Travis Thrasher's Blog, page 9

Stranger Things (Excerpt from Midnight)

I haven’t written any on MIDNIGHT, my novel that’s been in the works for sometime. Tonight I took my laptop out of my home office and worked on it in the family room. Like so many other randomly written chapters in this strange sort of story, my inspiration came from a new song by the dance/pop/DJ musician Kygo. I just sorta pour out thoughts that are both mine and the character’s. So here’s the chapter titled after Kygo’s song, “Stranger Things.”

11/2/2017

(stranger things–Kygo)

That puddle looks deep enough to dance in.

Those seeds you planted are starting to sprout green before the snow will cover them over.

The colors draping over the trees stand out better under the colorless clouds.

This countryside sort of scenery you used to never see breathes just outside, but it’s not beyond your reach.

One step and you’re there.

And all these parts paint this odd sort of picture. The stranger things in life that are simply standing there, right there in front of you, beautiful and often taken for granted.

Like the grace of ghosts that love you and leave you and linger like the glow of Christmas lights and campfire embers.

Peace isn’t a parcel you can express overnight. Hope isn’t a hurry-up antidote to a gushing wound inside your soul.

It’s gonna take some time, Spencer.

Don’t consider it some sort of season. Don’t contemplate over missed opportunities that never came to fruition. That never even existed in the first place.

The places you could go are the places right in front of you. Ground you can plant a foot on and then see the print later in the evening glow.

The morning wakes and the wonder continues and the window remains clear until the daylight disappears. But it’s okay to keep the blinds open.

You never know what sort of fireflies might float by. Or what the stars look like out here in this corner of this cul-de-sac on the crossroads between yesterday and tomorrow.

Father’s Child (Excerpt from MIDNIGHT)

Father’s Child 12/15/16

(Chapter from MIDNIGHT)

            Waiting. Around the corner over the headway side by side the siding.

            Waiting and wondering.

            I can hear but can’t see. I can walk but can’t run. I can feel but can’t think.

            The words and the staircases and the steps and the songs. I’m wondering how many I can use and in what way.

            I look through the playlists trying to find the right one. Imagery and music. The tune and the tone and the attitude.

            The majors are fine but I’m staring at the minors.

            The minor moments in the songs where I can lift up a little emotion.

            I scan and search. Then I add a little more. Waiting on the call. Waiting on input.

            Give us a day. A number. A time.

            The days of waiting for a muse can barely be remembered.

            This road turning to an avenue into a sidewalk over a bridge onto a path and then becoming a trail finds two feet traveling too far and too wide and too alone.

            Walk with me.

            My prayer every moment of every day.

            Walk with me.

 

 

 

Midnight Excerpt

LONDON THUNDER POOLSIDE

Spirits slip through the keyholes of doors angry to be locked out. They claw across the dimly lit walls where shadows play tricks near midnight. The ghosts you think you see sneak behind you and into the corners of your mind only to laugh in mockery.

Echoes. Pinpoints on skin that cut and bleed.

The calm curse of the late-night glow. Lights flicker in stereo while you stare at a screen oblivious to the Poltergeist trying to play tricks on you.

Work. The waterfall of it all. The wonder and the blur clasped hand in hand.

Sometimes we just have to have at it in order to have a go at trying to have it all.

Then again, sometimes we simply create something for the look or the sound or the feel of it. It doesn’t make sense because it doesn’t have to. It simply can exist. Sometimes it can even be quite moving in its nonsense.

(Excerpt from Midnight, a work-in-progress since 2013. Currently have 95,000 words.)

 

 

The Story in a Playlist

#1. “Surge” by Above & Beyond sets the stage. Melancholy, dramatic. Opening credits.

#2. Picking up the pace with a remix of “Save Me” by same band. There are tensions and struggles. “Lost at sea. Save me and I’ll save you.”

#3. Another remix with an upbeat beat. “Big Picture” by a favorite, London Grammar. Our character ignores his struggles. “Only now do I see the big picture, but I swear that these scars are fine.”

#4. One more remix for the car rides. “Saltwater” by Chicane, a classic from 2000. Still melancholy & searching. “Open my eyes, saltwater rain.”

