To The Graduate

04/24/2018

We’re nearing that time of the year. It’s growing closer and closer.  In just moments the end of high school education will be upon them.   It’s a time when high school graduates feel they are about to “finish.”  They have endured thirteen years of public education and they feel they are about to be free; free from the control of parents and teachers: free from the pettiness of classmates; free from restrictions and curfews.  This day will bring commencement programs, celebrations with family, and parties with friends and classmates.

Go ahead.  Take those moments to soak in these events.  You’ve earned it.  You have endured thirteen years of being told to sit still, get your homework done, maintain your grades, and follow direction.  You have been picked at by others.  You’ve had teachers and parents standing over your shoulder watching your every move.  You’ve had peers judging you and gossiping about you.  You’ve worked to achieve dreams and goals.  You have every right to seek to savor this moment, but keep in mind it is just a moment.  In a blink, it will be gone and though you may feel you’ve finished, you’ve only just begun.

Today you graduate, tomorrow life really begins.  Today, you stand under the umbrella of protection offered by your parents and your teachers.  Tomorrow, the sticks and stones of life are coming your way.  Today, you have others – parents, teachers, counselors, and pastors – helping you make decisions or even making them for you.  Tomorrow, you face those decisions on your own, far from home, and pressured to come to a conclusion in a split second.  Today, you go to school for free.  Tomorrow, you pay for it or find a way to pay for it.  Today, you feel that you’ve endured so much to get here.  Tomorrow, you find out that you are never really “finished.”

Life has just begun.  No matter what you have experienced up to this point, you have many more experiences coming your way.  Look around you.  Examine your journey against that of your peers.  Some among you have experienced so much already.  There are those in your group who have come from homes with limited income.  You may have been in a home that has experienced tragedy – the loss of loved ones, the loss of a home, or terrible illness.   Some may have grown up in an abusive environment.  Others have had to deal with divorce or grown up in a single parent home or a foster home.

I think about the recent victims of the Parkland shooting.  It seems that they have seen enough tragedy in their lives to fill a lifetime, but that’s not how life works.  There is no limit to the amount of tragedy one may experience.  Even after this incredibly horrendous experience, they have other difficulties yet to endure.  Some will face disease, such as cancer.  Likely, they will experience the loss of a parent, a sibling, a spouse, or a child.  Some may face their own divorce or possibly the bankruptcy of their business.  They may be comfortable in their work and at the pinnacle of success when suddenly a rock thrown at them by life knocks them down, and they find themselves on their knees.

Beyond the tragedy, life may bring great joy.  Some of you will become parents; you’ll see the miracle of the birth of your child and experience the joy of raising your own children.  Some of you will be successful in business and as a result, live comfortable lives.  There are those graduates who will become teachers and receive the great satisfaction of impacting other young lives.  You’ll travel and be amazed at the world in which you live.  Perhaps you will finally achieve your dreams and goals.

The point is, as much as you feel you have endured so far, life has much more – both good and bad—to throw your way.  You may feel you have finished, but you are just beginning your journey.  Up until now, you’ve been surrounded by people with whom you’ve grown up.  Maybe you have not been able to pick your teachers and your peers, but going forward you will have the responsibility for those things.  You’ll pick the college you attend, which professors you take classes under, and the people with whom you associate.  You’ll choose what is important to you and how you live.  You will be responsible for the decisions you make and the direction you travel.

Now is a good time to examine your relationships.  The rubber is about to hit the road and it is time to be sure you are surrounded by the right people.  Maybe you have been counting on the wrong people.  Who has been there for you along the way?  Now is the time to figure that out.  Your future depends upon it.  I encourage you, as I have all of my children, to find one good friend to take with you on this journey.  You need someone you can count on going forward.  “But,” you say, “I’m popular and I’m surrounded by friends.”  Popularity doesn’t gain true friends, it gets acquaintances.  It gets people who want to be there while things are good, fun, and easy. I don’t care if you are popular or not, you need that one good friend.  You need that one person you know will have your back.  You need that one person who will stand by you through thick and thin, through tragedy and success, through the good and the bad.

As a Christian, of course I feel I have a true friend in Jesus; one who will be with me through thick and thin.  This is important for me and it gives me comfort, but even with this spiritual support, sometimes we need a physical relationship as well.  As a husband, I have a great friend in my wife.  We vowed to be there for each other through all kinds of situations—for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.  But aside from my spiritual support and my marriage partner, if something were to happen to me, who would have my back and take care of my family in my absence?  Who outside my immediate family can act as a sounding board to hear my crazy ideas or tell me when I’m off base?  Who will listen when I need to vent about work, or the world, or my spouse, or my kids?  Who is there to share in my family’s success or tragedies?  In my case, I’ve had a great friendship since grade school.  I have a friend I know will have my back and will be there if I or my family need him.  I have a friend whom I have things in common and who shares many of my hobbies and interests.

 I encourage you to find that one true friend, whether it is someone you know now – someone you have grown up with, or whether it is someone you will meet in the future – a college roommate, an acquaintance, or a close co-worker.  Find someone with whom you can relate and upon whom you can depend.

