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.

Winning Awards: 50 States Earns Its Fourth Honor

A few weeks ago, 50 States was honored with a 2023 Book Excellence Award. Out of thousands of books entered in this competition, 50 States was selected for its high-quality writing, design, and overall market appeal in the category of short stories. You can find its listing here. 

This isn't the first award 50 States has earned. It won first place for short stories in the Spring 2022 BookFest Awards; first place in the ABR Book Excellence Award for literary fiction, psychological thriller, and short stories; and was named a finalist in the IAN Book Of The Year Awards. 

For me, the honor isn't one of achievement as much as real affirmation. Debut authors tend to read all the reviews. Some are flattering. Some, not so much. And although we all know the score — even the best literary works in history have their 1-star critics — it's nice to see the work resonated with someone, somewhere. And in this case, it's nice to know that the first award wasn't a fluke or happy accident. Lightning might strike twice, but not four times. 

Writing 50 States 

When I first set out to write 50 States, it was never about winning awards. It was a two-year project to teach myself how to write for myself instead of everybody else — something I've done for more than 30 years (and still do today). As a teaching tool, 50 States has been invaluable to me — both in writing the stories and in marketing what most book publishers will tell you is a hard sell. 

Right. A collection of multi-genre short stories isn't on anybody's reading list (until it is). Fortunately, I've found readers anyway — with more than 2,000 copies sold to date (and counting). It's the kind of sales that propels you to push forward and finish work on your debut novel, especially when you are only a few months away — the editing complete, blurb written, and book cover finalized.

Writing a novel is something I would have never been able to do without 50 States and its brisk 10-story companion, Ten Threads. This is doubly true because one of the stories in Ten Threads was the springboard for it, just as 50 States will be the springboard for most, if not all, of my subsequent novels.

Plainly stated, the stories that make up 50 States might stand alone, but there is more to share about each of them. I think about them all the time. What will happen to the Idaho farmer who aches for absolution after a tragedy and is given one more chance at redemption? What about Liam Olsen? Will he ever know what is going on at the nightmarish government biohazard area in Utah he and his girlfriend stumbled into? Do my Maine characters, Billy and Jessica, ever find common ground after spending several years apart in two different worlds, with him never leaving home but her living in New York? Or, more importantly: When, where, or how deeply will all the stories inside 50 States interconnect?

They will, eventually. And it all starts with 50 States.

Finding 50 States

50 States was released by Copywrite, Ink. in January 2022, when it broke into the top 100 bestsellers for literary fiction short stories on Amazon for three consecutive months. It has found itself there, on and off, several times, even breaking into the top ten on one occasion. 

As a collection, it's perfect for readers with fifteen minutes or so to read a single story. A few have told me they like to read a few stories from 50 States when they're between novels. It's a good idea, given that so many stories qualify as dark literary fiction, regardless of genre.

You can still find 50 States anywhere books are sold. Ten Threads is a Kindle exclusive. Most sales seem to happen on Amazon, but you can order a copy from Barnes & Noble, Books A Million, or elsewhere. There are even several indie bookstores that have signed copies in stock. I've given them shoutouts here and on Facebook. The audiobook edition can be found on Audible and iTunes. It's read by Emmy-wining narrator Brian Callanan.

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. 

Breaking 1,000: 50 States, One Year Later

When 50 States was published last year, I didn't have the highest expectations. It's not that I didn't believe in the work. I did and do. But I'm also a realist who read some articles: self-published authors likely sell around 250 books or less; short story collections by small publishers sell between 300 and 2,000, about 1,000 for short story collections; and traditionally published authors sell around 3,000, a fraction of that for short story collections. All of these averages, by the way, are not considered spectacular. 

Even more discouraging, the averages cited above are not one-year sales. These averages are based on the lifetime of the book — which some claim can be as short as six months, which is why some try to put out a new title every six months. 

Right. Don't quit your day job. 

Yes, there are exceptions. We've all heard stories of breakout debuts and bidding wars. But the general rule of thumb for authors is to temper expectations. Even Malcolm Gladwell's Tipping Point didn't find its tipping point until its third year (so much for that six-month lifetime theory). He just kept promoting it and promoting it and promoting it until he found an audience. 

That's how I became a writer too. 

