If you’ve read the novella Lake of the Falls (and if you haven’t, what possible excuse could you have?), you know that the falls at Lake of the Falls County Park in Mercer, Wisconsin play an important role in the story. In the book, Kevin and his father, and later, Kevin and Annie, spend time at the falls where they find clarity to the issues they are struggling with in their lives (I hope that wasn’t too much of a spoiler).
In September, I had the opportunity to go up to Mercer to explore one of my favorite places in the world, and spend some time at the falls. It didn’t disappoint.
The day I visited was a little overcast as I turned off Highway 51 onto County FF toward the park. I drove past Crystal Lake where Kevin grew up, and down the twisty, turning road lined with tall, thin pines. The park was quiet, and I was the only person at the falls. I walked along the bank and took a few photos. The leaves had not changed colors as much as I had hoped. I was told they were a couple of weeks behind schedule due to a bit of a drought over the preceding few months. Even so, the place was spectacular.
I went up on the snowmobile bridge and stood looking over the falls and downstream at the Turtle River, just as Kevin did in the book. The mixture of the crisp fall air, the smell of nature, and the sound of the falls was a feast for the senses. Being there transported me back to when I was a kid, when we used to hang out at the park. It was a much different place then, much more rustic. But the feelings were the same. As I stood near the falling water, I felt a sense of peace and contentment, even as my soul was energized. The falls are a very special place.
While I was in town, I learned that the cabin on Crystal Lake I based Kevin’s cabin on in the book is for sale. If you’d like to start a GoFund me campaign to raise the funds needed to buy the cabin for me, I will not stand in your way. In return, I will spend my summers in the cabin, and will thoroughly enjoy my time at the lake. If you could raise about $250,000, that should be enough to buy the cabin and pay closing costs. Thanks in advance. 😉
Just what the world needs, another political post. I usually don’t talk about politics on social media or on this blog. I have plenty of my own opinions, but I’ve never felt the need to convince others that I’m right. So I’ve kept my thoughts to myself throughout the election. Now that the votes are in, I’d like to share a few things I have on my mind.
Let’s start with President-elect Donald Trump (I never thought I’d type those words in the same sentence). Donald Trump is not my cup of tea. To me, he is a lying, narcissistic, misogynistic, racist, bloviating self-promoter. His rhetoric is often hateful, ill-considered, and unnecessarily provocative. I’ve never felt like his candidacy had anything to do with making America great again. Instead, I felt he was out for himself. This is not the kind of person I want sitting in the Oval Office.
Having said that, unlike the Clinton camp, I’ve never considered his supporters to be hateful, racist, sexist, misogynistic people. I know a lot of Trump supporters, and none of them meet this definition. They are good, decent people who feel abandoned by the government and the career politicians who run it. They’re frustrated that they have to work harder and harder just to keep the status quo, while Wall Street bankers, who nearly bankrupted our nation, take more and more of the economic pie.
These Trump supporters are people who have followed the rules only to be left behind by those that have thumbed their noses at those very same rules. They were (and are) frustrated, and they looked to anyone who would stand up for them and be their voice. Granted, Donald Trump seemed like an odd savior for the working class, but unlike Hillary Clinton, he reached out to them and offered them hope.
Hillary Clinton and her camp never understood that Donald Trump supporters were not simply uneducated morons. Hillary showed exactly what she thought of those who didn’t support her when she called Trump supporters “a basket of deplorables.” She further marginalized these already disenfranchised voters who were simply looking for someone—anyone—to recognize their concerns. This was a huge tactical error because it not only strengthened the resolve of those already supporting Trump, but it showed the elitism of her candidacy, and drove undecideds into Donald Trump’s waiting arms.
In some ways, the 2016 election was a flip-flop of roles for the Democratic and Republican parties. Unlike past elections, Hillary Clinton, the Democrat, was the war hawk candidate who wanted the tentacles of our democracy reaching out to every country and every regime throughout the world. She was inextricably tied in with Wall Street, and seemed to care more for their welfare than the welfare of the folks on Main Street.
Donald Trump, the Republican, by contrast, called for more protectionist trade policies, less military intervention, and a focus on “America first.” Trump’s platform, as ill-defined as it was, was a siren song to voters who felt ignored and alienated. He was an imperfect messenger, but at least he was saying some of the right words.