And once you have that one true friend, BE that one true friend.  Be the kind of person someone can count on.  Be the one that makes someone feel you have their back.  Be the person who is there when your friend needs you.  Be there when they face tragedy and loss; when they are struck with illness; when they are at the end of their rope.  Stand by them when they hold strong to their principles and when others attack them.  Let them vent.  Share in their pain.  Don’t be the fair weather friend – the one that is only there when things are fun, or easy.  We all have plenty of those, but that one true friend is special and only comes along once in a lifetime.A true friend stands up for you and they stand the test of time.

You are at the edge.  You stand where childhood ends and adulthood begins.  You are finishing and you are beginning.  You are preparing for the journey that is life.  Celebrate your accomplishments! Experience joy at your new freedom!  Savor the moment! But remember it is just a moment.  Life awaits you!  Make sound decisions.  Develop your principles.  Stand your ground.  Be prepared for what is to come, and have someone special with whom you can share the journey.

What Makes You You?

08/07/2015

What makes you, you?  I mean, what makes you different from everyone else?  We are all flesh, blood, organs, living and breathing, yet we are different.  No two people are exactly alike.  Even identical twins, think, act, and live in different ways.

The answer to that question might get different responses, depending upon who you ask and how they believed.  An educated individual who works in genetics might offer a complicated answer that involves DNA and genetic coding.  A religious or philosophical person might offer something different.  One thing we could surely agree upon would be that our experiences enhance who we become.

When we look back over our lives, we can see events, life experiences, and places upon the path of life’s journey which shaped our personal evolution.  Some of us carry scars which tell of those events, often serving as reminders of the transitions which took place as we developed into the beings we are at any given moment.  If you could change your life, would you erase all of the ugly or difficult moments from your past?

I have a scar on my cheek from some stitches I received as a young boy.  At the age of five, I was bitten by a neighbor’s dog.  With that scar came a fear of dogs for a period of time.  I eventually got over it, but the reminder is there even at the age of fifty-two.

On my right hand, I have another scar.  It was from a deep cut I got during football.  That scar didn’t leave any fear or bad feelings.  In fact, at the time, I thought it was kind of cool.  When I look down and see that scar, it reminds me of a time and an experience that brings me joy, because I loved playing football, even though I spent most of the time on the sidelines.

My scars are minor.  Others carry the scars from battles with cancer, addiction, war, and other trauma.  Some of those scars are easily seen, some are hidden, and some are buried deep inside as emotional scars from dark moments in a life.  Though many scars have a tragic history, they often share an element of pride at having overcome the adversity which caused them.

Yet, even those experiences can impact a person in a way which provides positive growth.  Our past, does therefore influence who we are in the present.  It can influence the direction we seek to travel in the future.

Without the lessons of the past, we would not have the knowledge we need to navigate and direct our lives.  We learned from those experiences and the smartest of us use them to avoid the same pitfalls of the past.  If we suddenly erased all of those experiences, we would be someone completely different than who we are today.

Winners Don’t Always Win

03/09/2015

I recently had the incredible privilege of watching a group of young athletes pour out every ounce of courage and determination they possessed upon the basketball court.  We watched our girls battle in the area tournament, where they felt the pain of loss wipe out their hopes for a trip to the state tournament.  Of course they were disappointed at their loss, but happy for the boys who were going on to the Oklahoma Class B State Tournament.

The trip for the boys was a tough, long battle.  Ranked number four going in, the defending state champions, who had previously trounced over their opponents, had to work every second of nearly every game to earn their place at state.  Those young men had seriously worked their tails off to get there.  They battled through games that some people, including myself, weren’t sure they were going to win.  Winning by a few hard fought points in most cases, they worked their way through the District, Regional, and Area tournaments to make it to the three day state bracket.

The fight wasn’t over there.  They had to battle their way through the first two games of the tournament, knocking off the number two and number three ranked teams, to make it to that cherished place in the final game and face the number one ranked team in the state.  Again, hard earned points separated them from their opponents.  I’m sure they left a trail of disappointment behind them with the teams they beat.  Sometimes it is even harder to take the loss by a few points than it is to be blown out.  A blow out can easily be explained by realizing they played a stronger team.  Losing by a few points always leaves doubts and thoughts of what could have been pooling in the mind.

In a championship game that went back and forth, leaving hope hanging in the air, they struggled.  Just as in the previous games, they played a team with a deeper, more experienced bench.  With time outs, breaks between quarters, halftime, and a couple of substitutes (I was proud to see my son out there) as their only relief, five determined young men pounded up and down the court.  They absolutely left everything they had on the court.  They were worn and exhausted, but driven by adrenaline and hope.

Their coach too put all he could into the game.  He gave them his best advice, his best words, and as much encouragement as he could.  He sacrificed timeouts just to give them a breather.  He showed respect for their courage and their drive.  Their fans cheered and screamed and wrung their hands.  The anticipation hung throughout the game.  It’s a small team, from a small town, so they had the whole town behind them.

