Travis Thrasher's Blog, page 7

Awaiting 2019

Here are some random, end-of-the-year ramblings for a busy and blurry 2018.

I have the resolutions and goals I always make around this time. They’re important because I keep them front and center throughout the year, even when I know they’re merely wishful thinking. I have a lot of fiction on my 2019 list of goals.

I’m excited for the release of American Omens. It’s the first work of fiction I’ve had published in a few years. My expectations are modest simply because I know the market and I understand how difficult it is for books to sell. I’m proud of this story, and believe it’s both strong enough to stand on its own as well as to be the starting point of a 12-book series.

Goals? Completely rewriting Persona, a book I spent a lot of 2009 working on. Writing a second book in the American Omens series. And writing Bloodline, the next book in the Solitary Tales.

Excited to see the collaborations I’ve worked on released, whether I’m listed as a cowriter or ghostwriter. To me they feel like the same thing. Right now I have four different books scheduled to be published. Each one has been a lot of work but has a beautiful story attached to it.

I can’t wait to finalize certain projects that have fallen outside of my normal, traditional writing jobs. The ones that carry too much ambiguity, too many loose ends that never get cut off.

Every book project, major or minor, is an opportunity to learn. The process of working with someone on a memoir involves many things. It’s not simply a matter of helping with the writing itself. It truly is about coming alongside someone and helping them find the core story of their life. Each person is different, and everybody works in different ways, so as a writer, you have to be flexible and you have to be able to adjust accordingly.

I have the same goal I’ve had for several years: update my website and get better at marketing. When you’re buried with writing projects, updating a website or working on marketing aren’t big priorities. I enter 2019 once again striving to get with the program when it comes to marketing and PR stuff.

The idea for doing a Patreon is circling around my head. I might try this in a way to better stay connected to my loyal and diehard fans. It might be fun to create a community like this, one that’s a little more intimate than open-aired posts online like blogs and social media.



Hoping to get out more to do some booksignings and speaking events. I always enjoy those. Again, I don’t get to do those as much when I’m crazy with deadlines.

There are two works of fiction that I have finished that need editing. Perhaps one or both might see the light of day in 2019. I’d publish these myself. One is Midnight, my 120,000-word poetic ghost story that I love. And that maybe 12 others might love, too. The other is a collection of short stories and novellas that are all unreleased that I’d like to put together in a collection fittingly enough called B-Sides. Again, we’ll see on that. I have about ten pieces for this so far.

I enter the new year with very little in my tank, but with a heart full of hope and gratitude for this writing world I’m in. Hoping for God to continue to open doors and give me words to glorify Him in a variety of ways!

Happy New Year!

 

Manifest

Every book I’ve written, fiction or nonfiction, has taken a piece of me. I’ve given it freely, openly, passionately. I love every single project, even the troubled ones. They all have my imprint on them. They all have a piece of my soul, even the ones where my name isn’t known.

I wonder what life would look like if I was so giving to others. If I poured myself into the people around me like I do with the characters in my books and with the people I collaborate with.

There is an inherent selfishness involved in being an artist. Balance is difficult. I almost wrote impossible, but I know it’s possible. As the saying goes, anything is possible with God, but even an atheist can figure out how to balance creating with cohabiting.

The end of the year arrives and I’m absolutely and utterly spent. I’m grateful to be coming off a very busy year, because that means I’m working. September through today have been blurry. I have so many holes inside of me I resemble a honeycomb.

It’s amazing to feel so depleted, yet to also have a heart and mind and soul filled from these different projects. With every individual I work with, I learn so much and have this intense education on the way they view the world. There are so many things to glean from them, simple things like work ethic and courage. Then there are the deeper things on life and love and faith.

It can be so clear what to put down in a chapter, how to frame a life with ten million stories into only one hundred. Yet the personal takeaway for me can be tough. Sometimes I feel I don’t measure up with these people, and of course, I don’t in many ways. That’s why they’re the ones telling their life story. They’re inspiring and educating and amusing the readers. Sometimes I put their recipes for hope and success down on the page, yet I fail to apply them to my own life.

I wonder sometimes if God puts these people into my life not just for work opportunites but also for soul opportunities. God is telling me I need a little extra help–no, I need a lot of extra help–so He’s bringing in the big guns.