What Donald Trump talked about mattered to the working class at a time when the Democratic candidate seemed to be more concerned with soliciting donations to the Clinton Foundation from foreign dignitaries, and giving high-priced secret speeches to corporations and Wall Street high rollers. We looked away for a moment and the Democratic party became bedfellows with big business and moneyed interests, while Republicans nominated a candidate that at least appeared to be a populist. When did the world turn upside down?
Just as I have many friends who are Trump supporters, I also have many who supported Hillary Clinton. Even still today, the morning after the election, they are treating Trump voters as evil and hateful. They are continuing the claim that these Trump voters are all racist, sexist, misogynistic dopes who aren’t smart enough to look out for their own best interests. They have refused to look below the surface to see the actual people who supported Trump and understand their legitimate concerns. It was arrogance, pure and simple, and it ultimately cost Hillary Clinton the election.
At the same time Clinton supporters vilified Trump, they canonized their candidate, ignoring her warhawkishness, ignoring her ties to Wall Street, ignoring the role she played in her email scandal and the questions surrounding the Clinton Foundation. Donald Trump was a clearly flawed candidate who almost daily reminded us why he was uniquely unqualified to be president. But criticizing his shortcomings while completely ignoring Hillary’s only served to drive potential supporters away. They didn’t want to take part in the besainting of Hillary or further the Clinton political dynasty.
The thing that I will take away from this election is the uncivility of it all. It was discouraging to watch people that I like and respect act with such disdain and intolerance for their friends and neighbors. The candidates were relentless in going after each other, offering little in the way of a vision for the future, instead spending most of the campaign in the gutter, name calling and acting like children. But I honestly thought that the supporters for each candidate would rise above this pettiness and division. I was sorely disappointed.
I’ve also been discouraged by the willingness of people on both sides to share articles from partisan spin websites on social media that clearly contained erroneous information. By doing that, these people proved that they were more concerned with winning an election than they were with being a good citizen and pushing for a better America. These websites—many set up in foreign countries with a clear profit motive—are nothing but propaganda machines designed to create a great deal of heat, but provide absolutely no light. Sometimes they spin an unsubstantiated rumor, magnifying it tenfold. Other times they create and disseminate outrageous, ridiculous lies. Sadly, the people who posted and re-posted these articles did so, not because they thought the information being shared was true or helpful, but because the information in the article agreed with their own beliefs. This “echo chamber” approach to politics is the main reason that we as Americans can’t find common ground, and continue to talk past each other rather than to each other. It is a sad commentary on what political discourse has become in the United States.
I did not support Donald Trump, but I sincerely hope that moving forward, he can be a rational, inspiring leader who runs the country in a much more unifying way than he ran his campaign. He won the election, and he deserves our open-minded support. He also deserves to be vigorously opposed if he decides to follow through on some of the foolish, odious policies he mentioned on the campaign trail.
One final thought: Like so many others, I am fearful of what a Donald Trump presidency will look like. I fear that he will try to turn back the clock on human and civil rights. But I also have great faith in the American people. I have faith that they will hold the president-elect to a high standard and will no longer turn a deaf ear to some of the more hateful things he says. I trust that there will be no mass deportation of illegal immigrants. I trust that Muslims will not be discriminated against or forced to carry special IDs. I trust that we will not turn our backs on our NATO allies. I trust that people of color will not be treated as anything other than full and respected citizens deserving of all of the rights and responsibilities afforded to all other citizens. I trust that the rights gained by the LBGTQ community in recent years will not be threatened or eroded. I trust that our democracy will continue to work and won’t allow one person to have undue power. And more than anything, I trust that our decency—what Lincoln referred to as the “angels of our better nature”—will always triumph over the hate and divisiveness of self-interest and greed. These things are foundational to our life as Americans, and we cannot allow anyone, including Donald Trump, to take us back to a day when fear and hate played a much larger role in our lives.
As Americans, we are a large and diverse people who share certain foundational values that inform and define us. I trust that these values will guide all of us, including our president, in the months and years ahead.
Note: The best postmortem of the 2016 election I’ve read is this piece in The Intercept by Glenn Greenwald. I think Greenwald has it exactly right.
“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” – John Lennon (“Beautiful Boy”)
Hi. It’s Lou. Remember me? I used to be a writer.
When I set up my schedule for the year, I had planned on publishing my novel, Driven, in June. For the first five months of the year I had been cruising along. In January I published the novella, Back on the Road; in February I published the novella collection, Road Stories, and in March I published the digital novella, Promised Land. Then life happened.
