And to celebrate a successful year of writing, publishing and living….
Keep reading to find out how to score a great deal on thoughtful stocking stuffers.
Location: Punta Gorda, Florida
In this issue:
RV Rally Fun
Voodoo Vendetta en route to Worldwide Distribution
Case Study – Evolution of a Book Cover
Ice Ops – A Short Story
Year-end 50% Off All My Books!
1. RV Rally
Once in a while, we hang out with some Uber-interesting folks who share our passion for the nomadic lifestyle–the life of itinerant vagabonds.
The Full-timer’s chapter of the Newmar Owner’s Group gathered right here in our town, Punta Gorda in Southwest Florida. Kay and I so enjoyed seeing everyone again.
Fun fact: the RV Park that hosted our rally (food, fun, games, music, tall tales), Creekside RV Resort, saw forty rigs topple during Hurricane Ian’s onslaught. Not so much fun, however, for their owners. None of our group suffered damage as we go where the storms aren’t. When your home has wheels and catastrophe approaches, we beat feet.
We took this opportunity to enjoy a harbor cruise and a Christmas lights canal cruise with our RV friends. We also toured the Edison/Ford museum in Ft Myers. After living here for twenty years (when we’re not traveling), this is the first time we made it to that museum.
A fun harbor cruise with forty of our good RV friends.
Folks in Punta Gorda Isles go all out decorating their houses and boats in the canals, even after a major hurricane.
Remnant of Hurricane Ian during spotted our harbor cruise.
My ninth novel,“Voodoo Vendetta – A Literati Mystery”is officially available in both ebook and paperback editions in a bunch of online stores now (Amazon, Apple, Kobo, Smashwords…), and on its way at cyber-speed (faster than snail mail) to all the rest, worldwide. Including library services and reader subscription services (except for Kindle Unlimited which requires exclusivity–nope).
You might guess that launching a new title is exhausting. And you would be correct. So many details to manage. Everything has to be, well, perfect. And it takes a village.
While I’ve reduced the process to a straightforward workflow, it’s still a ton of work. As I reported in my last newsletter, early readers are loving this locked room whodunit murder mystery with myriad twists and characters you’ll love and hate, but for good reason. Some, you won’t be sure what to think.
As an adjunct, I thought some of you might like to see how this book’s cover evolved over the last few months based on useful but brutal feedback from readers and designers. If you’re interested in this sort of thing, keep reading. Otherwise, skip to details below on the huge year-end book sale to see how to save 50% on all of my titles, and a bunch of others.
From concept to….
3. Case Study – Evolution of a Book Cover
Never judge a book by its cover.
I.M. Naughtwriter
Poppycock!
In fact, the right cover is any author’s most powerful marketing tool. A great cover needs to:
Grab the casual shopper’s attention in two seconds or less, either in a bookstore, or online
Entice the online shopper to make a snap judgment from a thumbnail, a minuscule miniature of the book’s cover. That’s asking a lot from a picture the size of your thumbnail, and a design requirement often overlooked by rookie authors,
Identify the book’s genre (a murder mystery’s cover will look and feel very different from a romance story’s). This is more look and feel. Best achieved by studying other successful authors in the genre,
Set appropriate reader expectations with its title, font, color, text (back cover) and graphics.
Conversely, a not-so-great cover WILL be costly in lost sales. Worse, you may never know.
With each new book I publish, I am humbled by how much I still don’t know about book cover design. But I’m stubborn, and a control freak, and cheap, all of which prevents me from hiring a professional designer for each book. Plus, I enjoy endlessly tinkering with my covers’ designs.
So, I study the covers of other books in my genre–the ones that sell well. Even then, the most prominent feature on a famous and well-established author’s book cover will probably look very different from what my cover needs.
For example, what is the most prominent feature on the cover of a book written by James Patterson or JD Robb or Tom Clancey? Their name, of course. That makes no sense on my books because I’m not famous. Yet.
After tinkering, soliciting feedback, and more tinkering, I will still doubt my own cover design–the perennial paradox–one of many. For me, anyway. I know… madness.
Enough foreplay. Here are just a few of the dozens of iterations I went through for Vendetta’s cover.
Old working title. Eye-catching cover, but too cinematic. Looks like a collage of unrelated images (“What’s with the lipstick and cryptic background handwriting?”)
Too romantic a feel (it’s a mystery!) and too “fluffy.” Plus, this title still did not play well with reviewers. I still hadn’t lost the lipstick. And it looked mushy as a thumbnail. Make that downright illegible.
Better colors (more vibrant) to catch the eye as a thumbnail, and better title font, but still too many different fonts (3) for no good reason.Still too busy, and lacks coherence.
Better (catchy) title, and the overall design “feels” more mysterious (it’s a mystery!), but still too busy. These title/subtitle FONTS did not review well.
I also ground through several evolutions of the rear cover. I won’t bore you with that, but this darn cover drove me crazy. For months.
Thankfully, I received lots of constructive feedback. The final cover below also looks good as a thumbnail, I think, which is critically important for online sales pages. All the text is still fairly legible when reduced to a very small image. The title is a unique color and in a distinctive font called “Trash Hand.” I like that, as did reviewers:
And here’s the winner. Simple, but suggestive. Dark like the book’s theme. Much takes place in dark basements and tunnels, involves a mysterious (“dark?”) religion, and more than a few devious (dark?) characters and plot twists. Plus, of course, murder. Limited fonts (2) with smoky shadows, with a provocative tag line (“Culture That Kills”). Composite images are subtle but suggestive (not visually cluttered). Emphasizes a singular visual focus (the book’s title) with the series subtitle that grabs less focus, but still prominent (“A Literati Mystery”), which will appear on every cover in this series. One topic of continuing debate: characters’ faces on the cove? Or not? Screw it. I like it. Decision made! Done, already!
Thumbnail
So, there you have it. A study in dark lavender. As one of my villains in this book says:
“Black is the new white. Reminds me of Moskva’s winter nights after curfew, but without the cold.”
Tihomir Leonov
A cover doesn’t have to be pretty, but it MUST be effective.
4. Ice Ops – A Short Story
I’ll be publishing a collection of short stories in 2023. I offer you an advance peek at one that means a great deal to me. I hope you enjoy this free sneak preview.
“Ice Ops – A Rescue Mission” is a chilling true account of life over death for more than thirty souls, and the genesis of an injury for yours truly that persists to this day. If you are so inclined, you can read it here.
5. Year End Sale 50% Off
That’s right. I’m offering 50% off the eBook edition of all my books–even my newest–on Smashwords (an Amazon alternative).
Just in time for the year-end holidays, click here between December 15 and December 31, 2022 to snag these great deals. Or simply click on the image below:
This is INSANITY!
That’s all for now. So, until… and wherever, my friend…
WonderWhodunnit in the New Literati Mystery Series by GK Jurrens
1. Eye-Witness Report From Hurricane Country
As the man (Uncle Sam) says, and I’m paraphrasing here, It ain’t pretty! And so much worse than you see on the news.
Commercial businesses are seen in the wake of Hurricane Ian, Thursday, Sept. 29, 2022, in Fort Myers Beach, Fla. (AP Photo/Wilfredo Lee)
“On Sept. 28, Hurricane Ian made landfall near Cayo Costa in southwestern Florida as a dangerous, high-end Category 4 storm after plowing a path of destruction through the Caribbean, bringing particularly heavy rainfall and dangerous surf to Jamaica, the Cayman Islands, and western Cuba.”
Courtesy: Patabook
Other than a national and global news highlight, you might ask, “So what?” You saw “Cayo Costa” mentioned above in the paragraph I quoted from the National Oceanographic & Atmospheric Administration of the US Department of Commerce. We, too, can literally see the island of Cayo Costa west of our condo complex. Miss Kay and I perch on the eastern shore of Charlotte Harbor.
Again, so what? You see, our home was literally at Ground Zero for the worst weather event to strike Florida in almost a century.
Yeah, it ain’t pretty, but we fared so much better than so many others.
“Ian came ashore near Cayo Costa, Florida, at 3:05 p.m. EDT with maximum sustained winds of 150 mph, tying the record for the fifth-strongest hurricane on record to strike the United States.”
NOAA, US Dept of Commerce
Three things about this particular storm you might find of interest, and by now, no surprise:
Its strength: The human psyche just cannot comprehend what sustained winds (for hours) of 150+ MPH means in practical terms. Out in the open, a hundred MPH at ultra-low barometric pressure will suck the air right out of your lungs. Examples of the storm’s brutality: Ian tossed around hundred-foot boats weighing fifty tons, hundreds of feet from the water. There isn’t a sign or billboard in SW Florida that isn’t knocked down, twisted, or just gone. Hundred-year-old trees are ripped from the ground with their root balls still clinging to tons of dirt they brought up with them as they went over. There’s a saying here in the context of such a frightening phenomenon: “If it ain’t concrete, it’s rubble.” Even with several days notice of this muscular weather event’s approach, still, over a hundred souls in Florida alone perished.
