Signing Books: Late Summer Book Tour

My daughter played her last travel softball game a few weeks ago. It's surreal to think, given I once wrote about her in the context of overcoming hurdles. Yet, here we are: Weeks away from taking a road trip to her college, where her next game will be at the collegiate level. 

Along the way, I'm hoping she learns a few things, too. Some of what I hope she learns comes full circle to that column I wrote ten years ago. The overemphasis on image, popularity, and crowd thinking in social media life has a long history of undermining good ideas, worthwhile efforts, and individual actions.  

Ten years ago, I wasn't a novelist. I'm on a book tour this summer. 

People tend to ask authors two common questions. First, what advice would you give to any aspiring writers? Second, what was the worst advice you ever received? 

I have a variety of answers to the first question in interviews but the one that stands out the most hit me today. Don't wait. We spend far too much time fretting over reasons not to pursue our passions. 

The second goes hand in hand with the first. Don't start because you'll never finish it is the worst advice I ever received. And if you finish it, they cotninued, no one will ever read it. It doesn't even matter if we hear this bad advice from someone else or that little voice in the back of our head that prefers practicality over aspiration. Don't believe it. I've sold thousands of books.

I've also lined up a book tour that coincides with the trip. We'll take in some sights and stop at bookstores along the way. You can follow us on TikTok, Instagram, X, Facebook, and elsewhere. Or, even better, drop by if I am in your area (or afterward to snap up a signed copy left behind). Event times will be posted on Facebook as they are finalized. 

Pretour Warmup

July 16: The Book Haven in Prescott Valley, Arizona

Summer Book Tour

August 26: Barnes & Noble Grand Junction (signing) in Grand Junction, Colorado 

August 27: Old Firehouse Books (visit) in Fort Collins, Colorado

August 28: Barnes & Noble SouthPointe (signing) in Lincoln, Nebraska 

August 29: Bumble Books (signing/reading) in Amana, Iowa 

August 31: The Atlas Collective (visit) in Moline, Illinois 

September 2: Wordsmith Bookshoppe (signing) in Galesburg, Illinois

September 3: Spine Indie Bookstore (author showcase) in St. Louis, Missouri 

September 5: Commonplace Books (signing) in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

September 6: Barnes & Noble Coronado (signing) in Albuquerque, New Mexico

September 7: Page 1 Books (signing) in Albuquerque, New Mexico 

Posttour Wrapup 

October 19: Las Vegas Book Festival in Las Vegas, Nevada

Stay tuned. I might be adding another mini-book tour in early October. My sights are set on Maine, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Rhode Island. The trip is still tentative, but I hope it will help move my next WIP forward. It's set in Maine and will become my second novel, and fourth or fifth book (depending on what happens in the next few months). Pretty exciting — stuff I would have done sooner had I already carved out time to write fiction alongside client work. And that's the point. 

I've never been happier writing fiction. In fact, doing so has elevated my commercial work too. And that's what I want my daughter to learn before I drop her off at her new home away from home. Don't wait. Be happy. 

Writing Romance: What’s Love Got To Do With It?

I met my first girlfriend in the third grade. She thought I was a rebel of sorts — a transfer from the public school system, repeating third grade. I wasn’t a rebel. I still couldn’t read.

We were “boyfriend and girlfriend” for three short months. I moved away after the school year ended. 

We might have been “together” longer, but she didn’t know I liked her. I always liked her. 

I finally worked up the courage to let her know how I felt on Valentine’s Day. I wrote it in the Valentine’s Day card I gave her — the biggest one in the box. They always came like that in a class pack. There were 23 or 29 regular Valentine’s Day cards in the box and one (sometimes two) super special ones. I gave her THAT one. 

The only problem was my writing. Because I didn’t read well, I didn’t write well either. So when she opened my card, she wrinkled her nose and joked about how she couldn’t read it. I made a joke about it, too. I didn’t want her to know it came from me. So she didn’t think I liked her because I didn’t give her a card. Or, so she thought. 

My second chance came a month later. We had an auction at the school, and she had donated a tapestry with a Native American on it. She thought it was cool because she was Native American, too. But nobody bid on it. So I did. I bid everything I had, which I didn’t have to do. She got the message. I liked her as much as anybody likes somebody in third grade. 

Love makes you do crazy things, even when you don’t understand it. It’s one part anticipation and two parts relief. There really is someone out there for you, at least until you move away. 

Young love in the novel Third Wheel.

While my novel Third Wheel is often described as a coming-of-age thriller that follows Brady Wilks along the fringe of the 1980s suburban drug scene in Las Vegas, it’s not without heart. In between the tension, Brady pursues two love interests in the book. 

The first is with an 18-year-old named Cheryl. The relationship is immediately problematic because Brady lies about his age, fearing she will lose interest, knowing this is the summer before his sophomore year. Brady won’t celebrate his 15th birthday until late fall.

He meets Cheryl early in the book. She is one of several satellites orbiting the parties hosted by his older friend group. Cheryl has every reason to believe he was in her ballpark — a soon-to-be junior or senior — until his adolescent awkwardness gives him away.

For Brady, he is drawn to the impossibility of the relationship and the promise of emotional stability, filling a void that can’t be found in his unstable life. Cheryl puts his troubles on pause, even if he never understands her interest in him. 

Because the story is told entirely from Brady’s self-centered point of view, most readers don’t either. Everybody’s best guess is that dating someone younger might even the playing field for a recent high school grad in the 1980s. Sure, while the 70s may have moved the needle on gender equality, the 80s dating scene didn’t know it. 

Brady’s perceived rivals drive this point home. They always appear more confident in winning over her attention and affection. With Brady, it’s an internal tug of war. She pulls him toward her and pushes him away at the same time.

She wants it to work but knows it will never work. Maybe Brady feels that way, which is why he leaves himself open for two alcohol- and drug-infused flirtations during the book. One doesn’t amount to anything, but the second one leads to the start of something, even if we never see what exactly that might be. 