But in the end, they didn’t win.  They accepted the silver, with an ache for the gold.  They did their best to take pictures with family and friends even though their hearts wanted to slink away and cry out the pain.  Just as they had won their way there, they lost by a few mere points and that’s heartbreaking.  Some of them were seniors and they saw their dream slip away.  Others still have other seasons ahead of them, but wonder if they’ll have the opportunity to be there again.

They learned a very hard lesson, one they may not appreciate for a long time and may never look fondly upon: Winners Don’t Always Win.  They, of course, are winners.  They proved it all along the way.  They won because they put their hearts and their efforts on the line.  They won because they gave it their all.   They won because they left a trail of successful challenges behind them.  They won because they have the respect of their coaches for the effort.  They won because they will always be winners to the family and friends who love and support them.  They won because they inspired a sense of pride for a small town, and they served as examples for all the little athletes who look up to them.  They won because they were there.

But my friends, winners don’t always win every challenge.  What makes them winners is the character and determination they have to make it through to the other side, even if it hurts.  The ache of loss is always there ready to raise its ugly head in moments of reminiscence.  There will be “what if’s” that follow them whenever they think back on that season or that game.  But when they look back with honesty, and they feel how hard the pain of that loss hit them, they’ll realize that they wouldn’t feel that way if they hadn’t wanted it so badly.  If you can walk away without the pain, you simply didn’t want it enough.  But if the pain nearly tears you apart, if your heart aches every time you think about it, you know your heart was in the right place and you know you gave it your all.

No, winners don’t always win, but real winners always rise to the top, even if they lose. Thanks for the season, guys!

Oh, Spring

02/26/2015

So, how’s the year treating you?  I know in my neck of the woods we’re looking forward to spring.  The winter hasn’t been all that harsh; certainly not as harsh as it has been in the northeast portion of the country, but it starts to wear on a person after a while.  Of course, we’d take those truckloads of moisture they’ve been hauling off up in the northeast any day.

 The world has been frozen in grays and browns for months, and we are looking forward to the signs of green popping up through the ground.  Unfortunately, our area is prone to the tease of spring.  We get these little indications that the season is changing, the trees start budding out, and then spring runs a little further down the road leaving the buds covered in frost.

For me, the coming of spring means baseball season is right around the corner.  Hopefully, my Rangers will have a better season.  Last year was a true disappointment after the accomplishments of the two previous seasons.  It also means it is almost time to get the fishing gear ready.  That too was a disappointment last year.  We spent way too few days around a lake.

Winter hasn’t been totally unproductive though.  I published The Ladder Climber in October and I’ve worked on several other novels over the months.  I think another novel is on the horizon and life has added a few more experiences to deepen my knowledge and creativity.  My middle son got married and our family grew a little larger.  The Bulldog teams had strong basketball seasons.

The seasons change, just as life changes.  We struggle through the winters and relish days in the sun.  Toward the end of summer when the heat becomes unbearable, we’ll long for the cooler days.  I suppose if I had a choice, I’d spend most of my days in either spring or fall.  Those are the seasons which are my favorites.  I like the mild weather, the rebirth of spring and the nostalgia of fall.

Until then, we face at least a few more weeks of winter.  It appears more snow is on the way, and the cooler days will continue to try our patience.  Even though spring is on the calendar, it doesn’t always show up when it is scheduled.  All I can say is at least opening day usually makes it on time. While we wait, let’s think about green blades of grass beneath our feet, laughter and giggles echoing around the neighborhood, the fragrance of flowers blooming, and the popping sound of the ball meeting the pocket of leather glove.  Spring is just around the corner, folks.

The Death OF Tomorrow

10/16/2014

I remember growing up in this lazy, sleepy little town.  Even back then I considered it a treasure.  It was a place of discovery and adventure; old buildings with histories and secrets, treasures of time buried beneath the blow dirt and sand, things which pulled at a young boy’s curiosity and caused him to find stories within their existence. Too young to understand how the things of the world work, I hoped it would live forever.  I dreamed of helping it, breathing new life into its tired old bones.

I was forever scheming of ways to keep its heart pumping.  From town celebrations which would make it famous to businesses which would reignite the boom from which it was born, there were always ideas roaming around inside my mind.  Perhaps I would write a grand adventure with the little town as its epicenter and people would come from far and wide to see this place which had spawned the tale.

As kids we rode our bikes over dirt roads and crumbling blacktop.  We hunted the prehistoric looking horny toads and picked the sand burrs from our shoelaces.  We walked the forgotten trail of the railroad which had once been so important to the broom straw harvest which had given life to this place on the prairie.  Somewhere I still have a collection of numbered nails from railroad ties which had been abandoned and left to rot in their places in their beds which had grown over with grass and weeds.

From the Commercial Hotel which seemed to tower over the main street of the town to the depot which had once died with the loss of the railroad only to be reborn as a popular restaurant, there seemed to be no end to the places to explore.  The old theater which showed second run movies and became a place of excitement for kids of all ages on Saturday night had its own creaky secrets.  The water tower with its pointy top and spindly legs was a place of dares and challenges.