First, I moved in April to be closer to my son’s school. In May, I moved my 90 year old father in with me, then a couple of weeks later my divorce became final. A couple of weeks after that I got bronchitis for the first time in my life, then my father wound up in the hospital (We’re both doing fine now. Thanks for asking.) Then there were vacations and car breakdowns and dating and a particularly nasty sinus infection, and…well, you get the picture. A lot of stuff happened, and I used all of it as an excuse not to write.
I find this particularly embarrassing because I’m the person who has preached for some time that the difference between writers and wannabe writers is that writers actually write. Wannabes make excuses. In the last few years, I have not allowed anything to get in the way of my writing. My marriage broke up, I kept writing. I went back to grad school, I kept writing. My mom died, I kept writing. I was determined not to let anything get in the way of my word production.
Then life happened…
I’ve been feeling pretty bad about myself these past few months. I kept making plans to start writing again, but then another excuse would present itself, and I’d stay on the sidelines, letting my half-finished novel gather digital dust. Finally, that changed last week.
I’m not sure what changed, but I forced myself to sit down and work on Driven. In just four days I was able to finish the outline for the book and get ready to put it all together. Life is still happening, but at least for now, I’m continuing to write.
Driven should be out in the next few months. I’m going to keep writing, but there’s Halloween, then Thanksgiving, then Christmas and New Year’s. Life will keep happening, and I’ll do my best to keep writing.
“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.
Today was a very tough day. I woke up to the news that a gunman had opened fire on the Pulse Nightclub in Orlando, my former home. The first report I read indicated that more than twenty people had been killed, but fairly quickly, that number rose to fifty, with fifty-three others injured. What horrible, horrible news.
Throughout the day, I read reports of the shooting, heard calls for a ban on assault rifles, as well as the predictable backlash from those who oppose more restrictive gun laws. It didn’t take long before well-meaning people on both sides of the issue were arguing and calling each other names. Everyone thinks they have the answer to prevent future tragedies, and I have no doubt that everyone wants what’s best for their loved ones and for the country, but the vitriol on both sides saddened and disappointed me.
It would be really easy to look at the situation that is still unfolding in Orlando and get discouraged. I hate what has happened, yet I can’t help but notice the way this tragedy is bringing people together from all over Central Florida, as well as from around the world.
I am struck by the outpouring of love and support expressed by so many people, all prompted by the evil acts of one misguided soul.
I am filled with hope and pride at the way people from all walks of life are taking a stand against the hate that was directed at the LGBTQ community.
I am gratified to read posts on Facebook from Muslims decrying the senseless killings done in the name of Allah, and denouncing the killer’s association with Islam.
My heart is filled to read messages sent by some of my friends who teach at the University of Central Florida in Orlando to make certain that their students are safe.
I am grateful for police and other first responders from Orlando and the surrounding community who went into harm’s way to help the injured and stop the killing.
I am thankful that all of my Orlando friends and family are safe and accounted for.
I was brought to tears to witness thousands of people standing in line in the sweltering Florida heat to donate blood, and I stand in awe of the individuals and business who distributed water and opened bathrooms to those waiting in line.
And finally, I am reassured that every time I have seen hate rise up to consume us, love has rushed in to destroy the hate. It always has, and I am confident it always will.
I know there can be love and beauty in the midst of hate and ugliness. I’ve seen it before, and I saw it today in Orlando. Somehow, we must to find a way to accentuate the love and magnify the beauty. We cannot allow the enemy to win. We must build something good out of this horrendous situation. It’s up to each of us. We can either be weak and hopeless, giving into our fears, or we can be strong and hopeful, knowing that we have the power to create a better world. I choose the latter.
Have you read Promised Land yet? A couple of months ago, I wrote about the story-behind-the-story of Promised Land. You can read it here. If you haven’t read the book yet, here’s chapter one, free of charge. No. No. Put your money away. It really is free. Of course, my hope is that you like what you read, and you go out to buy ten or twenty copies.
The first call came on the night we set up the toll-free number. The phone was in my room because the jack in Daddy’s room wasn’t working. When the phone rang, I jumped out of bed and stared at it for a second. On the second ring, I answered it.
“Mandy Reeves Hotline,” I said, just as I’d been instructed.
“I know where she is,” the voice on the other end said. It was a man’s voice, rough as gravel.