Brady meets this second girl, Sandy, in a Mob-owned strip club. Despite working as a server and part-time stripper, Sandy is an underage runaway from California, much closer in age to Brady than the lie she tells him. 

“Twenty-one, hun.” “Beat you by a year,” he lies in return. 

The contrast in these two relationships has more to do with the girls than the boy. When Sandy looks at Brady, she sees a reflection of herself. Despite a facade of self-confidence that initially attracts Brady’s attention, Sandy is just as out of her league as he is out of his. 

Broken people tend to attract broken people, and Sandy is empathetic enough to see he’s broken. Together, being broken feels safe and normal. It leads to something much more casual, comfortable, and accidental. 

Each relationship is different but somehow gives Brady what he needs most when he needs it. That’s how stories go sometimes. 

Love is desperation, anticipation, and infatuation on the front end. It’s affection, acceptance, and attachment on the back end if it lasts long enough. But it rarely lasts long enough because the strongest thing in the world is also the most fragile; hard to find and easy to lose. Cherish every minute before you move away. Happy Valentine’s Day.

Writing Books: Third Wheel As A Debut Novel

Great news! I've set August 21, 2023, as the release date for my debut novel, Third Wheel. It's a coming-of-age story about a boy trying to find his identity by taking chances on random and fragile relationships forged in the early boomtown years of Las Vegas, 1982.

The teenage protagonist Brady Wilks is an outcast as a Midwest transplant, who forges a brotherly bond with an older teenage neighbor, Mick, and his friend, Brett. When Brett unexpectedly moves away, Mick invites a new kid into their pack, squeezing out the last remnants of their childhood in favor of a new world laced with cartel-supplied drugs and the deal of a lifetime. The path brings Brady face to face with the darker side of Las Vegas at a time when cartels, corporations, and the mob were in the midst of a power struggle (even though it is not a mob story).

Sure, the protagonist brushes up against organized crime, but the novel is more about belonging, betrayal, and breaking away from the paths laid before us. The grittier elements serve as a backdrop and something I know a little bit about. While the novel is fictitious, Wilks and I share a few experiences.  

Specifically, I also moved to Las Vegas from the Midwest in the late 70s/early 80s. I also had similar challenges at home and struggled to adapt to life on the fringe of a transient town known for adult entertainment.

Las Vegas as a backdrop

This isn't the Las Vegas that most people think about when they think of Las Vegas, which is why I always felt living here was paradoxical. In 1982, this town was much smaller, maybe 200,000 people, and most of them lived in a California-esque desert suburbia, but with slot machines in their grocery stores and minimal family activities outside of what kids could come up with on their own.

For teens, The Strip and Downtown Las Vegas were more akin to a drive-by experience. We would cruise Downtown Las Vegas and The Strip, stopping only long enough to eat at a buffet, see a show (the few that would let us in), or visit the carnival midway at Circus Circus or Omnimax at Caesars Palace. Sure, sometimes we would see how much we could get away with in the far more famous areas of the city, but mainly we caused our trouble well away from tourists. 

Suffice to say, the famous landmarks and locales are barely blips in this book but still provide the fabric for what life was like in a small town stuffed into a big city envelope. And yes, we all knew who ran it. But mostly, in this book, with the exception of a quick trip to the naked city, casino resorts are only part of the distant skyline, which is mostly how it was when I was growing up too. 

Third Wheel is in production

Behind the scenes, the second proof copy of Third Wheel has been ordered and I am in the process of submitting the manuscript for a few early reviews. Then, after another pass on the proof, we'll format the book for various distributors. 

Currently, Third Wheel preorders are available via Amazon Kindle. But like my first book, 50 States, Third Wheel will be available everywhere books are sold and libraries (as it has a Library of Congress control number). I will also have copies of the book on hand in August, making it easier for readers to purchase a signed copy rather than trying to connect after the purchase. 

There are two ways to read a sneek peak of the first chapter. The first chapter of Third Wheel doubles as a short story in Ten Threads, which is my ten-story companion to 50 States. And, closer to August, I will share a private link to the first chapter via my newsletter. A few months after publication, I'll also share a few additional bits related to Third Wheel in the newsletter, including how to discover its secret music playlist and a reference that grounds it in the 50 States universe. 

That's all the news that's fit to print right now, except I have a new biosite if you prefer to connect with me somewhere else. The only social network not listed on the biosite is Mastadon. I'm still kicking the tires there, much like Gettr and MeWe. Hope to see you around. Good night, good luck, and thanks for taking an interest.

Writing Stories: Stranger Than Fiction

There is a childhood punishment that the protagonist of my debut novel describes in my forthcoming debut novel. One of the beta readers didn’t like it. She called it silly, disbelieving it would ever happen.

The irony is that I borrowed it from real life. No, the novel isn’t real life. It’s a work of fiction. But as most writers will tell you, we all draw on real people or events, especially those that leave physical, emotional, or psychological imprints on our lives. 

How else does one write straight, honest prose about human beings? Some of us look backward while writing forward, weaving the past into the present — even if we’re implanting the event on someone we made up, asking ourselves the whole time how the character might respond to it differently than we did. Sometimes they do. Sometimes they don’t.

This is where it can sometimes be tricky as a writer. We borrow bits of this and that from our lives and reshape them into something else for other people to experience until it isn’t our experience anymore, but someone else’s entirely, someone we made up. And this is why I sometimes offer a cautionary whisper to those who might remember actual events before they read my work. It’s not them or me or you or that or what happened, I tell them. Because, well, it isn’t any of that. Except in this case, maybe. 

The childhood punishment I’m talking about really happened, and it happened to me. It was so real, in fact, I spent the better part of my twenties believing I deserved it, coping with it and other psychological abuses as a sort of joke. How bad of a kid was I? I was so bad …

When I finally had my own kids, I stopped telling the joke. It was no longer funny as I realized it was a punishment that I could never prescribe on my kids or any kids, for that matter. There wasn’t any infraction worthy of such a punishment or even the threat of it — which four more children endured while growing up until it became a thing of legend. 

