Hey, I love meeting readers at face-to-face book signing events!
But if we can’t cross paths in the physical world, might you appreciate a signed and embossed copy of one of my books that’s sent directly from me to you? More than one?
I think it’s time I offer this option to you, especially if you don’t relish dealing with the big online stores.
Pressed into the flesh of the first page of each of your books with the aid of a special embossing tool, a raised image makes a personal statement for my books in your collection.
It looks like this:
“Ex Libris….” means “From the books of….“ I think it adds an elegant touch, don’t you?
Instead of an online store of my own, I’d be honored to just deal directly with you. How do we do this?
I email you back with the price (just a bit more than Amazon or Apple plus shipping, but you’re supporting this author instead of a huge corporation),
If you agree, you confirm by return email,
I personally pack your books to send them to you after embossing and signing each,
And I email you an invoice that you pay electronically.
Easy! Plus, you just might find a little surprise in every shipment!
Very… organic. Right?
So give me a holler! I’d love to do this for you, at least as long as the volume of orders remains manageable.
Until then,
Your author,
Gene
I love meeting readers at face-to-face book signing events! One is already scheduled for November, another in December, both in Minnesota. And once a month in Arizona this winter, with an appearance at the Tucson Festival of Books in March. Maybe we’ll see each other and share a few lies… I mean, fiction!
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
Welcome to this issue of our newsletter. If you’re new to this madness, many of my readers suggested Kay and I practice a rather interesting lifestyle and asked that I share some of it. Your wish is my command!
Yes, we’ve sold our motorhome, our only home for the past few years. As I mentioned in an early article, we bought a townhouse in the Southeastern Minnesota city of Rochester, home of the world-renown Mayo Medical Center (we call it “the mothership”), and we’re doing what we came here to do.
Since January 2025, we’ve spent a good deal of time at doctors’ appointments, in operating rooms, and hospital rooms, preparing for and completing numerous surgical procedures, not to mention recovering from them. Kay had a shoulder and one knee replaced in 2025, and her other knee replaced, along with no fewer than four spinal surgeries since February of this year. I’ve had cataracts removed and LenStar implants in both eyes.
It’s been a mighty intense 21 months (so far) for both patient and caregiver. Now, however, we hope to have all that behind us, other than continuing to recover, of course, which has impacted us not only physically, but mentally and emotionally, as well. Still is. We now look forward to no new or existing personal or family health issues in the near future. But at this age, well….
Stylin’ with the Jeep (all dressed up for our grandson’s wedding for which we were actually here!
We’ve settled into our Minnesota townhouse.
So what’s the same, now that we’re living in a house instead of a bus? Short-duration trips by car and hotel, the ongoing arduous recovery process notwithstanding.
Last summer we made two lengthy (miles-wise) trips with our Jeep, one east to witness our granddaughter Ionee graduate from Michigan State University. We then ventured in the opposite direction a few weeks later to South Dakota’s Black Hills and on to North Dakota’s Badlands (Teddy Roosevelt National Park).
The park model we’ll be renting this winter at the Voyager RV Resort just south of Tucson
After Christmas this year, we’ll visit friends in Albuquerque, NM, and then on to Tucson, AZ to stay in our favorite RV resort, The Voyager (https://voyagerrv.com), for three months.
But instead of living in our 43-foot bus, we’re renting a “park model” (small mobile home). While there, we’re planning a side trip to Southern California to visit the San Diego Zoo, Sea World, and possibly Disneyland. If the entire state isn’t engulfed in fire, or earthquakes haven’t swallowed up our intended destinations.
Then in April next year, after we leave Tucson, we’ll visit friends or relatives in Las Cruces, NM, Georgetown, TX, Fort Smith, AR, and Fairfield, IA. Then back to MN. Kay has us staying put for a couple of months before we once again head east (in the ole Jeep) to Mackinac (pronounced Mackinaw) Island, then to visit my sister in the Cleveland area, a dear friend in Bay City, MI where we lived for four years while I was in the US Coast Guard, and finally a few weeks in Washington, D.C., where we hope to seriously haunt the Smithsonian Museum.
Next fall (2027)? Back to Tucson for the winter. Fall of 2028? Maybe Florida for a month or two.
So, even though we no longer own a motorhome, wanderlust has not entirely eluded us (Kay, especially).
I hope to be invited back to the Tucson Festival of Books again in 2027 after a successful appearance in March 2025. This is the second largest such festival in the United States, and convenes on the University of Arizona campus each March for a crazy long weekend! This is my favorite speaking engagement and book-signing event.
Between now and the time we leave for the winter, I continue to record audiobook editions of my published titles to make them available once edited and produced.
