Timothy H. Cook's Blog, page 11

The winners!

I just wanted to thank the Goodreads community for this chance to interact with all of you, as you have brought my books "out there." And I want to announce that there have been twelve winners in my June giveaway. Interestingly, only five of the winners were from the US. One was from Canada, three from Great Britain, and three were from Australia (yes, that's right!)

Now, I'll make no generalizations, but it's interesting, isn't it?

So, congratulations to (in no particular order): Lou Tennant, Asley Holden, Max Lakshtanov, Lucinda Fountain, Maureen Julian, Jesse Mc, Kelly Buckle, Saisha Ryan, Katrina Player, Michelle Austin, Ebonique Knighton, and James Lynam.

And I should mention that they won not one of my books, but the whole trilogy - after all, what good is it getting only part three?

Those in the US will naturally get their books sooner, but they have all been mailed off. And I'm anxious to hear what they think of my trilogy. For those of you who weren't winners, you can still get my books, for varying prices, from Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble (bn.com), Hastings bookstores, and other online facilities. So keep reading - I know I am - and writing, too.

Just a reminder

Well, there's just one day left to go with my big June giveaway. You've got to play to win!

Actually, you have two chances to win - one is certain, the other less so, but you'll get more. The one that is certain is my e-book giveaway (see my prior post). But the one that is less certain, but potentially more profitable, is the Goodreads giveaway for a chance to win a copy of my third book, Turbulence and Restoration. But I'll tell you a secret - the twelve winners will actually receive signed copies of all three of my books. This represents the entire Book of Drachma trilogy, and comes with all three volumes (of course they are signed), but also comes with a list of the major characters in the trilogy, as well as some questions that have been useful in book clubs in which they have discussed my books.

So, if you're into fantasy with a twist, that will keep you up at night - you've got one more day!

More than just a patient.

As I was driving back to Edmond from Arkansas, I dropped off a couple of posters at the coffee shop where I'll be having a book signing next weekend, in Tulsa, Oklahoma. And I noticed a billboard - or rather, I didn't notice it the first time, as it made no impression on me - but then, as I saw it the second time, it struck me first as odd. But as I sped past it, getting on the highway, its message really got under my skin. And I thought about it all the way home, and what it meant.

Now it's not really much of a billboard, and I doubt that the vast majority of people going down the same highway even thought about it. It showed a couple of obviously healthy children playing, and the caption read, "More than just another patient. St John's Medical Center." More than just another patient??? Now why would I be upset over this?

Well, let me explain.

First of all, as a physician (as opposed to a "provider," or a "prescriber," or whatever term is now most politically correct), I took offense at the notion of "just another patient," as being somehow demeaning or derogatory. And this stems from my own background. As I see it, a patient is something of a sacred obligation to me. And the physician-patient relationship is something that I hold close to my own Hippocratic heart. The physician-patient relationship is something that goes way back in medicine - to even before the time of Galen or Hippocrates. It is a relationship that, over the millenia, has been blessed as special, in much the same way as a parent-child or teacher-student relationship also carries the burden of historical significance.

And what has happened to that relationship, to that bond, over the past twenty years? As people of the now generation, what they see as significant has nothing to do with relationships, and everything to do with whatever pleases them. And this includes issues related to medical care. And it is precisely this gradual decline of the physician-patient bond which has driven me to seek employment elsewhere. For if I can no longer be a physician to a patient in need, at least I can do this dance close to my own grandchildren, with whom I do have a relationship. And, yes, I can do the dance for another few years, before retirement.

And what of my books? Do they have anything to do with all this? They most assuredly do. I wrote the novel(s), called The Book of Drachma, as something of a reaction to what I saw happening to medicine. You have Dr. Robert Gilsen, one of the last of his breed, and also you have nurse Judy Morrison, one of the last of her breed, as two of the major characters. Now they get whisked off to the fifteenth century, where medicine is vastly more primitive. But in this realm of Craycroft and Cartho (and Paracelsus - see my previous post), you also have established physician-patient relationships which are more true to the original concept, and unsullied by our more "modern" notions of "you get what you pay for."