The punishment I’m talking about sounds familiar to most people. It was a room restriction, common enough that The Atlantic wrote about it like a rite of passage among previous generations. Some still argue that “grounding” can be effective. Maybe so. Except for mine, maybe. 

My grounding wasn’t a weekend or week, as some might have experienced. It was a month, with the real caveat being that everything interesting was removed from my room — books, games, papers, pencils, etc. The circumstances didn’t make sense either, as it had very little to do with anything I did but a demonstration of unchecked authority. She had told me there would be consequences, so she had to follow up. 

The consequence for putting one dish out of the dishwater away dirty was a month-long restriction. I didn’t doubt her. Past experiences had always convinced me she meant business. So I did what any preteen would do. I slowly, carefully, and meticulously inspected every dish while putting them away. And I felt true terror when she came in to inspect the work, slowing and randomly looking over glasses and plates and silverware. 

I was so very careful, but it was there anyway. There was a water spot on one of the knives. The declaration of its finding was so fierce that it alone would have taught me a lesson, assuming there was one to teach. But it didn’t stop there, couldn’t stop there. 

The consequence had already been outlined. I would be placed on room restriction for a summer month, only allowed out to use the bathroom and for meals.

I was so angry that it never occurred to me that I couldn’t see the offending water spot, nor could I discern whether it was the knife I had put away or some other that she had plucked from the drawer. What did occur, I learned later in life, is that she had triggered a fight or flight response, and I always tended to be a fighter. 

I made a cavalier proclamation that I didn’t care about her punishment or authority. I would take my punishment like a champ, shut myself off from her wickedness, and read, draw, and play games until my vacation from her ended. Tut tut. Lay it on me. 

That’s when she delivered what amounted to a left hook I never saw coming. She told me I was too smart for my own good, so all those things would be taken out of my room too. I would be left in there with nothing except my bed, clothes, and a window to look out of from the elevated first story of our apartment. It overlooked a pond. 

Sometimes my son and daughter ask me what I did for that month. They are especially perplexed because, nowadays, a cell phone restriction can be more impactful than banishment to a room ever seemed to be. From what I remember, and I blanked a good part of it, I imagined things. 

The protagonist in the novel, on the other hand, never says. He only mentions it as an illustration of circumstance, given the book isn’t about abuse. Any psychological abuse is only a subplot, a mechanism to help people understand the boy in relation to other events in the story. 

Even so, I sometimes hope its presence in the story sparks conversation about it as it did with one of my beta readers. When people hear or talk about abuse, the word conjures images of physical or sexual abuse before emotional abuse or neglect, but those things exist too. And the wholesale destruction of someone’s self-worth carries consequences that take even longer to heal. 

If you know of someone who needs help or if you need help yourself, Childhelp can put you in touch with local resources in your area. Aside from that, let’s have a conversation. Stories help people learn they are not alone, even when they sound stranger than fiction. 

Dropping Stories: Ten Threads As A Kindle Exclusive

The last two years have been among the hardest — a series of unrelated wretched events with the dark cloud of the pandemic looming in the background. You know the cloud. We all do. It blotted out the sun. 

The start of all our trouble didn't begin with it. It started with our home being invaded and cars stolen. Mine, a 20-year-old Infiniti G20, was nearly totaled. 

Who am I kidding? I spent $6,000 or more to fix a car worth half as much. It was totaled. But the very idea that someone could take away something I've taken care of for 20 years was too much. So I didn't accept it and had it fixed. 

The pandemic rolled over us all a few months later, and I didn't have anywhere to go anyway. If I could have gone somewhere, it would have been to southern Arizona, where my paternal grandmother lost her cognitive ability. Adult protective services estimated we had a few months to figure it out.  

We really didn't. By the time the guardianship papers were processed, one of those family villains that everyone seems to have swept in with a story that nobody believed except one misguided attorney. The stress of the guardianship battle nearly killed us. We survived, but my grandmother did not. She died two weeks before the court investigator filed a formal report in my favor, forcing us into another battle for the estate. 

We won. And we lost. The villain took almost all of the bank accounts while the court allowed me to manage the dilapidated property she called home. We're still mitigating it today, more than a year later.

It's true, you know. After a while, you become numb to bad news. Six months after losing my grandmother, we lost my stepdad's best friend, someone we long considered part of the family. And six months after that, we lost my stepdad too. I'll spare the details except to say it wasn't sudden — unless you count those last few weeks that played out like months in slow motion as sudden. I'm still reeling from it.

So what does that have to do with a book release?

Nothing. And everything. 

Someone once told me "never let bad days fool you into thinking you have a bad life." It's too easy to do. I've had plenty, more than my share. Some of them I invited. Some came along anyway. 

You wouldn't think so if you met me in person. I generally present light-hearted most of the time, and intensely passionate about everything for the rest of it. It's called coping. You find every shining moment you can and you squeeze it for every ounce of sunshine it might give you.

My debut, 50 States, was one of those moments. It took some time but, eventually, word of mouth helped propel it to become a top 100 bestselling literary short stories collection on Amazon for three consecutive months — an honor compounded with two book awards. The first was first place for short stories in the Spring 2022 BookFest Awards. The second was first place for literary fiction, psychological thrillers, and short stories in the ABR Book Excellence Awards.

Of course, 50 States wasn't my only shining moment. I'm honored to work with some great clients. I was reappointed to serve my city as a parks commissioner. My wife was promoted, twice. My children are brilliant. My daughter finally achieved a 4.0 GPA while becoming one of the top softball players in the state. My son just recently graduated from the University of Nevada, Reno. That was my school, too. 

So I've been squeezing all of these things for every ounce of light they shed (along with all those smaller, seemingly insignificant things too). It's something that my maternal grandmother, the one who raised me for ten years while dying of cancer, taught me before she died. You take whatever comes, catching hold of even the tiniest sunbeams to break the gloom. It's the only way to survive it all. It's the only way to thrive.