Yes, our dance card is indeed full. We feel so fortunate to still be able to stay this active. Kay continues to be an extraordinary travel planner!
Kay is looking forward to playing Bocce Ball once again, and I’ll finish the construction of a couple of ambitious Native American style flute projects, and I look forward to once more performing at flute circles. I’m hoping to also continue my study of Spanish and re-join the wonderful writing group at The Voyager.
I continue to write and draw and paint, of course, with a new novel and a personal memoir both published this year. That brings my total to 21 titles, although the two oldest are now out of print.
One of my newer passions in the last few years is moving meditation through the practice of Tai Chi. Some consider this an ancient Chinese physical art form. This is in addition to our on/off-again practice of TM (Transcendental Meditation). I won’t bore you with that here, but Tai Chi keeps my joints flexible and the ole body a few years younger than its chronological age. If you’re curious about Tai Chi, click HERE to see the style I’m currently studying.
Now, back to visual art, what do you think of my semi-abstract watercolor portrayal of a rabbit in the wild (16″x19″ on Arches cold-press 140-pound paper)? Attribution to British watercolorist Jean Haines for her brilliant reference photo:
“Bad Hare Day”
Being commissioned this Fall by successful author, Ella Dominguez to create a handful of original drawings for a special edition of her new epic dark romantasy (romantic fantasy), Born of Fire, was wonderful validation that my work isn’t totally a solitary therapeutic exercise.
Everydetail in these drawings, including their overall “gritty supernatural vibe” represents a story detail, even the white spots on the protagonist’s skin (vitiligo), both before and after she transmogrifies into a dragon. Not my usual cuppa, but hey, this was a fascinating diversion. And Ella is an amazing author.
Wild, huh? I’ll let the drawings speak for themselves:
I’ve included a more complete ‘gallery’ of my humble artistic efforts over the years within the Art Works tab on this site. Visit if you dare.
Likewise, the poet in me cannot be silenced, it seems. I awoke the other day before the sun exposed herself, suddenly mindful of my age (damn-near 77), and rushed to my MacBook, just in time. The following four quatrains gushed out onto my digital page.
Without much effort and very little revision (surprisingly), I gave birth to this irregular dactylic tetrameter with some lines ending in irreverent spondees as a nod to all you intrepid seekers of slant rhymes, lumpy rhythm, amorous alliteration, insidious assonance, and other boisterous sound devices, not to mention engendered personification and circuitous metaphors that hint at not-so-subtle symbolism. But you shouldn’t have to care about any of that. Just read it.
But if you are curious about this ridiculous lexicon that precisely describes poetic verse, check out my book, The Poetic Detective. It can be yours for just three bucks. By the way, this little book is as a result of a challenge levied by an acquaintance who is a best-selling author. He said to me, “I dare you to write a really good book that nobody will buy.” This is that book! And people who buy it seem to like it.
So, what of this verse, y’all? Too… “on the nose”?
TIME—A MERCILESS MISTRESS
by GK Jurrens
Artist: anonymous
She surges forward as if imploding with impatience To taunt us with clues to her infuriating complaisance. Creases and folds in her fabric, she wears the hint of her hidden and tantalizing fare.
There is no hope of seducing her with trickery. Not even beliefs born of a dogmatic delivery can tempt her to show more than she’s daringly willing, not even when you offer her a bucket full of shillings.
Her agenda is clear for we slaves of her bidding, as we bow to her whims even though we’re unwilling. It’s not for us to peek down her gown or up her hem. She remains a delicious mystery to her unwilling condemned.
So, we forge into unknowns, we acolytes dismissed, expecting an eternity, but receiving daily gifts. We who devour each morsel with gritty gratitude cherish our affair with this mistress, so very shrewd.
Hey, just a quick final reminder. If you read any of my stuff (or that of any other author, for that matter), remember, authors live or die by reviews, especially these days with all the online stores (like Amazon).
No reviews means either readers didn’t react at all to our work (I shudder at that heinous notion), or worse, they just couldn’t be bothered to take a few minutes to write a brief reaction to the work we creative types slave over for you.
So… please bother to be bothered? Write a short (or long) review. If you’re wondering “where do I write a book review?” here are a simple set of steps to do so. This works for any book you might read:
To leave a review directly on Amazon, here are the steps:
Bring up Amazon.com in a browser on your computer (easier than on a phone)
In the search field near the top of the window, type your author’s name and the title of the book (e.g., gk jurrens trouble with thinking) and hit enter.
Click on the book’s cover image to bring up its sales page.
Scroll down that page (quite a ways) until you see Customer reviews.
Below that, you’ll see Write a customer review. Click on that.
Type in your review of the book
In the window entitled What should other customers know, type your review (1-2 short paragraphs should serve well)
In the window below that, provide a few short words to title your review
Re-read your review and title to ensure no typos and then click on the yellow Submit button.
