Shawn Inmon's Blog, page 3

Don't Stop Believin'... (In your cover designer!)

     I spent many years as an avid reader before I finally sat down to write my own stories. In all those years, I never gave much thought to all of the elements that went into that book that sat on my shelf. Now, as an independent author and publisher, I am intimately familiar! So many things go into a book aside from just writing it. First, there is an editor (for me, that is J.K. Kelley) who untangles all those little awkward phrases that I could never quite eliminate on my own. Then there is the proofreader who makes sure that I haven't made any typos that will make it into the final draft. Then, there is the layout artist who makes the basic Word file look like a real book when you open it on your Kindle. As important as any of these things, though, the cover does so much of the heavy lifting of selling a book. 
     In many ways, your cover is the most important piece of advertising you do. All the work I do in promoting is intended to produce one thing: someone looking at my book on Amazon. It's a little humbling to realize that no matter how good the book might be inside, if that cover doesn't grab someone in under 5 seconds, they're probably gone to the next book. With upwards of 2,000 new books published on Amazon ever day, there is a lot of competition.
     I feel so fortunate because I have Linda Boulanger from TreasureLine Publishing as my cover designer. She has an unerring eye for what works, what fits a genre and what will help "sell" the book in those few precious seconds. She's also the most patient professional I could ever hope to work with. When I tell her things like "Could you make the lightning strike behind the couple a little more diffused so that the eye is drawn to the girl on the horse," she doesn't strangle me. She always just says "I'll see what I can do" and then she does it. Her mantra is always "I'm not happy until the author is happy."
     I've invited Linda to the blog today to both reveal our new cover and give a little background on the cover for Both Sides Now and Feels Like the First Time. First things first, here's our brand new cover:



     And now, here's Linda:
     
     When Shawn approached me about designing the cover for Both Sides Now, I did a happy dance and cringed at the same time. I enjoy working with Shawn an awful lot but knew this cover would be a challenge because the cover for Feels Like The First Time is one of my all time favorites, and coming close to repeating its success would be difficult. Feels Like The First Time was 100% inspired – well, the final version was, anyway. There were some pretty interesting mock covers designed before something sparked and I said those words Shawn has grown to love: I have an idea!

     All cover designs start the same way. After an author contacts me, I collect basic information: I ask for a short synopsis, whether the author has a cover vision, and whether there are any particular points in the book that stand out – something we can use to make the cover fit the book. And while Shawn had basic ideas for his new cover, it was his turn to say the words I love to hear: I only give you these things as starting points… I trust your instincts much more than my own...

     What ideas did Shawn provide besides a rough blurb and semi-vision? Since Both Sides Now is a companion book, he recommended we use a reverse image of the silhouette of the couple. I agreed. He wanted purple as the dominant color since that’s Dawn’s favorite. We were good there as well. Then came the bits of torture. He wanted a particular horse image (and for a good reason), and we needed something to set a darker tone, yet still portray hope somehow. Picture the designer staring at the computer with her mouth open, nodding her head, her brows pulled into a deep V, while slowly massaging her temples.

     Actually, it wasn’t that bad. I think there were only 14 different covers that we opted not to use. Some of them had extremely small changes – the text might be shifted, or an element added or moved. But with this cover, we fought and fought to get that final element that truly pulled it together … and that didn’t come until, would you believe, Wednesday night before the Friday reveal. Under Pressure was playing through my head as I kept telling Shawn Don’t Stop Believing. lol.

     One final thing about this cover is that it’s elements heavy. There are pieces of 6+ images combined in its creation. I don’t want to share all my secrets, but I have put several of them together because I think it’s kind of fun to see what we started with and how they came together.

     I’m thankful Shawn didn’t give up when everything didn’t just fall into place. It reminds me a bit of his relationship with Dawn. It wasn’t an easy road getting from the initial idea to where we ended up. Sometimes, like life and relationships, it’s not. There were a lot of twists and turns before we got to the happy ending with a completed cover worthy to wrap around one of Shawn’s great stories. As always, I’m extremely honored to have played a part in getting his latest baby ready to present to the world.

     Congratulations, Shawn. I know I speak the thoughts of many when I say we’re all anxious to learn more about your amazing True Love Story told from the other side.


Thank you Linda, and thank you so much for capturing exactly the feeling I wanted for our new book. It is perfect. One last shout-out to Linda: She is not only a talented cover designer, she is also an author and her new book, Dance with the Enemy is available here.