Ten Threads is a ten-story companion to my best-selling, award-winning debut. Published as a Kindle exclusive, it can be read as a stand-alone anthology of about 100 pages or as a continuation of stories found in 50 States. Specifically, this release features stories set in Idaho, Louisiana, Wisconsin, Utah, Pennsylvania, California, Vermont, Nevada, Maine, and Kentucky. 

If you read the debut, eight stories will feel like continuations. Two of them, while connected to their counterparts, aren't as strongly linked. Collectively, the stories feel like life. Nine parts darkness and one part light, which is why I dedicated it to my maternal grandmother, Helen. She is forever my sunbeam. Nobody squeezed me tighter. Good night and good luck.

Want a more straightforward book release update? Yes, you can find that too. It's in the news.

Signing Books: Five Places I Visited For 50 States

Book signings are finally coming back in fashion, but still not everywhere. Some bookstores are holding out for one thing or another. My own book, 50 States, missed out on meet-and-greets last June. Nobody would host book signings back then, so I eventually settled into dropping signed books off at select locations — usually coinciding with my daughter's travel softball schedule.

I didn't mind. I still had a chance to visit some pretty cool bookstores and meet some great people, sometimes leaving with more books than I brought. I'm grateful to them all, so here's a holiday shout out.

BookMonster in Santa Monica, Calif. BookMonster was the first bookstore to pick up signed copies. I wrote a post about the experience, and my gratitude hasn't diminished. The store has been an icon at 212 Santa Monica Blvd. in Santa Monica, just northeast of Ye Olde King's Head and King and Queen Cantina. My book currently has a home at the store on the second shelf (top to bottom) of D07. They shelved it there because the first edition description sounded a bit metaphysical (but it's not, really). 

The book is listed "like new," and it is new. You can reserve your copy online. 

The store is pretty cool with a big square footprint that is surprisingly deep. The shelves along the outside walls run floor to ceiling. Once past the front area (reserved for new books and accessories), the store is organized with two columns of spacious rows all the way to the back of the store. The store also has some scarce books protected by glass cases in the very back. They have a sandwich board outside the store that counts how many books they've sold today. 

BookEnds in Kailua, Hawaii. Before traveling to Hawaii, I reached out to almost every bookstore on the island of O'ahu. Most of them didn't respond or weren't interested in carrying any titles from a debut author. I almost gave up until I reached out to one more the same day we arrived on the island.

The manager asked me a few questions about the book. Then she said she loved the hook, loved the wholesale price, and asked how many copies I brought with me. She took them all. 

BookEnds is a small neighborhood bookstore. What it lacks in size, it makes up for in character and books. There are shelves of books, stacks of books, and piles of books that make up a meandering book garden of sorts. The longer you wander, the more likely you are going to find that one hidden gem you can't find somewhere else.

The store is located at 600 Kailua Rd, Ste 126 in Kailua, on the southeast side of the island, northeast of Waikiki. The drive through the mountains made the side trip worthwhile. And we look forward to exploring more of Kailua the next time we go. 

Barnes & Noble in Henderson, Nev. I've had some interesting experiences reaching out to bookstores in Las Vegas. The best of them was with Barnes & Noble in Henderson. Once they knew I was a local author, they didn't hesitate. 

Barnes & Noble does it a bit differently than indie stores. They prefer to order copies instead of accepting them from the author. When the books came in, they contacted me to schedule a visit. I really appreciated it because they also had their hands full with a store remodel. 

This Barnes & Noble, located at 567 N. Stephanie St., gets books, authors, and readers. Not only did I sign the books they had on hand, but they also did a quick in-store promo that they shared on Twitter and Facebook. And, they noticed I did my own post about the visit. You can find a copy of 50 States on their local author bookshelf toward the store's back (in front of the digital media section). 

I've visited the store several times over the years, and I have to add that the remodel has transformed it into a book lover's paradise. If I need some last-minute books, this will be my go-to Barnes & Noble, even if it is a little more out of the way. 

BookMaze in Mesa, Arizona. The Phoenix area is a little more like Las Vegas in that not all independent stores are friendly to debut authors. One will even charge indie authors a stocking fee to sell their book on consignment and charge them for any unsold copies.

I didn't qualify for this program because my book is available from major distributors, not that I would have accepted the offer anyway. Instead, I discovered the out-of-way BookMaze in Mesa, Ariz., that stocks scores of books with a floorplan that lives up the store's "maze" name. 

While the front entry can be a little offputting, the bookstore itself is like a lost city of books at deeply discounted prices. The shelves are arranged in interesting angles, broken up by a few cubbies and seating areas like you might find at the heart of a maze. 

My visit felt awkward because the bookstore owner wasn't in when I arrived and no one knew they were picking up 50 States. But after showing my messages to one of the clerks, she was happy to help. I'm not the only one. The bookstore has a reputation for helping people — they recently donated 400 pounds of candy to our troops! 

Adventures Underground in Richland, Wash. Adventures Underground, located at 1391 George Washington Way, was an absolutely amazing discovery. It's part bookstore, comic shop, gaming hub, and collectibles gift store all rolled up into one — the kind of eclectic coolness you wish you could find in every city. There is even an inviting cafe attached with coffees, smoothies, and other tasty treats. 

My family and I browsed more shelves in this store than any other. Most of mine was spent perusing an extensive sampling of metal fantasy figures on pegboards (an old hobby I haven't paid much attention to lately) and thumbing through some of their comic book drawers. 

Ultimately, I didn't find any comics to fill a few holes in my collection. However, my daughter picked up a limited-run comic series featuring Gamora from Guardians of the Galaxy. If we had had more time, we could have browsed for hours. But as I mentioned before, many of these stops happen between softball games. 

Future Visits 

These were the first five stores with which I arranged signed book drops, but they won't be the last. Next year's softball schedule will take us to several cities, including Denver. I'm incredibly excited about that stop because the Tattered Cover serves as a setting for one of my stories inside 50 States. 

