Saturday, May 30, 2015

Ten Years Ago...



Nominated for ITW's Best Paperback Original...

Ten years ago I was down and out...

Literally.

After a stellar launch and a quarter million dollar advance on my first novel, I did something stupid. I assumed those great big advances would keep rolling in every year like Christmas. All I'd have to do is write 60,000 words and collect the dough.

I was young, immature, stupid, and I freakin' blew it.

Instead of continuing on as a freelance journalist, I quit the racket altogether, believing that I'd be spending the rest of my days writing the great American novel. I didn't save any of my advance, but instead bought a house I couldn't afford while the rest of the money burned up in a costly divorce. When the first couple of books in the big deal didn't come close to earning out that huge advance, I was politely shown the door.

"Hey, that's showbiz, kid!"

I was left with no future publishing prospects, no journalism gigs, and even the new marriage I'd entered into had gone belly up.

Ten years ago, I sat all alone in my apartment and wondered if the Gods were trying to tell me something. That maybe I didn't have what it took to make it as writer. I knew I could continue sitting there feeling sorry for myself, or I could grow up a little, go the opposite direction and make the slow, arduous, long climb out of the pit I'd dug for myself.

The newest novel...
 
I started out by doing something positive. I quit smoking.

I also started putting feelers out for new freelance journalism gigs. They started coming in at a trickle, but within a relatively short time, I was building up a new portfolio. I also started writing fiction again. Short stories and a new novel. The novel that would become Moonlight Falls was written during this tumultuous period. No wonder my main character contemplates, attempts, and fails at suicide.

I also began a long series of travels which turned into my becoming a freelance photo-journalist for outfits like RT. I saw West Africa and toured the bush where little children from an orphanage held my hand and touched my skin because they didn't believe the milky whiteness could be real. I went to Moscow, Paris, London, Istanbul, Peru, the Amazon Basin, and Egypt as the smoke cleared on the Arab Spring. I began basing myself out of Florence, Italy, where I would spend months at a time writing for news services and working on new novels.

Soon, I contracted with a small press to publish Moonlight Falls. Then another small press would take on a new version of The Innocent now that I'd managed to get my rights back from Delacorte. That novel would go on to sell a few hundred thousand copies. Ironically, it would have made back the original $250,000 advance. More books were written and more published. Then something wonderful happened. Thomas & Mercer, Amazon Publishing's traditional publishing arm offered me my first major contract in years and years.

I was back.

Today, ten years later, I'm enjoying contracts with several publishers large and small. Plus I've begun my own label to publish my Chase Baker series and other smaller projects. I'm still writing some journalism. Not because I have to, but because I want to keep my foot in the door and what the hell, it keeps me sharp. My SPJ dues are paid up and I'm a member in good standing.
This year I will enjoy my best year ever as a writer.

What's the secret to turning your writing life around?

For a business that requires as much luck as it does work, a writer must develop a fortitude, a self-discipline, and a perseverance that is unmatched in any other endeavor. The more you work, the more luck you have.

The ebook revolution played a big role as well.

But, ebooks or not, for me there was no other choice in the matter. Like Hemingway said after the initial dismal critical and commercial failure of Across the River and Into the Trees (1950). "When they've knocked you down on your ass for the count of eight, you get up and let 'em have it." He counter attacked and won the Pulitzer Prize. I've counter attacked and haven't won the Pulitzer, but I am up for ITW's Best Paperback Original for 2015 with Moonlight Weeps. And that's something to be very proud of.

Ten years ago I was down and out...and in many ways, it was the best thing that ever happened to me.

EVERYTHING BURNS IS 1.99 FOR TWO MORE DAYS!!!!!

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Monday, May 25, 2015

Freedom Fighters Volunteer to Fight ISIS



A YPG anti-Isis volunteer fighter
You might have heard by now that President Barack Obama, while addressing the class of graduating officers at the Coast Guard Academy in New London, Connecticut last week, pointed to Climate Change as America's most immediate and present threat to our national security. While I have no doubt that climate change is real (several climate shifts have occurred over the last 1,000 years alone), my staunch opinion is this: you don't turn to your wife in the middle of the night and ask her to turn down the thermostat while a masked gunman is standing at the foot of your bed.

On this Memorial Day 2015 it's important to realize that while they gain ground and slaughter innocents thousands of miles away, ISIS is determined to create a Radical Islamist State in the Middle East, North Africa, and beyond. And they are succeeding. It's true the US might not be able to stomach another ground war right now since we've been sending our soldiers to fight two major conflicts over the past fifteen years. But like the Nazis of WWII, ISIS will have to be dealt with sooner or later, and the US will inevitably have to lead the way. The coalition the President claims to have set up among some of the Arab states has proven ineffective to the point of failure. In the end, the political campaign promise to withdraw all troops from Iraq has proven catastrophic.

But some people aren't willing to stand on the sidelines and watch a brutal enemy who willingly decapitates children, get away with cold blooded and often gruesome murder. Like the Abraham Lincoln Brigade that was formed to fight the Fascists in Spain in the mid-1930s, men and women are volunteering to take up arms against the Radical Islamist threat before they are able to form a viable state. A state that, when solidified, could easily be backed by Iran and in the process, afforded funds to build a considerable war arsenal which will include air and sea warfare capabilities.

Sound ridiculous?

When you consider the Nazi Party essentially began in a beer hall by a group of half-witted antisemitic agitators, a formidable ISIS army capable of taking on anything the US will have to dish out doesn't sound all that "JV-ish."