Its speed: Hurricane Ian was a very slow-moving storm. Again, in practical terms, that means it, or the hundreds of tornadoes spun off from its eyeball, chewed on anything in its path for more than a dozen hours before the worst of it moved on (per some of our neighbors). If this storm were an evil villain in one of my novels, its strategy would have been to intimidate, threaten, demoralize, and weaken you with a brutal beating. Then, he would torture you, managing to sustain exquisite pain for many hours, far beyond your physical and emotional endurance. When he would grow bored with your suffering, he’d fling your lifeless body and everything you own into the raging sea that had come ashore. But first, he’d ensure the total destruction of everything in your life that you ever loved. After all that, with the coldest of hearts, he’d leave any survivors around you feeling exposed, powerless, and if possible, penniless—for years—as if that would bring joy to the uncaring hole in his soul, a hole that can never be filled. Yeah, even though he’s just an amalgamation of environmental factors, I’d write him as an evil bastard with no hope of redemption. That’s how small we are in the presence of nature’s fury–we can’t be objective. But good people rallied. Survivors clung together. The best of humanity prevailed.
Its size: At over 400 miles in diameter, for some, there was just no escape. It changed the lives of millions by cutting a swath of annihilation across a large portion of this part of the world (Atlantic and Caribbean islands, most of Florida, the SE United States, and the Northeast.
“In all, the storm knocked out power to more than four million customers in Florida, and an additional 1.1 million homes and businesses lost power when the storm plowed through the Carolinas. Recovery costs estimated to be around $47 billion in insured losses, according to research firm CoreLogic.”
NOAA, US Dept of Commerce
Shelters set up across the area aided those rendered homeless by Hurricane Ian.
Because Miss Kay and I are fortunate enough to live (some of the time) in a steel-reinforced concrete building, our condo suffered minimal damage. Others in our association, however, weren’t so lucky.
While the main buildings all survived with aplomb, some windows and lanais (“porches”) were ruthlessly ripped away, allowing water to find a way inside. Some apartments are completely gutted due to water damage after the storm (as ours was after Hurricane Charley in 2004).
Almost two months after the storm, our neighborhood doesn’t look so bad, does it? It’s what you can’t see at a glance that has a few of our neighbors pleading with their insurance companies for financial compensation. And it’s that damage that will drive emotional distress for the rest of some people’s lives. What you can’t see. Kay and I were lucky. And as a neighborhood, the repairs we effected across this 16-acre property after Hurricane Charley in 2004 served us well through this particularly nasty storm.
But beyond our neighborhood, the devastation was complete on the barrier islands between us on the mainland and the Gulf of Mexico (Cayo Costa, Pine Island, Captiva, Sanibel, Ft Myers Beach….). We don’t go down there, even if we could. Strict quarantine and/or curfews try to prevent looting. Many of these looters (“shoppers”) aren’t even from Florida!
A lot of the places we used to frequent are just… gone.
In early October, as we approached SW Florida in our motorhome right after the storm, we saw HUNDREDS of power and telephone maintenance/repair trucks, most from out of state heading south on I-75. Even a bunch of out-of-state fire trucks.
We saw military convoys pouring into the area to aid in disaster relief efforts.
FEMA (the feds) had thrown up entire tent and trailer CITIES as temporary shelters and housing for emergency crews imported from all over the country.
Countless Good Samaritans opened up their homes to the newly homeless, including several of our own neighbors.
Insurance companies imported hundreds of adjusters to assess damage. They have their own tents here and there as focal points for their adjusters.
Soldiers (Army, National Guard) passed out millions of bottles of water, helping local and state law enforcement and fire fighters with evacuations and other forms of disaster relief.
It was thrilling to see this side of humanity in action!
Our own community (Burnt Store Marina), while very well maintained with mostly new docks and other upgraded infrastructure, took a beating worse than our condos.
Boats piled on top of one another, and several docks are either gone or rendered useless. The storm snapped treated wood pilings a foot or more in diameter like toothpicks….
We still see so much damage even now, almost two months downrange from the storm. They’re still picking up the pieces. Repairs and restoration will take much longer.
We can’t see much of the costly damage to boats in the marina. I talked with a diver who says so many boats—the ones that didn’t sink or weren’t flung ashore—took their worst hits below the waterline. Damaged hulls, bent propellers and shafts, gouges and cracks. But most of these boats aren’t peoples’ homes or livelihoods. So we have nothing to complain about.
Nothing.
A diver loads his camera to take insurance photos of a damaged prop, a shattered swim platform, and gouges in the hull–all damage caused by this boat riding up over the dock during the storm. See those “toothpicks” laying on this decimated dock? They’re at least 15″ in diameter. Poof!I believe this is (was) someone’s home. It took awhile to get this big sailing catamaran off the seawall. Fiberglass versus concrete? No contest.
To answer your next inevitable question, we were not here on September 28. We were in our motorhome on Galveston Island on the Texas Gulf coast as the storm approached Florida.
We then slowed our return home by hanging out in NW Louisiana when the storm made landfall, essentially, right over our home. We then staged to just east of Tampa until power was restored to our neighborhood in early October. Otherwise, we would have become part of the problem.
Now it’s just a matter of each owner chipping in to pay the insurance deductible to address the association’s damage (gulp).
The South Shore community where we live within Burnt Store Marina was so fortunate. None of our neighbors and friends lost their lives. We were blessed to have been traveling at the time. If we’d been here, we’d have rolled on out of here on September 25th before the storm came ashore. The “nice” thing about hurricanes (unlike tornadoes)? You have DAYS of advance warning.
We are also blessed with the means to hire an experienced disaster clean-up company to get us back to some semblance of normal sooner rather than later.
Our “hidey hole” (shelter) from the storm in NW Louisiana as the storm approached our brick ‘n mortar home in SW Florida. I had planned to be there to research the Creole culture for “Voodoo Vendetta,” anyway. We just extended our stay because of a brute named Ian. No, we were not roughing it (well, no dishwasher, except for me). How fortunate are we to have an “evacuation-capable” home? A small matter of eight wheels, an 8.9 liter turbo diesel power plant and a 7.5 kilowatt generator! Not to mention a co-pilot I love spending time with in this 300 square-foot house.
Kay and I are blessed. We can afford to take nothing for granted, especially in times of disaster and prolonged recovery. Life is just too short, and getting shorter every day, my friend. For all of us.
2. Wonder Whodunnit in the New Literati Mystery Series
by GK Jurrens
Moving on….
“Voodoo Vendetta’s” Kindle edition is now available for pre-order for automatic November 30th delivery. Paperback edition to follow in all major online storefronts worldwide soon after Thanksgiving (well before Christmas, if you’re looking for gift ideas).
You can check out the basic premise and early reviews of Book One, “Voodoo Vendetta”here. But below is something extra,, just for you—a short chapter that reveals my main character’s motivation:
Sunday, June 21st
A Few Years From Now
DuSable Park
Chicago, Illinois
11:30AM
* * *
It would be a day to remember.
The mid-morning air glowed with uncharacteristic brilliance. The haze abated, allowing the summer sun to boast its magnificence in a sky of muted blue. A miraculous day, a unique day of days.
Melissa and Clancy Greigh stood in a line that meandered around the corner of their favorite food truck, Aphrodite’s Kitchen. They chuckled at each other’s stupid jokes, none of them worthy of a full-fledged laugh. But their hearts were full, unlike their stomachs.
Now it was their turn to order, at last. Aphro looked down at the pair of redheads, mother and daughter. In her heavy Greek accent, she chirped, “And what may I make for you lovely ladies?”
Instead of sharing an order of moussaka—their standard fare for their traditional Sunday morning outing to the park—Clance bubbled with anticipation as she delivered her well-rehearsed little speech. Though only six years old, Clance already enjoyed a sophisticated palate. “Mummy, could I have my own gyro today instead of splitting a moussaka? Please, please?” She widened her smiling eyes and wrinkled her tiny forehead as her eyebrows shot farther toward her hairline in gleeful expectation.
After all, she was a big girl now.
* * *
Mel grinned up at Aphro.
The street chef shrugged at the convincing little speech. Mum gazed down at her little redhead. What an amazing child. If only dear Greigh were here. She reflected on this, one of those defining moments in a parent’s life. He was missing it, but she knew how important his project was to him—and to all of them. After all, The Literati was their home.
Clance had become her own person, and her brilliance beamed for all to see. Mel imagined what her little girl would do with her gifts in life.
She was about to yield to her beautiful daughter’s big-girl plea, even though she knew the sandwich would be way too much for her. And then a terrible crack of thunder echoed through the park. Mel studied Clance’s wide-eyed wonder as a field of crimson blossomed across her tiny chest and her white camisole.
Mel registered instant concern, thinking Aphro might have dripped tomato sauce on her from above, which stains, but then lightning struck, and night fell.
* * *
Sir Aubrey Greigh labored at home.
With a maniacal focus, he pursued his twin passions—writing and crusading. He owned suite 7D in Hotel Literati. As a condo owner and president of “The Lit” Homeowner’s Association, he labored with prodigious passion to ensure their home never fell into the hands of a greedy land developer. If that happened, they’d demolish their beloved building.