If this doesn’t work for you, email your author directly. They’ll appreciate it, I promise. My email is gjurrens@gkjurrens.com if you want to email me any comments. Thanks in advance.
So that’s where to write a review. If you’re still not quite sure howto write a review, click HEREfor some additional guidance if you need it. Hey! I’m here to help you help out your favorite author!
The paperback edition is now available with beautiful gray-scale page backgrounds and images. Yes, I had fun formatting this book for you!
Synopsis:
Follow my evolution from frightened child to (relatively) enlightened senior, with select key moments in between, as I pushed the limits of what is possible, hopeless, useless, desirable, ethical, affordable, even legal, or something else. On land, sea, and in the air!
As a high-tech multinational business executive, I proved a kid raised on the wrong side of the tracks from the corn fields of Minnesota can spar with heavy hitters in the inner sanctum of a global corporation and survive, if not thrive.
And as an itinerant vagabond in retirement, I also proved that “All who wander are not lost,” but also, “Every battle plan is perfect… until the first shot is fired.”
Now an author of 21 published titles comprising 15 full-length novels spanning five genres, a book of poetry & essays, four audiobooks, three of which I narrated and produced, at age 77 I still cling to the delusional self-image of a relatively fit young man of higher-than-average intelligence who still has much to accomplish. This old dude ain’t all that smart, but I refuse to quit. Ever.
I describe this memoir as “a literary-based archeological dig into my life in search of artifacts that lend their value and insight to the present, and to the future. For me, and perhaps for you.” Fancy, huh?
With pretense now a distant mirage in my rearview mirror, I offer you honest and often embarrassing anecdotes from my past that uncover a true rebel without a clue who confronts his own weaknesses to prevail in a series of refreshing tales who takes chances and wins more than he loses.
I hope to finish recording, producing, and publishing its audiobook edition by late 2026. Here’s a pre-publication audio sample:
But what about actual content, you ask? After several acquaintances suggested I’ve led a rather provocative life, I decided to write this edgy memoir—a select set of life-influencing pivotal moments surrounding the book’s theme in the title—brought to you in a carefully curated set of short stories—critical moments in time—only because I was an ordinary guy repeatedly thrust into some rather extraordinary circumstances, many downright dangerous.
Some, if not all of these stories are sure to entertain you. You say you’re not into memoirs? How about a memoir written by a veteran novelist? Here’s a sneak peek:
My early teen years had been passing me by in a fog of mediocrity. Although, it all came back into focus once in a while for a few standout moments. Though I was physically invincible, I still craved acceptance. Then, invincibility almost killed me and my friends.
I can’t vouch for every detail of this near-death experience—one of many—but it’s close. Yes, the three of us had been drinking. No, we weren’t of legal age at 16. New to driving, our buddy, Rod (not my brother), piloted an old Mercury. Or was it a Chevy? No matter. It sure sounded like a fast car with a big-ass V8 and a four-on-the-column shifter. I recall each of us craving a need for speed, though none of us said that out loud. More of an unscratchable but persistent itch. I can’t even tell you where we’d been earlier that night or how we scored the booze.
We careened through Silver Lake Park. Rod drove as if possessed by feral abandon. But me on the passenger side, and my friend Bill in the middle of the front seat? Not really, though we’d never allow such cowardice to surface. A vortex of wind noise swirled around us through the rolled-down windows. The summer evening intoxicated us, along with the beer and whiskey we’d been swilling. Bill hollered over the thunderous roar of the big engine. “Boy, this thing sure has a lot of power!”
He and I both clutched the metal dash with white-knuckled grips, already hurtling through the darkness. Not sure what we were expecting, other than naked fear knowing our buddy Crazy Rod. He growled, “Ain’t nothin’. Watch this.” He downshifted with violent abruptness milliseconds before stomping on the gas pedal to challenge a tight curve around the old Isaac Walton League cabin. I don’t think we careened up onto less than four wheels, but it had to have been close, at least within the expanse of my fertile imagination six decades later. Neither do I remember if that car was equipped with seat belts. Even if it was, we weren’t wearing them. Another potential act of cowardice.
I drank in delicious first-hand terror with my two intoxicated neighborhood buddies—slow-motion trauma—of decelerating from somewhere on the high side of 55 MPH to a dead stop in less than a second or two. This experience felt similar to a few other pivotal life-or-death moments in my teenage years and beyond—this wasn’t the first, nor would it be the last. None of us should have survived that night, but we did. After all, we were invincible.