#5. Full-fledged remix playlist. “But I was so misguided in my youth” the hero thinks as New Order plays “Academic.”

#6. Those damn kids. Drive. Just get in the car and drive. “Children” by Joe Goddard of Hot Chip provides the funky, pulsating soundtrack.

#7. Slow down and stop with “Nothing” by Zola Blood. The haunting minor keys of the chorus are fitting.

#8. Life’s tough but there’s hope. An anthem. “The Phoenix” by Lindsey Stirling.

#9. Another Joe Goddard song. Calming. “I don’t wanna change your mind, now it’s made. It’s better that we don’t say anything more about it.” Better just to leave the arguments behind.

#10. “But your story isn’t over. No, I only just begun. You know sometimes it’s hard to understand the road we’re on, the road we’re on.” So says Alex Clare in “The Story.” You have to just keep moving on, hoping and believing that life can get better.

#11. Nighttime arrives. “Oh Woman Oh Man” by London Grammar is a reminder of those melancholy moments.

#12. Morning comes. “Nylon Strung” by Underworld gets life back in motion. “Open me up. I wanna hold you, laugh for you. (Carry me).” But who can carry you?

#13. “On our way home, on our way home (Let us take your heavy along).” The groovy, upbeat “Home” by Joe Goddard brings optimism. Heading home. But where to?

#14. “And I rage and I rage, but perhaps I will come of age. And be ready for you.” The hero finally lets go and sings a prayer in “Only Love” by Mumford & Sons. “Didn’t they say that only love will win in the end?”

#15. Heading to the sunset with hope in hand as “American I/O” by Crowder plays. “Out of the ruins. Back to communion with You.” The beat builds thanks to the help of DJ BT. Fitting end. Closing credits.

PERSONA

In 2009, I spent nine months attempting to write the most terrifying novel I could imagine. Things didn’t go as I planned.

I had been a full-time writer for over a year, with my first horror novel, Isolation, released in September the year before. I had already written a second scary work of fiction called Ghostwriter that would be released in 2009, and I was in the midst of penning a third ghost story of sorts (Broken released in 2010). I had never wanted to create a “brand,” but I guessed now was the time.

It was time, as they say, to go for broke.

Isolation had given me a lot of confidence. It had been well-received, first off by the New York publisher releasing it. Faithwords is a division of Hachette Books, formerly known as Time Warner Books. Having some of their higher-ups praising the novel and my writing was something out of a dream. I knew the mixture of Christian fiction and horror had never quite worked in the marketplace, but I hoped I could make a dent. Reviews were strong from both reviewers and my own readers. Publisher’s Weekly provided a blurb I’m still proud of today:

“In this dark chiller, Thrasher (Sky Blue; The Promise Remains) demonstrates a considerable talent for the horror genre. Like Stephen King, Thrasher pits flawed but likable characters against evil forces that at first seem escapable but gradually take on a terrifying ubiquity.”

We tried to get the book out there and create some buzz, but sales just weren’t there. My hope was to do two things to help my “brand” of Christian horror that I was doing with Faithwords: First, I had a proposal for a four-book YA series called The Solitary Tales (ever heard of that one?). Faithwords seriously considered publishing it, but they decided they wanted to concentrate on my adult fiction. Oh, and they had just acquired the rights to do about 100 novels by this other novelist . . . I forget his name. Ed Tucker. Maybe Ted Recker. I can’t remember now.

Another publisher decided to release The Solitary Tales, however. This really blew me away. Christian horror? Doesn’t sell. Christian horror YA novels? Those DON’T EXIST. Yet Travis Thrasher is stubborn and stupid and so damn persistent.

The other thing I planned on doing to help my “brand” was to write a general-market horror novel, not in order to finally cross-over and then abandon the Christian market place but rather to gain more readers. So I set out writing this really awful and frightening novel.