Sure, they’d offer a generous buy-out, but that wasn’t the point at all, was it?
And then the call came that changed everything.
Later, the news anchor reported.
“A sniper fatally shot five people and wounded two others standing in line at a Greek food truck in DuSable Park near the waterfront earlier today. Authorities will release no details until they notify families of the victims….”
Wednesday, June 24th
Apartment 7D
Hotel Literati
Chicago, Illinois
* * *
Ten PM came and went.
Three days ago, Greigh’s universe went super nova. He sat on his sofa facing a dark fireplace… lost. He couldn’t even cry.
More than a hundred of his neighbors and sundry celebrities—he had no friends, really—shared his profound grief at the funeral earlier that afternoon, and afterward, for his ladies’ interment in the family crypt.
Just another unsolved random mass shooting. An acquaintance looped into the investigation told him the only “signature” left by the killer was a unique slug—a .338 Lapua Magnum cartridge—from an ancient weapon called an IWI DAN .338, a tactical rifle that hadn’t been manufactured for almost fifty years.
Two slugs from that weapon ended the lives of Melissa and Clancy Greigh. It might as well have ended his, too.
That’s all for now. So until… and wherever, my friend (from Ground Zero for a few more months)…
Almost two dozen folks attended my series of writing and publishing seminars in Rochester, Minnesota during the month of August.
I truly appreciate each of you who not only attended, but participated enthusiastically, even though I bludgeoned you with a ton of information that I’m confident you will use. But hey, a leopard can’t change his stripes (yeah, I know).
I also appreciate all of your purchases of my books. Please let me know what you think of them. Authors live and die by reviews, and I eagerly look forward to any accolades, of course, but I especially need critical reviews as well. That’s how you and I grow as authors.
I am also grateful to have been asked for an encore performance at 125Live! next Spring, kids, so as Arnie would say, “I’ll be back!” Some of you have also requested a seminar on writing, reading and critiquing poetry. Let me think about that. But in that very spirit, I offer you a sample from one of my latest books below. Consider reading something different. Do you dare to venture out, intrepid soul?
C’mon, “it don’t hurt!”
2. Excerpt From a Daring New Book
If you haven’t yet realized, it takes guts to publish a book—any book. You risk “putting it all out there for the whole world to see.” Inevitable doubt crawls all around and through me as I ask myself:
Will my readers hate it?
Is the entire idea of my book dumb?
Even if the idea isn’t dumb, is my writing going to ruin an otherwise good book idea?
Will I sell even a single copy?
Add your own personal poison to this list that could be short or long, depending on your own temperament.
This list can be lengthy, especially if you venture far from your comfort zone, like I did with this book. But what’s life without spice? To me, that means a willingness and an openness to take literary risks! If reward seeks me out, that’s nice, but that will not hold my spirit hostage.
So, as harebrained an idea as it seemed, I decided to publish a book about poetry. “What?” my mentors exclaimed. “Yup, poetry, but with a twist. I’m going to first write a guide on how to read and interpret fine poetry, to better appreciate what I call this art form’s “sexy anatomy.” And then, I’ll include a brief subset of my own collection so readers can more effectively rip my work to ribbons with their newfound knowledge!
“That’s a really dumb idea,” I was told, “Stick to your genre,” they said, “this book will never sell.”
“I do not care.” I was adamant about this. I’d scribbled verses on napkins and reams of discarded paper when I worked as a third-shift computer operator decades ago. Collected them all, and finally digitized them (as we used to say).
Some people collect tattoos. I write poems… on paper… and with a keyboard—they’re easier to edit than tattoos.
Further, I was taught by esteemed poet—John Sibley Williams, serial winner of the prestigious Pushcart Prize for Fine Poetry—that it is a privilege to know what a poet was thinking when they composed the poem after you read it, or hear it performed. “It is a window into the poet’s soul.” I thought including that very window after each verse might enhance the readers’ experience as they read my new brain-fart of a book (of which I am now quite proud).
Toward that end, I would offer a few words of “author’s advice” before each piece, as well as a brief essay after each piece that would yield clues into that poem’s architecture and the insanity that inspired it.
I’d also embellish each piece with an original image relevant to each poem.
Now that would be a unique book about and of poetry!
I was told, “You will further shrink its already niched-down audience.” I said, “I do not care! I gotta do this.”
This is my vision for “The Poetic Detective.” See the book’s synopsishere. It is now available worldwide (gulp)—my third book published in 2022.
But I still kept asking myself, “What, in my particular Hell, am I doing? I have so many novels yet to write. This is a distraction. I’m already seventy-two years old, and I’m running out of frickin’ time.”
But then I remembered another aphorism from one of my other revered mentors, “Never quit,” she’d say, “That includes never quitting on an idea if it is your passion.”
So, I’m putting it all out there with this book, kids. Think what you will. This is my biggest personal publishing risk to date—a window into my wildly imperfect soul. Think less of me if you will.
This is an exercise in personal courage, and I feel great!
With all humility, I offer you this verse, an excerpt from my latest book,“The Poetic Detective:”
A Profile in Personal Courage
“Hollow Heart”
Author’s advice:
The solitary image of an elegant creature stands on just one leg in darkness. While beautiful, it seems ill-defined with a shadowy and cool color palette of finite colors. This creature is unsure of himself, looking within his own hollow heart for answers to arrive at some conclusion about his inflexibility. We must find this muddy declaration ironic as others have always viewed him as the essence of flowing grace.
This eight-line poem, though using metaphoricalimagery, is self-evident. Even so, I will offer you a few insights why I used some unusual phrases in the brief essay that follows the poem.
* * *
A solitary soul stands alone so preposterous,
no longer a mere reflection, now a beacon.
A cacophony, their platitudes ring so boisterous,
bounce around him like so many who have weakened
to temptations of easy mirrors grown squalid,
he’s polished his keen vision to a deep stained-less screen,
their certitudes still echo behind, he greets a less solid
footing, slipping and sliding on a cellophane sheen.
* * *
Poet’s Notes:
I am exceedingly proud of the image I created and selected to introduce this poem. This abstraction of a great egret captured a blue ribbon (first place) for me in the 2011 Florida Council of Camera Clubs statewide competition in the Creative Photography category.
Of far greater significance, this effigy portrays that which is strange and misunderstood, even unrecognizable, yet esteemed in a corner of our mind, maybe in spite of appearing foreign to our concept of “normal.” Still, we find beauty and grace.
This poem ponders a man with a closed mind, believing only that which supports his current beliefs. But an unspoken event opens his aperture. We do not know what or why. Maybe he doesn’t either. Let’s explore the rationale for the language I chose.
When we follow what we are certain to be “true,” that is the precise time to challenge why we are so sure of ourselves (“no longer a mere reflection”).
That stand may isolate us from our peers (“A solitary soul stands alone so preposterous”). We may do so despite the surrounding noise to the contrary (“A cacophony, their platitudes rang boisterous”). We may even share our discoveries with others (“now a beacon”).
Even though the strength of our newfound convictions may cause others to see us as feeble pariahs, we remain strong (“bounce around him like so many who have weakened”).
The simple path of the benign follower (“to temptations of easy mirrors”) no longer draws our hero of newfound courage and morality. In fact, they have become a sordid taste to his evolving social palate (“grown squalid”).
He has, for an unspoken reason, clarified his view of himself and what he now recognizes as the impurity of his earlier motives (“he’s polished his keen vision to a deep stained-less screen”).
With the old platitudes haunting him (“their certitudes still echo behind”), he second-guesses his new attitudes (“he greets a less solid / footing, slipping and sliding on a cellophane sheen”). End of poem.
So is that it? What else? As in real life, some applaud someone else for taking a stand if he’s transforming himself, but we do not see the entire story. We cannot peer into the future, nor can he. The rest of the story remains a mystery. This is where your imagination takes control. Go wild.
Oh, you will have observed an a-b-a-b rhyme pattern. Not subtle. Neither is our new intellectual drone-now-hero, even though he may not feel like it. He has transformed at great personal expense. Doing the next right thing can be painful… and fulfilling. Unless he caves to social pressure once again.
Which way will your wind blow, my friend?
So until… and wherever (from SE Minnesota, for a few more days)…
Gene (and Kay)
By early October, I will be back in my condo office where I’ll once again revel in unfettered access to all my hardcopy reference books and our complete library. Though I teach a “paperless” writing and publishing process to my students while we’re “on the road” out of my own necessity (almost no wall or bookshelf space in our motorhome), old habits die hard. I still love the texture and smell of paper! I also hope to start recording audiobook editions of at least some of my titles. So much to do. Adieu!
Dateline: Thursday, July 14, 2022
Location: Rochester, Southeast Minnesota
In this issue:
Three Free Seminars
Book Signing
1. Three FREE Writing & Publishing Seminars
Are you driving yourself crazy trying to get inspired to write the book you know is in you?
Do you worry about tumbling farther down the rabbit hole figuring out all this writing, editing, formatting & publishing stuff?