Time didn’t quite stop. That was the surreal illusion that engulfed me. Whatever this phenomenon is called, I’d experienced it before when a lady T-boned me on my motorcycle with her car’s front bumper several months earlier. She’d blown through a stop sign at speed on West Center Street. I saw it coming in full slo-mo, and with intense curiosity, observed the sequence, powerless to twist fate toward my favor. It’s a beautiful thing, this cosmically choreographed ballet—foreplay to a violent embrace. But the pain and blood and many weeks of rehab? Not so much. Fortunately, I healed quickly in my youth.
I forget a lot, but the seconds leading up to that almost lethal event with two of my besties 60 years ago? I will never forget that cinematic frame-by-frame phenomenon. The front of Rod’s heavy sedan folded around that massive tree trunk that remains scarred to this day. The car’s ass-end left the ground. Just a touch of vertical deceleration—and a whole lot of horizontal—followed.
Then, a warm curtain of blood descended into my eyes a few seconds after I snapped back from planting my nose on the dash and the top of my skull into the windshield that both gravity and I had just shattered. Part of it, anyway.
Nor will I ever forget the strong sense that I was part of something unique and special—proof of my immortality, and more importantly, of belonging. We sat there stunned, listening to the background soundtrack of hissing and crackling and the ticking of cooling metal. We bled together, a fraternity of adolescent desperadoes.
Most of all, that night of invincibility meant camaraderie. Did that mean I was a danger junkie? Surely not. Or was that what it must be like to bond with others in combat? I hadn’t a clue. Not back then. As I recall, after the initial shock, I think we coughed up a little laugh, a sneer into the Grim Reaper’s shadowy leer. Or maybe a nervous chuckle at the ridiculous proposition that we had all survived. Or most likely, simply a veneer of false bravado instead of crying like babies in front of each other.
Now, I’m not saying I sought to re-experience that euphoria again and again. But thirteen motorcycle accidents, plus “totaling”my mom’s 1962 Buick Le Sabre while under the influence of some damn fine weed, all before the age of eighteen? And I’m still alive to regale you with these idiotic tales? Evidence suggests I was invincible, immortal, an exception to the professed frailty of man. Especially as a hormone-inflated teenager. Or I was just damn lucky!
As we remember that awful day, September 11, 2001, and honor those who perished and celebrate those survived, including all the heroic first responders and their ongoing profound issues, we also celebrate that our great nation can survive such catastrophes with honor, and that life goes on despite such violence.
Now, celebrate with me as I’m finally able to offer my latest project to you.
Plundered Innocence: No More Secrets is now available in both paperback and Kindle editions! Pre-order response has been positive. For that, I thank you!
Get your copy NOW!
If you’re not yet an Aubrey Greigh Mystery fan, what are you waiting for? If you’re not sure, try out the Kindle edition for a few bucks. But don’t cheat yourself from real paper.
Like all my books, they are Ai-free! In fact, I’m considering inserting the following text into all of my books’ copyright pages:
What do you think?
I’m now slaving away on the audiobook edition, but that’ll be a while. To do it right (without using those “computer voices”) takes time.
Hey, if you’re like me, a good mystery is a blissful way to fall asleep at night. My mind wrestles with twists, turns, clues, motives, suspects, and thinking about why characters behave the way they do, and to each other.
Some of those in the story are lovable but quirky. Others, however? Oh, man. They turn my stomach. But for you? I punish them all by thrusting them into impossible conflict, both within themselves and with others. Some scenes will keep you scratching your head until tomorrow night’s bedtime read!
The Kindle edition costs just five bucks. Order this provocative new novel HERE. Soon to be on all digital stores worldwide if you’d prefer to patronize a store other than Amazon. The paperback costs a bit more ($15), but you’re gonna love this one. Yeah, I’m biased and proud.
“I love your characters and how their skills and worries drive the story. I was worried whether reading this book before the other three in this series would be a mistake. It wasn’t. But now I’m going to read the other three.”
“I’m hooked!”
“I was propelled along, wanting to read ‘just one more chapter.'”
“I’ve read your entire series. Nine-year-old Shane adds a wonderful family dynamic to the Greigh household.”
“I love how the sub-plots converge on the surprise ending.”
“Your best mystery yet!”
“Some of the scenes shocked me. The gritty reality of human trafficking hit me hard. At the same time, I found the story utterly heartwarming.”
“Shane Greigh is one complex kid. Scary smart, but vulnerable, too! And he’s a heck of a detective, even at nine. You make him so believable!”
“Oh my. This is a gripping story.”
“The characters have evolved from previous books, and new characters added. I really enjoyed it!”
“Quirky. Hook-worthy!”
Nine-year-old Shane Greigh is “bloody brilliant” as Aubrey (“just Greigh”), his Scottish adoptive father might say.