    Both Sides Now will be available in paperback and for your Kindle on July 15th. If you'd like to be able to buy it before then, sign up for my New Release Newsletter here. Readers on the New Release List get a 24-48 hour jump on the rest of the world. Of course, I will never spam you or sell your name to anyone. I just love being able to connect to readers. Speaking of which, if you haven't already, I invite you to "Like" my Facebook page here.  There is much silliness that goes on with my Facebook page and I promise to deliver at least one giggle to your Facebook wall every day.

Perspective

     In my first book, Feels Like the First Time, I wrote the following: Perspective is everything. I've always loved that concept. The idea that you can take the same set of 'facts' and draw a completely different conclusion just because you've grown or learned something is irresistible to me. Of course, it's a pretty common theme in literature. Just think of Scrooge in A Christmas Carol. The only thing that changed in his transition between super-villain and giver of Christmas goodies was his own perspective. He learned to see the world in a different way. 
     One of my favorite books is Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card. I read it when it first came out and I have re-read it half  dozen times since then. When Card released the book Ender's Shadow, I wasn't sure I would like it. It re-told the same story as the first book, but from the perspective of a different character. As soon as I gave it a chance, I ended up loving it just as much as the first.
     And so, when it came time to decide on which book to write as the follow up to Feels Like the First Time, I had those concepts and ideas weighing heavily on my mind. Still, I have a lot of different things circling around the launching pad of my imagination that I want to write. I have a half-finished book about a character named Jimmy 'Guitar' Velvet called Rock 'n Roll Heaven that I really want to get to. I also have plans to expand my short story Lucky Man into a full-length novel. I was maybe most excited about writing a fictional high school romance that would echo many of the themes of my real-life love story with Dawn. (Hint: The beautiful girl ends up falling in love with the skinny, nerdy boy. I love a happy ending.)
     Still... in the end, I kept coming back to the idea that this first book wasn't completely finished. I felt like I had said everything I wanted to about myself, but not nearly enough about Dawn. So, taking a page from Ender's Shadow, I re-wrote the story from Dawn's perspective. That was easier said than done, by the way. My beloved has a very distinct way of looking at the world. She never uses three words when two will do. She is very matter of fact and not given to great flights of fancy. In other words, a challenging narrator for a full-length book. After worrying over this problem for months, her voice seemed to emerge full-blown in my imagination and from that moment on, the whole project took on an incredible velocity. I wrote the entire book in 31 days.
     One side benefit of writing this story is that Dawn will never be able to say that I don't see things from her perspective. If she were to ever say that, I will be able to smile and smugly point at Both Sides Now. Then, in all likelihood, she will smack me gently upside the head with said copy of Both Sides Now. 
     If you read both books, you may notice that both versions don't always match up perfectly. That's because the two books are based on individual memories that are 30+ years old. If I asked you to recount a conversation you had last week with your best friend, and then I asked your friend the same question, chances are I would probably get two different stories. Now, multiply that by thousands of weeks and you can see why differences arise. Of course, it would have been easy for me to homogenize the stories and make them identical, but I didn't want to do that. I wanted each of our memories preserved just as they are. 
     If you read and enjoyed Feels Like the First Time, I hope you'll give Both Sides Now a read when it comes out in a few weeks. I read it cover to cover again yesterday and I am convinced it's a better book. One thing I know for sure is, I feel blessed to have been given the opportunity to spend so much time learning how the person I love most on earth thinks and feels about life. Perspective is everything. 

Love's True Second Chance

     In the 28 years that Dawn and I were apart, I thought and daydreamed about her so often that when I saw her again it felt on some level like we'd never been apart. During those years of separation, I often thought about what it would be like if we found each other again. Would we be friends? Would we be able to communicate on the same intimate level we had before? What if one or the other of us was sick when we found each other again?
     A few months ago, I blogged about how there aren't very many books out there like Feels Like the First Time. At the time, the closest thing I could find was Richard Bach's The Bridge Across Forever. That was before I found Love's True Second Chance by Jeff Dawson. His story with Debbie, his first love, was similar to ours in so many ways. We are contemporaries, so as I read his book I experienced that same feeling of deja vu people relate to my about my own book. Jeff and Debbie were high school sweethearts and the book recounts many of the things you would expect - dating, parking, formal dances. Jeff's story telling style is different from mine, more straight-forward, I think, and I enjoyed that. 
     Now, here's the hard part of the story. When Jeff and Debbie finally reunited after decades apart, Debbie was sick. In the end, they only had a few precious months together before she passed away. (For those of you that think this is a spoiler, Jeff reveals this at the very beginning of the book.) It was so easy for me to read this story and substitute Dawn and I for Jeff and Debbie that I will spend the rest of the day, week, year, and life counting our own blessings. 
     The last part of the book recounts how Jeff and Debbie reunited and the life and laughter they shared in their time together. It is inevitable that there is sadness and tears in this section, but that's not the overall tone of the book. I think it's safe to say that the smiles and laughs outweigh the tears by a 3 to 1 ratio and given the subject matter, that's quite an accomplishment. 
     In preparing to write this blog today, I saw that Jeff is running a special on Love's Second Chance and that it is on sale for just $1.77 today. If you enjoyed Feels Like the First Time, I think you will enjoy this as well. Thank you, Jeff, for the gift of perspective you've given me. 