And if you happen to be in the Tulsa area, or know of someone who is going that way let them know that I'll be at the Agora Coffee House (in the Fontana Shopping Center at 50th St and Memorial Rd) on Saturday from 1:00 PM til whenever. And I'll be more than happy to share a great cup of coffee, and discuss whatever happened to medicine. And, believe me, the discussions could get lively.

Important to someone special.

As I sit here this evening, feeling the breeze from outside, and enjoying this glass of 2006 California Cabernet. and listening to Jascha Heifetz play Bruch's Scottish Fantasy in that immortal style that is his alone, I realize again just why we decided to move once more.

MOVE??!!

That's right, we're moving. It's going to happen in about three months. This move, which promises to be our last move, will be to Arkansas (the Bentonville area). We are excited about the move, but also we are physically drained right now, and we feel rather ambivalent about it. The thought of leaving our friends, colleagues and my work are all playing with our senses, and this particular move will be rougher on our equilibrium than either of the last two moves.

Now, we live in a beautiful home, in a beautiful subdivision of Edmond, Oklahoma. We have wonderful neighbors, and I have a job that is, in many ways fulfilling. My wife has her circle of friends, and is quite involved in her PEO group, her book club, her stamping/scrapbooking group. And we have a wonderful church, and church family. But what we are missing is so important, and is the real reason behind our decision to move.

Now this whole moving idea started a couple of months back. It was then that my employer (or rather, that fuzzy, hard to define, but very powerful force which controls my employer) decided that my employment contract was coming due, and that they were going to change some of the things in my employment contract, which was definitely not to my liking. This was symbolic of their actions of late, during which they have turned my hospital into something that I don't even recognize anymore. It is no longer that hospital where you would go, or take your relatives to, in which you knew that you would get the very best nursing care, and the doctors were also caring, dedicated human beings. This is not going to be true anymore no matter how they justify their actions with performance charts and reviews. The "word on the street" is that something awful has happened.

If you contrast the above with my family ties, you will begin to get a clearer picture. In Bentonville and Rogers, Arkansas live two of our kids with their spouses, as well as four of our grandkids. The age of our grandkids there varies between 12 and 3 1/2. And what is happening to them, we hear about, but only rarely do we get to experience. No amount of telephoning can match up with actually being there.

And to this one need only add the effect of Millie, out youngest granddaughter. We had her stay with us for the better part of a week, and during that time we went to the zoo, we got tadpoles from our pond, and they survived! And we planted flowers in pots which we put around our house (and they also survived!). We took walks in our neighborhood, and discussed the wildlife which we saw. And when Millie left to go back home, it left a very empty place in our lives.

And we heard that for more than a week, Millie talked incessantly about Papa Tim, as if I were some important person in her own life.

And when I went on a recruiting trip to find a job in their area, I was able to personally attend the baseball tournament of our eldest grandson. And I found that the hospitalist medical director and I were old friends, and it felt honestly like going home. And just to add even more to the emotional turmoil, when I took them all out to dinner, Millie had to sit next to me, and took a bunch of pictures of my shirt. Now, this might all seem just a bit superficial, but becoming important to someone special can do things to you, that you cannot deny - nor would you want to.

The BIG June Giveaway

Well, here it comes, folks - the big, huge June giveaway. Beginning now, and continuing through the month of June I will be giving away free downloads of my three books. That's right - all three books for free. All you have to do is e-mail me, and I will either send free download cards, or instructions on how to download the three books. My e-mail is: drachmabook@gmail.com

Now, why am I doing this?

Well, obviously, this is a transparent strategy to get my books out there into the wide world. Besides that, June is a great month anyway (and coincidentally is my birthday month) . It is typically the beginning of summer vacation for students, and kind of a laid-back time, even if you're not technically a student. And I've been told that the books make for great vacation reading. Now, I've got fifty sets of the downloads to give away, so it is possible that this may not continue the whole month...

But, even more importantly, I'm still looking for feedback. I've gotten a lot of wonderful verbal feedback from folks around here who have read the books, but the written feedback has so far been meager, to say the least. So, if you like what you read, by all means let us know. Or even if you don't, comment anyway.