Shane is a Romany boy who’s traveled with a troupe of dubious “gypsies” across Eastern Europe his entire young life before being adopted by the Greighs in Chicago, more than a few decades from now.
As I’ve shared with you before, Shane is unique in all the world. Born with a condition called hyperthymesia, this is also known as HSAM, or Highly Superior Autobiographical Memory. There are less than a hundred people in the real world diagnosed with this condition.
Plus, Shane’s complex heritage threatens to lead him toward a dubious future due to what he calls dark genetics. But this condition, combined with his superb intuition, stellar powers of deduction, and heightened observational abilities, conspire to make him a brilliant young detective; that is, if all of this doesn’t drive him mad.
His new mom, Detective McQuillan—Q—struggles with taking in a child she thinks of as a “human lie detector” with a fragile emotional complexion. All of this creates endearing but awkward and humorous situations you won’t want to miss.
You just gotta meet this kid, y’all. And what he and his few unusual new elementary school friends discover—their fellow students call them the Freak Squad? I won’t spoil the magnitude of the plot they root out. Yet it all somehow seems entirely feasible.
“I love telling lies for a living!” Wait, did I just say that ‘out loud’? I mean, I love writing fiction. I credit my friend Judy Howard for this provocative quote.
Help out a starving author by ordering NOW! I truly appreciate your patronage. And after you read Plundered Innocence: No More Secrets, do let me know what you think!
Hey, y’all. It’s been 14 months in the crafting, but the Kindle edition of my 4th Aubrey Greigh Mystery, Plundered Innocence: No More Secrets is available for pre-order. If you’re not yet a fan of these perplexing but endearing mysteries, what are you waiting for?
The Kindle edition costs just five bucks. Order it HEREnow for automatic delivery to your devices on September 11th. Soon to be on all digital stores worldwide if you’d prefer to patronize a store other than Amazon. Why order now? It helps Amazon discover the book on its delivery date and will help me boost sales. Thanks in advance!
For those of you who prefer real paper, the print edition (376 pages) will be available on or before September 20th for $15. I plan to also make it available for pre-order soon.
I was propelled along wanting to read “Just one more chapter”!
Nine-year-old Shane adds a wonderful family dynamic to the Greigh household.
I love how the sub-plots converge on the surprise ending.
Your best mystery yet!
Some of the scenes shocked me. The gritty reality of human trafficking hit me hard. At the same time, I found the story utterly heartwarming.
Shane Greigh is one complex kid. Scary smart, but vulnerable, too! And he’s a heck of a detective, even at nine. You make him so believable!
Oh my. This is a gripping story.
The characters have evolved from previous books, and new characters added. I really enjoyed it!
Quirky. Hook-worthy!
The team also offered me several wonderful recommendations to make this book even better. Many thanks, everyone! It takes a village….
I can’t wait to introduce you guys to nine-year-old Shane Greigh, a Romany boy who’s traveled with a troupe of “gypsies” across Eastern Europe his entire young life before being adopted by the Greighs in Chicago’s near future.
He is unique in all the world. Born with a condition called hyperthymesia, this is also known as HSAM, or Highly Superior Autobiographical Memory. There are less than a hundred people in the world diagnosed with this condition. Plus, his complex heritage threatens to lead him toward a dubious future due to what he calls dark genetics.
As an aside, remember the actress Mary Lou Henner? She co-starred on the TV show Taxi. She also plays the mother of Aurora Teagarden on Hallmark Movies and Mysteries. She has been rather famously diagnosed with HSAM, and consults on a TV series called “Unforgettable.” Yeah, it’s a very real thing!
Let’s take a peek at how HSAM affects this child when he thinks and acts like someone beyond his years and emotional maturity:
The more Shane learned of his heritage and his new family, the more he threw himself into diverse curiosities, out of necessity. Every conversation he’d ever had, every memory, every… thing… ran on an ever-expanding loop in his head, like an exploding swarm of angry hornets. The adrenaline rush from each new experience helped settle down the swarm. The more intense the experience, the better. And if he helped others, it settled his anxiety over Nonna Sasha’s fear of a dark future, at least a little.
At other times, he’s just a little boy:
Q rolled her eyes, raised both hands, and dropped them onto the tabletop with a soft thwack. “Okay. Shane, even though you’re not of legal age to get a comms implant—”
“Oh! Ilove it! When?”
Greigh belly-laughed loud enough for both Shane and Q to jump. “Well, now that that’s settled, let’s eat!”
Q shook her head and snickered while Shane got up to offer her a little hug. Then it was Greigh’s turn. After that round of hugs, even though Greigh sat and Shane stood, he still looked down at his son. He offered his hand. “This occasion dictates a manly handshake, don’t you agree, son?”