My two dads

     Of course, I only had one father, but I had two dads in my life. My father and first dad was Ralph Nathaniel Inmon. The few pictures I have of both of us are old, of course, because he died on Halloween, 1965. I was five years old. Because I was so young when he died, I never really knew him. Instead, most everything I know about him came second hand from my family and his friends. For the longest time, his death weighed so heavily on my young psyche that I blocked out almost all memories of him. Over time, that has eased.
     He was a logger and a farmer. That means that he worked and worked. The one thing I heard from everyone is what an incredible worker he was. I have a few memories of waiting out on our back porch for him to get home from his first job. He would sit on the steps of the back porch and let me "help" him take his cork boots off. Then, after having already worked a ten hour day, he would head out to the fields or the barn. We had a lot of acreage and there was always a lot to be done. 
     Because I was so little, I usually had to stay behind when he went to work on the farm, but sometimes he would take me along. I remember him as a laconic man, but when it was just the two of us he softly sang "Cool Water" by the Sons of the Pioneers while he worked.
    The truth is, he essentially worked himself to death. He died a much older man than his 47 years.      A few years later, my mom remarried. I was pretty resentful. In my heart, I knew that my Dad was gone, and there could never be another person to take his place. I couldn't understand why, if I understood that, Mom didn't. Their marriage was rocky. They both drank too much, fought too much and failed to see eye to eye on too many things to ever really be happy. Mom was a "New Age" kind of woman who loved to read  was always looking for solutions in the stars. My step-Dad, who I finally got around to calling "Dad" when I was about 12, was a very practical man. If you couldn't touch it, he didn't really think it existed.
     Despite their rocky marriage, which did calm down over the years, this Dad helped keep a roof over my head and made sure I had enough to eat. I just don't think he knew what to do with me - a bookish, brainy boy that didn't have any interest in learning how to work on cars or hang out with him in the shed.To be fair, though, I'm not sure my father would have had any more of an idea.
     Eventually, my step-dad and I made peace with each other. Occasionally I even wandered outside to help him with his various projects as evidenced by the picture above. He passed away as well, five years ago. He had smoked and chewed tobacco his whole life and that eventually killed him.
     I've been a dad myself now for twenty six years. When I was a kid I had no idea that my parents were basically making things up as they go along. I'm completely aware of that now, because I've been doing it myself for two and a half decades.
     Happy Fathers Day to both my two dads. My father haunts my dreams 47 years after he died. And, I came to respect the wisdom and practicality of my second dad. There are many times that I would love to be able to call him up or sit down with him if I had the chance.