I can remember dropping coins in the pop machine at the old APCO station at the top of the hill on a hot summer day.  I remember the sounds as I pulled a glass bottle from its slim rectangular door, the ker-ching as the machine refilled the spot which had been emptied, the hiss of the pop cap when it was placed against the opener, the tinny echo as the cap fell into the reservoir beneath, and that first pull on a bottle of ice cold Coca-Cola.  I remember the ding-ding of the bell when a car pulled up and the sounds of the old gas pumps when the attendant flipped the handle to pump gas.  I remember the feel of the wet chamois towel which was used to clean the windows when a full service station still existed.

Taking a seat in the old café booths, feeling the cool vinyl and feasting on a plate of fresh cut fries is just one of many memories of a time long lost.  We used to gather there before football games and when I was in high school I’d have a cheeseburger steak there before every game.  There were tables grouped at the front in a long string and the men of the community would gather there each morning to drink coffee and talk about the weather and the crops.  I can recall sitting there with my dad, drinking coffee like all of the other men at the table.  Once in a while we’d have a cinnamon roll with our coffee or on special occasions a full breakfast of eggs, hash browns, bacon, and toast.  I miss those days of breakfast with my dad and my younger brother.

When we rode our bikes down to the Jack and Jill grocery store, we always leaned them up against the brick wall.  There were comic books and magazines in a rack near the large window out front.  There was a bar at the back with stools which had spinning seats.  I bought chewing tobacco by claiming it was for my dad, something which would probably never work today.  Then I proceeded to get sick when I stuck a plug of it in my mouth.

Next door at the Triple A, there were wooden booths and a large wooden bar.  The soda jerks stood above the bar and they mixed the sodas the old fashioned way.  You could get extra syrup if you asked or even vanilla or cherry mixed in.  Above there were large black ceiling fans which hung down on rods and they swayed side to side as the fans moved in their lazy circles.  The wooden floor creaked as you walked across it and the bell on the old wood and glass-pane door rang when someone pushed it open.  When I was in grade school, I liked to sit with the high school girls while they did their homework at the wooden booths drinking a Coke and eating a bag of potato chips.

On the other side of the grocery store was the post office.  There were doors on the boxes in the wall with little brass wheels on the boxes which served as the spinners for the combination locks.  The post office always seemed to have an echo to the room.  A counter stood along one wall where the patrons could seal their envelopes, paste their stamps, or read their mail.  Next to the counter was a tall trash can, usually filled with junk mail and flyers as people dumped off the things they didn’t want to take home.

Saddled against the post office was the hardware store.  Nearly any time you walked by you could smell the scent of pine from the building where they cut the wood.  Behind the counter were boxes filled with things like screws and nails.  Darlene was friendly and welcoming.  She always seemed to know just what you were trying to find.  Tools hung from the rafters and the wooden floor had a deeper sound than the Triple A when it creaked.  Through the large glass windows out front you could see items which had been placed on display.  On the east side was a loading dock and wooden screen doors which wacked against their frames when someone stepped out.   The side of the hardware building was corrugated galvanized tin.  Faded black lettering announced it once served as home to the undertaker as well.

These are the memories of this little town as I remember them.  Time and its effects may have distorted some of the details.  All of those buildings downtown are gone now and I only hold them in my recollections.  Their façade fronts, wooden walls and floors served as fuel when a fire took them one after another.  It dealt a great blow to the community to lose all of them at one time.  Volunteer firemen worked all night and fire fighters from Beaver City and Liberal, Kansas came to help, but all they could do was to keep it from spreading or jumping across the highway to the bank.

Across the street was the First State Bank, its name proudly displayed on the glass window with gold-leaf lettering.  They gave out little boxes of Chiclets with the bank’s logo on them.  There were two pieces of gum in every box.  During football games the cheerleaders tossed red footballs with their logo printed on the sides.  The First State Bank was important to the community and when it went away, it seemed suck away more life than any other business.  The gold letters of the bank still live on; the  glass window displayed in the Golden Agers building, along with other reminders of the past.

Up the road, the center of town is dominated by the school.  It was a great school.  We played football, dodge-ball, and baseball on the playground and flirted with the girls on the merry-go-round.  On the monkey bars we found out who the real men where based on who could dangle the longest or cross from pipe to pipe from one end to the other.  The slide was tall and under today’s protective conditions would probably require a safety strap.  More than a few arms were broken upon that playground, but we were none the worse for wear and the casts were proudly worn and signed.

I remember fall carnivals in the old gym.  Each class had a booth.  There were spinning wheels, balloons and darts, hoop shoots, apple bobs, and cake walks.  The gym was strung with streamers and lights.  The seniors always seemed to have the best booths.  The fall carnival drew out the entire community.

Buried in my memory are stolen kisses in the back of the theater, afternoons spent traveling dirt roads, Friday night football games, and summers at the pool in Beaver.  Riding bikes on Saturday mornings(with no helmets or knee pads), trudging through snow drifts during winter(until our toes were numb), and watching lightning strikes illuminate that old water tank during spring thunderstorms which brought torrential rains, all culminate into a collage of images and moments of wonder.