Few events could surprise Shane. This one did. He beamed, but then puckered his lips, wrinkled his brow, and with all solemnity, punctuated by an artificial pout, shook his father’s hand, massive by comparison. Shane left his breakfast untouched and scampered off to his room to finish getting dressed for school. He cried, “Yippee!”
Q gasped at this unexpected and utterly childlike reaction before tears ran down both cheeks. “Oh, Greigh….” He reached across the table to squeeze the hand that wasn’t wiping tears. But he didn’t give a voice to his fears—that this one-of-a-kind boy experienced mercurial highs and lows.
Help out a starving author by pre-ordering NOW! I truly appreciate your patronage! And after you read Plundered Innocence: No More Secrets, do let me know what you think!
Until next time….
Gene
P.S. I’ve chosen to include a bit of my original artwork (grayscale versions), humble as it is, as page backgrounds for the initial pages of this book’s print edition. Crazy, huh?
I envisioned this first image representing intense internal conflict only partially attenuated through a creative outlet (think of me and my new little buddy, Shane):
And this might be what the encampment of Shane’s kumpania in Hungary, Croatia, or Northeastern Italy looks like. You may also notice this image on the print edition’s back cover:
The print edition’s cover with the image above in the background of the rear cover, and my vision for Hotel Literati in the subtle background of the front cover. Such are the sort of things a restless creative conjures in the early hours before morning twilight:
Good morning, y’all. Ever wonder? Are authors sane? Or–? Bear with me… I gotta get this out. I’m trying on a “new voice” mired in dramatic irony. And you’re the first to be bludgeoned with it. Lucky you. This came to me in the middle of last night’s storm-tossed sleep.
So, I have captured and sculpted to my liking the illusive concept that has put purpose in my weary step for the last decade, the blink of a cosmic eye. Instead of patiently awaiting fate to deal me a dubious future—a dark tempest or a joyous feast—events and the universe have conspired to gift me the means to craft whatever life I desire on behalf of dear creatures I embrace with pen put to paper, to breathe life, or to deliver death, to oblivious beings who seek relevance in my novels, struggling to live and die, love and hate, in a world I create.
It’s… godlike.
And yet, as I venture into such madness, with no worldly forbearance, I realize that being godlike punishes the creator’s soul for harboring such illusions. A wisp of genius blossoms in a cloud of conflict, just before evaporating in a confounding barrage, a whirlwind that chokes, uplifts, and then plummets every facet of my frailty into the abyss of doubt.
Yes, I doubt myself, even as I’m caught up riding ridiculous waves of inspiration, only to be cast into a trough created solely for my solitary confinement. There, I wallow, waiting for the next crushing wave, for endless eons, servile to a race of beings who defy me at every turn, refusing my beneficent gifts of life, of meaning, favoring instead to mock that which I offer so freely at great cost to my very soul. The next page remains… blank. This impossible task is best left to someone more… worthy.
I loathe being godlike.
And then, as if only to tease, the leaden sky parts. As if by magic, one tiny miracle after another manifests itself in an infinite succession of tiny but priceless brushstrokes. They adorn the page, my page, the canvas of my masterpiece. A transcendent flash of creation coalesces.
But then, darkness descends once again. And again. The cycle of a writer’s life grinds on, as the next convolution follows its pretender. For years, decades, eons, this wholly pretentious act of creation drags me by the heart to some illogical conclusion. I have no choice, a tortured soul driven to the joy of creating, lacking the will to discontinue. What does this mean?
I am not godlike at all.
Yet, I author fiction, a creator of worlds, universes. Races of beings sometimes bend to my will. But they do not appreciate my power. Neither do I. This storyteller is anything but godlike.
I’m grumpy. Not because it’s a gloriously brilliant summer morning, and a Saturday morning, no less.
Nor am I grumpy because my only commitment today that’s not self-induced is a visit to the local library’s huge used book sale.
I’m not even grumpy that I’m 76 and stare into the fuzzy face of my inevitable mortality within the next short decade or two. I’m quite comfortable with that.
Likewise, during a pleasant drive between the library and Walmart, I’m not grumpy because the driver of a high-end Mercedes thinks less of me because I drive a rather ordinary American car and I’m not breaking the speed law for his benefit. He rides my bumper and honks.Why? Because he’s entitled to privilege not granted to the rest of us? But apparently, he flies at an altitude above plebeian statutes and ordinary folk, even though I choose not do so.
No, that’s no reason to be grumpy, either. Nor the fact that my grocery cart pulls to the left this morning.
And as I leave Walmart, once more in my Jeep on this perfect Minnesota morning, need I be grumpy about another driver with good intentions who tried to migrate into my lane without looking so an officer of the law could enjoy a safe space on the highway to hand a motorist a ticket for a moving violation?
