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As you drive north on U.S. Highway 51, you see the water tower, painted white, sticking up above the trees on the left side of the road. It announces that you’ve arrived in Mercer, Wisconsin. It would be easy to ignore the announcement made by the water tower. After all, there are no buildings in sight, no homes and no people. Just white birch trees and towering pines. But make no mistake, once you see the water tower, you’ve arrived.

I was first introduced to Mercer when I was fourteen years old. My friend, Brad Lyon, had invited me to spend a couple of weeks with his family at their summer cabin in the Northwoods. With the exception of a trip to the Wisconsin Dells when I was three years old, I don’t think I had ever been more than a hundred miles away from my home in Aurora, Illinois. Mercer was more than six hours away by car, but I was riding a bus, and if I remember correctly, the trip took more than nine hours (Can you imagine letting a fourteen year old kid ride a bus alone that far now?).

It was late at night when the bus dropped me off at the Mercer Post Office. I hadn’t seen the water tower on the way in, and I was too tired to much care what the town looked like. Brad and Pop (Brad’s grandfather, Ralph) met me at the post office, and we headed to the cabin in Pop’s white VW Beetle.

Sleep came quickly that night, and I awoke to a beautiful, sunny day. Looking down at the lake through the trees, I was struck by how the sun seemed brighter in Mercer, sparkling on the surface of the water.  The air was lighter and fresher, the lack of humidity making each breath invigorating. I didn’t know much about Mercer then, except that it felt good to be there.

In the following days, I saw what there was to see of the town. There were a few stores, a bank, a gas station, and several bars. Mercer didn’t have much in the way of a downtown, but they had plenty of bars.

I also learned about supper clubs. There was the Ding-A-Ling, Club 51, and a place I think was called The Lilypad, which sat on Pike Lake, north of town. When we’d go out to eat, I’d always order the fried chicken. One night, Brad’s mom told me I could get whatever I wanted from the menu, provided I didn’t order the fried chicken. Not knowing any better, I ordered a twenty-four ounce porterhouse steak. I think it was the most expensive thing on the menu. Mrs. Lyon never gave me a hard time about ordering fried chicken after that.

The majority of my time in Mercer was spent out on the lake. Weather permitting, we would swim and water ski every day. A typical day involved sleeping in and having a late breakfast, then we’d go down to the lake to warm up the boat. For the next several hours we’d ski, with Brad’s dad driving the boat, and Brad, his sister Pam, me, and other guests, taking turns skiing. Toward the end of the day, we’d often head across the lake to enjoy one of the several saunas that dotted the shoreline. Then it was a quick boat ride back for a relaxing bath in the lake (I still love taking a bath next to a boat dock). As the sun set around nine or nine-thirty, we’d head into town to have dinner (Northwoodsians call it “supper”) at one of the local restaurants, or we’d sit at the big claw-footed dinner table to eat while watching the last remnants of the sun set over the lake.

I’m not sure when I made my first trip to Lake of the Falls County Park, but the experience stuck with me. Back then, there was a wooden covered bridge that spanned the Turtle River, at the head of the falls. During the day, bats slept in the rafters on the underside of the bridge roof, and at sundown, they flew out of both sides of the bridge by the thousands. As snowmobiling became more popular, the covered bridge was replaced by a flat concrete bridge that was more conducive to snowmobiling, and the bats had to find a new home. The park was quiet, and felt like a place to relax and reflect. Even today, I find solace every time I visit the park and sit next to the falls.

I spent parts of the next three summers in Mercer with Brad’s family, and I loved every minute of it. I’ve returned many times as an adult, including a few times with my own kids. Each time, I’m reminded of the salad days of my youth, and the love I’ve never lost for Northern Wisconsin. I am eternally grateful to Brad and his family for introducing me to Mercer, and I hope that Lake of the Falls gives readers a glimpse of what the area is like, and why I love it so much.

Want to win a free copy of my friend Vanessa Blakeslee’s new novel Juventud? All you have to do is go here and share Vanessa’s book trailer on Twitter. Seems easy, doesn’t it.

In the meantime, check out Vanessa’s book trailer below, and pre-order her novel here.

By the way, my friend Shawn McKee edited Vanessa’s book trailer. He’s a knucklehead, if ever there was one, but he did a great job on this video. Don’t tell him I said that. It’s important to keep him down and unsure of himself.