Do you worry about the countless costly scams aimed at new writers?
I have a safe & straightforward solution for you!
Keep reading, my friend.
You can do this. We are in this together!
125Live! is a gorgeous fitness and social facility adjacent to the Rochester Recreation Center where they hold competitive swim and dive meets, professional hockey games, and I don’t really know what else, but they’re absolutely crushing it.
Kay and I head south and west to Texas, and then to Louisiana beginning in early September before returning home to Florida. Before that, I’m offering three FREE writing and publishing seminars in Rochester, Minnesota. That’s about seventy miles southeast of the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul. If you’re in the neighborhood, I’ll be at 125 Elton Hills Drive NW Rochester, MN 55901 in “the Med City” (home of the world-famous Mayo Clinic), specifically in the Oak Room (lower level) at 125Live (see dates/times below).
Currently, I only offer these seminars in-person. I may offer these as an eCourse in the future. I’m just so darn busy writing and teaching, so no promises.
Here’s the run-down:
Seminar objectives: To instill aspiring writers and published authors alike with confidence in your ability to create a page-turning story, and to lead you step-by-step from inspiration and getting started writing (PART ONE) to formatting, publishing and optional marketing (PART TWO) and what free or cheap computer software and other resources simplify an otherwise tricky end-to-end write-to-publish process (PART THREE). Students of any age can choose to become published authors of one or more novels capable of climbing the charts to best-seller status, OR just to create your legacy. Get on the fast track to living the writer’s life!
Which seminar is right for you?Attend any or all of this trio of inspiring and information-packed seminars.
EACH IS DIFFERENT.
If the first one tweaks your melon, c’mon back for the next one. FYI: PART THREE’S softwaredemonstrations build on information covered in PART TWO (see below).
WRITING & PUBLISHING YOUR OWN BOOK LIKE A PRO
PART ONE (90 MINUTES)
August 11, 2022 at 125Live! (Oak Room)
1-2:30PM
Veteran author GK Jurrens teaches and coaches aspiring writers all over the country—from Florida to California. He’ll explore with you the kind of writing you might want to pursue. Then, he’ll offer you a proven writing technique that will carry you from inspiration to publication, and share with you specifically how to achieve your personal writing goals. At the end of this session, all attendees are offered a free eBook packed with practical resource links for later digestion.
WRITING & PUBLISHING YOUR OWN BOOK LIKE A PRO
PART TWO (90 MINUTES)
August 18, 2022 at 125Live! (Oak Room)
1-2:30PM
Gene focuses on his proven streamlined publishingprocess. Priorities include simplicity and cost-effectiveness. You’ve written a book. Or soon will. Congratulations! Now what? Gene will walk you through the steps to ensure your manuscript is publication-ready. This seminar is a priceless session packed with valuable information for both aspiring and published authors, even if you haven’t written your first book yet, or you’ve written your tenth. Avoid the literary land mines!
WRITING & PUBLISHING YOUR OWN BOOK LIKE A PRO
PART THREE (90 MINUTES)
August 25, 2022 at 125Live! (Oak Room)
1-2:30PM
Gene polishes off your writing and independent publication journey with practical demonstrations using his latest novel as a real-world case study. As always, his focus remains on simplicity and cost-effectiveness as he demonstrates his progression from idea to worldwide publication, and how to open the door for your book into every major online storefront worldwide including eBook, paperback and hardcover editions.
Let’s do this!
2. Book Signing
Yours truly at a recent bookstore signing event in Fairfield, Iowa (Revelations!)
Barring catastrophes, I’d also invite you to our RV park on Saturday, August 27th from 1 to 3 PM. I’ll sign any or all of my books for free; however, there will be a charge for the books themselves (wink).
I accept cash (preferred) and all major credit cards. No checks, please. Books are $10 to $20 each, including a personalized autograph, of course.
Otherwise, you can find all my books at all major digital storefronts worldwide. But where’s the fun in that if we can talk trash face-2-face?
Note: I may have one additional book available in late August, unless I get lazy between now and then.
Plug this address into your GPS: 1155 Lake Shady Avenue S. Oronoco, MN 55960, just 4 miles north of Rochester, exit 64 off Highway 52 at Tilly’s American Traveler’s RV Resort. I hope to see you at the campground’s clubhouse. Look for the little brick building standing all by itself in the park.
Otherwise, shoot best wishes our way!
So until… and wherever (from SE Minnesota, for now)…
Gene (and Kay)
I’ve started on my Literati Mystery series. In book one, the victim(s) are poets. So, cleverly, the first book’s working title (subject to change) is“Rhyme to Kill – A Literati Mystery.”Yes, there are no boundaries to my creativity (blechhh!). This first book in the series should be available March 2023. I’m attaching a VERY EARLY ROUGH DRAFT of its cover below (DEFINITELY subject to change!). As always, I treasure constructive criticism.
Dateline: Thursday, June 30, 2022
Location: Rochester, Minnesota, USA, Earth, Milky Way,Sector A1X44.22
In this issue:
New GK Jurrens Novel Available
Another Book On the Way
2022 Coastal Writer’s Conference Update
Life on the Hard
While storms rage all around us, tranquility prevails within our humble bus, as did COVID for a time. All better now.
As we spend some time with family and friends in our hometown of Rochester, Minnesota, we reflect that while traveling and living in different places for a time, staying in one place for a while also has its perks. And, as it turns out, has saved us from potential catastrophe. More to come on that.
Despite a few small health challenges (we self-quarantined after both getting our “COVID genetic update,” which was quite mild thanks to getting all our shots), we remain blessed and grateful to be enjoying a lifestyle of which most can only dream.
This small park features only 33 sites. Since we were the first here, we chose to be next to the “clubhouse.” Nice restrooms, decent laundry facilities, great WiFi for streaming, even 5G for higher speeds. Not much else here, but that’s okay, other than it bugs Kay it’s called a “resort.”
1. New Novel Now Available
Imagine you’re a cop trying to catch a serial killer without traffic cameras, facial recognition, fingerprints, DNA or other esoteric forensic science tools. Oh, and no online police or federal databases—because there is no “online” in 1934. No state police, the FBI is still in its infancy, and you’re just one of three cops in a small town with no police department.
You’re the sheriff responsible for a large county, and you have just two deputies.
Now here’s the rub. People start dying mysteriously the day a rag-bag gypsy circus shows up at the county fairgrounds down the street in your town of Rock Rapids, Iowa. In your county—Lyon County.
What do you do?
That’s what Sheriff Billy Rhett Kershaw faces starting on page one as my new murder mystery novel,“Murder in Purgatory,”kicks off.
Early readers tell me “Purgatory” is my best book yet. This is my seventh published novel, and the second in my Lyon County series. “Black Blizzard” preceded it.
One reader said, “Purgatory’s a helluva yarn, even better than ‘Black Blizzard,‘ and that’s saying something.”
These are the kind of reviews an author lives for! I certainly don’t write for the money.
You can check out a synopsis of all my books here.
2. Another Book On the Way
Are you ready for something completely different? Hang onto your droopin’ skivvies, sailor!
Have you noticed I tend to favor “different?” How about an operations manual for how to read and enjoy poetry? Didn’t see that coming, I bet!
“The Poetic Detective” began as a lark. But believe it or not, I discovered it fills a unique literary niche.
Most folks can’t be bothered with “that poetry crap.” Why? I’m betting it’s mostly because they don’t understand poetry.
This tight little book fixes that in a way that’s fun, with no BS. Just a lean ‘n mean description of the language of poetry, a few case studies to make it clear what each term looks like in practice, and then I include a small collection of my own poetry with an essay for each so the reader (you?) knows what the heck I was thinking when I wrote each piece (some date back forty years).
Read this short book when it comes out in August, and you, too, could get promoted to poetic detective!
I guarantee you’ll never look at any poem the same way—ever again.
Guaranteed.
I’m planning publication for mid-August. Watch this space.
3. Coastal Writer’s Conference
Sad news. Inflation (and a sizable assessment on our Florida condo) compels us not to travel west this Summer. As a result, I’ll either be dialing into the writing conference I am co-sponsoring this Fall, or my dear friend, Judy Howard, will carry on the good fight without yours truly. Time and technology will tell.
Had we not cancelled our trip west this Summer, starting two weeks ago, we’d be paying big bucks to stay near Yellowstone for a month, and we would have been turned away. Was it providence that we cancelled—and were refunded most of $3,000 for eighteen months worth of advance campground reservations? Or fate? Or just good luck? We don’t need to care.
It is with grace and humility that we must accept adversity and diversity, lest we lose our humanity. That’s what I’m telling myself right now, anyway. And I’m believing it.
4. Life on the Hard
We sold the good ship “Sojourn” in 2010 after 13 years of sailing over incredible horizons.
The expression “on the hard” is left over from our boating days.
Not surprisingly, lakes and rivers get very hard in the winter in Minnesota, which is where we once kept our boats. But that’s not the origin of that expression in this context.
