Craig Matthews's Blog
August 26, 2023
Cameron Lost book launch party
Home from my second launch party, this one was at a coffee house in the town I live in Michigan.
I had an enjoyable time talking with people from all walks of life interested in hearing the stories I have written and listening to their stories.
Fun times.
I had an enjoyable time talking with people from all walks of life interested in hearing the stories I have written and listening to their stories.
Fun times.
August 6, 2023
Cameron Lost is born!
My latest novel Cameron Lost has been released into the wild, wild west of the literary world. It is exciting for this day to arrive again. Then...
I was humbled and honored to find out that it It was #13 in one category on Amazon Saturday!
Does anyone return whole from a voyage to the dark side of their soul? This is Cam's story, is it yours?
Happy Reading!
I was humbled and honored to find out that it It was #13 in one category on Amazon Saturday!
Does anyone return whole from a voyage to the dark side of their soul? This is Cam's story, is it yours?
Happy Reading!
July 11, 2023
Cameron Lost excerpt #1
“Help me!”
The room was spinning again.
“Help me! Please!”
Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. As he forced his eyes to stay open, the sliding glass door streaked past, dragging the drab wall behind it. Blinds tilting against centrifugal forces, dashing round. Whoosh. Pictures on the wall followed suit, twisting against the pull. Grabbing for the rails on his bed, he tried to steady himself and force the ride to a stop through the strength of his will, straining for a brake lever in each clenched fist.
“Why can’t I make this stop?” he asked through gritted teeth as his head leaned into the phantom wind. A few more harrowing moments and he gave in to the uncertainty, closing his eyes again, and the powerful push from the left stopped driving. The darkness allowed him to coast.
“Breathe. Just breathe,” he thought and steadied himself.
The room was spinning again.
“Help me! Please!”
Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. As he forced his eyes to stay open, the sliding glass door streaked past, dragging the drab wall behind it. Blinds tilting against centrifugal forces, dashing round. Whoosh. Pictures on the wall followed suit, twisting against the pull. Grabbing for the rails on his bed, he tried to steady himself and force the ride to a stop through the strength of his will, straining for a brake lever in each clenched fist.
“Why can’t I make this stop?” he asked through gritted teeth as his head leaned into the phantom wind. A few more harrowing moments and he gave in to the uncertainty, closing his eyes again, and the powerful push from the left stopped driving. The darkness allowed him to coast.
“Breathe. Just breathe,” he thought and steadied himself.
March 8, 2023
Good is Gone
Good is Gone.
Cameron is being pursued and reality distorts.
Someone, or something, is chasing him.
“Run as you always run,” he thinks.
He cannot escape the pursuing feet.
Hiding and avoiding all connection.
Can this beast die to save my life?
He has destroyed so much
there is no going back.
Do illusions created
with distortions
vanish under the
heat of truth?
Or do lies
win?
When
good is gone,
evil draws close.
Confused minds are
the toxic perfume of evil.
When good is gone, people
are consumed by a noxious fear.
Condemned and hypnotized, we all flee.
Running looking back, we confuse forward.
Hope becomes a veiled mist. Coping is surviving.
Darkness becomes light. Trust is destroyed. We are gone.
Potential Back of the Book Elevator pitch for Cameron Lost. Let me know what you think!
Cameron is being pursued and reality distorts.
Someone, or something, is chasing him.
“Run as you always run,” he thinks.
He cannot escape the pursuing feet.
Hiding and avoiding all connection.
Can this beast die to save my life?
He has destroyed so much
there is no going back.
Do illusions created
with distortions
vanish under the
heat of truth?
Or do lies
win?
When
good is gone,
evil draws close.
Confused minds are
the toxic perfume of evil.
When good is gone, people
are consumed by a noxious fear.
Condemned and hypnotized, we all flee.
Running looking back, we confuse forward.
Hope becomes a veiled mist. Coping is surviving.