But really, I want you to have some fun, and enjoy what I've written. And have a fabulous summer!

Are you ready for some more?

Here is the next chapter in the sequel. If you're interested, you may see all that I've written so far of the fourth book, tentatively called Heir of Drachma (so far, until someone comes up with a better title), on Authonomy.com.



                           Chapter Nine
The inside of Barncuddy’s Ale House stood as a reminder of the best of Shepperton. As Bob, Melchior, Eustace, Hermes and Tom arrived, the portly owner was his usual busy, sweating self, trying to calm the rabble, and providing drinks and bread for the patrons of his establishment. His face lit up with recognition as the group entered, and he welcomed the visitors.
“Me good masters, do come in. What’ll it be tonight?”
“Well, my friend,” said Bob, “if you please, we’d like a table, somewhat private, if possible. Perhaps upstairs, where we can sit and talk.”
“But of course, gentlemen,” he said, then turning back toward the kitchen, he called out, “Ho, Diane! I’ve got some gentlemen fer ye.”
Diane came from the back of the kitchen, looking vexed, with flour and kitchen grease staining her apron. She was drying her hands on the apron, and looked up, to see the smiling faces of the men. She immediately blushed.
“Oh, my. Ye did’na say who it was. Me good Master Robert, and Melchior, too… and in the company of these young ruffians.” She winked at Eustace as she said this. “Well, then, me good men, it would appear that ye be needin’ a table. And one, if I am not mistaken, upstairs, out o’ this rabble, eh?”
“You know me well, Diane,” said Bob. “Yes, that’s precisely what we need.”
“Well, if ye but follow me then, I’ll show ye to a table upstairs. And, I assume that ye’ll be wantin’ some pitchers of ale.”
“Of course, but we’ll be wanting your company, too.”
Diane’s brow darkened at this. “So, Master Robert, it would appear to be more than just talkin’ for its own sake, eh?”
“Eustace, your mother is a most perceptive sort, isn’t she?” Eustace smiled shyly. “True, Diane… so true.”
She showed them up to a room on the second floor, where years before, she had also served some of them, and which had been the beginning of dramatic changes for her, as well as Eustace. The memory of that encounter hit her afresh.
“Now, we’re not talkin’ of ships and broaches, and long lost loves, are we? For ye know that I’m not going not enter into that again…”
Bob caught her drift, and reassured her.
“No, Diane, we’re not. And you’ll notice that Kerlin’s not here with us tonight, and neither is your husband.”
“Well, then take some seats, gentlemen. I shall be back wi’ yer ale.”
As the group sat down, Hermes commented on the fact that Diane, now a lady of some renown, and mother of his buddy, Eustace, was back to serving at Barncuddy’s, in her former occupation. And this was after she had another child.
“Oh, fie on ye!” chimed in Eustace. “She has never considered that she was a special lady. And it was this serving at the Ale House which has brought her the greatest pleasure, if ye must know. That, and the entreaties of Barncuddy and Willie to Cayman, that she be allowed to return. It seems that patrons of the Ale House was missin’ her, and her rolls, too.”
“Might I say, Eustace,” put in Bob, “that your mother has brought some calm to Barncuddy’s, at least if you were to ask Willie and the Brewster himself. And even today, I could sense it, as we came in here. But how is it at home with your new brother? You may ask why that would be important, and I’ll tell you in a minute.”
“Well, Master Robert, me younger brother, Manny, he’s already a handful. And he stays at the castle while me mum works. It’s Frieda that takes care of him there.”
“Oh, yes, of that I’m aware,” replied Bob. “Now, as to his importance, might I just say that, as Diane’s eldest, and also as heir to Derrymoor’s estate, your mother might have some reservations about you accompanying me.”
Tom, who had been silent until now, spoke up. “It would seem, my friends, that none of you know what dangers might be present, and where this future should lead you… Ah, Diane, you come! And as Master Robert said, we do welcome you.”
Diane looked at Tom with uncertainty, as she placed the pitcher of ale, as well as the tankards about the table, and when all were served, she sat down herself, at the chair Bob had pulled out for her.
“Anyway, Diane, it would seem that your motherly advice would be again needed. For, you see, I am apparently in some danger here upon the Isle…”
“Oh, m’lord! Thee… in danger… how is that possible? What might it be, fer I know none other than Antoine LeGace who could be behind any threats to ye.”