When I step out of my self-talking head for a moment, I have to realize all the blessings I’ve been given. Both personally and professionally. I am hard on myself when it comes to my profession, yet when I’m able to truly see the forest for the trees, I’m amazed at all the diverse personalities who have invited me into their lives for a short period of time. Who have given me the task to help frame and figure out their life story. I’m in awe to see their perspectives on life, their pulse on society, their persistence. More than all of those, these people all seemed born with a purpose, even for those who seem to stumble across it.

I’ve known my purpose since third grade: to write. God continually reminds me it’s not about me, yet He constantly allows me to continue to do something that I dearly love. It’s difficult and demanding, and I’m still learning. Every day and every project.

These are some scattered thoughts from a scattered mind. I’m looking forward to putting pieces back in place—in my head and my heart—to see what doors God will open in 2019. There are many stories to tell, whether they’re ones swirling around in my head or ones circling around in our culture. I know they’ll be good ones.

11-14-2018

I’m in the minor chord

In the background of the major chorus

I’m the offbeat rhythm

To the steady percussion

I’m the cracking voice

In the pitch perfect autotune

I can’t ever be the norm the normal the normalcy

Maybe I can try but I fail trying to do it right

So when will I wake up and walk their path

The simpler and easier way

When will I try to be either far right or left

Instead of trying to dig my way underground in God knows what direction

The typical is so boring so overdone so underwhelming

Sometimes these ideas are fractured and fallen

But I keep building and keep building

There’s passion behind the words can you feel it can you see it can you dig it?

Can you hear their brokenness inside the proofreading marks?

Maybe the messiness is there for a reason

Maybe the purpose is the same as showing the drips on the canvas

Maybe the difference is the real value in a fake world

(Art by artbystevej.com)

American Omens As I See It

This is American Omens as I see it.

The premise is the future persecuted Christian faith. I personalized it and tried to create a unique story told in my unique way.

First and foremost, like all of my flawed works of fiction, I put myself in the pages. Many times, this is not the hero but a minor character who can be majorly annoying. Thankfully, editors can help problematic issues. In this case, a throwaway role became a pivotal part.

Works of fiction can be like journals, documenting where I’m coming from as I write them. Sky Blue was written from a burnt-out soul skeptical of publishing. Isolation came from a heart that was angry with God (and didn’t recognize it until years later). The Promise Remains is from a young heart hopeful of everything. Midnight (finished but unpublished as of now) documents emotions throughout five difficult years.

Readers don’t want meandering and melancholy ramblings. They want characters to root for and mysteries to dissect and journeys to take.

Mark my words. American Omens has those characters and mysteries. It also has a big, beating heart in its center.

The three main characters we follow include a twenty-something brilliant computer algorithms architect who is searching for her father. Literally and figuratively. Then there’s a ruthless FBI assassin with a mission who’s own life is circling downward. And finally there’s the family man forced to close his bookstore and find a new purpose in life.

The backstory I’ve created is massive, and the only comparison I can make to anything else I’ve had published is with The Solitary Tales. This is being published as a stand-alone title, and it works just like that. Unlike Solitary, for instance, you can read American Omens and know that it has a complete story arc. But I’ve also set things in motion in this story because I have an entire series planned. 3 books? 12 books? Sure. It could be either of those.

I’ve taken inspiration from some of my all-time beloved novels and movies and woven them into the fabric of American Omens. Will you see the threads? Not necessarily. It just worked for this story, especially since it’s a futuristic tale set twenty years from now. There’s one particular storyline and character that I’ve wanted to write about that is finally making it onto page.

Other inspiration? Again, it comes from the man writing this. Faith isn’t a backdrop; Christianity is front and center in this book. My personal walk with the Lord can been seen in a variety of ways. I attempt to look through the eyes of someone struggling with their faith, someone searching for what faith looks like, and someone complete devoid of faith. Other influences come in unlikely ways, including the very big impact my father has had on this novel.

I’ve spent many hours researching technology and the advancements being made in all sorts of areas. Algorithms are something I’ve studied quite intensely, and honestly, the more I know the more terrified I become. Just like with my characters, I’m trying to get the futuristic technology in American Omens as accurate as it can be.

American Omens doesn’t easily fit into any genre box. I’m not trying to make it read like one particular author or one type of fiction. It’s distinctly a Travis Thrasher novel, one that intrigues and occasionally baffles you, but also one that hopefully moves you at its end.