I can’t speak to folks even crazier than us who move their fish houses out onto the ice, with their bed and pot belly stove next to a hole in the floor (the ice) where they’ll wet their lines and hooks at will (is that hole in the ice where they pee, too?). I don’t call that living on the hard. To my way of thinking, that’s just a lack of sanity, but who am I to judge? My home has eight wheels, and we’ve lived in 42 states over the last seven years!
In boating parlance, each Fall, we’d pull our live-aboard boat out of the water before everything froze. That can seriously damage even the most stout vessel. Once out of the water, our twenty-ton boat would settle onto its cradle (so it wouldn’t tip over) in the marina’s asphalt parking lot.
Now there was a variety of reasons I might spend more than a few nights on the boat after it was “on the hard.” It would take me days to winterize “Sojourn” from stem to stern. I’d also thoroughly clean her inside and out before putting her to bed for the winter. Often, after a hard day of working on her, I’d be too exhausted to make the forty-five-minute drive home. And sometimes, it was just too darn hard to say goodbye without spending some quality time with her at the end of the short boating season.
That was “life on the hard.” And especially as I aged, it always was a relative hardship, often without power (electricity), limited or no water (tanks were empty), and getting in and out of the boat on the hard always involved a twelve-foot ladder. Since pumping out the holding tanks was no longer possible, when I had to pee, especially in the middle of the night, it was a big deal—climbing down and up the ladder in the dark, hiking to the yacht club to use the facilities…). Well, you get the idea. In that context, hard had two meanings.
Now, let’s talk about “life on the hard” with the bus, which couldn’t be more different. Now, the best RV sites (parking spots) feature level concrete. That’s where we are now. Our leveling jacks don’t sink into muck (like they did at the last spot), requiring constant re-leveling. The motorhome’s exterior stays cleaner than, say, on a gravel or grass site where every time it rains, gravel dust or mud splashes up onto the coach’s body. Not on concrete, at least not as much. I get all warm and fuzzy knowing there is a nice clean level slab of hard concrete about four feet beneath my bony butt right now.
My office-slash-living room-slash-cockpit, all within easy reach of the coffee pot, kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom. Efficient and comfortable, baby!
Hardships associated with life on the hard in an RV versus the boat? Not so much. Full hook-ups (electric, sewer & water) allow us the freedom not to think about that stuff too much. When we stay in one place for a good long while, like now, we leave our gray (sink & shower) holding tank valve open so we don’t have to worry about filling up that tank with waste water. Everything else stays hooked up, so it’s much like the convenience of living in stix ‘n brix (like the condo).
We still worry about weather, especially high winds. But no ladders, no hikes in the middle of the night, and no freezing our tukkuses off when the temps drop (or cooking us when they climb). Yup, life on the hard in an RV, especially in a rig like ours, isn’t a “hardship,” or “camping,” or even “glamping” (glamor camping). It’s just… life. Twenty years ago, well, it was different for us back then. We’d tent-camp while touring on the motorcycles and sleeping on the “hard” ground. Now, we enjoy our creature comforts (upon advice of my orthopedic surgeon. Right, Doctor Bob?).
Besides, one of the primary reasons we’re here is to visit family.
Toys!Kids!Food!A family celebration at our son Adam’s campground where he keeps a trailer for the summer.
Now, Kay and I enjoy our protein smoothies in the morning after we meditate together, head to the gym for an hour or two, and return home for a vegetarian lunch. Yesterday, we enjoyed pulled pork. “Wait,” you might ask, “didn’t you say you guys are vegetarians?” Well, let me say this about that…
Mmmmm… smoked pulled pork fried up with onions and mushrooms! Except this isn’t pork, even though you’d be hard-pressed to tell the difference. This is “pulled jackfruit” dressed up and seasoned to look and taste like SMOKED pork. Worth four generous servings! Yes, it’s processed food, but this ain’t no religion, and variety keeps us motivated.
If you’re a vegetarian, and you miss pork, or can’t eat pork for health reasons, this is the best we’ve found so far.
Quite a lot of sodium. Other than that, not too bad.
Ingredients don’t look terrible.
On date day (we prefer this over going out at night), we might have lunch out, possibly a movie, but only in theaters that feature recliners!
Other days, we clean, maintain the bus, read, write, watch TV… oh, and Kay insists on pushing “puppy cookies” into the mouth of every dog in the RV park. That keeps her busy while I write or research.
And there is always the possibility of a hike, a bicycle ride, maybe even an afternoon nap.
Together, we attend AA meetings on Sundays and Tuesdays. Kay meets with her women’s group on Thursday mornings, I meet with my men’s group on Thursday nights.
I need to start thinking about selling some of my books locally, too. It’s on my list! We’re just having so much fun playing! For example, we’re members of a local facility called 125Live. They have an amazing state-of-the-art workout facility. They also offer classes, have two amazing pools (one for exercise, one for laps), a robust calendar of social events, concerts, library, free coffee, a pantry of free groceries available to anyone (contributed by local supermarkets), music jams, a wood shop, volunteer opportunities, anything and everything for “active adults.” That’s a euphemism for ‘old folks.’
“Our Club” is a gorgeous facility adjacent to the Rochester Recreation Center where they hold competitive swim and dive meets, professional hockey games, and I don’t really know what else, but they’re absolutely crushing it.
Though their primary charter is offering activities for seniors, we see young folks there too. I’m looking forward to my July 9th “Pottery Play Date.” Just show up and everything is provided. Gonna take my turn at a wheel (I know Jeff H, old hat to you, my friend).
How cool is this place for just $17/month for each of us? Now if it were called, “The Senior Citizen’s Center,” that might have slowed me down some. But quite frankly, I’m of the age where such concerns are now delegated to younger folks.
Yup, it’s nice to stay in one place for a while. I even splurged for an “unlimited wash club” for the Jeep, a month at a time, for 35 bucks. Goin’ crazy over here “livin’ on the hard!”
So until… and wherever (but from SE Minnesota, for now)…
Gene (and Kay)
I’m thinking my next several novels will be a series of mysteries with a curmudgeonly author reluctantly working alongside a sassy and ambitious homicide detective with a spectacular case closure rate. What say you?
Dateline: Sunday, May 7, 2022
Location: Rochester, Minnesota
In this issue:
Bragging Rights
2022 Coastal Writer’s Conference
Walkabout Preparation
HeavenlyRetaliation
Back again, y’all. And the hits just keep on coming!
Family first. Then, the coastal writer’s conference I’m co-hosting in September is shaping up nicely. Beyond that, we’re off to a rocky start on our eighteen-month walkabout. And I believe you will find the big fun we’ve already had unusual and interesting. More on all of these topics in a moment.
First, just let me say that Kay and I are blessed with our ability to travel, to see old friends, to make new ones, and to explore this great nation of ours. We are amazed daily, and remain grateful, despite bumps in the road under our rolling sanctuary.
“A home is a kingdom of it’s own in the midst of the world, a stronghold amid life’s storms and stresses, a refuge, even a sanctuary.” – D. Bonhoeffer
1. Bragging Rights
I’d be remiss if I didn’t begin this post by bragging about my beautiful seventeen-year-old granddaughter. Not only is she a skilled hockey player and a competitive high school wrestler, she looks awesome in her junior prom dress, doesn’t she?
Ionee, you look MAH-ve-lous!
2. Coastal Writer’s Conference
My friend Judy Howard and I are excited to offer this intimate and informative conference in the picturesque town of Brookings, Oregon within spitting distance of the Pacific Ocean (that is, if you’re the spittin’ kind).
We’ve aimed this two-day conference at both novice and experienced writers. Attendance will be limited, so if you’re interested, be sure to sign up early. Check it outhere.
3. Walkabout Preparation
Last month I shared with you some body and paint work to our motorhome, along with a good deal of preventative maintenance (we take that very seriously as we do NOT want to be broken down on the side of the road, ever).
And now, for something completely different….
Have you ever heard of sinking a motorhome?
That’s exactly what we did.
Okay, so I exaggerate for dramatic effect. Keep reading….
We were just minding our own business parked in Mt. Pleasant, Iowa. We set up as usual on a gravel site at a park where we’d stayed before. Gravel is usually good for drainage so the jacks and tires aren’t sitting in puddles. Jacks down, leveled the bus, brought out the slides, and settled in for a peaceful couple of weeks visiting friends in Fairfield, a half hour away.
Or so we thought.
The weather turned nasty and stayed that way. Torrential downpours most every day, driven by 20-30 MPH winds with gusts to over 45 MPH. All this rain flooded our site most of the time.
So this is where it got interesting.
Our two front jacks sank a foot into saturated quicksand-like clay. Note my precision hydraulic ram (silver) is filthy, and the bottom is sitting in a foot of water.
One morning, a few days into this fascinating weather pattern hovering over us, we noticed that the bathroom door was hitting us in the butt. It would not stay open. Our heavy coach was no longer level. Overnight, our front jacks had sunk over a foot into the soft and saturated Iowa clay that was hidden beneath a thin veneer of gravel toward the front of our RV site. So what’s the problem? Just move the coach and re-level, right?