Dawn's Story

     First, I need to apologize. I have neglected this blog over the last five weeks. Mea culpa. 
     I do have a good reason for this neglect. I wrote a book. Even better, I wrote a book that I had been wrestling with (and losing) for the previous five months. Sometimes, things just come together. 
     The picture above is the perfect representation of this new book, which will be titled Both Sides Now. If you read my first book, Feels Like the First Time, then you are familiar with the story of how I met, fell in love with, lost and ultimately found, my one true love, Dawn. I have felt so blessed because that book has received such a wonderful critical response - it currently has 237 Five Star reviews on Amazon. But, if there was any one, steady drumbeat of criticism about the book, it was that there were blanks in the story. Even at the end of that book, there were a questions left unanswered, and they were all about Dawn and her side of the story. That was only natural, since I told that story completely in the first person. I couldn't reveal what I didn't know.
     Still... some of those unanswered questions rankled me just as much as it did some readers. So, I set out to solve that. The only effective way I could come up with to do so was to write essentially the same story, but this time to tell it from Dawn's perspective. After all, a teenage girl is going to look at things very differently than a teenage boy of the same era. So, that was my task: write another first person account, but tell it as if I were my beloved. And there was the rub.
     Writing in another person's "real" voice can be difficult. To do so over 73,000 words is really difficult. Adding one more layer of danger is that I had to write about myself as though I were just another character in the story, and I didn't always come off looking so swell. In fact, there were plenty of times I was chapped at myself for my stupid behavior. 
     When I combined all those factors, they lead to a whole lot of blank pages and not a lot of writing getting done. Basically, I over-thought the whole process and talked myself into believing I just couldn't do it. Please understand, I'm not talking about writer's block. I don't believe in writer's block. I am talking about a crisis in confidence as to whether I could pull the whole thing off or not.
     Then, in one of those strokes of serendipity that is straight out of the movies, my friend, mentor and editor Jonathan Kelley sent me an email that said, in part, "I think you should read Jane Eyre, if you haven't already. I think there's much for you to gain in that book." Because I trust Jonathan, I put Jane Eyre at the top of my ponderously high To Be Read pile and dove in. 
     And it was in Jane Eyre that I found the voice of the girl I love. She had so much in common with the fictional Jane (except Dawn is beautiful where Jane is rather plain.) She is quiet around strangers, but is happy to share her opinions strongly when the moment arises. Like Jane, she is strong in her beliefs and she has a core of steel that no person and no event will ever shake.
     By May 7th, I was done with Jane Eyre and I sat down with a blank page and Dawn's youthful voice echoing at last through my head. 31 days and 73,000 words later, it was done. It is the same story as Feel Like the First Time, and yet it is completely different. 
     I won't know for sure if it will be as well-received as the first book for a while yet, not until it is out in the world. Early indications from my first-readers are good so far though, and I encourage them to be brutally honest with me. So, I am hopeful. More than that, though, more than anything, really, I feel so good that I did what I set out to do: to capture Dawn's good heart and indomitable spirit in its pages. 
     Oh, and that picture up above? That is a picture of Dawn and I on April 29th, 1978, at our Prom. You only really see Dawn (and small bits of me) because Dawn's mom took scissors to the picture in an attempt to excise me not only from Dawn's life, but also from her history. If you'd like to know why, you'll probably need to read the book. 
     Both Sides Now will be available in both paperback and Kindle in July. I hope you will enjoy it. 

Happy Anniversary Baby

     This weekend, Dawn and I are celebrating our anniversary. If you read Feels Like the First Time, you might remember we got married in October, but that is not the anniversary we are marking. Instead, we are celebrating the 35th anniversary of our Prom date. For nearly 30 years, I would stop whatever I was doing on April 29th and get away by myself for at least an hour or two and think of the love I had lost and the life together we might have been living. Now that we are together and happily, wonderfully married, I actually get to mark the occasion with her instead of just thinking about her. This is much better.
     On days like this, I like to stop and think about where our life is. This morning, Dawn and I had a conversation about something important and at the end, she looked at me calmly and said "I trust you to make the best decision." And, I knew that was right. I also knew that I needed her input before I could make that decision. When Dawn and I first got back together, I warned her that our relationship would be my first "real" grown-up relationship and that there might be some growing pains as I learn how to do that. There hasn't been, really, but I have to say how nice it is to have someone you love and trust completely in all things. I have learned that Dawn and I are truly partners in everything, large and small.
     This is the anniversary of the first time we told each other "I love you." Kind of. Pretty much. A month or so before our Prom night, I had written Dawn a letter saying that I wanted to tell her I loved her "right out loud." But, as Dawn's mom rightly pointed out, "It wasn't out loud, it was in a letter." Details, details. 
     That night, when Dawn reached out and grabbed me, pulled me close and said "Shawn. I love you." I felt the impact all the way into my soul. The truth is, those first words of love are still echoing inside me to this very day. I realized at that moment that my life had changed forever. I also had to admit that when it comes to things like telling your soulmate that you love them, Dawn possesses a better skill-set than I do. 
     Because we missed so many years together, we make sure we can do whatever we can to make every anniversary special. This year, we are going to spend the night at the Renaissance Hotel in downtown Seattle. I'm not sure what we'll do from there... wander down to Pike Place Market probably, maybe go listen to some live music in Pioneer Square or catch an IMAX movie or laserium at The Seattle Center. Maybe we'll get super-lazy (yes, that's like regular lazy, but I wear a cape) and just order room service and enjoy the view of the sun setting over the Puget Sound. The truth is, it doesn't matter where we go or what we do because I'll be doing it with the girl who told me she loved me for the first time 35 years ago this weekend. 
     Happy Anniversary, Baby!

