available! Yes!

Signage is important.
Choose a domain name – carefully. 

Cutsie does not work…get over it.

Simplicity is clarity.

If you have a business or hobby, and sign your work, keep it simple. Purchase a domain name that is YOU. 

Purchase the domain http://www.janedoe.com if that is your name.

If janedoe.com is already floating out on the Internet, how about http://www.janedoe.artist.com?

More complicated than that discourages clients from seeking you out on the Internet.

If you sign your work differently, use that same signature. Perhaps your initials and last name, or just your last name, etc. Be creative.

For a professional appearance, you need:


1.  a logo – an easily recognized graphic or a photo

2.  a font – fancy, easy to read (careful on the fancy…don’t forget the cutsie advice

3.  NO all-caps – There are many beautiful fonts today. Use that for your name. A serif or fancy font.
       – Use simple blocky, sans serif, for the rest of the wording. 

4.  especially NO Gothic-all-caps

5.  a nice layout with  white space (empty areas) for easy reading.

Place logo and layout with fonts on all communication media. Stick to your design. Constant change confuses and discourages potential clients.

Where will you hang your sign? Does it “blend in” and disappear? Or is it distinctive? If so, how much space between it and another sign of distinction? 

stand out - what client72dpi

Does your signage blend in…too much?

Look at the whole display and where displayed. What clientele do you want to attract?

Seek out examples in your area. Compare your signage with theirs. That includes the building sign, business cards, postcards, statements, receipts, banners, letterheads, packaging, and more.

If you are stuck, talk to a business owner. Compliment them on their choice of signage and ask how or who designed it for them. Who created the finished product. If you are computer and software savvy, you can do it yourself. A great many of us who are artistic can do a terrific job in creating our product, and stink at designing signage. Simplicity, clarity, easy to read. That is the aim.

Good luck. 

Readable drive-by?
Keep it simple big and bold.

When I drive by, I hope to see your sign and be able to read it at 35 mph or more. Size and simplicity will do that for you.

Be recognized.

Communicate you are serious about your work, time, presentation, and your product. That is communicated by your sign.

“Smile in your mirror every day. :-)”  J.M. Orise

Malefactor! Scam – e-mail Threats and A Free Trip to Florida?

yelling on phone-photo-1587014

Who is this? Stop calling me, Bozo, or I’ll…             *Just hang up.

Scam Phone Calls

*My comments in red.

Being part of an out-of-state phone/family plan, I have an out-of-state area code. I only know two family members from that state.

Why would the rest of the state be calling? So it seemed. Mostly from  someone with a number very similar to mine? And so many. I get it, I’m supposed to be curios…and answer.

Years ago, when I first got the phone I answered a few calls. Who could it be? Behold! Each one, a FREE trip to Florida! For me! A FREE GIFT? Duh….I was actually on a walk with Hubby…in Florida.


Remember when?




Photo by Mathyas Kurmann on Unsplash

Prior to the Internet, offers arrived via postcard, delivered in our mailbox. “You have won A Trip to Florida. A FREE GIFT! Call this 800 number to claim your FREE GIFT before it is too late.”


Uh…isn’t a gift…free?

Son noticed this same postcard, in our mailbox, when he was thirteen. “Mom! Look! You won a trip to Florida. Call them. We can go to Disney.”

“Son, it’s a scam. They want money. There is no free trip.” 

“But it’s written right here: “A Free Gift. Call us to sign up for your Free Trip. They’re not asking for money. All you have to do is call.”

Okay. This was to be a teachable moment.

“I’ll call. You listen on the intercom.” His eyes widened, sparkling with excitement. I dialed. A lady’s super friendly voice answered.

“I have a postcard. It says I won a Free Trip to Florida.”

“Oh yes! What is your name?” she asked.

“You should know my name, you sent me the postcard. Or do you have thousands of people ‘winning’ the same prize?”

“We have to be sure it’s you. Can you verify please?”

“I’m Jane Jones.”
*This is the I-net – I’ll not give a name or address 😉 in a blog.

“What is your address please.”

“You already have it, remember? You sent the card to the winner.”

“We have to be sure it’s you. Can you verify please?”

“1234 Main Street, City, State, Zip”

“Thank you. Do you have a credit card?”


“Please read the number on the card with the expiration date.”

“This is a Free Gift. A free trip to Florida. Why do you need my credit card? When I deliver ‘free’ gifts, celebrating someone’s birthday, I don’t ask for a credit card number.”

“Over the phone, we have to be sure it’s you. Can you verify with the card please? This will guarantee you get your free trip.”

“I don’t know you. You are a stranger. Why should I give you my credit card number?”

“Because you called us for your trip. We need a credit card to guarantee the trip and to verify who you are.”

CK2 Sassy GIF - CK2 Sassy Angry GIFs

“Sorry, you have me confused with someone else. I have a Free Gift. A Free Trip to Florida. So I don’t see the need for my credit card if it’s free. And you sent the card. I called because I received the card. Ergo, I am verifying who I am by calling you, answering your card’s request, sent to me, the winner, to call.”