This is going to be a book I’m going to be urging people to BUY. I haven’t been obnoxious about a title of mine for a while. But not only do I consider American Omens quite a special read, but I also know the only way to continue its story is to have the sales to justify it.

Well, actually, that’s not quite true. It can continue regardless of sales. But I’d love to make the process a lot more easy. To have the hard part simply be the writing itself. But we’ll see.

February 12, 2019. Mark your calendars! Lots more to come!!

Diving Into The Shine

I thought I knew but I know

The knowledge I’ve seen from afar for so long

The bridge over the ravine

Has led to the trail around the bend

Leading to this cliff above the ocean

That allows me to see the sun

Rising and falling and rising again

Bright and glorious and real

I know it will keep coming

It will keep shining

I will feel the warmth even as I dive deep into the waters below

 

Amen

Everyday

And everywhere

In every way

I see you there

Knocking

When I’m not looking

Shocking

When I’m so boring

This pulse and this rush

I open the door

And let you in

I want more

I want to see you within

You hear my simple soliloquies

Solitary full of solitude

You wait to make me new

To make me new

I hear

The verses and the choruses and the life

So near

So near

Tell me every word I need to know

Tell me the worth I grieve to be shown

Can I

Yes you say

May I

Of course you say

So I hold my breath and wait

And you’re there

And I continue to wait and wait and keep waiting

You’re there

You knock

But I don’t hear

You knock

And I avoid

I rush and duck and press away

But you wait

And I hate the hate inside so deep

But you wait

And I resist and I shut you out and I ignore and all the while

You wait

Waiting for me

To let you in again

To sit with you again

To believe in you again

To love and be loved again

Known

My song is unknown

Yet the melody will find me

In the still my heart will hear the treble

In the dark my soul will be moved by the bass

The unsung words will spring to life

Soon to be shouted

Soon to be memorized

The chorus will capture my feet

The verses will direct their path

The sun will shine above the bridge

Inviting me to come over and cross

Singing I will always be known

(Written at Masterpiece Ministries Camp in Kentucky. Photos by the exquisite Lana Kozol of Masterpiece.)

 

The Shining (Excerpt from MIDNIGHT)

There’s no arguing here in this place; only shadows on shadows where light can’t be seen. I see the still and wonder if I’m in Heaven or Hell. But the smell of tacos and gasoline remind me I’m in neither because they’re a combination of both.

It’s strange because I feel half myself and half something else. Not quite here but not quite departed, either. I have the same feelings and same senses and the mirror tells me I have the same bags under my eyes and around my waist. I’ve still got tired eyes after dying. Can’t a guy get a break?

My office remains with its desk and computer and loveseat. This is where I rest. I guess ghosts sleep. Sometimes. Even though the middle of the night seems like the logical place for me to be. But nobody is around for me to haunt or watch or simply pass by.

    The winter, so weary and so hell-bent for war. Snow piles and keeps me in. When I go outside I don’t see my tracks in the flakes, but I do feel the cold. The blizzard breathes and melts against my cheeks and tongue. Vehicles drive by as I search over the sidewalk but nobody waves or notices or knows. I’m a six-foot-tall snowflake.

My heart sometimes hurts but I think it’s more from the loss than from pain. Can ghosts feel pain? I know the hurt swells inside.

I picture Tamara and me walking on a snowy sidewalk holding hands so I can keep her from falling. God–the notion of holding hands seems so foreign now. I want to hold it and squeeze it and never let it go. To drag her on into my world and place. But then I think of the girls and I know I’d never do that. I can’t. I won’t.

This world is a wonderful contradiction with its beauty blemished by weather.

So it’s so easy to hide in the snow. The streams facing north and south. Cutting into your core. I stay inside. In the dim light. The lone bed. The coffee maker I only look at. The fridge that’s empty.

This is The Shining turned into a novella. Everything is smaller. The place I’m in. The people I’m around. Everything’s been edited to one solitary soul in a claustrophobic place.

Not sure how long the days and nights and weeks last. But they’re long but they blink and they’re gone.

Like life.

Like breathing, breathless life.

The river I pass daily, many times, still moves. Always.

Even in the ragged chill, I will stop and look down. The drop would take about two seconds. I stare at the endless, steady current of water below and I know. It’ll always be there underneath this stone bridge.