This is what all four jacks are supposed to look like (the additional blocking was due to how low the front of the site was versus the back).
Well, it turned out to be more complicated than that. First, the soggy walls of the two holes into which our front jacks sunk had caved in on top of the foot-square baseplate of each jack. This deposited about twenty pounds of clay on top of each base. Plus, have you ever tried to pull your foot out of a knee-deep mud hole? Not easy, right? These jacks are raised by springs. We now expected them to raise a lot more than just the jacks. Not only that, but these smooth silver rods (also called rams) fit tightly into hydraulic sleeves. They were now coated with good old Iowa clay. Quite the mess. But that was not even the biggest problem.
Since the entire front end of our bus had sunk into muck, we apparently exposed some important underside equipment to unnatural forces (don’t ask, I’m not an expert). Suffice it to say, we had trouble “airing up” our (air) suspension system after this adventure. We needed to raise the jacks (which wouldn’t come all the way up), move the coach back about fifteen feet to higher ground (with the front right tire nearly rubbing on the underside of the wheel well) because now, the front right corner of the bus would not air up. So when it came time to roll down the road (we’d go to the jack company next to ensure they were all ok), it took about four times as long to air up as normal, but thankfully, it did air up. That meant we could move the rig down the road until we could seek proper repairs.
Next stop: HWH factory service center, the manufacturer of our jacks (aka stabilizers). Even though they worked on our jacks for well over an hour (they cleaned up all four of them and pronounced them healthy), they charged us nothing!
Now, for the next unplanned stop–we sought someone in the area who could diagnose and fix our air suspension system. We were referred to Truck Country in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. We would learn the hard way that they knew trucks, but not RVs. They determined within a couple of hours that we had a leaky leveler valve, part of our front-end air suspension system not unlike those found on some trucks, I’m told. But it would take another twenty-six hours to get it installed and to solve another problem we didn’t have when we arrived at Truck Country.
We had called ahead to find out if they had fifty-amp plug-ins. As you RVers know, that’s very important when you live in a rig, and have hundreds of dollars of food in an electricity-hungry fridge and freezer. They said they had such hookups. While it’s true we have an inverter/charger in the bus that will power our AC fridge/freezer from our house batteries, we normally don’t do that for more than ten hours or so without recharging the batteries. That’s done either by rolling down the road (the engine’s alternator charges both house and chassis (aka starting) batteries, or we plug into “shorepower,” such as a thirty- or fifty-amp electrical service at an RV park or a service facility, or by running our bus’s generator.
Be wary of repair facilities that know trucks but know very little about RVs.
A comedy of errors!
First, Truck Country did NOT have any RV electrical hook-ups as promised.
Second, they said they were not busy, so first-come-first-served would not be a problem. Yet, it took them many hours to acquire the right air suspension part from another local truck repair facility, after taking 3 hours to diagnose what part was needed.
Third, they worked well into the night to finish the job (their hours are 7am to midnight), so we had checked into a hotel.
Fourth, when they took the bus for a test ride, they slammed a lot of stuff around, no doubt driving it like a truck, not like an RV. This jarred open our fridge doors, so the inverter was working extra hard to cool the food/drink as well as the entire interior of our bus.
When we finally returned from the hotel to start the generator later that same night so we could charge the house batteries before going to bed, they were essentially already dead, and allegedly suffered from several bad cells. Curious, since just two weeks earlier, Spartan tested them and said they were fine.
Truck Country put a portable charger on our batteries overnight, but they were already too far gone. They would no longer take a charge.
Soooo, the next morning, we told them to replace our four house batteries (Interstate deep cycle). This would be the second time in a year.
When I walked down into the shop (I wasn’t supposed to, for “insurance purposes”), they were in the process of replacing my house (deep cycle) batteries with starting batteries! I confronted the tech. He said, “Starting or deep cycle? What’s the difference?” Alrighty, then.
So it took a few more hours for them to acquire the correct batteries (those I had originally requested). We got out of there after a total of twenty-nine hours. We were not happy. But, “he said, she said….” At least we were on our way.
Now, we’re parked in our home town of Rochester, Minnesota, where we look forward to spending the next six weeks not moving, hopefully, not repairing stuff and not buying fuel.
Unfortunately, we slammed over another bump in the road, even though we’re not moving. Both Kay and I have just come down with brutal colds, maybe flu (we hope that’s all it is). We’re hoping it’s just our bodies de-stressing from seven weeks of rough foreplay.
Now, big picture, we hope to start enjoying the happy ending, that is, the rest of a trouble-free trip (knock wood).
We were the only RV here at the American RV Resort in Oronoco, Minnesota, otherwise just known as Tilly’s (after the restaurant of the same name next door). Since we arrived, one small trailer has shown up. Otherwise, we have the place to ourselves. Alyssa, the manager was kind enough to ensure we had electricity as they don’t formally open for the season until May 15. Thanks, Alyssa and Mark!
But there’s always a silver lining, even after all this roughage (sorry). Insurance or warranty covered much of our repair expenses except for the batteries and preventative maintenance items.
We’ve already enjoyed visiting wonderful friends and family. Plus, we’ve made many new friends.
I sold several books at a delightful signing event in Fairfield, Iowa, and made some more friends.
One repair facility, HWH in Moscow, Iowa, worked on our jacks for almost 2 hours and charged us NOTHING.
And no more mouse-sign in the bus! We figure they vacated either out of our fearsome trapping efforts, or from hunger as we locked up all of our non-canned food in places they can’t penetrate (like the fridge).
I’ve also pounded out what I believe to be a compelling conclusion to my latest mystery, “Murder in Purgatory,” although the middle requires more effort. And then I’ll spend a lot of quality time editing and seeking reader feedback. But, progress!
4. Heavenly Retaliation
We spend time in Fairfield, Iowa every year or two for two reasons. First, we love visiting our long-time friends, Tom and Nancy (like 1969 long!). And secondly, we love spending time around Maharishi International University, including the delightful people within that entire community, including Nancy and Tom.
Besides, there is just no cooler place we know of to have celebrated Earth Day.
We also enjoyed being present for the 50th anniversary celebration of the university’s founding.
Plus, we met another old friend from the community (David, you crack me up!) and made some new ones (Rolf and Renee, you were a delight).
In Fairfield, you have the “townies” and the “roos” (nickname for “gurus”). There was a time when that was an uneasy liaison. Over the years, that seems to have reached homeostasis.
You can imagine how small town Iowa might clash with a university that celebrates students and staff from as many as seventy countries at any point in time, and from all over America.
Additionally, imagine the potential divide between attitudes and lifestyles of traditional midwestern farmers worrying about the upcoming growing season and transcendental meditators seeking universal consciousness.
There are other interesting dimensions to this town too. TM (Transcendental Meditation) draws all types of eclectic students, educators and administrators from around the world. That means there are those who are “poverty conscious” (like monks of old) as well as those with substantial means who just love the community’s vibe and invest here, and all sorts of fascinating characters in between these two extremes.
For example, Fairfield has the highest per capita ownership of Teslas (13). And, oh, the bookstores, ethnic, vegan and vegetarian restaurants, organic produce providers, health food markets and co-ops. Plus, Fairfield exudes all the charm of a typical small Iowa town. Of course, like every town, it is not without its problems too.
I held a book signing event in Fairfield at a charming book store and cafe, which provided the opportunity to chat with several locals. Felt like a combination of a sophisticated metro area and small town America. I find it difficult to explain that… feeling.
Book signing event at “Revelations Bookstore and Café”
This all makes for a most fascinating community, though not everyone’s cup of tea.
Our dear friends, Tom and Nancy, joined us for one of Kay’s fabulous vegan meals in the motorhome – a plant-based roast, mushroom and onionstuffing, mashed roots and two types of cranberry sauce. Nancy retaliated a few days later at their home with a five course bonanza comprising fruit in sauce, a veggie soup, a spaghetti squash drowned in a vegetarian stew and for desert, organic ice cream. Later, popcorn (thanks, David–another friend). Heavenly retaliation!
A few parting thoughts (ten objectives, really):
With pen in hand… wherever… and until…
Gene (and Kay)
So what should I worry about next? Wasn’t retirement supposed to be worry-free? Aw, what the heck. I’ll just let the universe provide.
Always prioritize writing. Since books and stories are our ‘merchandise’ as authors, we have to be creating in order to stay in business.” —Brook Peterson, mystery author
Dateline: Sunday, April 3, 2022
Location: Grand Rapids, Michigan
In this issue:
Inspired to Kill
Paint & Such
Grease & Such
Stowaways Must Die
Conspicuous Consumption
Road Legs
1. Inspired to Kill
Let’s start with the macabre. Then we can get giddy.
Given the right circumstances, any one of us is capable of murder. Or so I’m told.
Anyone is capable of murder, or so they say…
Kay loves to travel—to see the sights and to meet people. Me too, but first and foremost, I am a writer. I tell lies for a living. Specifically, I craft mysteries for my readers these days. And no serious mystery is complete without at least one murder.