We miss you, Buddha boy

     We were having very typical Western Washington weather several weeks before Christmas this last year. That meant it was cold, but not freezing, and raining, but not pouring. It was a Saturday morning, and Dawn and I were driving to the King County Humane Society up in Bellevue. We had our two Chocolate Labs, Hershey and Sadie, but there was still a little empty spot in our home. We thought it would be filled up perfectly by a kitten that could grow into the cat we both longed for. Since neither Dawn nor I can stand the idea of a puppy or kitten mill, we wanted to adopt from the Humane Society. We would give him or her their forever home, but we knew the truth - we would be getting much more in return.
     When I was a young boy, I spent my first six years on a working farm. That meant that cats were just another working animal, keeping the rat and mice population under control around the barn and house. We always had a handful of "barn cats" hanging around and I have a clear picture of my older brother Mick, milking the cows and squirting the occasional jet stream of milk into the open mouths of the ring of cats gathered patiently around.
     Dawn, on the other hand, has always been a cat girl. When I first met her, she had Alan, who ruled the roost at her house. He had all the best traits of a cat - he was imperious, demanding, and knew with absolute certainty that the world revolved around him. When I found Dawn again in 2009, she had Garfield, but left him behind with daughter Dani when we got married. I knew there was always a spot beside her on the couch that was missing a little fur ball.
     And so, there we were, driving north on a semi-stormy December morning, wanting to look at the cats and kittens. On the way there, we talked about what we wanted. I didn't have a care for what we got, I just knew what I didn't want. I knew I didn't want a Siamese. If you've ever spent much time around a Siamese, you may be guessing: It's the yowl. Take the sound of a hungry baby and cross it with an entire first grade class dragging their fingernails down a chalkboard, and you get about ten percent of what a Siamese yowl sounds like. Aside from that, though, I was completely open to the possibilities the universe might present us. Dawn had an idea that she would like a Maine Coon cat, but she was pretty open as well.
     When we got to the shelter, it was pretty crowded - I guess cats seemed like a great Christmas present to many people, not just us. There were plenty of unwanted kittens and cats looking for a home, though, so we weren't worried they were going to run out. The very first cage I walked up to had a whole writhing litter of tan and white kittens with slightly darker faces and startling blue eyes. I walked over to the cage and there he was. He didn't meow at me, he didn't beg or twitch cutely, he just stared at me seriously. I asked Dawn if she would go find a volunteer so we could look at him. I didn't want to take my eyes off him and risk losing him to the ball of confusion in the rest of the cage.
     When the volunteer arrived and plucked him out of the cage, I held him loosely against me. He snuggled down against my arm and began to purr as if he was home. Of course, that was right, he was.
     "Shawn," Dawn said. "He's a Siamese."
     I nodded at her happily, agreeing. He was a Siamese. A Flame-Tipped Siamese to be precise.
     "You said you wanted anything other than a Siamese," Dawn said reasonably.
     I nodded at her again, agreeing completely. 
     "Are you saying this is the one you want?"
     In answer, I just held him out, face-first to her. I watched her heart melt and her hands involuntarily reach out and grabb him, holding him against her and burying her face in his fur. I am nothing if not a good salesman.
     We took him home and named him Buddha, although truthfully we always called him Buddha Boy. We had been right, there had been a tiny little hole in our house waiting for him to fill it up. It didn't take long before he had completely buffaloed Hershey and Sadie into believing he was the boss. Growing up around the two dogs as he did,he seemed to think that he had the best qualities of both cat and dog. 
     Hershey was his favorite. At night, Buddha and Hershey were almost always together, curled up in front of the fire. When we went to bed, though, it was all Dawn. As soon as we laid down, Buddha crawled on top of her and claimed his spot as though it were a birthright, never to be forsaken. Dawn and I both loved him instantly and intensely. He returned that love for Dawn and tolerated me. I could live with that, and it didn't change how I felt about him one whit.
     By the way, about that yowl. He had it. There were evenings that he would wander around the house, letting loose in full, obnoxious voice. Every time (EVERY TIME) he did that, Dawn would look at me sweetly and do her best imitation of me saying "I don't care what we get, I just don't want a Siamese." Then we would look at Buddha boy and smile and try to figure out the inscrutable mysteries of what he wanted at that moment.
     We wanted Buddha to be an "inside-only" cat. He had other ideas. He watched Hershey and Sadie happily trip in and out of the house several time a day and knew that anything they got to do, he got to do. At first, we were worried that he would run off, but he was so good about staying in our backyard that we let that worry slip away from us.
     Last night, Buddha decided to go exploring away from our house, for reasons we will never know. He was hit by a car and killed instantly. The part of my mind that never stops working was glad that he hadn't been just horribly injured to linger for some time. Instead, he departed this earth so quickly, I'm willing to bet he never knew it. I hope so.
     We loved him instantly and so much. Right now, our loss and grief is overwhelming. We know that only another pet lover will understand that, and that's OK.
     Now, that little cat-sized hole is in both our hearts.