I felt weak and misty-headed. Mama had been missing for two weeks. “Where is she?” I blurted into the phone.
“Not so fast. Is there a reward?”
I turned on the light in my room so I could read the words right off the missing person poster. “The family of Amanda Reeves is offering a one-thousand dollar reward for information leading to the solving of this missing person case.” My Aunt Kay had put up the money for the reward. It was her idea. We didn’t have that kind of money.
“Just a thousand dollars?”
“Where is she?” I asked, trying not to yell.
“I guess a thousand is better than nothing,” he said. “She’s in Egypt, near the pyramids. I saw her in a dream, clear as day.”
I realized I had been holding my breath. When the guy with the gravelly voice said “Egypt,” I sat down hard on the bed. “Who is this?” I asked, trying to command as much authority as my fifteen-year-old voice could muster.
“I don’t want to give my name.”
I was holding a pen, getting ready to write the information into the notebook on the nightstand. “How can we get the reward to you if we don’t know your name?”
“Oh, right,” the man said. Then he went quiet.
“Hello? Are you there?”
“Never mind,” he said. I heard a crackle as the line disconnected.
I hung up the phone. In the notebook I wrote, “Man says Mom is in Egypt by the pyramids. Wouldn’t give his name.” A worthless lead.
The detective Daddy hired, a guy named Billy Hanks, got the toll-free number, 866-Find-Mandy, and told us to write down everything anyone said when they called. He said you never knew what little piece of information might lead us to Mama.
Daddy couldn’t afford to hire a detective, so he cashed in what little retirement he had to get the money. Billy’s ad in the Nashville phonebook said he specialized in “missing person cases.” Daddy gave him a call, and Billy drove out to our place in Christiana. He said the cops didn’t know what they were doing, and it was a good thing we called him. I followed him around the house as Daddy asked him questions, hopeful he’d have the answers we’d need to bring Mama home.
I turned the light out and went back to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I was buzzing, full of adrenaline from the phone call. I thought about the day Mama went missing. She had gone to work that morning at the nursing home. The ladies there said she acted normal all day and then left to go home after her shift. Nothing unusual. No one saw her after that.
I’m a fan of Disney animation. I’ve always been impressed with the artistry of the films. Even so, they pale in comparison to the animated films produced by Pixar. It’s not that the animation is better. Truthfully, I can’t tell the difference. What separates Pixar from Disney is the quality of the storytelling.
Disney’s stories seem to skim the surface. They’re interesting and entertaining, but they’re almost always shallow. Pixar, on the other hand, dives deeper into their storytelling. Their characters are better developed and their plots more complicated, more nuanced, much like our real lives.
This video does a good job of explaining what is different about Pixar’s storytelling technique by focusing on why the story is being told and what greater purpose it serves. After watching it, I now have an even deeper appreciation for the great work being done by Pixar.
This post is a little “inside baseball,” and delves into my writing process. If you don’t like watching the sausage being made, this post may not be for you. On the other hand, if you like sausage manufacturing, read on. (NOTE: This post has nothing to do with making sausage.)
Basically speaking, there are two types of writers: pantsers and plotters. Pantsers write by the seat of their pants (hence, the name). They don’t plan out their story. Instead, they allow it to unfold as they write. Often, you’ll hear writers say they were as surprised as anyone about what happened in a story because they didn’t see the twist coming until they wrote it.
Plotters, on the other hand, plan out their stories. They’ll often start with an outline, and they’ll know the beginning, middle, and end of the story before they start writing.
Until recently, I was a pantser. Everything I’ve published to date has been written by the seat of my pants. I had a vague idea for a story, and I started writing, not knowing where the story was going to end up. I think most literary fiction writers are pantsers. It might have something to do with allowing the muse to direct their writing rather than being too logical and planning things out ahead of time. That’s just a guess, but I think it makes sense.
I attended a conference one time where bestselling thriller writer Jeffrey Deaver was the featured speaker. Deaver explained that his writing process consisted of six months of research, two months of outlining, one month of writing, and one month of revising. In other words, it took Deaver ten months to complete a novel, but only two of those months were spent actually writing. He said that his outline was so detailed that it was almost like a very poorly written first draft. It just needed to be beaten into shape.
I was sitting with mystery writer Don Bruns during Deaver’s presentation, and he said that while he appreciated Deaver’s process, it would never work for him. As a former attorney, Deaver was very analytical and process oriented. Outlining his book before writing it was very natural for him. But for Don, a former musician, being a pantser was much more natural.