With book signings finally coming back into fashion, I'm hoping to arrange in-person signings for a few hours instead of the sign-and-dash book drops next year. The timing couldn't be better. Right now, 50 States is in audiobook production, and the long-awaited hardcover edition press check recently shipped. 

Of course, more than all that and to the point: I really do appreciate these stores for adding 50 States to their shelves. Brick-and-mortar bookstores are vital to our communities, and I hope you find some time to visit them — whether you are looking for 50 States or not — to fill your holiday gift list. Good night, good luck, and happy reading.

Burning Things: Inside A Story Form 50 States

Every time I read an article about wildfires sweeping the western United States, it's always accompanied by an acute sense of loss. I feel for every family forced to evacuate, never knowing what they might come home to or if there will even be a home to go back to when they can return.

Last year, more than 17,000 structures were burned or damaged, many of them houses. More than 550 homes were lost to California's Dixie fire just this year. That's just one fire. And wildfires are not the only culprit. Every year, more than 14 million people go homeless after natural disasters around the world. Events like Katrina in 2005, for example, added 12,000 new homeless in the New Orleans area alone.

Reading about it sometimes makes me wonder what I might do if I was forced to evacuate. We make a mental inventory of what things might be worth saving. Or, in some cases, we wonder what things would be sacrificed. My home, for instance, displays a dozen or so paintings my father painted before his death. He was only 19 when he died, but his talent was phenomenal. The paintings connect me to him. But I don't see how we could save them in an emergency.

What is it about the rest of it?

Aside from family photos and other heirlooms, what about the rest of it? Most of the items in our homes will one day be reduced to an estate sale or hauled away for the trash. And yet, for most people, these possessions become as much a part of them as their memories. 

Early last year, my home was broken into by one of our neighbor's kids. Every item they took was an individual violation, with the worst of them being two cars we left in the garage. One of which, my vintage Infiniti, was nearly totaled (technically totaled). So, I get it. 

And yet, there is always this tiny holdover from when I was 10 years old and forced to give up everything I owned — except for three choice playthings — when I was dubiously moved from one household to another. Things are just things, you tell yourself. Let them go.

Inside 'Where There's Smoke.'  

I wove several themes into the short story 'Where's There Smoke' inside 50 States. But most people who read it see what's on the surface first. One of the last families to evacuate a wildfire that will almost certainly consume their home sees presumed looters racing up to the house as they leave it behind. 

I write about them and what they would do. But if it was you, what would you do?

On the one hand, the fire will likely consume the entirety of everything left behind. On the other, strangers will invade your home, taking those things you painfully surrendered.

There is a grayness here where no one answer is the right one. It's a life-defining moment, regardless what decision is made. If you continue down the hill to safety as your home is ransacked, it says something about you. If you decide to head back to the home to scare them off, that says something about you too. And so do all those supporting decisions in between.

By the way, if you are wondering what to do about wildfire, the American Red Cross has a wildfire relief fund. You can read about wildfires and the volunteers who help evacuees receive the support they need.

Writing: Why Fiction And Why Bother?

When I told one of my clients that I would eventually retire into writing fiction, she blinked in disbelief. 

"Do you really want to do that?"

"Yes," I said. 

As an executive, it didn't make any sense to her whatsoever. Why would a guy with mile deep resume as a strategic communication consultant and A-list marketing and advertising copywriter start over as a fiction writer? It might be nice to write something for myself for a change, I said. For the last 30 years, I've only written for other people.

That's what I told her. But the answer is a bit more complicated, one with several answers that depend upon how the question is framed — including that old standby many authors have. It's an itch that needs to be scratched. 

Why do you love writing fiction? 

Initially, it was really about telling stories. Storytelling is so important in our lives. Once a child's basic needs are met, the next step in their development is to hear a story. "Tell me a story," they ask and ask.

I was no exception. I always asked for stories. And as soon as I was old enough, I starting telling stories too. I had a story about everything. My stuffed animals had backstories. My play activities (like army men) had back stories. The games I made up with friends had back stories. I told so many stories, my grandmother used to laugh about it. If you don't become an artist, she said, become an attorney.

Ironically, I wasn't a very good reader (or writer) despite my love for stories. All of my stories were illustrated, play acted, or verbal. It wasn't until I changed majors from psychology to journalism that I became a strong writer — good enough to have established a 30-year career after it became my go-to medium over art and illustration (which I'm trying to brush up and catch up on nowadays). 

Right. That's a bit of a back story, but it doesn't answer the question. So here it goes.

Why do you love writing fiction?

More than any other form of writing, it seems that fiction empowers us to open up deeper conversations about life experiences. And, because fiction involves fictional characters, it creates a safe space to talk about those experiences because well-written stories involve us emotionally without requiring a personal expense. Ergo, we may be vested, but we have no skin in the game. 

When fictional characters make decisions in the face of life-defining moments, we can agree with their choices or not, understand their paths or not, and make our own decisions about how we feel or what we might do too. When the story works, it can be a powerful experience.

But hey, why not nonfiction?

As a journalist and sometimes as a writer for the nonprofit sector, it wasn't uncommon for me to write about complex subjects, but the exercise is different. It's grounded in reality, with the story being told belonging to someone else. While these too can lead to powerful experiences, it's often without the ability to explore someone's pain or joy beyond the empathy we may or may not feel for them. 

For example, several years ago, I developed a campaign about pool safety. We shared some stories with local newspapers, but the heaviest lifting was a series of print and radio advertisements. 

What I learned then, as I know now, is that fiction hits different from fact. When people read about real life drownings, they often react with outrage toward whomever left the child unattended — often a flash-in-the-pan emotion. But when they experience it as a fictional story like the one we developed for radio, the award-winning spot just hit differently. 