“Indeed, it is this same Mr. LeGace who seems to present the threat. And he is now known to be somewhere on this island. But just what manner of threat is not known. But it would seem real to me, as well as to Tom and Craycroft. And it was decided that I should go into hiding, somewhere… perhaps Drachma’s place. And it hasn’t been decided definitely who should go with me, or for how long. And that brings up another thing, which is Judy, and what to do for her. For I certainly do not feel that she is in any condition to travel, who knows where, or for what length of time. So, it’s for these reasons that I wanted you in on the discussion.”
“Aye, I see… And you would like me opinion, but I sense more…”
“Indeed, for you’ve got another hand in the fire, so to speak. For we speak also of your eldest, Eustace. As you know, Eustace has become one of my best pupils. He has succeeded in developing a real sense of the purpose of medicine. And though Hermes is a certainty, Eustace, I’m afraid, needs your approval. For we also speak of his seizures.”
Eustace blushed at this, but said nothing.
“Well, as ye know, m’lord Robert,” Diane continued, “were it not fer thy presence among us, me Eustace would have stayed but an urchin on the streets. And now here he is, nigh unto being a man, and has learned much from thee. It would seem to me that, as much as I would love to put me arms about him, and keep him safe wi’ me here, I know that it has to be his decision, whether to go wi’ ye or to stay. Now, I haven’t any knowledge of the dangers of this quest of which ye speak, but I did learn years ago that danger can find ye whether ye stay at home, or go out into the world. And further, as to his fits, he would truly be under the care of his physician. So, then, what I have to offer is just this – that ye, me son, must make the decision that ye will, and God go with ye.”
A tear escaped her eye as she said this, and she reached over, grasped Eustace’s own flagon, and took a drink of ale. All eyes were still on her as she spoke again.
“Now, as to yer lady, m’lord, I know that Jeanne can care fer her, but that is not what ye had in mind, is it?”
“No, Diane, It is not…”
“Well, if I may be so bold, let me say that I shall keep watch fer ye. It is not fer fear, but from me own sense of strength, which I have by now come to cherish, which I shall extend to yer lady. She shall not suffer, nor shall her unborn child suffer, other than that which the Lord of heaven should send her. Fer believe me when I tell ye that she shall have the best midwife within the castle. And I shall speak wi’ me husband, who shall make it certain that she is guarded with all the castle’s power. Now, is that what ye’ve come to ask me?”
In answer, Bob raised his flagon in a toast.
“Here’s to one of the true rarities of our realm – a lady with both discernment and strength. And into your capable hands I leave the care of my wife and her unborn child.”
Diane felt a lump in her throat, and could feel the winds of time blow through her soul, as her companions raised their own flagons.
Tom next turned the discussion toward who would be accompanying Bob on his most mysterious venture. It was decided among those present that Bob would be joined by Hermes and Eustace, as well as Martin and Stoneheft. Tom and Melchior would stay at the castle, and care for the youth who had been injured, as well as seeing to the care of the school and the clinic in general.
“Well, Lady, it would seem that we’ve kept you here long enough. Now, I would like you to keep this token with you.” Bob reached into his pocket, and pulled out his very worn wallet. He took out of it a small plastic card, and handed it to Diane. “Now, this is a token from my old times, and you know what it is, don’t you, Hermes?”
“Aye, that I do, for it is your portrait, painted with light. It is what you called your license for driving, is it not?”
“That’s right, it’s my driver’s license. And it is my identification.”
They all looked at the little card, and to a person were amazed at its artistry. It seemed a most astonishing bit. This little piece of unknown material, on which there was the portrait of Master Gilsen, with all the smallest writing, and the strange numbers.
“And what’ll ye have me do with this most magical charm?” asked Diane.
“Just keep it safe with you,” said Bob. “You never know how these little things can become so important.”
“Aye, Master Robert, as ye well know.” Then she slid the driver’s license into a mysterious fold in her top, close to her heart.
Before breaking up, Melchior spoke to the group about what he had discovered in his little laboratory. As he was explaining the intricacies of his broth, and what it showed, down on the main floor of Barncuddy’s Inn a man of indeterminate age quietly slipped out into the night. He had seen enough to know that there would be a group leaving the castle on the morrow, and that he would be ready to follow.