Darkness becomes light. Trust is destroyed. We are gone.
Potential Back of the Book Elevator pitch for Cameron Lost. Let me know what you think!
January 6, 2023
Books Launch.
I wrote my first few books in the shadows of some of my darkest days. I wrote them knowing they may never see the light of a publishing day. I wrote them, along with a prayer, that they would help someone, even if that someone were only me.
Those four books are on my shelf in notebooks. A few people have read them. They are raw and brutal. They may never be published, and I am good with that.
I prayed to God that I didn't care if they were published; I felt compelled to speak the words onto a page. I needed to process it before I launched.
It has been cathartic for me to write. It continues to be.
Cameron Lost is my newest effort and is still in the loving hands of my editor. The premise for the book is a look.
The "look" was the dark dead eyes of sin. Maybe you've seen it before. When people you know start living a hypocritical life. A life they would have jumped down your throat over if the roles were reversed, but now they are eagerly pursuing.
Maybe you've experienced this at some point in your walk with someone you loved. I watched my brother get hit by a bulldozer- the deceitfulness of sin- and I couldn't talk him back off the ledge. He lived with me for five months, and no talking, pleading, or convincing could change his mind.
Then an unwanted visitor showed up, and everything changed.
Cameron Lost explores what goes on inside the heart of such deception. The lies that are embraced, the vows people make, and the underlying unbelief fuel such a mindset.
It's a wild ride. More to come!
The countdown is approaching.
Those four books are on my shelf in notebooks. A few people have read them. They are raw and brutal. They may never be published, and I am good with that.
I prayed to God that I didn't care if they were published; I felt compelled to speak the words onto a page. I needed to process it before I launched.
It has been cathartic for me to write. It continues to be.
Cameron Lost is my newest effort and is still in the loving hands of my editor. The premise for the book is a look.
The "look" was the dark dead eyes of sin. Maybe you've seen it before. When people you know start living a hypocritical life. A life they would have jumped down your throat over if the roles were reversed, but now they are eagerly pursuing.
Maybe you've experienced this at some point in your walk with someone you loved. I watched my brother get hit by a bulldozer- the deceitfulness of sin- and I couldn't talk him back off the ledge. He lived with me for five months, and no talking, pleading, or convincing could change his mind.
Then an unwanted visitor showed up, and everything changed.
Cameron Lost explores what goes on inside the heart of such deception. The lies that are embraced, the vows people make, and the underlying unbelief fuel such a mindset.
It's a wild ride. More to come!
The countdown is approaching.
December 15, 2022
Looking Over My Shoulder
That creepy feeling that someone is watching you is one of those things that drives my sense of inadequacy to increase. My former boss used to be that way on occasion. In the early days of finishing concrete, the watching was to offer advice on better ways of doing the job. This was so I would become proficient in keeping his high standards for quality work and making the business money. The boss watching us motivated the entire crew to perform at a high level.
But as the years passed, the need for him to watch over me waned, but sometimes old habits are hard to die, and his hovering moments continued. It began to bother me, but I kept my struggle to my self for as long as possible. It was an irritant that grew into an obsession until one day, about ten years into my seventeen-year stint, I finally asked him, “Don’t you have something better that you could be doing?” He left, and I adopted the tactic of stopping his staring ritual.
I am writing a novel loosely based on my brother’s life. Jeff passed away over two years ago from colon cancer after a twenty-seven-month battle. There are many reasons that I believe his life to be a compelling story. I have called him a “living dichotomy” for years. Everything Jeff did was extreme. He loved to shock people.Once, he was a guest speaker at the church where I was a pastor and drove his Harley up the center aisle to start his sermon. He loved to brew so much that he went to Germany to get specialized training as a pastor. I guess parts of his Lutheran roots did run deep. He loved guns and hated war. He juiced carrots and a green apple every morning, then stuffed his face with Jack-In-The Box® tacos at night(is that even meat?). Jeff kept secrets from everyone and wanted to know everything about your struggles. He was a tightwad on a budget and also very generous. Jeff loved people while and hating their trials. He encouraged everyone around him but loathed his own weaknesses. Jeff ran from God, hiding behind sin and a beard, yet desperately sought out his heavenly Father from his desert place. He quit his job at the church but kept on evangelizing. Jeff loved Jesus and hated his own inadequacy.