In the radio commercial, the narrator (a father) tells the story of a little boy who wanted to grow up to be a fireman. The little boy, the father continues, even bought him a fire truck — one that made so much noise (you know the ones) that it became annoying. The father even laughs before his voice cracks, lamenting how he misses that annoying siren now because his son, the want-to-be firefighter, fell in the pool while rescuing a toy and drowned. 

There is no outrage. The listener feels the story as if it's their story, and it sticks because they feel the character's remorse as opposed to judging a neglectful parent. Even then, I was writing fiction.

There are no pool stories inside 50 States: A collection of short short stories, and I seldom, if ever, include a definite stance on any outcome like I did in the pool safety commercials. Often, just like life, there isn't any right answer in the decisions my characters make or how they cope with their decisions. And that's what I love about writing and reading fiction. 

Writing A Book: 50 States by Richard R. Becker

Two years ago, I started writing short short stories — so short that I sometimes called them scraps. And since I didn’t belong to any writer groups, I started sharing them on my Facebook author page. 

It wasn’t the first time short fiction appeared there (or longer stories on this blog, for that matter), but two things changed. It was the first time in my life I started treating my short stories like an assignment, with equal weight to any advertising/marketing deadlines I might have. Second, it was the first time I was committed to publishing fiction with consistency so people could anticipate a new story every week on my author page. 

Experience had already taught me both habits needed to happen if I ever wanted to add fiction writing to my repertoire. These were among the habits I adopted to become a freelance writer (which quickly evolved into Copywrite, Ink.), several publications (Key News * Las Vegas, and Liquid [Hip], and even this blog (which took off in 2007 when I made it daily). You have to be in it to win it.

Immersion is a critical key to creativity.

What I didn’t expect was how immersion opened up inspiration. After sharing the first few stories, I fell into a creative rhythm, and an overarching idea began to crystalize. 

I was inspired to write about seemingly random events happening or having had happened to different people in different places — stories that could stand on their own but were also left open to be continued in unexpected ways or possibly intersect with one another. I felt so strongly about this concept that I adopted some guidelines: each story would be set in a different state, and each would touch on a different psychological state as people face or cope with different life-defining events.

Once I formalized this idea, I applied lessons learned from two friends and colleagues to keep me going. One told me to always work for myself first. The other provided a proof of concept to be disciplined. One of his projects, The Daily Monster, was an exercise in illustrating a new monster every day, no matter what. 

I knew I couldn’t write a daily story, but I did feel confident I could write one a week. For a while, I was so motivated by the immersion of writing that I would sometimes write two in a week, scheduling the additional story in advance. It was a good thing I did too. Like many creatives, last year was very disruptive to the process. Having a few scheduled in advance kept me on track when I needed an extra week for some. 

The outcome was better than I could have ever imagined. 

50 States: A Collection of Short Short Stories was an exciting project because I didn’t always know where each story might come from or go. Most often, I would work on three story concepts simultaneously, mulling over the details until one of them solidified. Other times, the story might grow out of my research. It was really important to ground even the most speculative stories to a time or place.

For instance, I knew the story I wanted to tell about two runways meeting at a Greyhound bus station in Tennessee, but I didn’t know much about the Jackson transportation system, circa 1977. Research is essential for set dressings. 

Conversely, that story about a middle-aged man and a young basketball player in Chicago isn’t as reliant on location. I could have set this story in almost any midwestern urban center, and it would have worked. However, I thought name-dropping the short-lived Chicago Zephyrs lent a nice touch for a story taking place in 1963. 

The third story I call out on the back of the book's cover didn’t have to be tied to Oregon either. But once I decided Oregon could become a home for it, I researched wildfires in Oregon so I could use it as a reference for the fictional one in the story. Now, I couldn’t imagine this modern story playing out anyplace else. It belongs there.

Intersecting stories and paths that cross, divide, and double back. 

To keep track of what states were complete, I used to color in the state shape on a line art map every time I finished a story. I also added them to a project table list. The table includes: the title of the story, the state, the date it takes place, the word count of the first draft, the date of origination, and how many actions (likes, shares, etc.) were taken on the story once I posted it to Facebook. While it didn’t influence my writing, it was nice to see how some stories resonated relative to the number of people on the page. 

I have yet another document I’m using to track every character too. Knowing some details at a glance will help me later as every character could appear, connect with, or intersect with other characters or stories in the future. Some stories already have connections in 50 States, but it’s not apparent.

I did publish a longer short story (3,600 words) on Facebook about the Diamond family from the story Shine On You Crazy Diamond that appears in 50 States. It's called The Shut Out. Unfortunately, the story was removed from Facebook when it disabled a blog-like feature called notes. The feature never really took off, but I loved it and shared several longer stories there — some of which are being slated for another project. 

However, I am sharing some new short short stories on Facebook. This new project, 50 Threads, has obvious connections to the stories in 50 States. The very first short I shared was called The Beige Door. It is a direct continuation of the story The Blue Door, which can be found in 50 States. 

Keeping tabs on various projects and what’s next. 

My company, Copywrite, Ink., partnered with Blurb on the production and distribution of the project. Anyone interested in the book can track the 50 States by Richard R. Becker page as the book is added bookstores and booksellers. I’ll also post links to booksellers on the 50 States page hosted by my company Copywrite, Ink. 

I am publishing a newsletter with exclusive “first look” content and other news. The next newsletter is out in October 2021. I am also answering questions on Goodreads. I will no longer be sharing 'first look' content on my Facebook author page, but I will post announcements there (as well as on Twitter, LinkedIn, and other social networks) so you know where to find it. 

Bookmarking this blog wouldn’t be a bad idea either. I see this space as in transition, with a little more focus on life, fiction, and writing. Who knows? We’ll see. Good night and good luck.

Chasing Names, Part 1: My First Family Mystery

"I would have answered you sooner, but your last name confused me," she told me the first time we talked on the phone. "I couldn't see how we were related."


Meeting my Aunt Roxanne for the first time marked the end of an enduring mystery for me, one that I had actively tried to solve over two decades ago. At the onset, I had more misinformation than anything concrete, trying to chase down a presumed grandfather who was a "British soldier of Irish-Spanish descent, serving in World War II."