I’d wanted my kids to experience my childhood, but even in sleepy little towns time brings change.  The place of my youth does not exist and with it left the opportunity for them to know what it was like to live in this community with all of its little facets of life.  The school remains and plays an important role in their lives, but those fragments of an active community which fit together to form the pages of my memory are no longer there.

Of course, memory is illusive and only those things which matter most to us seem to surface, leaving the things we choose to disregard behind.  Sometimes I fail to remember the times when small town life wasn’t so wonderful.  I forget about what it was like being on the outside of a certain clique or feeling as if I were an outcast.  The rapidity of gossip and the sting of peer pressure seem to be forgotten under the passage of sand into the hourglass.  Still there are enough good memories to cover those which are better left alone.

But like the men and women who built this town and the dreams which drove them, this town cannot live forever.  Its viability in a modern world comes into question.  The veins and capillaries which fed it have begun to shrivel and dry.  The wooden walls of buildings at its heart have become ashes, scattered, buried, or washed away.  The youth and vitality which comes from commerce and enterprise have slipped from its grasp.

Though it may go on as a community, churches and individuals holding tight to its strongest characteristics, it cannot grow and thrive without the energy and lifeblood of business.  If the course of time continues on its current path, there will come a time when the school will close and students will wear different mascots on their t-shirts or uniforms.  Indeed, the latter has already begun to happen.  Through co-ops our students have continued to participate in sports where we had numbers too small to go it on our own.

As the world grows, as education becomes more and more important, as opportunities arise, the relevance of a small school becomes more of a question.  What purpose does it serve?  What opportunities can it offer?  As states struggle for funding and the economy struggles, financial considerations will cause calls for further consolidations and what’s left of school pride appears doomed to go the way of the dinosaur.

It’s a troubling thought.  For those who have chosen to make their homes in small towns like ours, it is great disappointment to see its fate hanging in the balance.  Still, I hold on to hope that a reprieve from extinction might be found within new industry or a change in the use of resources.  Alternative agriculture, green energy, bio fuels, gas and oil are the most promising industries which might offer economic sustainability to our community and those in surrounding areas.

Though our children offer us moments of pride and community – state basketball championships, a run for the state football championship, academic achievements, school choral programs, and laughter – we are but a fraction of what we once were.  Though the ghosts of the past remind us of where we’ve been and what we’ve done, their spirits float beyond our reach.  As the clock ticks on and time marches past, we long for the days when tomorrow was a promise and hope was a vision.

There is one thing which holds our dreams, memories, hopes, and spirits together – community.  Community serves as a glue holding fragments of the past.  It serves as the fabric into which our tapestry has been woven.  Community pulls us together when disaster, uncertainty, and the future threaten to pull us apart.  Community allows us to push past the looming shadows of extinction.  Community gives us occasion to come together and embrace that which is important to us all.  Perhaps, this community will be the key to unlocking the potential for revival.  In joining together, conceivably we may find that one unique trait which allows us to prosper and draw others into our midst once again; revitalizing us, increasing our numbers and helping us grow back into the lively little town we once were.

Though the future is uncertain, the death of tomorrow depends upon us and our community.  If we search – if we invest – if we trust in ourselves, we can give life back to tomorrow.  We can hold on to this spot which we occupy and give it life once again.  Others have faced larger obstacles – World War l, the market crash of 1929, the great depression, the dirty 30’s, World War ll, and other conflicts.  They overcame these things which separated them from their dreams and hopes.  They pulled together and made it through.  They held on to hope in the face of doom.

We may not control the future, but we can impact it.  We can hold tight to the wheel and steer our way into tomorrow.  A brighter tomorrow does not just happen.  Complacency, indifference, and lack of engagement, only allows decay to take its course.  If we seek to be revitalized, we have to pursue those things which will revitalize us.  If we want tomorrow to be bright, we must add our own light to the effort.  Little things matter.  The smallest spark can start a fire.

Dream Big – Live Bigger

09/11/2014

A few days ago while texting my wife, I whimsically texted, “There’s a difference between a wish and a dream.”  After making that statement, I began to think about what I said.  I looked up the definitions of both words to determine if my statement was really true.  Here’s what Merriam-Webster had to say about it:

Wish (noun): an act of thinking about something that you want and hoping that you will get it or that it will happen in some magical way.

Dream (noun): a strongly desired goal or purpose; a visionary creation of the imagination.

As I look at those definitions, I see a difference between the two.  Often when we use the word “wish” we don’t really expect it to happen.  We walk by a wishing well and drop in a coin.  We wish upon a falling star.  As children we fight over the ends of a wishbone.  Then we toss up an improbable desire like, “I wish I had a million dollars.”  Yet, do we really expect it to come true?  As I see it a wish is a stated desire, without the hope or commitment behind it to bring it to fruition.