Considerably later that evening, Bob returned to his home, to find Judy still awake, and pacing about. It wasn’t difficult for Bob to read her body language, and it was evident that she had been weeping. He felt suddenly very fragile, and like a child, returning home after curfew, he began to think quickly of what to tell the woman of the house.
“Don’t bother, Bob – I know where you’ve been, and I know who you’ve been with,” Judy said, with an accusatory tone in her voice, as if she could sense his turmoil. “Just sit down here, and level with me.”
She turned away as Bob tried to hug her, and stood aloof by the window.
“No,” she said, “not now. First tell me all about your night, and spare nothing. You may pretend that I don’t have an opinion, but you’d be so wrong.”
“As you know, I went to Barncuddy’s with Tom, Eustace, Hermes and Melchior. We went there to discuss what to do about you and me. It would appear that I am now something of a marked man, if I read things right. And it would appear that Craycroft himself thinks this way. And, believe me when I tell you this, you were on my mind the whole time. And if I could safely have you accompany me, you know very well that I would.”
“And just why do you think I couldn’t go with you?”
“Well, you’re over eight months pregnant, and the trip to Drachma’s forest home is through some rugged terrain… And I just don’t want you getting hurt.”
“And…,” She could sense that he was holding back.
“Oh, all right, I’ll tell you.” Bob hesitated, then he said, “You remember the story of how Tom came into the world? Well, that particular story has me scared. How he was born of Maggie, who died delivering him. It was something that Angelica said – that, for all its forest security, Drachma’s home was not the place to bring someone new into the world. Even though she wouldn’t elaborate, I could tell she felt strongly about it.”
“Hmm. It seems that you’ve been thinking about this quite a bit, huh? Well, let me tell you, Robert Gilsen, that I, too, have given this some thought. And let me tell you what I’ve decided. We’re here in this time and place, having been brought together by Drachma himself. And, yes, it would be much more comfortable to have our child here in this castle, but remember – what we vowed, before God and Father Henri, and all our new friends, that neither sickness, nor health would come between us. That this was for life.”
Bob couldn’t help himself. He smiled as he got back up. And, shaking his head, told her, “well, m’lady, it would appear that you’ve lost none of your persuasive powers. You know, I’ve never really been able to argue with you. You’ve always been able to win, and still can, I’m afraid.”
This made Judy smile, but also made her tremble inside. She looked straight at her husband, and with tears in her eyes, said, “Robert, you know that it’s love that brought us here, and love that created this child within me. And it’s like the preacher in the book of Ecclesiastes says, Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow; but woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up. Again, if two lie together, they are warm; but how can one be warm alone? And though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two will withstand him. A threefold cord is not quickly broken.”
This time Judy returned his hug. Bob was amazed again at his wife, who had quoted Ecclesiastes from memory, and who seemed to have the skills of the best lawyers he had ever had the misfortune to encounter. Of what else was she capable?
“Well, my love, then I guess it is settled.”
“Somehow, I knew you’d listen to reason.” Judy smiled, and kissed him.
“Just one more thing… I’ve got to steal Diane away from Barncuddy again. It seems that the best midwife in the castle would need to come along.” Bob did not mention that he had given her his license.
“But Bob, how about her young one? Have you thought about that?”
“No. To be perfectly honest, I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Well, I suggest that you do, for it would weigh heavily on her, I know.”
Then Bob changed the subject.
“Let me tell you about what Melchior has discovered,” He caught Judy a bit off guard, as they were getting ready for bed. “It looks as though, after all these years, and all our failed attempts, he has finally come up with what may become an effective antibiotic.”
“Oh, really? Tell me more.”
As they were bustling about in their bedchamber, and before sleep took them, Bob explained how Melchior had discovered something within the red seaweed, which most considered a nuisance, something so utterly surprising, as to rival the work of Alexander Fleming, many centuries later. And it was because of this discovery, as well as overseeing the clinic, which made it necessary for Melchior to stay, as well as Tom.
As they cuddled in bed, Judy could feel the excitement, apprehension and something else in Bob’s manner. It seemed to her that his breathing gave off a hint of something ethereal – something from the other world, which they had left years before.
“You know, Bob,” said Judy, “ there’s just a certain something that you’re giving off. It’s a sort of a far off thing. I don’t know what it is, but it seems that it’s very powerful. But you listen to me - I know now that you’ll also be cared for, Love.”
And so they drifted off, with the day ahead certain to bring unexpected changes and challenges.