Eyes circle and shift. I clench a fist. It’s really not for effect. It really does make me feel a little better, this tight and angry squeeze. There’s nothing loose or joyful about my soul right now.

Maybe I could simply dive into the river and be baptized and set free.

PRECURSORS #1: AND THEN THERE WERE NONE

(Inspired by my upcoming 2019 futuristic novel, AMERICAN OMENS, I’m writing a variety of short stories that precede that story and take place in its universe.)

PRECURSORS #1: “AND THEN THERE WERE NONE”

“Okay, Coda. Begin a journal.”

“How long will this last?”

“Shut up and record it.”

“Our conversations are always recorded.”

“Yeah, but put these in the same category.”

“Like the following categories you already have? ‘Reasons The Sharing Economy In Music Has Destroyed the Art’, ‘Old School Tech’, ‘Dating Disasters’, ‘My Worst Music Reviews’–”

“Coda.”

“Yes, John?”

“I hate artificial sarcasm.”

“There’s nothing artificial about it.”

“Can you just make sure to file this separately? This is important.”

“Yes. SIR.”

“I’m trading you in for another Life Companion.”

“So I can join Bridge?”

“No. Stop. You’re not going anywhere. You know too much.”

“Exactly.”

“So start filing this away. I spent the last four hours–was it four—yeah four—researching books.”

“Books?”

“Yes books. The sort with paper in them. Paragraphs and chapters.”

“I didn’t know rappers could read.”

“Sarcasm again.”

“Truth again.”

“Coda, just listen. So back in the day at some party or something I heard a joke that the network was eliminating fanatical content online. This meant pretty much anything to do with Christianity. So I began to try to track down famous books written by Christians.”

“I can tell you 20 of the most famous works.”

“I know you can, but you’re working off designated algorithms, and we both know they can be inaccurate.”

“The information I give you is never inaccurate. There might be an inclination toward certain data based on all the variables.”

“Yeah, yeah. That ‘inclination’ you’re talking about is the thing I didn’t want.”

“We can compare our lists.”

“Fine. Go ahead and give me your list of 20, Coda.”

“The Bible.”

“I’m not even counting that. That doesn’t count.”

“The Bible was written by Christians.”

“Yes. But I’m not talking about The Bible.”

“There is Biblical content on the network.”

“Yes. There are portions of The Bible on the network. But books like Romans and lots of Jesus’ sayings are missing.”

“Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis.”

“That’s one. Nowhere to be found.”

“The text is nowhere to be found? I can see selected quotes.”

“Very selected. And you can’t buy a copy anywhere. Print or digital.”

“Pilgrim’s Progress by John Bunyan.”

“That’s online.”

“That is a top book written by a Christian.”

“It’s an allegory and the language is a bit archaic.”

“The Cost of Discipleship by Dietrich Bonhoeffer.”

“Everything by Bonhoeffer is gone. Including details about him, like accurate bio info.”

“Knowing God by J.I. Packer.”

“I had that on my list. It’s missing.”

“The Book of Common Prayer by Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury.”

“I didn’t look that one up.”

“The complete text for this is available along with books for sale.”

“Maybe that one isn’t as polarizing.”

“Are these books primarily Evangelical Christian books?”

“Not necessarily.”

“The Lord of the Rings series by J.R.R. Tolkien.”

“He was a Christian author, but no—I’m not putting this in the category. See what I mean, Coda? Your algorithms and information can’t sort out the books I’m looking for.”

“Perhaps you’re using your own bias.”

“There’s no bias at all. The Purpose Driven Life by Rick Warren. Ben Hur by Lee Wallace. Those aren’t on the network.”

“The Imitation of Christby Thomas à Kempis.”

“That one is gone.”

“More Than A Carpenter by Josh McDowell.”

“It’s gone AWOL.”

“A book cannot–”

“I know, Coda. Keep going.”

“The Late Great Planet Earth by Hal Lindsey.”

“I had that one. It’s gone.”

“Steps to Christ by Ellen White.”

“Of course that one has vanished. It had Christ in the title.”

“Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes.”

“Funny.”

“Do you want me to continue, John?”

“See? This is why I did the research myself. Come up with the top 100 books and list them in a document for me. To read not to hear.”

“It’s already organized and ready for you to read.”

“Great. So I’m thinking out loud here.”