Meet the new media, same as the old media

      I don't have to tell you there's been a big news event this week. Since the Boston Marathon bombing on Monday, it's been impossible to miss the wall to wall coverage on CNN, MSNBC, Fox News, ABC, NBC, CBS, etc. And that's fine, I guess, as far as it goes. If people weren't tuning in, they would start broadcasting something else eventually.
      First, a word about tragedies like this. When something tragic first happens, it feels like a punch to my gut. I am naturally an empathetic person, and when I think of the toll that an event like this has on real people who were living their very real lives, it impacts me greatly. I think of the families torn asunder, the innocent bystanders who will never walk again, the family in China that sent their daughter to be educated in America and will now never see her again... and then it gets too much for me. I max out my empathy-meter and hide in my brain.
     I am a writer. That means I am always writing stories in my head. I wish I could tell you that I didn't use the scenarios that were playing out on my television and computer screen to create scenes for future stories, but I can't. It's my nature to convert information into conflict, resolution, happiness and sadness. As I watch how the FBI scolds the media when they get something horribly wrong, I am thinking "That is so authentic. I can use that in a story someday." And, that is my own shame. 
     More to the point of today's blog, though, I want to talk about the news media and their complete inability to get things right. I somewhat understand what the media goes through on these occasions. It wasn't on the scale of a CNN reporter, certainly, but I worked in radio and had to cover a number of breaking issues with virtually no preparation. I was on the air at the moment the Challenger crashed and had to remain calm as I broadcast that story with my heart in my throat. I was on the air at KCMT FM in Lake Almanor California when the earthquake hit that rocked the Bay Area World Series in 1989. I have at least a little perspective on what it is like to broadcast on-the-run.
     Watching today's media broadcast, I honestly want to throw up. Instead, I turn my television off. I wish more of us would have the same reaction, then we might see some changes. There are actually quite a few things that bug me about major media news, but I'll talk about just a couple of them: giving more coverage to an issue than is normal, sane and healthy, and getting things wrong.
     When the tragedy du jour strikes, whether it is a rocket exploding in space or some type of freakish weather or a rogue cop going on a killing spree in Southern California, the media shifts into overdrive. First comes the catchy nickname for the event, then the nearly 24 hour coverage of every minute aspect of said tragedy. On NBC's Today Show this morning, I heard them extensively interview a semi-distant high school friend of one of the accused bombers. Her take on the national conversation? (Paraphrasing) "He seemed like a nice normal kid." Holy heck, stop the presses! "Ah, but you are contributing to this by listening to that drivel" you might say. "I turned my TV off at that moment," I would respond.
     Then, there is the rush to be first. First with anything. "Thank you Bob, I'd like to report now that we have confirmation that the unnamed suspect was definitely wearing blue socks and had Cheerios for breakfast. Now back to you." If any of the cameras shooting the reporters would move back far enough that we could see the area they are reporting from, I think we would get a whole new perspective on the media onslaught. This week's coverage has been marked by mistakes large and small, all announced by one front-runner in stupidity and soon repeated by the media lemmings jumping off the cliff behind them. A huge part of the problem is that the emphasis in almost completely on getting it first and not at all on getting it right.
     I'd like to say that this is all new, but honestly it's been like this for as long as I can remember. The day John Hinckley Jr. attempted to assassinate Ronald Reagan, I was glued to the TV, waiting to see if there was going to be another name added to the JFK/MLK/RFK roll call. Things were tense for some hours after the shooting and then it was announced that Reagan's Press Secretary, James Brady was dead. That announcement hit me hard. I had talked to Mr. Brady on several occasions over the previous year and was very impressed by him. The feeling of loss was settling over me like a dark cloud of dread when the same anchor came on and said, in effect, "ooops. Sorry, he's not dead after all." Usually, those kind of resurrections make big news, but in this case, it was just antsy, ineffective reporting, rushing to be first. In 1981.
     I know that criticizing the news media these days is like complaining about reality television: It's an easy target. Most of the time, I can ignore it. It's at times like this week, when it's so prevalent in all our lives that I just can't take it anymore. And so, I turn it all off. You know what? That might mean that I find out who the bombers are several hours after everyone else, maybe even a full day later. I can live with that.