I slammed on my horn to keep the errant citizen from slamming into me. That put too much pressure on my not-quite-healed fractured right wrist, sending a blue-white lightning bolt directly into my frontal lobe. But that’s just one more trivial reminder of the increased fragility to which my geriatric self is now wed. Not a reason to be grumpy.
And no, I’m not grumpy because some perennial pain at my age is no longer completely manageable through diet, exercise, and modern pharmaceuticals, nor because I must now draw on my reserves of optimism to rise above such trivialities. Fortunately, I have nurtured such reserves of optimism for times like these.
The reason I am grumpy, you might fairly ask? Because after a rather long lifetime of experience & research employing my more-than-adequate critical thinking skills, I’ve arrived on the platform of a belief system held aloft by the engines of objectivity, observation, and tolerance.
Having arrived at this well-considered destination after many failed experiments and many more successful ones, my source of grumpiness tugs at the stout fabric in my cerebral cortex where I’ve woven this comfortable blanket of beliefs. I am confident they are justified, and as a result, I conclude the following on this gorgeous weekend morning….
I am grumpy because of the incessant shredding of the sacred tenets of these beliefs by thoughtless, careless, and reckless intolerance indifference that causes cruelty to others, to innocent animals, and to the only world available to sustain us all in the vastness of empty and inhospitable space. That is precisely why I’m grumpy this fine sunny Saturday.
Then I remembered. Life as a human is messy, as is our entire species. And my life is far less messy than most. That, my friends, is at the very heart of this grand cosmic comedy within which we were planted and are all connected.
So, I guess I’m not grumpy, after all. I guess I’ll just bloom where I was planted.
STILL coming: I plan to add purchase-direct links for my catalog of books on this website so you can buy them directly from the author, yours truly, signed and beautifully embossed on the inside cover.It’s taking a bit longer than expected. Technical difficulties. If this interests you, stay tuned!
Check out the image above of my beautiful bride at a local bookselling/signing event. Ain’t she pretty?
My Debut Memoir
In this new book I share with you a curated collection of turning points in my life, from a 76-year life (so far) I consider well-lived. Folks who know a bit of my background kept saying, “You oughta publish a memoir!”
I’d typically respond, “Really? Well, alright, then!” And this book is the result, which has taken a few decades to see the light of day. Yeah, it’s taken a while. I wanted to get it right. I think we’re there, y’all.
Some early readers, however, have suggested this book is too… irreverent. Or controversial. Maybe because of several bare-naked confessions not appropriate for publication. Screw that!
As I’ve matured, and am now well beyond caring what most folks think of my living what I consider a life that’s finallyauthentic as hell, I just have to follow my own heart, and say what I please. I’ve found that frightens some folks, or at least concerns them. I do not mean to disrespect anyone, or dismiss the beliefs or passions of anyone. That’s not what this is about. At all. This is just me being me after a long period of my life where I could or would not, for a bunch of questionable reasons. That took its toll. Those days are behind me. Finally.
For this book’s upcoming audiobook edition (still in production), might you wanna give a quick listen to a sound clip? Just click on the pointy arrow below to eavesdrop on this 6-minute excerpt, and let me know what you think! Thanks for being here.
Pre-order the Kindle version HERE. Or wait until 3/1 for the paperback edition, or 3/9 for the full-color hardback I’m anxious to share these stories with you! I’m convinced you’ll find most, if not all, entertaining.
Settling In
If you’ve read my previous posts, you know that we sold our motorhome and bought a townhouse in Rochester, MN USA last summer (2025). We not only wished to be part of our hometown community once more, after being largely absent for a couple of decades, we’re catching up on a bunch of medical procedures at the Mayo Medical Center here.
As I write this, my dear bride of 57 years (in April) is somewhere between Mayo’s St. Mary’s Hospital and a rehab facility for a week or two to deal with a complication from a couple of complex back surgeries last week. But we’re looking forward to a better summer, now! She’s already planning a couple of cross-country trips in the Jeep! And we’re likely to spend a few months in one of our favorite landing places in Tucson next winter. But full-time living on the road? Rear view mirror.
“Settling In”, however, does not mean I’m giving up my writing career. And the memoir above is not meant to be a capstone project, merely a waypoint on my literary journey. I’ve never written a memoir before. It was fun! Actual NON-fiction. Not bad for someone who tells lies for a living.
One other aspect of this memoir might interest you. My voice is changing, as we “speak.” Apparently, I’ve developed a lung condition, a form of COPD. Mayo’s pulmonologists think it might be a subtle form of asthma that results in a chronic cough. For that I’m reluctantly using a steroid/albuterol inhaler twice a day, which is now affecting my voice, and not in a small way. So, not only will you witness a progression through some of my life’s key moments in this memoir’s words, you’ll also hear my voice changing during the course of my narrating and producing the book’s 66 short chapters. Particularly poignant for a memoir, don’t you think? I could be upset about this, but why not just enjoy hell outa the ride?