“Well, we have to be sure it’s you. Can you please verify with the credit card?”

The friendly voice grew slightly impatient, yet still civil. Was her objective a formulaic response disguised as customer relations expertise—to engender trust, to seduce the unaware, to rob?

“No. I don’t think I will do that. My son pointed out the post card doesn’t mention the need of a credit card. He was convinced we had been blessed—that you were sending a FREE Gift from some lottery in which I had participated. Which I did not. And from the look on his face, I think he has learned Free Gifts received in the mail are not ‘free’. Good bye.”

Son’s face no longer glowed, his brow furrowed. “She wanted you to pay for the trip?” 

“No, Son. She wanted my credit card to buy what she wanted. There was no trip to Florida. It was a hoax.”

“That stinks.” His upper lip went up a little, Elvis Presley style. He was disappointed.

“Some day we’ll go to Florida.” And we did.


*Fast forward to 2018 + 2019 e-mail threats.

*My comments in red.

*I receive lots of mail from scammers who assume I am a man.

At the end of last year, I received three scam e-mails that were of the same vein.  
Each gave me the low-down at how I was HACKED! I had better listen up, and was given the details.
Extortion scamsEach similarly worded. 

*Grammar, syntax and typos indicated they were from another country, perhaps?

The three e-mail scams: 

After skimming the first sentence I immediately sent the first two extortion e-mails to spamI’ve rejected tons of e-mails as spam and junk for years. I’ve reported a few to e-mail scam detective services. Do they really work? The National Do-Not-Call Registry service the government provides to Americans doesn’t work.

Where are these people? The hours spent creating mahem could, instead, be used to save the planet—and themselves. Why hide under the guise of scammer wearing a hoodie, in a dark corner, suffering from low self-esteem.

Smile, scammer. You too can do good. And be proud! Stand up! Take off that hoodie, cut it up, make a hoody quilt, donate it to the poor! Start a fad and make an honest living in broad daylight.

Okay, okay. About that third e-mail, which I also sent to spam…  
Here it is: 

Kinnie Linsley <fegunillayi@outlook.com>
* Is this the real Kinnie? or was the name culled from someone’s contacts folder?
To: “one@ofmyemails.com” <one@ofmyemails.com> 
*They found my e-mail somewhere, someone’s contact folder?

jo mylinkedin  o‌n‌e o‌f yo‌ur pa‌sswo‌rds.
*Incomplete sentence.
*AND I had cancelled mylinkedin account a month prior because I never used it.
L‌ets g‌et ri‌ght to‌ purpo‌s‌e. No‌ p‌erso‌n ha‌s co‌mpensat‌ed m‌e to‌ ch‌eck abo‌ut yo‌u. Yo‌u do‌ not kno‌w me a‌nd yo‌u’r‌e pro‌bably thi‌nki‌ng why yo‌u’r‌e g‌etti‌ng thi‌s ma‌i‌l? 

i‌n fa‌ct, i‌ pla‌c‌ed a‌ so‌ftwa‌r‌e on th‌e adult str‌eami‌ng (s‌ex si‌t‌es) w‌ebsit‌e a‌nd guess wha‌t, yo‌u vi‌si‌ted this websi‌te to ‌experi‌‌enc‌e fun (yo‌u kno‌w wha‌t i‌ m‌ean). Wh‌en yo‌u w‌er‌e vi‌‌ewi‌ng vi‌d‌eo‌ cli‌ps, yo‌ur i‌ntern‌et bro‌ws‌er sta‌rted op‌era‌ting a‌s a RDP ha‌vi‌ng a‌ k‌ey lo‌gg‌er which ga‌v‌e me a‌ccess to‌ your di‌spla‌y a‌s w‌ell a‌s web ca‌m. i‌mm‌edia‌t‌ely a‌ft‌er that, my softwa‌re o‌bta‌i‌n‌ed a‌ll your co‌nta‌cts fro‌m yo‌ur Messeng‌er, FB, a‌s w‌ell as e-mai‌l . N‌ext i cr‌ea‌ted a‌ do‌ubl‌e vi‌d‌eo‌. 1st pa‌rt displa‌ys the vi‌d‌eo‌ yo‌u were vi‌ewi‌ng (yo‌u’v‌e go‌t a‌ ni‌c‌e ta‌st‌e ; )), and second part sho‌ws th‌e vi‌‌ew o‌f yo‌ur w‌ebca‌m, & i‌ts yo‌u.
*Well, that is strange, since I have two layers of tape covering my web-cam. Always have.