Persona is set mostly in Tuscany, Italy. I visited Italy in grade school while living in Germany, but I’ve never traveled to Tuscany. My agent had been there and suggested the location. I researched the locale (too bad I never traveled there!). It was the perfect setting for the story about a writer/journalist sent to interview this reclusive Kubrick-esque film director who had retreated from the public and now wanted to tell his story. The writer (very much an antihero) was a mess of a man. He and his wife had divorced after losing their son. He was an alcoholic (and yes, it’s a cliché, since every writer on screen and in films tends to be a drunk, right?), and he was losing his mind before traveling to Italy.

The director he was interviewing had this wild and lengthy backstory that I had created. His character changed several times in the course of writing. First he was an Italian director, then an American. But he was crazy. Think of Colonel Kurtz in Apocalypse Now. Our antihero has all these strange experiences until finally arriving at the secluded villa in Tuscany where he’ll be staying to interview this director. It’s fully stocked with booze, of course. Things go from strange to bizarre when he finally meets the famed director.

Persona was my attempt to double down on Isolation, ramping up the horror and violence and also the demonic stuff. The missionaries in Isolation are under spiritual attack, yet they believe in God and have His protection. The writer in Persona doesn’t. Everything intensifies and becomes this monstrous, nightmarish explosion that ends with a dreadful twist.

The true and awful twist turned out to be the story itself. I hadn’t written myself into a corner; I had promptly written myself off an Italian cliff. The lengthy email my agent wrote about the novel after I finished it began with her saying her first immediate thought was that I had lost myself a bit in the process of writing the story. “I could almost feel your struggles as a writer as I turned the pages of the book.  You are right in describing this novel as ‘heavy” and oppressive.’”

In short, the story didn’t work for many reasons. Nine months of work and I had to basically start over. Yet my time had run out. I had gone for broke; now I was broke. So I shelved Persona and things began to shift in my writing career.

One irony about this novel and where I stand now is that at the time I wrote Persona, I had never collaborated on another book with anybody. I had never been a co-writer or ghostwriter. Now, eight years later (geez, really?), I have been doing more co-writing than writing my own works. That means I’ve collected some true life fodder I’m excited to use. The idea for Persona has never left me. I’ve dabbled in trying to rewrite it, and have constantly been working on the structure of the story.

So I’m pleased to announce Persona will be published this month!!! Okay, no. I wish. But I am happy to say that the plot line has been reviewed and revised and even completely redone over the years. As someone who can admit to never having really and truly done a spectacularly-plotted novel, I hope and plan to begin writing Persona 2 with a very tight structure. I’m actually going against my rules to use those structures that are taught, like the stages of the Heroes Journey and the three-act structure for movies, all that.

The basic heart and soul of the story is still there. Our hero has changed in some ways. The setting will be different. I might even change the director to be something else (especially after reading the very similar theme in this book). I’m even retitling it. My new title works far better.

So that’s a 1,000-word summary of what’s happening with one novel of mine. I still get asked all the time when I’ll be writing another scary novel. This is a long-winded answer. Is there a market for this book? Absolutely. Will it be Christian or secular? I’m not worrying about it, though I know the Christian book market won’t touch something like this. I’ve thought about many things—releasing it under a pen-name, or publishing it myself. And yes, I still have to publish Glory, something I’ve been trying to do the last couple of years!

Several things are in place for me to allow me to start a project like this in the near future. For those of you wanting something in the vein of Isolation and Ghostwriter, I still have quite a few stories in mind. Thanks for your patience. Hopefully one day.

Just Paper

Last week I discovered over 3,000 copies of two of my books were shredded. They hadn’t just been put into a closeout status and sold for pennies before going out of print. No. These were specifically taken somewhere to be cut and stripped and reduced to confetti.

The two books were Marvelous and Wonder, the first two in a four-book series called The Books of Marvella. This series has already had a rough history since it was canceled by the publishing house midway through the publishing schedule due to the lack of sales. I paid money to print the third book, Awe, which I won’t recoup for some time. I plan to publish the fourth and final book, Glory, especially because I already wrote it and the story isn’t not even half complete without it.

Naturally I would have liked some or all of those copies. Especially since they were literally being destroyed. And since I will be selling the series as a foursome once I publish Glory. 

Heck–I could have used Marvelous as bait to capture some readers. I could have given it away for free.