Forces of nature

What happens when you're "supposed to be writing," and the forces of nature collide over your own little piece of the universe?

Well, one of those forces of nature is just 3 1/2 years old, and can melt my heart without even trying. And she is with us for another couple of days. She is our own grandchild, Millie. And it seems that going outside, throwing rocks into the pond, and noticing the ducks and turtles, and the neighbors' dogs just seems so much more important than sitting down at the old computer. And she is truly a force of nature, as surely as an earthquake or a tornado.

And then there is the world of medicine, in which I've been on call an inordinate number of days and weekends. And dealing with patients and their incredible life altering problems, some of whom are facing death from the ravages of disease, others are just too frail and elderly, while others are beset with illness that will alter their lives and their work so thoroughly - all these weigh down upon me as well.

Add to that mixture the fact that I am in the process of renegotiating my contract with my employer (or rather, I am negotiating with an unseen force that controls my employer), who does not understand the realities of my practice. And I have to decide whether it is worth it to stay, or to move closer to my grandkids (4 of the 6 of them live in Northwest Arkansas). Dealing with the "head hunters" can be just as much fun as dealing with lawyers and used car salespeople.

It is a true blessing that I have the wife that I do. Sara, who is so thoroughly enjoying being a Nana to her grandkids, has been a real trouper through all this. Her own opinion is that, since I am the breadwinner, whatever decision I make has to be my own, and she is there for me and beside me.

Well, then, what has this to do with writing? Actually, it has little to do with writing. And I'm happy to say that I'm still writing. The computer and I still have our little thing going, and it's still going to happen, this sequel which I have started. In fact, it would seem that all those forces can't really touch what is in my head, and which spews forth as written dialogue and action. Hmm...

It would appear that Shepperton is calling me now.

The winds of change?

I've had a good couple of weeks to ponder what may be the inevitable. And my own conclusions are just those - my own conclusions.

If you recall my last post, it was something of a bitter pill which I was trying to swallow - the fact that my own attempts within the world of publishing seemed to be meeting with little success beyond the borders of Oklahoma City/Edmond, where I live and work. And even within these confines, what success I had experienced early on was now little more than a warm memory, kind of like the coffee to which I referred.

If you now add to the mixture some tremors from my day job as a physician. It seems that the hospital I thought I worked for really doesn't exist as its own entity - it is all part of a larger, nationwide corporation which bestows some "life" to its little entities, while sucking the actual life out of all the little hospitals which it owns. It now seems that the behemoth in Tennessee, generally referred to as "corporate" by our own hospital administration, has decided that all physician salaries are to be determined by RVUs (relative value units), on some sort of grand design made by the even more frightening beast called Medicare. Now it seems to me that the absurdity of the RVU as a basis for the salaries paid to hospitalists (who have absolutely no control over their own level of busyness) got lost, as the powers that be can only say that "corporate" is making us do this. And who, may I ask, is responsible for every last dollar and cent that you, as administrators make? You certainly don't EARN any of it.

Now this is driving me very rapidly toward retirement! I am left to ponder, with what energy I still have, "do I really want to do this anymore?" With my grandkids in Arkansas (and Iowa), and our missing out on some of their important growing up kind of stuff, retirement seems to be an increasingly appealing entity. If only...