I became a freelance writer in 1991 during a recession when nobody could hire a writer, but everybody had writing work. I didn't make enough money to pay the bills for the first two years writing advertising copy and articles, so I worked part-time matching colors in a paint store. 

I specifically worked in a paint store 40 hours a week, Friday through Monday, so I could dedicate Tuesday through Thursday to establishing a career that became a company. It worked, but it took two years before I could comfortably cut the apron strings and pass on an offer to become an assistant manager mixing paint.

It wasn't until the third year that I had to hire more talent to help, the fifth year to incorporate, and the eighth before we expanded into publishing with more than 40 creatives working part time, full time, or stringing for Copywrite, Ink. It was a big wave, working on more than 1,000 accounts from startups to Fortune 500 companies. Then there came the point when I woke up from the 100-hour work weeks and realized I was managing (and teaching and serving my community) more than I was writing. 

So, I sold some stuff and scaled way back. Nowadays, I only work with select clients and have a blast doing it.

How did I do it? Like anything. 

You build a successful commercial writing career like you do any business: one job at a time. And knowing this, I always assumed you build a readership much the same way: one book at a time. 

Never mind the setbacks or heartbreaks. Keep moving forward and find the people who appreciate the work. The successes will come in time. As long as you've written a decent book (or built a great product or created a great service), some measures of success will likely come back to you directly proportionate to the time and/or money you invest in it. At least I like to think so. It's the model I'm using now. 

50 States Breaks 1,000. Ten Threads hits 500. 

Selling 1,000 copies of 50 States in the first year and 500 copies of Ten Threads (Kindle exclusive) in two months seems like a solid baseline for a debut novel (and more short stories) that I intend to see published next year. It's on par with or better than traditional publishers, especially as I took in the learning curve.

I might also mention that 50 States didn't truly hit its stride until five or six months after publication. It became a Top 100 bestseller for three consecutive months in January of this year, not last year when I published it. It still does for a day or two, from time to time, demonstrating it has a lot of life left. And no, neither book has a 99 cents or $2.99 price point, although I have put them on sale occasionally. 

Aside from sales, 50 States and Ten Threads have retained solid rankings and reviews. 50 States is 4.2 on Amazon and 4.3 on Goodreads. Ten Threads is rated 4.4 on Amazon and 4.5 on Goodreads. 

50 States also won two awards: first place for short stories in the Spring 2022 BookFest Awards and first place for literary fiction, psychological thrillers, and short stories in the ABR Book Excellence Awards. InD’tale Magazine and OnlineBookClub.org also gave it top marks, giving it a "Crowned Heart" award and 4-star review, respectively.

Overall, both releases are beating the averages and have plenty of life left with a couple selling every day on slow days and bursts of sales on others. It reminds me that great things take about two years. I have one more to go.

Let's end with a few lessons learned. 

I wouldn't have done it differently because a few life circumstances dictated my direction on the front end. However, here are six lessons learned that I'm happy to pass along. 

• The best 'author' marketers aren't necessarily the best 'book' marketers. The publishing industry is loaded with pariahs that spend all their time marketing to authors and very little time selling the books, which is what they promise authors they will do. I won't out anyone here, but several top book marketing brands produced some of my lowest price points. 

•  The best 'book' marketers aren't cheap either. On the opposite end of the spectrum, authors are pitched by plenty of people who promise hundreds of thousands of impressions for ten or twenty bucks. I gave a few a shot as part of my learning curve. Lesson learned. Stick with mid-level, relatively affordable book marketers for the best price. Other than my own hustle, mid-level marketers produced my best results. 

• Never pay for newswire distribution with major news affiliations. On two occasions, I was sold on the idea that book marketers or 'publicists' had magazine connections when all they really did was put a news release out on a newswire. If you're an author thinking about paying someone to do this, give me a call. I can write a better release for you and put it on the wire for you at a better price point. Egad. 

• Kindle Unlimited (KU) is a double-edged sword. On one hand, it opens up a new audience. Conversely, some people who download your book might not be in your audience. If they post their lackluster review first, it can depress your initial sales. When this happened to Ten Threads, I looked up their other reviews and discovered my stories were well outside what they normally read. KU also means you receive a fraction of a penny per page, which doesn't come close to the actual sale price. It still has a place, so use KU sparingly for exposure but not on every title. 