3,000 copies. Shredded. I didn’t take the news so well. Considering the timing, it felt brutal and also symbolic.

It took five days or so before I forced myself to let it go. And to also realize the obvious: they’re just paper. That’s all those books are.

The stories and their content haven’t gone away.

**

I remember when my first book got published the summer of 2000. I had written and finished seven novels before landing a contract with this one. At the time, I was all-consumed with trying to get something published. I worked hard. I’m not some incredibly gifted and brilliant writer. I grew up wanting to write but didn’t read tons of books. I had a lot to learn (still do). I was fortunate to get a job in publishing, and I did so because I really wanted to learn the business and get published. So finally, the day came.

I had built it up to insane expectations. As if trumpets in the Heavens were going to sound. As if I was going to hold “baby” for the first time. Books are your babies in some way. But they really aren’t, as I’ve learned having three girls. The don’t compare, to be honest.

The Promise Remains was published by Tyndale House Publishers, where I worked from 1994 to 2007. So I was able to find out the moment the books came in from the printer. I remember hearing from someone in production that they had arrived, so I called the warehouse immediately to see if they could locate them.

“Yeah, they’re right over there,” a young guy in the warehouse said in a nonchalant way.

Imagine someone saying that about your daughter. “Yeah. She’s right over there. I guess. I don’t know. It’s just another baby. We see a lot of them.

I didn’t tell the guy it was my book. I ran down the stairs and across the parking lot to get a few copies. To see what it finally looked like. A hardcover book! With my name on it! 

When I arrived slightly out of breath, I found the man I’d spoken with and asked him where the books were. He brought me over to a pallet of boxes and we both stood there for a moment, staring at them.

“I don’t know what happened to this,” he said, still casual but also now curious.

It looked like a forklift had driven over the cases of books. Two or three cases were opened and smushed at the same time. Books had fallen out, their jacket sleeves torn, pages even ripped. The first copy I ever picked up was warped and wrinkled.

Holding my first book in print, I realized that being published wasn’t the be all and end all I thought it would be.

Soon I would harbor another deep-rooted goal and dream: having a shelf of my own books and being able to write full-time.

**

So I have a shelf of books, and I’ve been writing full-time for almost ten years.

I’ve learned in a hard way the last few years that having a shelf of books and writing full-time isn’t the be all and end all either.

God, the ultimate creator and storyteller, had to reveal that to me. He had to get it through my dense skull. You know the popular slogan from the NRA? I had the same sentiment with God and my writing: “I’ll give you my writing when you pry it from my cold, dead hands.”

Thankfully my hands aren’t cold and dead.

I used to think that since I was writing books in the Christian genre, that I had given my writing over to God. But I hadn’t.

Writing was the one constant thing I had growing up in an inconstant life. Moving and living in places like Australia and Germany and Florida and New York. Changing schools and homes and friends and cultures. In a youth I couldn’t control, writing was the one thing I could.

In the last few years, God has repeatedly said this to me:

I GAVE YOU LIFE AND GAVE YOU THE DESIRE TO CREATE AND TELL STORIES. BUT I WANT YOU TO LOVE ME MORE THAN YOUR WRITING. I WANT YOU TO HONOR ME THROUGH IT. 

A lesson I’ve learned in strange and wonderful ways through strange and wonderful circumstances. A realization that I’m still always struggling to figure out.

God hasn’t closed the door with my writing. In fact, in some ways, things have never looked brighter and more promising.

Some ways.

**

It’s a year of big change for me. It’s interesting that 1987 was the year I moved to the Chicago area right after my junior year of high school had started. 2007 was the year I began to write full-time. Maybe there’s something about the 7 years.

I’m both excited and exhausted these days. I could have never imagined years ago that I would find myself working on a historical nonfiction book. Or a children’s Bible storybook. Or a memoir with a former Saturday Night Live cast member. I’ve been learning something new every day about writing and publishing.

I know God has a plan, and I hope He can use me in ways I could never imagine. And I have a big imagination.

Those shredded books are a reminder that it’s not about me and never will be.

REMEMBER THAT, TRAVIS. 