Separating Myth From Mystery


The British soldier myth was an upgrade from the original story. My father, who died at 19 in a car accident, was described as a "dark German." The story changed for me about the same time it changed for my father. We were both about 14 years old when we learned the truth. His father wasn't his father. My grandfather wasn't my grandfather.

My step-grandfather's name was placed on my father's birth certificate in Germany as a matter of convenience. When she was two months pregnant, he met my grandmother and loved her enough to propose and claim the child as his own anyway.

Since I was estranged from my father's family during my teens, it took another 15 years before I learned that my second set of clues was also a myth. I reconnected with my grandmother after my son's birth, and she gave me a new set of fuzzy facts.


My grandfather, she told me, was not a British soldier. He was an American soldier she met during the Berlin Blockade. She couldn't recall his name but remembered he would get in fights because he looked Mexican. His name may have been Oscar, she said, but he didn't go by that.


DNA tests were just emerging at the time, but I decided to try one. The first one, DNA Tribes, helped refine my search. My grandfather was less Mexican and more Native American, including genes exclusive to the Quechua tribe (part of the Inca empire). A significant number of potential family members could be found in Texas.


While DNA Tribes provided some detailed findings, it had few members, so I expanded my search with 23 and Me (a MyHeritage partner at the time) and ancestry.com.

Putting DNA Tests To Work

There are plenty of stories about lucky people. They find people right away. I wasn't one of those. My plan was built on meticulous research. I searched the databases for all Texans named Oscar, who served in the armed forces. I would then cross check them (and any brothers) with those who served in the armed forces between 1948-1949 and people who were potential DNA matches. 


Unfortunately, not all people with close DNA matches build their family trees on these sites. So, I often looked up weaker DNA matches with more robust family trees and searched for any reference to one of the Oscars I had found. I must have searched through hundreds of family trees, looking for my needle in a haystack of needles.


When I felt like I was narrowing in on a close match, I would send out in-service messages to the people managing those family trees. And, given there was a chance my biological grandfather did not know about my father's birth, I was as sensitive as possible.


We have such a good DNA match, I was hoping you might be willing to share some family history with me. My grandfather was an American soldier who served in Berlin abt. 1948-1949. He may not have even known he had a son. Do you have any relatives who this might be? I would love to know, and finally find the missing link.


On genealogy sites, patience can be a virtue. It's not uncommon for inquiries to go unanswered for years if they are ever answered. Some sent messages are still sitting in the inboxes of people who never revisited the site, couldn't reconcile my acquired German name with their surname or weren't interested in verifying an illicit relationship.


Making Sense Of Family Ties


Sometimes it takes more than your own ability to connect all the dots. While I had written and corresponded with several people, I had to write my most promising DNA match twice. The first time she didn't respond. The second time took six months.

She decided to respond because one of her daughters had tried another service, and my name appeared again. She reread my message, then we started writing, texting, and then talking to each other on the phone. We knew there was a connection, but we weren't sure where.


All five Navejar brothers had served in the armed forces. She had to make several phone calls to find out which brother was stationed in Germany at the time. It wasn't the brother named Oscar. It was Baldemar, who always went by Sonny, and he happened to be her father.


Roxanne taught me about the father my father never knew. And while he had not raised her, she knew him, who he was, and was connected to the Navejar family. They were early Texans, Native Americans, and descendants of the Quechua. They inspired my sketchbook project at The Brooklyn Art Library.

She taught me something else, too: how to welcome lost family members into your own. It was a lesson that would come in handy twice more in the year that followed —two stories that I'll share in part two. The lesson was simple enough. New family connections always start with an open mind, empathy, and a big heart.

"I want you to know you will always be part of my family," she told us. And my Aunt Roxanne will always be part of ours. Good night and good luck.

Writing: An Open Letter To Governor Sisolak Regarding COVID-19

Dear Governor Sisolak,

As the parent of a softball player, the story of Jo’VInni “Jo” Smith really hit me today. Jo Smith was a young softball player who died from stress issues related to COVID-19 in California. She committed suicide.

Her story truly underscores the mental health issues taking hold in our communities as everybody handles isolation differently. It’s also the reason I decided to write to you today.

I appreciate the stay-at-home order and several things you are doing in the face of the coronavirus, including the COVID-19 Task Force, BattleBorn Medical Corps, and request for the National Guard to assist our state with logistics. I have even promoted these initiatives and plan to lend more support in those areas. So yes, I understand the seriousness of the situation and can appreciate, if not imagine, the challenges you face as Governor.

However, the time for our state to have a plan for recovery based on clearly defined parameters is NOW if for no other reason than to give people hope. Yes, I know there are many variables, but an “if this, then that” plan could provide people with a light at the end of this tunnel, which is so badly needed for so many Nevadans, especially those with mental health issues.

I also believe this plan should be created before any budget cuts as it could provide insight into possible revenue projections before they are necessary, especially with the consideration of something like a state lottery. In addition, a plan before cuts would allow Nevadans a breath between what has been a constant barrage of negative "not-good-enough" announcements.

Once the plan is announced and the defined parameters are met, the state could begin to loosen the stay-at-home order, in stages, for manufacturing, limited store visits beyond groceries, limited seating in restaurants, etc. This creates a positive, forward motion that people can get behind and will alleviate some stress and mental health issues.

Likewise, in the interim, I think talking more about how well Nevadans are doing great would be more effective than highlighting only the ones breaking the order with threats of increased punishing restrictions, which only amplifies the growing tension and mental stress of the crisis. Evidence suggests Nevadans are following the order better than most states. I respectfully encourage you to talk about what we are doing well, as most people are staying home for Nevada.

Please also know, while I appear critical of your performance during the crisis, my criticism of your performance (or the performance of any previous Governor for that matter) has never outweighed my love for Nevada. This has been my home since the 1970s, and I have served in many public and private leadership positions within our state for more than 30 years, in addition to teaching and building a small business.