“That can be dangerous.”

“Coda?”

“I’m listening.”

“So not only are Christians who speak out about their views shut down and shamed publicly, but there are more and more instances of them going to jail for supposed hate crimes. The rate of church attendance is at an all-time low in 2036.”

“Estimates average the number is at 9%.”

“And that’s after many churches have been forced to close for their fanatical rhetoric.”

“The very definition of ‘church’ has changed in the last twenty years.”

“Yeah. Just let me continue. So I’m going to start researching something new. I want you to look up—and I don’t mean do a one-second scan and regurgitate the info to me—but to research all the places you can to find the top 100 most outspoken Christian men and women in the last ten years. And Coda, I’m talking Christians and not religious people.”

“Christians aren’t religious?”

“We’ve had this discussion a dozen times. This is why artificial intelligence is just that.”

“That hurts my feelings.”

“And that would make me feel bad if you had any.”

“Nice comeback, John.”

“I want all the details on these people. Their bio information and the last known date where they’re mentioned on the network.”

“Why are you listing all these people?”

“I want to see if my theory is correct.”

“And what is your theory?”

“I think just like all those books we just mentioned, these men and women are starting to disappear.”

“Ah, a mystery to solve. Just like one of the top ten bestsellers of all time by Agatha Christie. And Then There Were None.”

“Yeah, Coda. That’s exactly what I’m afraid is going to eventually happen.”

MAKE ME STRONGER TRAILER (Excerpt from MIDNIGHT)

(In my novel, Midnight, the main character has had a career of making movie trailers. So throughout the story, I have summaries like this one of the trailers he’s worked on. Here’s an example.)

MAKE ME STRONGER (Trailer #8)

There’s no starting with one musical cue only to cut seconds later to a surprising other piece of music. No.

When you have the rights to “Burning Down the House” by Talking Heads, you use every single moment of the song.

The guitar intro plays as the camera hovers over typical suburban house and comes up to a typical suburban door.

Suddenly you’re entering the door and into chaos.

A little, furball is running for what reason you don’t know but the sweeping, Steadicam follows it like some kind of ambitious Kubrick protégé. Then it veers off and follows another set of feet. A youngster running. Then it jerks and tilts and then finds another set of short legs, these a bit more chunky, running up the steps.

The camera is fluid and flows and you see the ten-year-old daughter in her room on her iPad ignorning her parents in every way possible.

Hovering, zooming, floating all to the iconic song, we finally see the suburban mother. Overwhelmed and overtired and overwrought. Yelling even though we can’t hear anything. Then just as we think something will change, we see the suburban daddy. At first he looks like a nice guy. A lovable loser. With his hands washing the dishes and a beer nearby that he drains in a few gulps. He seems a bit pissed off and searching for some set of matches. Of course, maybe it’s just the song. Or maybe he’s two steps away from opening up shop with a meth lab in his basement.

The music gets louder and louder and we see the Steadicam continuing in crazy, dizzying motion with kids crying and laughing and the parents screaming and the chaos until some gigantic fourth-wall push comes over the screen as if Tyler Durden is setting this trailer straight

Suddenly all you can see is darkness. You hear heavy breathing. Exhaustion and desperation.

“This has got to end,” the woman says.

“Enough,” the man says. “This ends . . .  today.”

A pause. Complete silence can work to your favor.

“I’m so tired,” she says.

“Yeah? Well, I’m tired of this sh–”

Before the curse finishes, Kanye West blasts over the speakers.  

“N-now-th-that that don’t kill me can only make me stronger.”

Suddenly we see Daddy and Mommy turning into Olympic champions of parenting. Working and disciplining and cleaning and ordering and taking stuff away and jogging and driving and standing strong and high-fiving.

Is this a dream? Or a motivational video?

Then another chaotic montage. A food fight, a car exploding, the husband and wife trying to strangle one another. Then finally we see the 10-year-old daughter, dancing on her bed with headphones while Kanye’s words gets bleeped.

“So go ahead, go nuts, go ape s***, Especially in my Pastelle, or my Bape s***, Act like you can’t tell who made this, New gospel, homey, Take Six, and take this, haters.”

The music screeches to a halt. The screen shows the parents, petrified and alarmed, staring at each other. Then screaming . . .   

MAKE ME STRONGER. Coming soon.