I try. And I’m going to keep trying with Your help.

Living in La La Land

I used to go see movies on the Friday night they would open. Back then, my wife and I usually watched a few movies a week, sometimes even more. That was when we were DINKS (double-income-no-kids). Now I jokingly say we’re no-income-three-kids. With the lack of time and money and babysitters, going to see any kind of movie in the theater is a rarity. I think I’ve maybe seen three films in the theater in the last three months, and that’s a lot by our standards.

So when I kept hearing about La La Land with the amazing Emma Stone and my favorite current actor, Ryan Gosling, I was intrigued. Then I heard it was about two struggling artists trying to make it. So I deliberately avoided the film. (yes, spoilers ahead, folks)

The last thing I wanted to see on the big screen was a two-hour reminder of what the last decade has been like for me.

**

The dream to write started for me when I was in . . . Wait a minute. You don’t really care about the dreams I had when I was in third grade, do you? If you’re one of the few people that actually do care, you’ve probably heard me tell that story a thousand times.

The truth is every single person ever born has had some kind a dream in their life and it could be a big one or a small one. It could be a simple one. But everybody has dreams, then month-by-month and year-by-year life chips away at them until the grand totem pole once standing now looks like a toothpick.

Being an adult–growing up–becoming wise–all of those things can be a series of little-by-little losing that dream and coming back to reality–coming back to your senses–coming back to the fact that life is hard and you’ll struggle and you’re not going to win that golden ticket to the chocolate factory.

So when you see a film about dreamers, they move you and they remind you and sometimes they fill you with regret and other times they fill you with possibility. But usually it’s only for a couple hours. Then you leave that sanctuary of darkness and you go back out into the light where real life and real problems wait for you. Those dreams are left back in your movie seat.

For some reason, however, I’ve always had those dreams alongside of me like my shadow. It’s easy to put this into a category of persistence & perseverance but I think I’ve carried those dreams because they were the only things I knew would remain by my side during a youth spent moving every other year.

**

The world doesn’t need another movie reviewer. Just like it doesn’t need another author or musician or actor or artist. Yet we can’t help ourselves, can we? This isn’t a review of La La Land but rather a summary how much it moved me and why. Perhaps I’m writing this more for myself than anybody else. To be honest, that’s the history of my writing career, for better or worse.

I can see why Hollywood fell in love with La La Land. How can you not be in love with Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone and a movie like this? The film is really a love letter to not only Hollywood but to any artist struggling and believing and hoping in this world. Everything is so well done.

Anybody can love and appreciate the film, but I do think there’s only a handful who really and truly know what this world is like. So many can know the struggles of failing time and time again. The difference is most people start out trying to find success in order to build a career and make money and have a stable life. Being an artist doesn’t begin with the desire to make money or build your brand or have a business. Yet you have to do all those things if you’re going to be a grown-up in that world.

**

There’s an interesting question to ponder when you leave the film. How do you define success? Is it achieving your dreams, because it’s almost impossible to achieve any dream without sacrificing something else. In this case the hero and heroine live happily ever after but not with each other. I’ve seen lots of people saying they hate this ending, but it worked for me. It’s real. Plus—don’t most great love stories in film or literature end this way?

I think about the juxtaposition a lot, about achieving my dream of writing full-time and yet never having it on my own terms. There have been many times when I thought I would do anything other than writing simply to be able to have some financial stability.

Living the dream. Finding your dream. What’s that really, truly mean?

**

People can understand those awful auditions Emma Stone’s character has to go through, but artists will truly feel the pain of that opening night when the lights go on and there’s eight people in the audience or Ryan Gosling dressed in 80’s attire playing a key tar in a really horrible cover band.

I can’t fully express how much I can relate when Gosling’s character ends up signing on the dotted line and doing something that he is still able to do but doesn’t love to do. Something he once swore he’d never do. Their argument at the dinner table–I’ve lived that argument quite a few times. It felt a little too real, especially after the, uh, conversation I had just had in the car with my wife on the way to see the movie.