Standing at my computer at six this morning, the window next to my left shoulder is dark. When I look into the reflection of my screen, I see a man with a gnarly beard peering over my shoulder. Some days, his memory still conjures up tears as I relive our time together while typing. In other moments, I laugh out loud at his antics that live only in my memories. Yet, he still stares at me, and his expression never changes in that picture. Instead of making me squirm, it motivates me to create.
This new book has been the most challenging thing I have ever written. It has been a slow uphill battle, and at the time of the first noticing my visitor, I hadn’t begun the tear-jerking parts. I was consciously avoiding reliving the emotional roller-coaster that marked his final days. Up to that point, I had filled the time and space with backstory. Then he asked me, “Don’t you have something better to write?”
As the tears stain my shirt, he continues to oversee my fledgling attempt to honor him. “Don’t leave Jeff. I am trying to keep you here a little longer,” I whisper into the morning.
Currently,the story now entitled Cameron Lost is with my editor, who uses his vast knowledge and skill to hammer my incoherent ramblings into something readable.
But as the years passed, the need for him to watch over me waned, but sometimes old habits are hard to die, and his hovering moments continued. It began to bother me, but I kept my struggle to my self for as long as possible. It was an irritant that grew into an obsession until one day, about ten years into my seventeen-year stint, I finally asked him, “Don’t you have something better that you could be doing?” He left, and I adopted the tactic of stopping his staring ritual.
I am writing a novel loosely based on my brother’s life. Jeff passed away over two years ago from colon cancer after a twenty-seven-month battle. There are many reasons that I believe his life to be a compelling story. I have called him a “living dichotomy” for years. Everything Jeff did was extreme. He loved to shock people.Once, he was a guest speaker at the church where I was a pastor and drove his Harley up the center aisle to start his sermon. He loved to brew so much that he went to Germany to get specialized training as a pastor. I guess parts of his Lutheran roots did run deep. He loved guns and hated war. He juiced carrots and a green apple every morning, then stuffed his face with Jack-In-The Box® tacos at night(is that even meat?). Jeff kept secrets from everyone and wanted to know everything about your struggles. He was a tightwad on a budget and also very generous. Jeff loved people while and hating their trials. He encouraged everyone around him but loathed his own weaknesses. Jeff ran from God, hiding behind sin and a beard, yet desperately sought out his heavenly Father from his desert place. He quit his job at the church but kept on evangelizing. Jeff loved Jesus and hated his own inadequacy.
Standing at my computer at six this morning, the window next to my left shoulder is dark. When I look into the reflection of my screen, I see a man with a gnarly beard peering over my shoulder. Some days, his memory still conjures up tears as I relive our time together while typing. In other moments, I laugh out loud at his antics that live only in my memories. Yet, he still stares at me, and his expression never changes in that picture. Instead of making me squirm, it motivates me to create.
This new book has been the most challenging thing I have ever written. It has been a slow uphill battle, and at the time of the first noticing my visitor, I hadn’t begun the tear-jerking parts. I was consciously avoiding reliving the emotional roller-coaster that marked his final days. Up to that point, I had filled the time and space with backstory. Then he asked me, “Don’t you have something better to write?”
As the tears stain my shirt, he continues to oversee my fledgling attempt to honor him. “Don’t leave Jeff. I am trying to keep you here a little longer,” I whisper into the morning.
Currently,the story now entitled Cameron Lost is with my editor, who uses his vast knowledge and skill to hammer my incoherent ramblings into something readable.