I am the future, and I have two questions for you:

1. Is it possible to be happy with this life?
2. Did you enjoy your story?

a story for tomorrow. from gnarly bay on Vimeo.

In my novella, Tierra del Fuego, the main character, Matt Cravens, is having trouble dealing with the twin emotions of grief and betrayal, after his wife, Lisa, who he suspects of having an affair, dies in an auto accident. When he feels grief, he is reminded that Lisa was cheating on him, which brings out the betrayal he feels. But when he feels the pain of Lisa’s infidelity, he experiences guilt because he is focusing on something other than the love he feels for his wife, and the grief he is struggling with over her death. His emotions are a jumbled mess that eventually lead him to run away to one of the most remote places on earth.

This past weekend, I felt dual, contradictory emotions like Matt, albeit on a slightly smaller scale. My friend, Johan Schwartz, ran his final race of the year in the Pirelli World Challenge Championship. When the three weekend races at Mazda Raceway Laguna Seca in California were complete, Johan had won the championship. This is no small feat. World Challenge is one of the top sports car racing series in North America, and it is incredibly competitive.

Johan is originally from Denmark, but he moved to the United States, away from his home and his family, to pursue his passion for auto racing. He has dedicated himself to building a career in motorsports, and all of his sacrifice and hard work is paying off in a big way.

I couldn’t be happier for him. After he clinched the championship, I sent Johan a note congratulating him, and told him how proud I was of his accomplishment.

A few hours after communicating with Johan, I heard the terrible news that Scott Dinsmore had been killed in an accident while climbing Mount Kilimanjaro. I didn’t know Scott well. He was a friend of a friend. I had been introduced to him a few years ago, and immediately liked his approach to life.

At a young age, Scott decided that he wanted to help others discover their passion, and do work that really mattered to them. He started a company called Live Your Legend, and proceeded to help thousands of people.

When I first met Scott and he learned that I had a passion for writing that I wasn’t pursuing, he encouraged me to do whatever I had to do to find the time and space to write. He didn’t have to be encouraging. Heck, he had just met me. He could have easily muttered a few pleasantries, and been on his way. But he didn’t do that. Instead, he took the time to listen, and he genuinely cared that I do what my heart was telling me I should do.

Several months ago, Scott and his wife Chelsea sold their home and most of their possessions, and went on an around the world tour that was supposed to last a year. They globe-trotted for eight months until they landed in Tanzania, where they were going to climb Mount Kilimanjoaro, one of the items on Scott’s bucket list. Sadly, rather than claiming that bucket list item, the mountain claimed him.

For a brief period over this past weekend, I was feeling on top of the world. I had just published my first book, and my friend Johan had won a racing championship. Life was great, then suddenly it wasn’t. My happiness, joy, and sense of accomplishment were mixed with the grief and despair I felt over Scott’s untimely death. Since then, my emotions have been tangled and disordered. One minute I’m happy thinking about my book or Johan’s success. The next I’m grieving the loss of Scott and his boundless joy and energy.

Scott packed a lifetime of passion and adventure into an all-too-short thirty-two years. If he taught us anything, it’s that we should take action now to do whatever it is that is most important to us in your lives. I’d like to think that the successes Johan and I experienced over the past week are the result of us taking such action. Despite the fact that Scott lost his life on the mountain, he too was following his passion and doing what he loved. And although I grieve his loss, I don’t think he would have wanted it any other way.

As a way of paying tribute to Scott’s life, here is the Ted talk he gave in October 2012. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

This is going to be a short post, but I wanted to share a little bit about my excitement over the upcoming publication of my novella, Tierra del Fuego. Writing for me has been a lifelong passion. Even as early as grade school, I knew that I enjoyed writing. Unfortunately, I was led away from the writing path at a rather young age, and I didn’t find the path again until about ten years ago. Since then, I have dedicated myself to writing, seeking out opportunities to learn and grow.

All of that work has paid off.  Over the next several months, I will be publishing much of the writing I have been working on over the past decade. I’ll also be working on a novel that should be out in September of 2016.

This really is a very exciting time. I’m happy I get to share it with you, and I truly hope you enjoy the stories I’m writing.