A dream, on the other hand, is something we can see, imagine, or feel within ourselves and we can work towards bringing into the world of reality.  It is a deep seated desire, goal, or purpose for which we are actively working to attain.  A dream has hope, commitment, and in many cases even a plan behind it.  In other words, if your dream is to be a veterinarian, then you are actively pursuing that dream.  If your dream is to be an author, you are actively writing.

Without that commitment, we are only wishing.  If we aren’t working for that dream to come true, then we don’t really believe in it, do we?

As I ruminated upon this thought, I came to the realization that I too often wish rather than dream.  I toss out that desire and really never expect it to become reality.  I’ve always thought of myself as a bit of a dreamer and ideas spin around in my head all of the time.  I suppose one could call that dreaming, but in order to make any of those ideas ‘my dream’ I need to actually put some effort out to make them come true.

In Whispers in the Wind, Abby’s class moto is: “Dreams are only dreams until you make them come true.”  What that motto means is that a dream (a strong desired goal or purpose) is only a dream (a visionary creation of the imagination) until you commit and work towards making it into reality.

I’ve realized the dream of being a writer because I actually pursued that dream.  I’ve written and published three novels.  I have several more novels in the process, but am I actively seeking to be the kind of author I want to be?  I have a bigger dream.  I want to write a novel that is so emotional, so impactful, that it sweeps its readers up beyond anything they’ve ever read before.  Am I working hard enough to achieve my goal of writing that one novel which impacts readers so much that they can’t help talking about it?

I have a desire to be a fulltime writer.  I can’t think of anything more exciting than to spend my days weaving words into a tapestry of visions or bringing to life a fictional character with which readers can fall in love.  Painting worlds which come alive on pages of words and creating visions in the minds of readers is incredible.  Being able to use words to evoke emotions and pull at someone’s heartstrings when they least expect it is an awesome feeling.

These thoughts bring me to a crossroad.  I can wish I was a fulltime writer, or I can dream of being a fulltime writer.  I can work at it, or I can hope it magically happens.  I can work every day to make my writing better, or I can sit back and wait for it to fall from the stars. So, what about you?  Do you dream or just wish?  Are you working to make your greatest dreams become reality or are you tossing pennies into a wishing well and moving on.  It’s okay to wish upon a star, but are you going to let that wish disappear or are you going to turn it into a dream?  Let’s all dream big and live bigger.

The Bittersweet Novelist

09/06/2014

These days, novels about vampires, werewolves, and zombies are all the rage.  Books are filled with crime, suspense, fantasy, science fiction, and the list of genres go on.  The writing world insists on genre and defining your work.  Everyone wants things to fit perfectly into a box.  Finding a niche is never easy and most new authors end up writing for sales or popularity.

As a writer, I know that what I write doesn’t necessarily fit well with the most popular genres.  I write bittersweet novels, novels which blend the wonder and woe of life into stories meant to touch the heart.  Life is full of those little moments which give us pause and provide the clarity to determine what’s really important.  Life throws us curves and often when things are clicking along under skies of rainbows and unicorns we find ourselves suddenly facing the storm.  How we weather those storms build our character and helps to bring things into focus.

Loss is something we all experience.  Throughout life we will face loss.  We will win some battles and lose others.  We will lose our youth.  We will lose others with whom we are connected.  As humans with finite lives, we will face loss in more ways than we can count.  But left behind in those losses are memories, moments, minutiae, and mementos which we will hold onto for the rest of our lives.

Life’s losses and disappointments often leave us with longing… longing for a love which has been lost… longing for a time which has past … longing for the sunshine when the skies are dark.  Longing pulls at the heart and reminds us that we feel and are alive.  Sometimes hurt serves as a reminder that we still breathe, that our nerves still tingle, and that our hearts still beat.

Life is about learning new things and leaving other things behind.  Living is a growth process and as we see in the world, life often comes from death and decay.  Organic matter which provides the nourishment needed in nature comes from what has been left behind by what has lived before.  Plants feed off the passing of other plants and we feed off the lives of those who have come before us.

Above all, life is about love.  Love fills the gaps loss leaves behind.  Love binds the wounded hole in our hearts.  Love transforms longing into contentment.  Love reminds us of the beauty of those moments, the happiness in those memories, and the treasure in those mementos.  Love endures beyond the loss and within the longing.  Love allows us to rise above that which would otherwise pull us down.  Love transforms the bitter taste of cocoa into the sweetness of chocolate.

Life is bittersweet.  It gives us sunshine and brings us rain.  Life has its ups and it has its downs.  Life leads us and it pushes us.  Life fills us with hope and leaves our hearts empty.  Life isn’t a destination; it’s a journey.

Blending loss, longing, life, and love into stories which touch the heart helps me recognize what is important.  It allows me to experience the emotions which remind me I am alive.  The simple mix of bittersweet reveals the silver lining which lies beyond the surface and causes the reflections in life’s mirrors which allow us to see that which matters most. And so, though it may never allow me to sell as many books as the author who writes about vampires, I will write those bittersweet tales which blend teardrops and laughter – sadness and smiles – melancholy and triumph – shadows and sunshine.  I will seek to touch that place in your heart which wants to be reminded of loss, longing, life, and love.