Dreams aren’t bad—they’re wonderful and glorious–but sometimes reality just simply won’t allow them to happen and that’s life. Other times, many times, you find yourself letting go of certain things (pride for one) in order for them to happen in some small way.

**

They set it all up so well when Emma Stone finally has a call back to audition for a big film.

She starts talking about her aunt and then she begins to sing this incredible song about dreamers. I couldn’t simply dot the tears away but rather had to keep my fingers positioned in order to keep them from running.

I loved the chorus of the song.

“Here’s to the ones who dream”

Affirmation to everybody who has ever taken a breath in this broken world.

“Foolish as they may seem”

Confirmation that we’re not alone in our insanity.

“Here’s to the hearts that ache”

A summary of the story of every artist striving and believing and getting crushed along the way.

“Here’s to the mess we make”

This final lyric was perhaps the most meaningful one. The mess we make. I’ve thought this for all my life, seeing myself make messes that somehow get put into story form and then into book form. I’ve seen the last decade in many ways as a mess.

The song and the film is a celebration of the mess our dreams can make.

**

The honest truth: I was getting ready this morning and playing Gosling’s first rendition of “City of Stars” on my iPhone. And he sings this lyric:

“Is this the start of something wonderful and new

Or one more dream that I cannot make true?”

Right that very moment the song stopped as an incoming call came through. I’m not lying. That very moment. And it turned out to be a bill collector. Not that this was a shocker. I get them all the time. But I just had to laugh. Ah, the irony, right?

**

We have these things inside of us that we can’t keep from creating, that we can’t help coming out. Things that need to be shared and explored. If we can do anything with them in life, it’s a blessing. If we can earn any kind of money from them, it’s a miracle. But if that’s the journey we take, it’s going to be a long and arduous one.

Everybody knows what it’s like to have a dream, but few know what it’s like to live one out and see it happen. Watching La La Land was a beautiful and moving reminder of this for me.

A Wild 2016

Here is an overview of my writing world in 2016. I’ve never had a more difficult year professionally, yet in many ways I’ve never had a more productive and creative year as well. Some of the projects I worked on will hopefully see light of day this year, and some of the seeds planted will hopefully grow into something bigger in the years to come.

–Spent first two weeks of 2016 ghostwriting and finishing a crash nonfiction collaboration. One of the most exhausting and yet exhilarating experiences I’ve ever been a part of. Something where I proved that YES I CAN WRITE A BOOK IN FIFTEEN DAYS.

–One of the books I was collaborating on got finished, handed in and happily accepted, only to then be put on hold and eventually cancelled. A brutal publishing experience but one that still led to some opened doors as well as some learned lessons.

–2016 was the year of the PROPOSAL. Ugh. I worked on maybe 7 or 8 different proposals. Half coming from agents representing people and the others coming through me to those hoping to find an agent/publisher. I so love writing books instead of writing proposals and plans for books. But still—it led to quite a variety of different doors opening.

–One of these proposals I worked on was for Jonathan Cain, the keyboardist for the band Journey. The guy who co-wrote “Don’t Stop Believin’” along with so many other songs that were a soundtrack to my youth. I expected to hear him narrate a typical rock memoir, but instead Cain’s story is about his amazing faith journey. Truly. He’s an incredible man with such an inspiring testimony. I’m so hoping to be able to work with him on his story this year.

–Providentially I ended up being suggested as the writer to Jonathan Cain’s wife, Pastor Paula White. At the time, the agent recommending me didn’t know I was already working with Cain. So I’ve had the great opportunity to be helping Pastor White with telling her incredible life story. Once again, it’s a book I hope and pray I can be working on with her in 2017.

–There’s a really inspiring story that I’m currently working on right now. It’s based on a documentary with the same title, Olympic Pride, American Prejudice. Check it out. It’s about lives of the other 17 American black athletes who competed in the 1936 Olympic Games in Berlin. It’s historical nonfiction and a project I’m so proud to be a part of.

–Remember the song “Oh Happy Day”? I’ve been working with the gentlemen who helped put that arrangement together. Edwin Hawkins is an amazing talent with another exceptional story about how he helped change the sound of gospel music in the 70’s.