I’ve mentioned my current project to you before. The working title is, “Murder in Purgatory.” A gypsy circus visits a small town and bodies drop under a shroud of mystery and intrigue. Circuses travel. A lot. So do we. I now travel to inspire my writing. The concept of a circus-slash-carnival on the road in the midwest during America’s Great Depression, possibly harboring one or more killers, now inspires me to write an authentic traveling circus story, a believable page-turner.
As Kay and I travel, sometimes under austere conditions, combined with a TON of research, both online and in person, I am able to conjure authenticity for such a tale. We’ve already visited a number of circus museums and met some bona fide nomadic entertainers in our previous travels. The journey continues.
Kay’s desire to see things and meet people compel her. My writing compels me. I must kill a few of my characters in this new book in ways only living on the road will fire my warped imagination. Do you see?
Later in this article, you will also discover our blood lust prevails in real life. On to the non-fictional part of this saga….
2. Paint & Such
Palm tree: 1, Ladder: 0, Gene: Doghouse Blues.
I snapped this photo minutes before my fall from grace (no, that’s not what we named the motorhome).
In an earlier article, I shared with you a disagreement I lost with a stubborn dead-end sign in Virginia Beach less than six months after completing a new factory paint job for our entire bus the winter of 2021-2022. A humiliating defeat for yours truly. Then, three weeks later (last October), I backed into a palm tree in Florida, just before falling off the roof of our motorhome. Yup, I successfully navigated my way from bad to worse.
During a winter of recovery with my caregiver, Saint Kay, I wrote like a madman, often under the influence of pain killers. In mid-March, we made our way north and west to the Newmar motorhome factory in Indiana for paint repairs and a few warranty issues. Insurance paid for the paint shop work (less our deductible, of course). We were delighted with that and the other minor preventative maintenance performed by the Newmar service team. Their paint shop’s magnificent work is truly impressive. They cut no corners, and the result catches eyes.
The Newmar crew in Nappanee, Indiana (Elkhartarea) discusses how to satisfy our every desire (a “small” matter of $$).
Is this not a beautiful service facility?
We hung out in Newmar’s service lobby with other owners also anxiously awaiting the return of their “homes.”
Did you spot Admiral Kay (honorary title from our days of living and traveling aboard the good ship Sojourn) at the bottom of this image in her dark blue lighthouse sweatshirt?An iconic image from this corner of the world (Nappanee, Indiana, just south of Elkhart). Much of the workforce at Newmar Corporation, a major employer in these parts, is Amish. We enjoyed discussions with our lead tech, Mark, although he, like most Amish, declined having his picture taken.
Rise ‘n Roll is THE BEST bakery just outside of town. We brought pastries to our crew a few times during our stay in Nappanee. Talk about temptation!
After ten days in Nappanee, instead of the five scheduled, we said goodbye to old and new friends, paid our bill and drove three hours north to Spartan Motors, our motorhome’s chassis manufacturer. So we parked the bus at our second factory service center since leaving Florida on March 16th.
3. Grease & Such
For an entire day, Spartan’s experts poured over our chassis with a critical eye (engine, drive train, air brakes & suspension, compressor, hydraulics, axles, hubs, hoses, etc.). We like to be proactive. Far better than being stranded on the side of the road, wouldn’t you agree?
They encouraged us to stay in our coach during their work. We popped out just two slide-out rooms on the driver’s side and settled in for the day. Parked inside an all-metal building, however, we had no satellite TV or sat radio reception, obviously – no big deal. Our sat TV receiver (Dish Hopper 3) is chocked full of recordings of our favorite shows, movies and documentaries. Not that we watched much. Too busy. We preferred this to sitting in another customer reception area. Home is where home is.
Notice the new ladder from Newmar (the lower section is stowed in the “basement”) with freshly painted tail cap(again). Not that I plan to use that ladder much!
They also repainted the passenger’s side under the long (dark-brown) awning where we (I) scratched the sidewall and scored a window (also replaced).
Plus, Newmar repainted the upper half of the nose cap under warranty due to a small crack from last year’s paint application. That required the Diamond Shield (the clear membrane that protects the bus’s nose) to be removed and re-applied after the paint repair. This is a VERY high-tech “nanotechnology membrane” with a lifetime warranty.
All told, the bus received over 70 hours of labor in the Newmar paint shop. Like new again!
In this photo, “Ma” (our Mountain Aire) is shown over the pit in Spartan Motors shop in Charlotte, Michigan where the chassis experts inspected every component of the under-carriage (inspected, lubed, swapped in fresh filters, flushed and changed hydraulic fluid, serviced the generator, air brakes, air suspension…). They cleaned all our batteries and their drawer (open bay door), charged our dash A/C, including replacing some hoses to its compressor in the engine room. In other words, they (Spartan) dealt with all things mechanical beneath the “house” (Newmar).
I’m happy to report the overall state of the union is strong in our seventeen-year-old bus (always a few exceptions, of course). They did find a leaky oil pan gasket, so the Cummins Engine specialists in Grand Rapids come next, just a ninety-minute drive northwest of Charlotte. Service center #3.
Hey! Here’s something you may or may not know. We conducted our own daily business while sitting at Spartan, much of which required cellular service and internet access, while the techs labored away in the pit underneath us on the coach’s mechanical guts. They provided WiFi access in the shop, but we experienced AWFUL cell service due to this metallic cocoon (as high winds raged outside, by the way). So I enabled “WiFi calling” on our phones. We then enjoyed perfect cell service. This is the way I understand WiFi calling: each call leverages the shop’s WiFi to launch our cell signal out to the nearest tower, and from there, it’s cell service as usual. Cool beans, huh?
We received some bad news, but that’s part of the trip when your home is a complex mechanical beast. The $3,000+ we and our warranty company spent eleven months ago on a new engine-driven air conditioner compressor and sundry high-pressure hoses to/from it for our dash A/C were installed by Spartan last year. They leaked. The good news? Their warranty covered all the repairs.
Other news? Our chassis inspection also revealed a “class 2 oil leak” from our main engine’s oil pan—worse than just moisture (class 1), they observed some drips (class 2), but not running out (class 3). Sounds like we’ll be spending a week in Grand Rapids awaiting an appointment at a Cummins (engine) service center for detailed diagnosis (oil dye, trace leak) and installing parts (?). We’re hoping it’s only a gasket.
So Kay furiously explored campground contingencies. Fortunately, this early in the season, she arranged a possible landing site for the bus, if needed. Such is life on the road with a monster diesel pusher. We didn’t know at the time, but hoped we could stay in the Cummins lot at no additional charge instead of paying for an RV site at a campground that really isn’t open this early in the season. Keep reading…
4. Stowaways
Kay is more distressed at losing one of her favorite twenty-year-old Tupperware containers to these toothy little bastards than she is at losing the more valuable textured vegetable protein inside!
After several days of signs that our home had been invaded, we launched our latest quest. We’ve picked up hitch-hikers… no, stowaways. Thieves. So a hunting we go.
Kay found rodent turds in our motorhome’s pantry.
What mouse could resist chunky natural organic peanut butter?We shall see.
Not too surprising. After I fell off the bus’s roof last October, the old girl had been in rural outdoor storage for five months (the bus, not Kay). I really had no opportunity to properly put her to bed from my bed in the Lee Hospital Emergency Room in Ft. Myers. Or wearing my sporty new leg cast for several months after that.
Now we’re packing anything in our pantry that isn’t in cans or bottles in sturdy plastic bins with locking lids. Take THAT, you little free-loaders! And yes, now that we’re in our next port of call for a few days awaiting a service appointment at Cummins (engine) in Grand Rapids, Michigan, we’ve picked up a few traps and set them.
Rodent update twenty-four hours downrange from our discovery: Now they’re chewing the plastic covers on our bins attempting to hack into them! One trap tripped, but no joy. Clever little rounders. We have yet to eyeball one.
5. Conspicuous Consumption
The Open Roads app shows the DISCOUNTED prices we can expect anywhere on its map. These are the DIESEL-ONLY prices as a result of using the TSD Logistics fleet bulk fuel purchase program. We’ve already saved almost $200 since leaving Florida less than three weeks ago. They expect to add gasoline vendors to their program shortly.
Fuel challenges continue. Have you noticed? Imagine driving a 40,000-pound vehicle that only gets 4.5 to 7.3 MPG. And we’re not talking gas here. We’re talking about more costly diesel fuel.
Last year, we signed up for a fleet bulk fuel program with TSD Logistics and saved some serious fuel bucks. Over-the-road truckers use such services. In some cases, we’re now saving over a dollar per gallon. That has already saved us almost two-hundred dollars in diesel fuel costs since we left Florida a couple of weeks ago.
Here’s how it works. A fuel broker’s charge card is connected to our bank account. We pay full retail price by activating a fuel pump using that special charge card. It only works in diesel semi-truck lanes. Then, within 24-36 hours, TSD emails a “settlement” statement to me, the amount of which—our savings—gets automatically credited to our bank (fuel) account. They charge a small transaction fee (a few cents).