If At First You Don’t Succeed…

10/24/2013

You could finish that statement easily enough, couldn’t you?  I’m sure most people recognize Vince Lombardi’s quote, “Winners never quit and quitters never win.”  And Thomas Edison’s quote, “I have not failed.  I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work” is often cited as a positive spin on the scrapes and bruises which come along as the result of the struggle for success.

The truth is success doesn’t often come easy and quite often not on the first attempt.  It would be nearly ridiculous for an author to expect to complete a book on the first draft.  It goes through revisions, editing, and sometimes a complete rewrite.  Most paintings begin from a sketch or at least an idea, before they find their true form.  Diamonds don’t come out of the ground with those perfect cuts and polish.

Yet, we often berate ourselves over failure or hang our heads at dismal results.  Why is it we are so hard on ourselves when failures and mistakes just help us to clarify the pathway?  Often when we stumble, it’s because there is another way.

When you meet with an obstacle do you see only the closed door, or do you look around for the one which has opened?  Is it really a dead end or just a fork in the road?  No doubt there are times we need to recognize when we are simply beating our heads against the wall, but even under those circumstances there may be another option.  Perhaps we need to step back and look at the big picture.  Even that proverbial wall we are bouncing against might be just what we need to see another way around the problems blocking our success.

The real question is whether we are willing to learn from those mistakes.  Are we open to what they reveal about our plans?  Can we use them to improve or change our navigational course?  Are we simply going to dwell on them or make use of them?

As with most of these blog posts, they originate with me.  Often the ideas come from things with which I’ve struggled.  As I seek to encourage myself, I offer encouragement to you as well.   Take heed of the signs along the path.  Look for how your mistakes can help you achieve success.  Open your eyes to the big picture to see if you really know what it is you are trying to accomplish and if that goal is the right goal for you.

Here are a few more inspiring quotes about persistence toward success:

“Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.” – Winston Churchill

“In order to succeed, your desire for success should be greater than your fear of failure.” – Bill Cosby

“I’ve failed over and over and over again in my life and that is why I succeed.” – Michael Jordan

“Develop success from failures.  Discouragement and failure are two of the surest stepping stones to success” – Dale Carnegie

“The difference between a successful person and others is not a lack of strength, not a lack of knowledge, but rather a lack of will.” – Vince Lombardi

“Success is to be measured not so much by the position that one has reached in life as by the obstacles which he has overcome.” – Booker T. Washington

“I don’t measure a man’s success by how high he climbs, but how high he bounces when he hits bottom.” – George S. Patton “Never, never, never give up.” – Winston Churchill

Yeah, I’m on Twitter

10/2013

I say that almost reluctantly.  I know it’s hip, cool, or whatever word is used these days, but it’s awkward.  Twitter is great for those people who have things pop in their heads and they just like to spout it off, but I’m more of a pipe-smoker.  I have to think about something before I say it and therefore a simple tweet becomes a struggle.  I type it, think about it, erase it, type, think, erase… after going through this a few times, I just drop it.

Twitter has become a popular form of social media, particularly among young people.  Just as the youthful crowd was the first to move from MySpace to Facebook, often with the goal of escaping the prying eyes and gathering of parents and grandparents, they have migrated to this form of social media where they can tweet off any thought which comes to mind.  With a language of its own, Twitter can sometimes be daunting to new users.

I ventured to this place under the direction of John Locke, who was the first independent author to ever sell over one million downloads.  Following his “How to” instructions, I set up a Twitter account to build a following and hoping, along with apparently hundreds of thousands of other independent authors, to find readers for my books.

After being on Twitter for more than two years, it just hasn’t panned out that way and I find myself visiting the Twitter-world less and less often.  Admittedly, my lack of success with Twitter Marketing largely has to do with my failure to implement the strategies which were suggested and are followed by most of the independent authors who use it.  With over sixteen-hundred followers (small beans compared to most tweeters), you would think there would be at least a few who might be tempted to buy my books, but the problem with marketing on Twitter is that you have to buy into the whole idea of self-promotion for it to work.

Another problem with Twitter is that it is easy to find and follow people just like you, but not always so easy to build a diversified base.  So, I’ve fallen into this Twitter Abyss, where ninety percent of the people who follow me are the very authors in which I find myself in competition with for readership, which wouldn’t be bad if the only goal was to find people with whom I could relate or when building a support network.  However, when the goal is to find readers or market your work, this isn’t exactly the type of following one might desire

My Twitter feed is full of “Buy My Book” tweets from other independent authors who are all there for the same reason.  I get so inundated by these endless pleas and painful reminders I am just a small fish in a giant pond; it just doesn’t capture me.  Don’t get me wrong, it can be entertaining from time to time, but I can’t spend hours on it or even drop what I’m doing to check the feed.