Back to the Beginning

     I am running a promo for my book Feels Like the First Time this week. If you click the name of the book, you can actually download it for your Kindle for absolutely free through Friday, April 19th. Many times, people ask me why I give away a book that I worked so hard on and that means so much to me. The answers to that question are here, here and here.  I don't blame you if you don't want to read those links, but suffice it to say, the reason I occasionally run the book for free is that it helps me find new readers.
     Today, though, I want to talk about how I ever came to write this book. If you've read the book, you might have seen that I dedicated it to my oldest sister Terri. What wasn't in the book was that after that first fateful reunion I had with Dawn on December 1st, 2006, the first thing I did as I drove home was call my sister. Over the next two years, Terri and I emailed each other literally hundreds of times. Does it seem a little odd that a full-grown man and his sister spent two years sending emails back and forth re-living a thirty year old romance? In retrospect, it does to me too. At the time, though, it felt like the only outlet I had to keep from going crazy.
     Eventually, those emails formed the basis of what would become Feels Like the First Time. Tonight, just for fun, I thought I would share the body of the first email I sent Terri back in 2006. It covers much of the material that would eventually be Chapter One, which I titled Where True Love Goes.  Here, then, with very few edits, is that first email:
    
Hey, Redhead...

So here's the story of what happened the other night when I saw Dawn for the first time in so long. It had been a long week. I  was probably a little tired, and not at my best, to be quite honest, when I pulled in to Bill and Bea's that evening. I was a little annoyed, because I had first stopped at Safeway to get something to eat, and had no luck  there because the Deli had only White Bread, if you can believe that. It's kind of hard to believe, but this whole story wouldn't have happened if Safeway hadn't been out of bread.

When I pulled into Bill and Bea's and saw Dawn for the first time in forever, an electric charge started at the top of my head and extended all the way down my spine. My stomach flipped like I was on a roller coaster, and I felt as euphoric as if the air had been filled with happy gas. And then it was gone. Mostly. The stomach continued to flip flop unexpectedly for quite some time, and, truth be told, really hasn't settled yet.

I thought I saw a slight narrowing of her eyes as if trying to figure out a crossword word that is just eluding her, but then she let it go, for the moment.

It was at that moment that I saw her laugh, and I knew that was Dawn. More importantly, I knew that I loved her just as truly, madly, inexplicably, and eternally as I had when I had last seen her twenty six years before. I knew that if I never saw her again in this lifetime, that I would now go to my grave realizing that she is the one true love of my life.I don't say that lightly or as a comparison to anyone else. It simply, absolutely was the truth.


At that moment, my subconscious mind jumped up out of the "sub" right into my consciousness, and said "You've managed to bury this so deep, you thought it would never resurface, but from the moment 
your eyes met, you will never again be able to deny this Truth: you love her like you have never loved another."

And so it is true.

For most of those twenty six years, I had sold myself on a story along the lines of "of course I will always love Dawn. She was my first love. Everyone has a soft spot in their heart for their first love, their first 
heartbreak. That's over now, though... it's time to put her away with other childish things and get on with the business of growing up and growing old."

And so I did.For twenty six plus years.Until my subconscious decided to finally let me in on the secret it had known all along... there will never be another for me.


I love you Red...

PSI


     As I go back and re-read those early emails to Terri, I feel the same feelings I had so often then - sadness, loneliness, a complete lack of momentum in life. Then, I look over the top of my laptop and see Dawn sitting on the other end of the couch, and I remember everything is good again.