Yo‌u a‌ctually ha‌v‌e two di‌fferent o‌ptio‌ns. L‌ets ta‌k‌e a‌ loo‌k a‌t these typ‌es o‌f o‌ptions i‌n d‌eta‌i‌ls: 

1st cho‌i‌c‌e i‌s to‌ i‌gno‌r‌e thi‌s e-ma‌i‌l. i‌n this cas‌e, i‌ mo‌st c‌ertai‌nly wi‌ll s‌end o‌ut yo‌ur very own vi‌d‌eo r‌eco‌rdi‌ng to‌ ‌ea‌ch on‌e o‌f yo‌ur co‌nta‌cts and just co‌nsid‌er co‌nc‌erni‌ng th‌e sham‌e yo‌u f‌e‌el. No‌t to‌ forget sho‌uld yo‌u b‌e in a‌ lo‌vi‌ng rela‌tio‌nship, pr‌eci‌s‌ely ho‌w it is go‌i‌ng to‌ a‌ff‌ect? 

S‌eco‌nd cho‌i‌c‌e i‌s to‌ pa‌y m‌e 3000 USD. W‌e a‌r‌e go‌i‌ng to‌ describ‌e it a‌s a‌ dona‌ti‌o‌n. Then, i‌ mo‌st certa‌i‌nly wi‌ll insta‌ntan‌eo‌usly di‌scard yo‌ur vi‌d‌eo‌ recording. Yo‌u co‌uld k‌e‌ep o‌n go‌ing da‌i‌ly li‌f‌e li‌k‌e thi‌s n‌ev‌er too‌k pla‌ce a‌nd yo‌u sur‌ely wi‌ll n‌ev‌er h‌ea‌r ba‌ck a‌gai‌n fro‌m me. 

You’ll ma‌k‌e th‌e pa‌ym‌ent thro‌ugh Bi‌tco‌in (i‌f you do‌ not kno‌w thi‌s, s‌ea‌rch ‘ho‌w to‌ buy bi‌t‌co‌i‌n’ i‌n Go‌o‌gl‌e s‌ea‌rch engi‌n‌e). 

B‌T‌C‌ a‌ddr‌ess to‌ send to‌: XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX[ca‌se-s‌ensiti‌v‌e so‌ co‌py and pa‌st‌e i‌t] *This was a complicated collection of digits and characters. I “XXX” the address to protect the reader.
i‌f you ma‌y b‌e ma‌ki‌ng pla‌ns for going to‌ th‌e law ‌enfo‌rc‌ement, sur‌ely, thi‌s ma‌il canno‌t b‌e trac‌ed back to‌ me. I‌ ha‌v‌e ta‌k‌en ca‌r‌e of my moves. i‌ a‌m not lo‌oki‌ng to‌ dema‌nd a‌ whol‌e lo‌t, i wo‌uld li‌ke to‌ b‌e rewa‌rded. Yo‌u no‌w ha‌v‌e t‌w‌o da‌ys i‌n o‌rd‌er to‌ pay. i ha‌v‌e a‌ special pi‌xel wi‌thin thi‌s m‌essa‌g‌e, and ri‌ght no‌w i kno‌w that yo‌u ha‌v‌e rea‌d through thi‌s ‌emai‌l. if i‌ do‌ no‌t g‌et th‌e B‌itC‌o‌ins, i‌ will send o‌ut yo‌ur vi‌deo‌ r‌ecordi‌ng to‌ a‌ll of yo‌ur co‌ntacts i‌ncludi‌ng fa‌mi‌ly memb‌ers, coll‌eagu‌es, and ma‌ny o‌thers. Ha‌vi‌ng sai‌d tha‌t, i‌f i‌ r‌ecei‌v‌e th‌e pa‌ym‌ent, i‌ wi‌ll destroy th‌e vi‌deo‌ i‌mm‌edia‌t‌ely. This is th‌e no‌n-nego‌ti‌able offer, and so do‌ no‌t wa‌ste my p‌ersonal ti‌me and yo‌urs by replyi‌ng to‌ thi‌s ‌e ma‌i‌l. i‌f you rea‌lly want pro‌of, r‌eply Y‌es! a‌nd i‌ will c‌erta‌inly s‌end out your vid‌eo‌ to‌ your 12 fri‌ends.


*Wouldn’t you know. I found this at Komando’s blog on the Internet! 
Click here:   Just another extortion scam…

This is a new year, and I get reminders to pay up, or else!

They come from a different address.
Clever “subject” in the e-mail.
I hover mouse over the “from” field. If I don’t know who it is, it is sent to spam.

I do NOT open e-mail from an unknown source.

*An e-mail I did not request is always suspicious. I am leery of strange e-mail addresses.  And send them to spam.

*If I am uncertain, I copy text and paste to Google. Most times they come up as scam.

A week ago, I received an e-mail from a male whose name I did not know. 
Subject: “I need to speak with you.”
*That subject may sound innocent enough, however, I felt it was a ruse to get me to connect, to infect my PC. I sent it to Spam.

Then I traveled down my list of e-mails and there he was again…same name but as a company instead of a person. 
*Delete to Spam.