We also settled in Rochester to spend more time with family and old friends, once the majority of this medical stuff gets resolved. We’re intent on making this dream come true after our lengthy absence as itinerant vagabonds (I love that phrase).
STILL coming soon: I’ll be adding purchase-direct links for my catalog of books on this website so you can buy them directly from the author, yours truly, signed and beautifully embossed on the inside cover.It’s taking a bit longer than expected. If this interests you, stay tuned!
You might be interested in some early listener feedback from the first-ever theatrical edition audiobook of my latest novel, Rogue’s Gallery, complete with cinematic sound effects and carefully curated background music:
Brilliant Characters!
5.0 out of 5.0 Performance
5.0 out of 5.0 Story
Jan 20, 2026
“This is the first book by G.K. Jurrens that I’ve ever read and the first from any author I’ve listened to all the way through on Audible! Mr. Jurrens is a prolific mystery writer and a very talented voice actor! Yes, he imbues the characters with realism and magic, always staying true to their personages.
“Apparently, the main characters have appeared in earlier works as references to activities of yore show up on occasion. Nonetheless, it’s not crucial to this tale to have read (or listened to) the former titles.
“As in many mysteries, there are crimes to be solved. The two main characters are a couple. Aubrey Greigh (pronounced “Gray”) is described (in the helpful Cast of Characters in the back of the book) as a “Best-selling mystery writer…and freelance investigator with Interpol.”
“Greigh’s other half, Chance Goodwyn McQuillan, a.k.a. “Q” is a Detective Lieutenant of the Chicago Enforcement Department, 99th Precinct. She has a partner in the 99th named Aidan (Mac) McKenzie.
“Early in the story, there are a couple of gruesome—even macabre—deaths, unlike any I’ve ever read about before! The homicides (or are they suicides?) force the reader to speed up one’s reading in order to follow the leads to a possible solution. I found the story to be quite compelling!
“Like a Hollywood-bound screenplay, “Rogue’s Gallery” features many story arcs, each with a believable timeline. The various characters in these arcs are skillfully made to interact with each other as the story lines intertwine to a climactic conclusion.
“I have purchased all of the author’s titles, gifting the set to my spouse! Since reading this book, I admit that I might even be a new fan. I look forward to working my way through Mr. Jurrens’ bibliography and sharing my enjoyment of his books with my wife.”
Bravo!
5.0 out of 5.0 Performance
5.0 out of 5.0 Story
Jan 23, 2026
“Rogue’s Gallery” kept my attention from page one. One of the most important aspects that compelled me to continue listening, was GK’s exceptionally entertaining voice acting skill! Whether the characters were male or female, young or old, they came alive in my consciousness! Bravo!”
So Good!!!
5.0 out of 5.0 Performance
5.0 out of 5.0 Story
Dec 23, 2025
This book has a ton of characters and it takes a few chapters to get them all introduced. However once the majority are introduced, it is off to the races! The book is very fast moving and will make you question the impossible! Is there really a ghost killing people? But beware, just when you think you know the answer, a twist happens that has you off to the races again!
I did love the feel to this audible book in that it was a very immersive experience. In the end this listening experience was enjoyable and so very different from the way other books have been read.
I am delighted and grateful that listeners are finding this audiobook entertaining and “an immersive experience!”
Coming soon: I’ll be adding purchase-direct links for my catalog of books on this website so you can buy them directly from me, signed and beautifully embossed on the inside cover.
My intent is to offer this service at no additional cost (other than shipping & tax, of course). But instead of supporting Jeff Bezos at Amazon or Tim Cook at Apple, you’ll be supporting Kay and me!
Side note: When I list one of my $15 novels on Amazon after spending a year or more researching, outlining, writing, editing, formatting, soliciting pre-pub reader feedback, designing its cover, and publishing, I receive less than $1.50 of that $15. But buy directly from me, and all the money goes to Kay and me, less printing and shipping costs from the printer. It’s more work for me fulfilling the order and shipping books to you myself, but this makes more ethical and financial sense, doesn’t it?
So watch this space, and please consider this option for acquiring paperback editions of all your favorite GK Jurrens books! Signed by the author (a simple autograph or optionally personalized) and embossed (a three-dimensional impression inside the front cover).
My dear bride Kay and I thank you in advance. We appreciate you, dear reader, especially as we settle into our new “igloo” in Minnesota that makes this offer possible.
So until… and now coming to you from the frozen tundra,