Joe Walsh/Bob Seger

     Dawn and I went to see Joe Walsh and Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band in the Tacoma Dome last night. If you're one of those people that might want to read a review for a couple of classic rock acts from the 70's to find out if they've lost it or not, here's the tl:dr version: they haven't lost a thing.
     For the rest of us, here's the story:
     Concerts at the Tacoma Dome, especially on a Friday night, are not my favorite thing. There is essentially no way to arrive at a concert at the Dome 45 minutes before the show. You can either arrive two hours early, relax and have dinner, or you can be re-routed through Washington's Largest Traffic Jam for 90 minutes or so and miss the first few songs of the opening act. Being a beautiful spring day, we elected to get there early. By the way, if you're wondering what it costs to park around the Tacoma Dome these days, the answer is $25. When Jerry Weible, my nephew Tommy and I went to our first KISS concert in 1977, all three of our tickets combined cost less than that. But, I digress...
     Not surprisingly, the crowd that streamed into the Tacoma Dome last night was graying and re-living a little slice of their lost youth through the power of music. As we had anticipated, we saw a fair number of Bullets (bald men with mullets) on the way into the show. It was a mellow crowd made more so by the newly legalized cannabis laws. I've never smoked dope, so I'm not an expert on getting high, but I think it was semi-impossible not to get a slight contact high last night.
     Speaking of which, Joe Walsh opened the show. I had only seen the former James Gang/Eagle/solo artist once before, and that was as part of The Eagles Hell Has Frozen Over and We Are Skating on the Frozen Remains of Our Greatest Hits tour. Joe was kind of a late-comer to the Eagles, and even though he laid down some historically memorable riffs for them (that's him blazing away at the end of Hotel California) he never seemed to completely fit in. Last night, with his own band, including not one, not two, but three drummers (just in case one or two of them exploded, ala Spinal Tap, I guess) he was right at home. 
     Before we go much further, let's talk about something. Rock concerts have changed, and it's not just the ticket prices. Bic lighters that used to be snuffed out by the first power chord were almost entirely absent. Every song was recorded by hundreds, if not thousands, of cell phones, and judging by the intoxication levels I saw from some of the attendees, that may be their only memory of the show. Festival seating is so long gone that if you're under 35, you probably never went to a show where you could fight you way to the front row if you were of such a mind. Here's the biggest difference though: it started right on time. At 7:56, the lights went down, Dylan's Rainy Day Women #12 & 35, affectionately known as "Everyone must get stoned" played over the PA, and there he was, the clown prince of rock 'n roll, Joe Walsh. Now, Joe has never been a handsome man, but he looked great last night - relaxed, happy, and with the same old attitude he's always had. It is slightly ironic that guys like Keith Richards and Joe Walsh potter on their merry way while musical stars from two or three generations behind them fall by the wayside.
     Joe did a tight, strong 45 minute set that included everything you might have wanted to hear from his James Gang and solo days. As usual, he didn't dip into any of the Eagles stuff. There's something odd that I have noticed over the years, and that is that guys that don't have the traditionally excellent singing voices to begin with - think Neil Young or Joe Walsh - don't seem to lose much as they get older. Joe's vocals were not much different in 2013 than when he burst on the scene with The James Gang. As usual, his guitar playing was excellent, and I came away impressed again by how difficult some of the riffs he played in songs like Life's Been Good really are. The drunk dude behind me, whose girlfriend spilled her beer all over my Russell Wilson Seahawks jersey, seemed disappointed that he didn't do Turn to Stone, since he shouted out his request to Joe 3,782 (yes, I counted) times during the set.
     Half an hour after Joe wrapped up, Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band took over and the party really began. Even playing for two hours, which he did, there was no way he could get through the entire catalog that people wanted to hear from him. I can't imagine what it's like to have such a diverse setlist to choose from. 
     As you can see from the picture above, Bob has gotten a little older and a little grayer since he dominated the scene in the 70s and early 80s. He looks a little less like the Motor City Madman and a little more like your cool Uncle Joe that tells the awesome stories at Thanksgiving. Aside from that, though, I didn't notice a lot of difference. He still uses the same energy, body language and happy-go-lucky stage presence that he always did.
     He did a great job of walking the line between satisfying his die-hard fans by playing some of his more-obscure songs like Come to Papa along with all those Top 40 hits like Hollywood Nights, We've Got Tonight, Against the Wind, etc. For most, I think the highlight was one of the oldest songs he did - Turn the Page. It's kind of an angry-young-man type of song, but he still put everything into it, and it got the loudest ovation of the night.
     There were times I ended up watching the crowd almost as much as the show because they were so entertaining on their own. One thing I have come to believe is that when our ancestors came over on the Mayflower, they left everyone with any sense of rhythm in Europe. I haven't seen that much bad dancing since I accidentally clicked past Glee a season or two ago.
     The bottom line is, Bob Seger hasn't lost a step, The Silver Bullet Band is still a top-notch rowdy party band, and if you get a chance to go see them at another stop on this tour, I think you should.