For Driven, my upcoming novel, I’ve changed my approach. I’ve turned to outlining for this book, and I have to admit, I like it. It’s taking some getting used to, but it feels right. So far, I’ve written beats for 48 chapters, and I can tell that when it comes time to actually write the book, the writing is going to come fairly quickly and easily (or at least more quickly and easily than my previous books). I’m looking forward to finishing up the outline and getting down to the actual writing.
That’s all the sausage talk I have for today. Stay tuned for my ten-part series on Dieter Roth and the Wurst of Literature.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today 2 get through this thing called life.” –Prince (“Let’s Go Crazy”)
I once saw a video of a pre-show sound check. I’m not sure where it was, and initially, it wasn’t clear who was preparing for a concert. As the band launched into a song, the camera panned across the empty arena, and in the distance was a small man, flamboyantly dressed, strutting toward the stage with an ornamental walking cane. It didn’t take long to realize that this couldn’t be anyone other than Prince.
As he stepped onto the stage, the band still playing, Prince was greeted by a man in an expensive-looking suit who slung a guitar around his dainty neck. He launched into a guitar solo that was as good as anything I’ve heard before or since. He stood in one place, not expending any energy except through the guitar, and then after two or three minutes, satisfied with the sound, he took the guitar from around his neck and tossed it through the air to the man in the suit. Prince then grabbed his cane, and like a peacock, flounced off the stage.
The video was mesmerizing. It captured the magnetic nature of Prince, and showed why he was one of the greatest performers in the world. And keep in mind, this was just the sound check. It paled in comparison to Prince in concert.
I can’t claim to be a huge Prince fan. I liked his early stuff, but really didn’t follow him too closely. He recorded thirty-seven albums (an incredibly prodigious number) in his too short life, but I only owned two, 1999 and Purple Rain. Even so, I had great admiration for his incredible innovation and creativity. In a lot of ways, Prince was a pioneer, and he was an inspiration and an influence to a great number of musicians over the past thirty-five years.
To really see the genius of Prince—and make no mistake, he was a genius—you had to see him in concert. He was a performance savant, able to draw the audience into his performance with a mix of talent and passion that separated him from this contemporaries. His talent was his calling card, but it was his passion that held the audience in his sensuous embrace, leaving them exhausted and satiated when he released them from his grip.
This video from 1983 will give you a feel for the passion that Prince brought to a live performance (and I dare you not to get chocked up):
Then there’s this live performance in Milan in 2010:
NOTE: I was afraid these videos would be removed. Trust me, they were great.
Perhaps the best tribute I’ve read about Prince was written by Bomani Jones. I was worried that I was making too much out of Prince’s prodigious talent and outsize reputation, then I read this from Jones’ article:
There is no fear of hyperbole when remembering Prince. He was the best recording artist of his time, the most versatile, more influential to a broader array of artists and genres than anyone. As long as it’s not a horn, he might have been the best at playing any basic pop instrument. He was a singular tour de force, using each of his albums to defy silly record-store categories. He could be as energetic and defiant as James Brown, as traditionally masculine as Teddy Pendergrass, as unbounded as David Bowie, as vulnerable as Marvin Gaye, as insightful as Paul Simon and as electric as Michael Jackson. At the same damn time.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have worried. As Jones points out, Prince wasn’t just the best parts of so many of our greatest music superstars, he was also admired, respected and appreciated by many of these stars. Even among rock music royalty, Prince was held in high regard. A reporter once asked Eric Clapton what is was like to be the world’s greatest guitarist. Clapton replied, “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Prince.” High praise indeed.
At the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony in 2004, several prominent musicians, including Tom Petty, Jeff Lynne, Steve Winwood, and Dhani Harrison (George’s son) played “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” as a tribute to the late George Harrison. Also on stage that night was Prince, nattily attired as always.
As you watch this video, notice how a little more than half way through, Prince takes over. But it’s not a Divo move (although Prince was certainly a Divo). The other musicians give him room and encourage him. His guitar solo is fantastic.
In 2007, Prince was scheduled to play the NFL Super Bowl half-time show in Miami. Plans were made for an elaborate open air (i.e. no roof) stage in the shape of “The Love Symbol,” the shape that he changed his name to as part of a contractual dispute with his record label, Warner Brothers. That dispute was long over when Super Bowl XLI rolled around, but the symbol was still closely associated with Prince.