Call me a dreamer, call me naive, paint me old fashioned, or simply call me stupid, but I can’t buy into the endless, non-stop, ticker-type stream of self-promotion.  I don’t want people to buy my book because I bothered them until they did.  In this world of videos and news stories gone viral, I want to be known for writing something which creates such an emotional impact it develops a groundswell of grassroots support.  Obviously, I haven’t achieved that, but I can still hope.  I want success upon its own merits.  If the work isn’t good enough to gather that kind of support, then it simply isn’t good enough.

I still believe in readers.  I believe in ‘real’ readers, book lovers, who get so caught up in a story, or are so moved with passion, that they can’t help but tell others about the experience.  People like me who talk about how a story impacted them or are blown away that the author was able to paint such vivid pictures in their mind or develop characters who actually come alive.

I know they are out there, waiting for just the right story.  I read it in the reviews of books I like.  The same stories which touch me touch them.  So, how do I find them?  The only way I know how.  I keep striving to write that special story which captures their hearts and loosens their tongues in a way that they just can’t contain how they feel about it.  It may take several tries.  There may be six, eight, ten, twelve books or more published before I find the right one.  I’m not afraid of being a one hit wonder.  If I can write a book which gets talked about like To Kill A Mockingbird or Catcher In The Rye (which I actually never cared for), I’ll be happy.  Sure, Harper Lee only wrote one book, but everyone knows that one title.  J.D. Salinger may only be known for one book, written in 1951, but it still sells an average of 250,000 copies per year.

Hey, I don’t want to sound like Negative Nelly here.  There are some great things about Twitter, Facebook, and any of those other social media platforms. I’ve reconnected with friends from high school and college.  I’ve met some really wonderful people.  I have developed what I consider to be close friendships with people I’ve never even met.  I’ve come across interesting topics and conversation.  Through those interactions, I’ve learned so much more than I would have on my own.  I’ve been exposed to other independent authors and come to realize there is incredible talent out there.  I can’t even remember the last time I bought a book from a mainstream author.

So, yeah, I’m on Twitter, and you are more than welcome to follow me (@celemieux), though rather than endless tweets about my books you are more likely to find quotes I like or humorous stabs at my kids.  I slip in a reminder about my books once in a while, but it won’t be an endless feed of self-promotion.  It may even be a little boring compared to what you can find on Twitter.  But I’ll engage if you engage, and I’ll keep looking for those illusive readers.   I’ll stick with my naive and old fashioned ideas about what makes a book popular.  To me it starts with the work and ends with the reader.  If the reader finds value, it will get their vote, and if they do not find value, it is time to try again.

By the way, “Buy My Book, There’s Something About Henry. It’s on Amazon.”

The Latest

10/15/2013

I apologize.  I’ve been incredibly bad at updating this blog in the last year.  I actually did write a couple of blog articles which I will post in the future, but I’ve just struggled with getting back to the blog.  The good news is the time away from the blog hasn’t been a total waste; I’ve worked on several projects.

There’s Something About Henry published in September.  Both the Kindle version and the paperback are available exclusively on Amazon until the end of the year.  I hope you find it interesting.  Although I tried to write it as a standalone novel, it follows the ending of Whispers in the Wind, telling the story of Henry Newburn.

I have finished two drafts of Some Kind of Life.  The cover is ready and a proof has been ordered.  I enjoyed the characters in this book so much.  Sophie is a bit of a geek, transplanted to Oklahoma by her dad’s new job.  She has a very sterile view of life and looks to science for answers to her most important questions.  Cole is a happy-go-lucky guy, not terribly popular, but able to use his humor to get him out of most of his social difficulties.  There is a considerable amount of conversation and both Sophie and Cole have fun, lively personalities.

The Ladder Climber is most likely to be the next novel published and it is my sincere hope to have that ready before the end of the year.  So far, the pre-published reviews of The Ladder Climber are very good.  Nick Gordon is a district manager with the world’s largest retailer.  He is at the top of his game and he’s reaching for the next rung on the corporate ladder.  Then his world gets thrown off kilter and he finds himself spinning out of control.  Caught in a web between three very different women, Nick is on a search for a way to get his life back on track.  The Ladder Climber is set in Colorado.

The Blemished Rose is in proof stage and needs some more editing.  My plan is for this novel to be published after the first of the year.  The Blemished Rose is a darker story which gets down and dirty on the streets of Houston.

The Suicide Squeeze is moving along nicely.  This story has a bit of a baseball influence, thus the title.  I’m having a great deal of fun with these characters as well.  Josh and Sam are both lively and it’s been a joy weaving baseball into the story line.

You know, conflict is the driving force behind a story.  I’ve tried to experiment with different types of conflict.  Both Some Kind of Life and The Suicide Squeeze use conflict in unique ways and still keep the emotional impact of the overall story.

In addition to these stories, there are at least four more manuscripts in varying stages of progress.  So, as you can see, even though I may not be doing a terrific job of keeping up with the monthly blog articles, I have been busy.  As always, thanks for following along. I appreciate your continued support.  If you haven’t picked up a copy of There’s Something About Henry, it is available on Amazon and Kindle.  If you have read There’s Something About Henry, please consider leaving your comments as a review.  Whether you liked the book or not, I really want to hear from you.

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