As a writer, you just want to write. You don’t want to have to worry about jumping through the fiery hoops of red tape to get your story published, you just want to write and share the story. Unlike writers a decade ago, today, thanks to the miracle of digital connectivity, we don’t have to send our work to publishing houses in hopes that some poor soul inundated with pallets of manuscripts from first-time authors actually reads our story and then approves it…
I was born and raised in NE Florida, just south of Jacksonville near St. Augustine. The best days of the first half of my life happened there. When I was 13, my family moved west, out of state. It’s not an easy transition, removing a teenager from the fertile soil of their childhood. I have since moved back to Florida many times. And left many times. Mostly for opportunity. Because Florida is in my blood, I’d move back there tomorrow…
I’ve decided that I hate the whole ‘rating’ system for books. Yes, it feels good to get positive feedback from people, but I didn’t write Minor King so that it could be rated. I wrote it to A) share a story, and B) prove to myself I could write long-form (and at 196 pages, even that’s a bit of a stretch). I did not write it to “become” a writer, or make money, or get on a speaking circuit, or…
The following story is from the mind of my 13-year-old daughter, Agatha Rose. She wrote it on her phone after dinner on Saturday night during commercials of the Panthers game. Granted, I edited it for her, but the concept was all hers. The force is strong with this one. *** “’Come back!’ the voice called out as I ran as fast as I could down the darkening path. It was just a normal day after school when I decided…
The following snippet is from a chapter titled Angels and Devils in my upcoming book Minor King. In it, the protagonist Jim Christianson is having a conversation with his 10-year-old daughter, Abigail. You can order Minor King by clicking here. *** “Daddy?” she said. “Yes, sweetie?” “Is the devil scary-looking?” she asked. “No,” I said without hesitation. I’d given this a lot of thought over the years. Early on in sobriety, the only way I could understand what was going on inside of…
Last week a friend called and asked me to coffee. He insisted on meeting that afternoon. “I think I’m going to leave.” he said. “Just pack a small bag and move away.” “What do you mean, leave?” I asked, genuinely confused. Across from me sat a man in his forties with everything you could want in a life. A beautiful family. A good job. A house in a nice neighborhood. Insurance. “That’s what men at my age do when their dreams…