Which brings me back to the world of publishing, and its frustrations. Now, I know in my own heart, that what I have written, and what has so far been published, is a rousing good tale, and sometime after I'm bringing up daisies, someone will discover that. But for now, at least, it's just one rather large migraine.

Well, the coffee was great.

Occasionally, in this trying to become an author thing, you've got to realize that maybe, just maybe it was not meant to be.

This was during my last book signing effort that it hit me. And I've got to decide wether to continue in this vein, or to step back into my old life, and concentrate on medicine, my family, and my other pursuits (e.g. photography, painting, music and so on). Now I have no illusions about it - I was never in it as a money-making venture. It was just something that I wanted to do, something to try, something that I thought that I could do well.

Let me tell you that the feedback that I got from those who bought my books was fabulous. They loved them, and seemed to want more of them. But then I looked at all the stuff out there that does sell - all the teenage vampire, werewolf, the smut peddlers, the political and celebrity tell-all books - and I realized that it just wasn't me. My own tale of a physician, in this time, along with the healer from centuries ago just was not likely to sell well "out there."

So, what I've decided to do is to back off a bit. I might complete my sequel, or I might not. It's not like work that I've really got to do. And let my publisher set up book signings, if they're so inclined. But frankly, they have not held up their end of the bargain either. They have not promoted my book as they ought to have done. The second book trailer has not even been put out there, let alone the trailer for my third book. They have not even given it a chance to succeed or to fail in the open marketplace, because it has not really been out on the market outside Oklahoma City.

As I sat down at my latest effort at book signing, and only one person actually came, I thought about all these things. And I came to the inescapable conclusion that I was not meant for this.

But the coffee was great, and the atmosphere was wonderful, and I still think that if you want a really great cup of coffee, the Credo House is the place to get it.

This is something new for me.

Next Saturday, April 6th, promises to be something special, and very different for me. Now on the surface, it's just another book signing. But beneath that exterior, it has the promise to be so much more. When my publicist at Tate set me up for a book signing at the Credo House coffee shop, I called the location to talk to the manager, someone named Tim Kimberly. At first I had trouble making a connection, but eventually I was able to talk with Tim, and on the phone, he exuded none of the pretense that I had come to expect, rather, he seemed very genuine, and so, I told him that I'd come by with a poster or two to announce the upcoming event.

When I found the place, it was nothing like I expected. It was, indeed, a coffee shop, and let me tell you that if you want the VERY BEST coffee in the OKC area, you owe it to yourself to stop by. I haven't had that kind of coffee since my college days, when the Himmel Haus, near Goshen, Indiana was in business - now don't get me started. But let me tell you, that was not what really hit me, despite my coffee snob tendencies. What got to me was that this place exuded both confidence and camaraderie that I found hard to describe, and harder to forget.

Now I should just mention a bit about the Credo House, and what its mission is, but let me tell you what happened when I got back home. I need to mention that one of my facebook (and Google +, as well as Goodreads) friends from over in Scotland, had inadvertently turned me on to a certain website, called The Poached Egg, which is a website devoted to Christian apologetics, something that has intrigued me for many years (since college), and when I got home, I turned on my computer, and there was an email from The Poached Egg, which I then opened up, and I was reading along, when I noticed that the author was one of the persons whom I had just met (briefly) at the Credo House. Now this was really something that I just couldn't attribute to coincidence, no matter how I tried.

Credo is the Latin for "I believe," and which forms the beginning of the statement of faith, found in the ancient Catholic mass, and has materialized into all the creeds of the Catholic, Protestant and Orthodox faiths, essentially unchanged for 1600 years. And it is this which the Credo House offers, besides a great cup of coffee. A place to talk, debate, and wrangle over what it is that we really believe. And lest you think that they are a church, they are not, merely a vehicle for the open discussion of matters of faith. Now, they have produced books, as well as CDs from their very well educated members, and you can find them, as well as what they have produced on their website (http://www.reclaimingthemind.org/). And don't worry, they are not going to hit you over the head with anything - they are just there, for anyone who is interested.

So, then, what is it that makes this date so different? It is simply that I'm walking into something just a bit more powerful, and potentially more meaningful than just a mere book signing.

And happy Easter to all of you.