That said, please do take care, keeping in mind that the best messages transform “you” and “them” into “we” for Nevada. Nobody wants to see people die of COVID-19 in Nevada, but neither do we want to see children commit suicide because of stress related to COVID-19.

Please do the right thing. I know you will.

 Sincerely,
 Richard Becker

Rekindling Creativity: Live, Learn, Leap

When automaton drives marketing, creativity can take a back seat. There is only one problem with it. A world run by algorithms is impossibly predictable. You look up product support, and you're subjected to a series of advertisements for a product you already own; only it’s broken. 

Predictably isn’t only inherent in computer programming. It becomes part of our daily routines. We wake up, get ready, exercise, have coffee, take breakfast, commute to work, check email, work on priorities, have a meeting, eat lunch, take another meeting, wrap up deadlines, transport kids, have dinner, watch television, go to bed, and then do the whole thing all over. 

Sure, everybody’s routine is probably a little different, but you get the point. You have a routine, and the better it goes, the more likely you feel content. The price you pay is not being present. 

The less your present, the more predictable our reactions when exposed to programming. The busier we are reacting to stimulus and situations or policies and politics, the less likely we are to take actions that move our lives forward. Sure, routines can be useful but they can also cause paralysis — in both marketing and our daily lives. The only problem is that some people grow so accustomed to contentment, they forget how to rewrite an increasingly scripted world.

Live. 

The first step toward rekindling creativity is to live with intention. Much like animals, people are hardwired to filter out unimportant details. Since we are bombarded by neural input, our brains tend to ignore the expected and notice the unexpected. This is the very reason even fitness trainers tell people to keep your fitness routine fresh. 

Life is exactly like that. You have to keep changing the stimulus so your brain doesn't slip in and become stuck in sameness. Make time for weekend retreats, walk somewhere new, drive a different route, skip your daily routine once a week (e.g. don't open email until noon or try a no-meeting Monday, have lunch with an old friend, perform a random act of kindness, or flip a coin to make some choices. You get the point. Do something different. 

Learn. 

I have always been a lifelong learner. I read books. I go to events. I listen to speakers. I take online courses. My lists for inspiration are endless. You don't have to start with any of them. But I did want to share that it was through one of the venues that I discovered the genius of David Lynch. 

He ties living and learning together perfectly. His concepts of capturing ideas literarily changed my life. The two-and-a-half minutes I'm sharing here will introduce you to a sliver of his understanding of consciousness. I'm calling out the time for a reason. Most people tell me that time famine is the number one reason to avoid learning. You have to find the time. I listen to audiobooks when I drive anywhere. Most Ted talks are only 18 minutes long. The very notion that you cannot afford to invest five or 20 minutes to improve yourself should be an indication that you probably need to more than anyone. 

Leap. 

Creativity isn't only about input. It's about output. In fact, the root meaning of the word “creativity” is “to grow.” To truly benefit from creativity, you have to turn new and imaginative ideas into reality. The idea doesn't only apply to arts or marketing. It applies to education. It applies to science. It applies to IT. It applies to business. It applies to finding a sense of purpose in our lives. 

One of the recent changes I've made in my life is to finally set time aside to work on writing fiction. I originally set a goal of writing one short-short (a story of 50 to 1,500 words) once a week and a short story (3,500 words or more) once a month. The leap to do so came from author Joyce Carol Oats whose class reminded me that feedback helps fuel writers. Right now, I share these stories at byRichBecker on Facebook. 

More importantly, the infusion of creativity in my life has awakened a passion to produce great things. While I've always enjoyed being on the leading edge in my field, writing fiction has elevated my work in advertising and marketing. It's made me more open in observations and making connections within the world. It's increased my sense of purpose and added excitement in everything I do.

And the reason I want to share this has very little to do with me and everything to do with providing some evidence for you. If you really are looking to rekindle your creativity, start by turning off those distractions and making small changes in your life, learning more about those things that interest you, and then transforming the ideas that start to come your way into action. Give a try. Try it for two weeks (or a month). And if you wouldn't mind, drop me a note and tell me how it worked out for you. I'd really love to know.

Sharing Shorts: Screen Door

Screen Door
by Richard Becker

Every summer we migrated north with the birds, flocking to a family lake cottage deep in the woods. My Grandfather built most of it: thick logs fashioned into a home and painted green; big bay windows on the west side to catch the reflection of the sun off the waves; a screen door on the east with a squeak that said welcome home.

It was a retreat where family members gathered to remember some things and forget others, caught up in all the charm and challenge of living the moment. Who would win at penny-ante poker? Who would pull in the biggest fish? Who was old enough to claim their right of passage by plunging into the water and swimming a mile to the other side of the lake? Who would lose their marshmallows in the bonfire made from an old boat that had outlived its purpose?

It was a place with backwood rules. Flush for two but not for one. Flip the bail closed on the spinning reel before the lure touches the water. Never buy bait because it’s easy enough to dig up nightcrawlers in the morning or net minnows in the early afternoon. Expect to clean what you catch unless it’s a Muskie. Never let a screen door slam, and expect someone to call after you if you do. “Don’t let the screen door slam.”

The last time I shut it quietly behind me, my Grandfather was half the man I remembered. Lymphoma had stolen most of him. We didn’t take the boat out or pick wild berries or climb the watchtower. There were no accidents on my uncle’s radio to run to or trails to mark or gardens to tend. We settled on telling each other a few good stories before he lifted a broom above his head for exercise.

It was the last time I ever saw him, and the last time I ever walked through the front door again. The cottage was sold by his second wife a few years later, compounding everyone’s sense of loss with reoccurring emptiness that comes around every summer. Looking back, I should have slammed it.

***

Screen Door was not so much a short as it was a scrap — the first draft of a story that eventually made it into 50 States. For more first look shorts, scraps, and classes, follow my page byRichardBecker on Facebook or, better yet, subscribe to my quarterly newsletter. Goodnight and good luck.