• Having worked with three primary distributors, I can safely say there is one route to take unless you plan to publish a children's book. Publishing with Ingram Spark and Amazon simultaneously will produce the best results. Simply put, Ingram Spark is your best bet to put quality books into bookstores, but expect the lion's share of your sales to come from Amazon. Maybe one day that will change in a creator economy, but it's probably a safe bet for the next two years or so. 

• Last but not least, have as much patience as possible. Take some time to get advanced reader copies out to people before your release in exchange for feedback and a review before release. Along with that, put the presale date well ahead of your release. Early reviews will help book sales (even if I admit that I don't have the patience to wait). On the flip side, don't believe anyone who tells you the first month is critical or you will fail. It's important, sure, but you can still break the bestsellers list weeks or months or years after release. Books don't really have lifespans in my opinion, unless a publisher or author abandons them.

Hope these tips prove useful for future authors. And, equally important, if you were one of the thousands of people who bought 50 States or Ten Threads — thank you so very much! Here's to more books ahead! 

Exploring Imagination: The Creativity Equation

This one study continues to surface in articles, and it always stops me in my tracks. It claims a creativity crisis in America, largely attributed to the pursuit of winning formulas over future breakthroughs.

The crisis began, they say, as American education put creative thinking on the back burner in favor of measurable rote memorization in the 1990s. Americans wanted to test better than other people at the expense of innovation — ergo, finding answers that don't exist on an answer key. The outcome has been a continual decline in education and creativity. And now we see it in other places, too — everything from business automation to book and film reboots. Almost everything seems stuck on rinse and repeat. 

Ironically, decades ago, it was our creativity and not our test scores that used to set America apart. In fact, Nobel Prize winner Richard Feynman warned us away from the rote memorization route. He suggested thinking things through instead of rehashing the past. But that's why he won a Nobel Prize. Thinking.

So what's the real problem? We're so confused about creativity nowadays that more and more people harbor an aversion to creativity. Even people who are attempting to ignite creativity in the classrooms are accidentally trying to make it an off-the-shelf commodity by denying the concept of creative genius.

The creativity equation. 

Like most things, answers to complex problems are somewhere in the middle, let's say between Project Zero, which operates on the belief that anybody can be creative, and the polar opposite, which believes relatively few individuals are born with it. More than likely, we're all born with a capacity to be creative (although some with a greater capacity than others) until society crushes our natural instinct for it. 

But let's set that debate aside and look at what's new in neuroscience. Some researchers studying our brains have found that creativity is linked to two different semantic memory processes: clustering, which is related to divergent thinking; and switching, which is related to combing distant associations between concepts. 

In short, aside from magic, our capacity for creativity is tied to how we develop associations between things and our ability to draw upon the broadest possible network of associations to connect and combine those ideas and concepts that are distant (unrelated stuff that fits together without being forced).

There is more to it, no doubt, but let's go with this idea to build a real blueprint. There are five steps in supercharging creativity. And while anybody can follow it, those who start young have even more time to get it right (and with less concern for society's insistence on conformity). 

Expansion. The more we learn and experience will increase our capacity for creativity. There isn't any other way to expand our conscious and subconscious database of distant ideas and concepts if we are not continually looking beyond our comfort zones. Dreams count too. 

Immersion. More uninterrupted time invested in creative pursuits through meditation, reflection, or experience will provide more time to explore the furthest reaches of our conscious and subconscious. We need to take the road less traveled and engage our alpha frequency. 

Evaluation. Great ideas seldom follow pre-existing models so it's better to measure them based on their feasibility, flexibility, and originality. Very often, original ideas are not as compelling as their next iteration — something that's been mulled over more than a minute. 

Execution. Creative ideas have to be actionable.  So, in addition to placing creativity at the forefront, we have to develop a secondary skill set to share it — writing, drawing, painting, producing, choreographing, or even implementing a system inside an organization. This is why creativity is hard work.

Vacation. Sometimes our minds need a break. The best breaks tend to be spending time in nature, improving our creative spaces, taking in some new entertainment, or otherwise busting up a routine so we can come back to the project with fresh eyes. And if you are one of those people who are guilty doing it, just remember that vacations still stimulate the expansion of our database.

That's all there is to it, sort of. There is magic that David Lynch likes to talk about (and I love to listen to him talk about it). There is the conversation about whether ideas come from one, some, or many. And there is plenty more we can learn about the mind. That's all fine. We'll save it for another time.

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.