On the day of the game, Miami experienced sever weather, including hard rains, and the promoters of the half-time show feared that Prince wouldn’t be able (or willing) to perform. Instead of balking, when asked if he would be able to go on with the show in the rain, his response was, “Can you make it rain harder.”
As you watch this full, uncut version of Prince’s incredible performance, notice all of the electrical equipment out in the rain. Although it’s not clear in the video, Prince used four different guitars during the show, unplugging and plugging them in as the rain fell. Also notice the dancers around Prince early in the video. They’re dancing in extremely high heels on a wet surface, and making it look easy.
Last year, Saturday Night Live celebrated their 40th anniversary with a huge show broadcast in prime time. At the after party, several musicians got up to give impromptu performances, including big names like Paul McCartney, Taylor Swift, and Elvis Costello. But in this video from the Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon, where Jimmy talks about the after party performances, notice how he, his band, and the crowd react when he talks about Prince coming up on stage. It just shows that even those in the entertainment industry, many of them jaded by their experiences, understood the special brand of artistry Prince possessed.
Whenever I’d hear the mention of Prince’s name, my mind would conjure up a diminutive imp of a man clothed in a purple ruffled top (similar to the Seinfeld puffy shirt), skin tight black leather pants, heels tall enough to raise his height all the way to 5′ 6″, and a hat of one sort or another that defied description and added to his androgynous fashion style. He was small in stature, but a giant in personality, who was always the coolest, smoothest, most self-assured dude in the room. And he always played by his own ever-changing rules, providing testament to the fact that if you are true to yourself, no matter how different you may be, the world will open it’s arms to embrace you.
Prince Rogers Nelson was a rare breed of entertainer who combined boatloads of passion, artistry, integrity, innovation, and genius. To be sure, he could be difficult, eccentric, aloof, and mysterious, but all the great artists possess some amount of all of these ingredients. Prince just possessed them to a larger degree than most. He was a tremendous talent, and he will be greatly missed.
Elsewhere on this blog, I have discussed my affinity and appreciation for researcher/storyteller (her term), Brene Brown. I discovered Brene by accident. I picked up her book, Daring Greatly, by mistake. I thought it was about risk-taking and building a great, significant life. Instead, Brene’s book turned out to be about vulnerability, shame, and building strong, trusting relationships. As it turned out, Daring Greatly was exactly the book I needed to read at that time in my life.
The two videos I included below are good examples of Brene’s research and philosophy on building and strengthening relationships. If you’ve not heard her talk before, I’d encourage you to put a little time aside, grab a glass of wine, and get to know Brene Brown. If you already know and like her, I don’t need to convince you to watch.
Back in January, I laid out my plans for the year, listing month-by-month what I intended to do from a writing and publishing perspective. For the first three months of the year, this is what I had on my agenda:
Good news! During the first quarter of the year, I accomplished everything I set out to do. I pushed things to the limit, publishing Road Stories on the final day of February (Thank God for leap year!), and Promised Land on the final day of March. Even so, I’ll count this as a success.
I’ve gotten really good feedback on both Back on the Road and Road Stories. Promised Land was just published last week, but I’ve already heard from a few people who bought the book and really liked it. This is all good news. I made a plan for the first three months of 2016 and I stuck to it. That’s about to change.
My plan for the next three months was to publish A Good Life in April, and my first novel, Driven, in June. That’s not going to happen. A Good Life has been a difficult story for me to get right. I’ve worked on it on and off for the past couple of years, and it’s just not coming together the way I would like. I have some ideas to make it better, but that’s not going to happen for a while. As a result, I won’t be publishing A Good Life (or anything else) this month.
Driven is coming together, but I’m not certain it’s going to be ready in June. That’s still the goal, but I wouldn’t bet on it.
Not sticking to my original plan bothers me, but not too much. I’m a big believer in getting the book written and out to the readers, but I also know that if I want to put out the best books I’m capable of, I need to give the writing process the time it needs.
So for the next three months, I’ll be concentrating on finishing Driven. I’ll spend whatever time it takes to make it the best book it can be. And if I can get the book done and ready to be published by June, I will. If it takes more time, then I’ll invest more time. I just want to write a really good book.
At some point, I’ll revisit A Good Life, but for now, it’s going on the back burner. When the time is right, I’ll pick it up again. Until then, it’s time to work on Driven.