Member of the famed Abraham Lincoln Brigade

While we hear about the hundreds of western young adults trying to join the enemy cause, dozens of right-minded westerners, including famous Hollywood actor Michael Enright, are paying their own way to join up with Kurdish People’s Protection Units (YPG) in order to prevent the black flag of ISIS from flying. Make no mistake, what's happening in Africa and elsewhere is the start of a world Radical Islamist vs. Judeo/Christian war, and the sooner a realistic plan is put in place to exterminate these cockroaches, the better.

Maybe the volunteer army of freedom fighters isn't going to make a dent in the ISIS steamrolling push, but at least it represents a start. It also serves as a reminder on this Memorial Day, that to some people, dishing out hard-earned cash to risk their life is well worth the price of freedom.

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Sunday, May 10, 2015

Camel Meat a Tasty Alternative





The famous (or infamous) Medina in Fez is a near impossible to navigate maze of Medieval corridors and alleyways surrounded on all sides by a great stone wall. Something like one million people are stuffed inside the place and they all coexist like ants inside one of those vertical ant farms that parents reluctantly purchase for their more nerdy, science-minded kids. How fascinating to move around among the meat vendors selling sheep’s heads, camel hearts, and lamb’s brains, and the metal pot craftsman who work together banging out their wares to a rhythm that would challenge any drummer (myself included), plus dress makers, knife makers, food stalls, spice and perfume shops, clothe and leather merchants. The smell is smoked meat goodness combined with rancid leather tanneries (which also exist inside the city walls), spices, dust, mold, and body odor. At various times, you need to turn yourself sideways in order to pass through a narrow corridor.

The point (or one of the points anyway) of this excursion is to eat camel. Now, I enjoy a good burger just like the next guy. But I’ve never really considered camel as an option over say, sirloin or Angus beef. But around Morocco and especially inside the Medina, camel meat seems to serve as quite the specialty while narrow stalls advertise the fact that they carry camel meat by nailing a severed camel head to the wall. Makes me want to belt out a Rachael Ray "Yumo."


Standing outside the stall where a charcoal grill is going in the back, we order our camel burgers while flies surf the chunk of raw red meat currently laid out on the sales counter. We take a seat inside the impossibly cramped eating area and nervously drink mint tea while the not unappetizing aroma of cooking camel burger fills our nostrils, the sound of meat grilling and fat spattering serving as the soundtrack. 

When the burgers arrive they’re served on a crusty bun with tomato and lettuce. Instinctively I look for some Heinz 57, but a nondescript hot sauce will have to do. I pick up the burger two-fisted, take a whiff of the smoky flavor then dig in. 

Okay, we’ve all heard the saying about all foreign eats tasting like chicken. But this meat is different. It tastes like meat should taste. Rich, full of flavor, and juicy. The spices added to the ground meat only enhance the flavor. Turns out I didn’t need the Heinz anyway.



The camel burger gets polished off. Happily. Should I worry about getting sick later? Perhaps it’s a good idea to pop a Cipro provocatively, just to make sure. In any case, I’ll find out in about eight hours when the thing digests if I’m going to spend the night glued to the toilet or not. For now, I lock eyes with the camel head hanging on the stall wall as I move on deeper into the overcrowded Medina.
“Thanks for lunch, pal,” I whisper.

Friday, May 1, 2015

Moroccan Train Travel At Your Own Risk




I fully expected mayhem in India. When it comes to boarding a train that is. I expected such congestion and a swarming of overpopulation that it would be near impossible to board a train without being seriously hurt and/or killed. And that did happen when a woman lost her leg trying to rush a train that was about to leave in Orcha. She dropped into the too wide space between train car and concrete platform, her left leg slipping onto the track as the train began to move, severing her leg at the knee. I was there to see her pulled up and out of the no-man's-land-like track pit and laid to rest on her back while she bled out, no one coming to her aid other than those praying for her soul.

But in Morocco, the boarding of a train, even a first class car, can also be a heart wrenching experience, while men and women bull their way inside a space that can only hold so much flesh and bone without bursting. There is no organization, no politeness, and above all, no civility. That is, until you are finally on the train and, having negotiated a place to stand (or sit, such as on top of the coffee bar in the inoperable cafe car), some kind gentleman offers you a freshly picked date from a paper bag. Mere moments before he might have gladly kicked your ass out the door if it meant he had just a little more space to himself.

Fights break out between men. Not swinging fists necessarily. But shouting matches, with fists clenched, not raised or poised to punch. One man trying to prove his macho manner over the other as if the security of an entire nation depends upon who enters the train car first. For certain these men condemn one another's souls for all eternity. It's like watching fighting cocks without the full contact or spilled blood. But that doesn't mean attempting to board a train in Morocco isn't a contact sport. Far from it. This isn't a very writerly description, but suffice to say, it is what it is.

Morocco is certainly not Italy when it comes to keeping train schedules. It's actually more like Amtrak in the states when running an hour or more behind is as common as food stamps. After all, a train system run by the government is a surefire means for inefficiency and carelessness. Workers get paid regardless.

But I digress.

For the weary traveler (or even someone traveling with an adventure company like Intrepid or Peak Adventures), just know this: If you are traveling in Morocco by train, pay for a first class ticket, because then you at least have a chance of getting a real seat, although it might not be the one you paid for. Maintain a sense of humor and a sense of balance since it's likely you'll have to stand. But above all, get over yourself and have a sense of humor. After all, you're not back in the states riding Amtrak. You're in Morocco, a land of enchantment and mystery.

The author shares a coffee bar for a seat with a stranger



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