–I’m currently finishing up writing a book with Chris Kattan from Saturday Night Live. The talented physical comedian responsible for Mr. Peepers, Mango and the Roxbury Guys with Will Ferrell. The book is fittingly called Baby Don’t Hurt Me.

–Who else? Let’s see. A World War 2 veteran. A Marine paraplegic who reached the top of Everest. A young widower. A successful businessman writing a legacy book for his grandchildren. A movie star.

–On the fiction front, I tried SO HARD to get the money to publish Glory but wasn’t able to. But my goal now is to publish the book this springtime. I was grateful to hear from those who preordered the book and read the manuscript. Their encouraging words validate my plans to release the book. (Not the final cover shown here)

–There’s a novel I’ve been working on since November, 2013. It’s called Midnight and currently stands at 83,000 words. I’d love to finish this in 2017. It’s in the vein of Sky Blue and 40 and contains some of the best writing I’ve ever done.

–I was crazy enough to attempt NANOWRIMO this year. (National Novel Writing Month is an annual, Internet-based creative writing project that takes place during the month of November.) I had this idea and realized it was pretty special. So I wrote around 30,000 words and didn’t finish, meaning I failed at NANOWRIMO, right? Hardly. I have never needed to prove I can finish a book or get words written (since I do that on a regular monthly basis). The fabulous part is I documented November, 2016 which ended up with the Cubs winning the World Series and Trump getting elected. I’m hoping to release the book in November of 2017 as a way of celebrating and having fun with the whole NANOWRIMO thing.

–There was the attempt at starting to write my story about a guy stuck in a Hallmark film. A good idea, but there just wasn’t enough time to get it going.

–In the world of kids’ books, there were a couple of projects I’ve been involved with. The first is Brave Girls Confidential, which features inspiring stories for young girls. It releases later this year. It was so much fun because I have 3 young girls to write to and to pull story ideas from.

–I’m also working on a series for kids with an NFL quarterback you know and love. More on this later this year, but it’s gonna be really cool.

So that’s the briefest summary of 2016 I can give. What a year. I’m looking forward to seeing what doors God will open and keep shut this year. I also look forward to some of these projects finally being published and shared with readers.

The journey is everything!!

Happy 2017

Ten years ago, a friend gave me an expensive bottle of champagne with the following instruction:

“Open this after something big happens in your writing career. Like hitting the New York Times bestseller list.”

A couple of nights ago on New Year’s Eve, I finally popped open the bottle. The waiting was over. I needed to raise a glass to toast. To celebrate. So I did.

The champagne wasn’t to commemorate some bestseller list I’d made or some honor I’d received. I wasn’t toasting to some book deal I’d just signed or some big project I’d finished.

No.

It was simply time. It had been over a decade since I had received that gift. And I suddenly realized something that startled me.

I honestly had no idea what BIG thing in my writing career I was waiting for.

If ever there was a time I wasn’t thinking of popping open some bubbly and celebrating, it was on this night at the end of 2016. And yet, that’s what ended up making up my mind.

A brutal year was coming to an end. As I took stock of nearly ten years of writing full time, I could hear an Elton John song blasting from all sides.

“Don’t you know I’m still standing better than I ever did

Looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid”

I was still writing. I had weathered the storms and droughts of 2016. The toughest professional year of my life–hell, the toughest year of my life period. Yet I was still here, still at this thing, still hanging and holding on. Not only that, but I was staring into the barrel of a very loaded coming year. A year with some expected good changes.

So I raised my glass to still be standing after all this time and took the first sip.

Happy new year.

London Thunder 12/12/2016

From a work-in-progress titled MIDNIGHT: 

Seems long sent and long forgotten. Words wrapped from shadows and fog. Gifts drifting throughout, cutting the seams and dispelling the dreams.

I’ve not forgotten but have you?

Summer’s a message in a bottle tossed out into the ocean long ago. Springtime’s a million sunsets away. Winter is settling into this heart.

And I’m not sure and I don’t know and I can’t really hear any of it anymore.

Ragged and torn, the sails clutch the air in their grip, demanding today. Demanding every little bit. Until tomorrow reminds them it’s okay to let go.