In conjunction with TSD, we use an app called Open Roads on our phones that shows locations offering discounted fuel prices on a map within a 250-mile radius (or whatever distance we define in the app’s settings). Also, directions to the selected fuel stop is just a tap away. We now confidently hit the lowest-priced vendors (T/A, Loves, Pilot, Flying J, Road Ranger, etc.) on or near our intended route to fill up Ma’s 150-gallon tank.
The best deals change daily based on bulk fuel purchases negotiated with each participating vendor, so we check the app each morning before we travel. Open Roads and TSD Logistics are now our essential travel partners. But there’s more great news.
Last week, we discovered from a fellow traveler (thanks, Karen) that Open Roads also offers something called a Freedom Pass, which is an electronic transponder and a toll subscription service. Why is this significant to us, and maybe to you? Here’s a recent example.
We crossed a toll bridge in Louisville, Kentucky almost two weeks ago. As advertised, they snapped a picture of our license plate when we passed. Normally they would snail-mail a bill to our mail forwarding service as a ‘toll violator.” We displayed no local transponder registered to our license plate. It could be weeks before we see that bill, and then we’d most certainly be assessed exorbitant late fees. That happened to us in the Chicago area last Fall. This time, we spent an hour online a few days later figuring out how to pay that single Kentucky bridge toll online—full price—by giving some online stranger our credit card info (yuck). Bend over and spread ’em, ladies ‘n gents!
In places like Kentucky, which is a commonwealth, each toll bridge, tunnel or road has its own toll system. Many states expect you to use one or more of their proprietary payment methods to pay each of their tolls, either full price online, OR with a transponder on your windshield (you pay a discounted toll as a subscriber, i.e., a frequent flyer).
Since COVID, many support online or subscriber payments only, meaning you have a local transponder in your windshield. Or you get taken for a ride.
For nationwide travelers, for example, SunPass in Florida is not compatible with EZPass in Illinois, or FasTrak in California, or TxTag in Texas, etc. Paying tolls is an incredibly boring topic until it hits the ole pocketbookor raises your level of anxiety by being labeled a toll violator and assessed a late fee that can far exceed the cost of the toll itself, especially when you’re rolling on five axles or more.
If this is relevant to your pocketbook, check out Toll Guru for the lay of the land… nationwide. Yup, this is some boring-ass stuff until… ka-CHING!
Freedom Pass, however, takes away that anxiety and the need to perform research for every toll you fly through. While there are always exceptions, the FP transponder (there are actually two in one case), couples with the same account we use for Open Roads to score discounted fuel.
Freedom Pass offers one transponder package that is said to work with toll roads nationwide. If you travel a lot from state to state like us, you’ll really appreciate this baby.
Freedom Pass promises to ease the complexity of paying tolls in a post-COVID world where most tollways are now automated or unattended. That means if you don’t have a local transponder (or equivalent), you are a toll violator by definition, and subject to higher tolls, and probably ridiculous late fees.
We’ve now stuck this ugly device to the inside of our motorhome’s windshield with velcro tabs. There are two transponders in this clear plastic enclosure. Between them, they provide nationwide toll coverage.
We have yet to experience its benefits, but we’re blown away by the benefits of it affiliates, Open Roads and TSD Logistics, so we’ll see.
We’ve registered the license plates of both our motorhome and our towed car (the “toad”) to this transponder package, so we can move this device between the motorhome and the car at will. Tolls will automatically get charged to the same bank account our discount fuel program accesses. MUCH cheaper as a subscriber, but more importantly, less hassle than any alternative we’ve found. In theory, anyway. Time will tell.
The device costs $50 initially, and then a $20/year subscription. Plus toll costs, of course.
6. Road Legs
We’re re-discovering our road legs—not unlike sea legs, but, well, on the big slab instead of on the big water:
We’re getting back in the swing of conserving water when we’re not hooked up to city water or in an RV park. Right now, for example, we’re “camping” in an engine service center parking lot with electricity only. Next winter, when we dry-camp out in the SW Arizona desert, water conservation will be even more critical. It’s an amusing game. Surprising how fast we can go through our 105-gallon fresh water tank if we’re not conserving, not to mention filling up our 65-gallon gray (sink/shower) water tank, or the 45-gallon black (sewage) tank,
Finding stores that offer goods we want in every new town is always an adventure, especially since we’re vegetarians,
Recycling our cooking water for vegetables to wash dishes (and rinsing with a slow drip of clean H2O),
Catching cold water from the shower head (until it gets hot) and repurpose it for washing or rinsing dishes,
We’re accustomed to 65-80+ percent humidity in Florida. We normally don’t fire up the humidifier until we reach the desert where 20 percent or less is the norm, but winter “up north” offers us only 20-30% with cracked lips and sore nostrils. So, we’re humidifying,
As temps drop below freezing for awhile yet, we leave on our “basement” heaters to prevent freezing our cleaning products, paint, glue & rechargeable batteries stored down there,
Excessively sloped RV sites? Now I remember that we can’t always expect the auto-leveling feature on the coach to safely do what’s necessary:
Example: At Spartan Motors in Charlotte, Michigan, I knew the parking space where we’d spend at least one night could be problematic. We’d been here before. For short stays, we only deploy one or two of the four slide-out rooms, but that requires a reasonably level coach. These sites are always low in front and on the passenger’s side. I punched auto-level. The jacks went down. The front right tire came completely off the ground, AND SO DID BOTH REAR AXLES! Now if you’re a motorhomer, you know you NEVER want your rear axle(s) off the ground because those powerful brakes keep the heavy rig from drifting off the jacks (ka-CHING!). Your mileage may vary, but I always manually levelwith excessively sloped sites. I had forgotten that.
Lots of things like this need our attention, and some re-learning to regain our “road legs.”
It ain’t fancy, but it’s home. FINALLY, for the first time since leaving Florida, we’re spending several days in our bus without having to vacate at six AM, or hook the car to the bus so we can move to another city, or only have one or two slide-out rooms deployed. Here, we put out all four.
Even though we’re spending at least the next four days in the heart of an industrial park in Grand Rapids, surrounded by barbed-wire-rimmed cyclone fence behind a chained security gate, we’re a pair of toasty clams in some pretty cold weather. Livin’ the dream, baby! Notice our recliners face the TV up front (above the windshield). And my big-ass (writing) desk to the left. A harsh reality check. Living and traveling in a diesel pusher motorhome ain’t for the faint of heart, kids. Ya gotta really wanna. Note the RV labor rate on the sign (obviously, they changed it just for us). Not just $188 per hour, which is painful enough, but adding insult to injury, $188.32? I wonder. Why the 32 cents?
Work fast, boys, but get it right!The good news is that as we wait several days for an appointment at Cummins in Grand Rapids, we have electrical service (50 amp) in a secure, even if in a less than scenic parking lot. AND we’re not paying site rent of $50 or more per night. Plus, if they can fit us in sooner than expected, we’re right over here! Always a silver lining, kids.
With pen in hand… wherever… and until…
Gene (and Kay)
Kay and I feel both energized and awkward now that we’re on the road again.
Armed with some new technology and almost seven years of near-full-time RV experience “out here,” we’re anxious to get the preparatory work (bus maintenance, regaining our road rhythm…) in our rear-view mirrors.
Dateline March 8, 2022
Location: Punta Gorda, Florida
In this issue:
Book News
Travel News &Book Signings
New GK Jurrens Book Distribution Update
“Black Blizzard” Excerpt
2022Coastal Writer’s Conference
1. Book News
The New GK Jurrens Book is Here… Authentic Historical Crime Fiction
It’s rollout time for my sixth novel. Keep reading for the comprehensive list of retailers and links below. You can imagine this is a busy time.
The hardcover edition will soon follow, maybe even before you read this.
Read a brief synopsis of “Black Blizzard” here. And if you’re interested in reading the preface and first full chapter of this period-authentic crime story set during the Roaring Twenties’ hangover (the early Thirties), well, that’s another reason to keep reading.
2. Travel News & Informal Book Signings
After we leave SW Florida next week, we’ll first aim the bus toward her factory in Indiana to complete exterior renovations started a year ago. She doesn’t look seventeen years old, does she? Unlike us, she’s getting younger!
Kay and I are still on track to hit the big slab again next week in our faithful old motorhome for about eighteen months this time. I’m just completing about all the physical terrorism I can stand (pun intended) for my bum right foot this week after my tumble off the roof of Das Bus last October. I’m now walking again, albeit only for short distances, and with a distinguished limp as a bonus… but I am walking! And I can drive! Kay is ecstatic. The notion of murdering me in my sleep is fading.
We’re planning quite a few stops on our walkabout (“limpabout”) where I hope to meet new fans and sell signed copies of my new book, and all my books–until they sell out, that is. Having more printed and meeting us on the road is a tricky dribble.
On this tour, I will focus on small town libraries, independent bookstores, local festivals, and small-market radio stations where I hope to score a few interviews.
Here’s the tentative itinerary for some informal book signing events I have in mind (nothing fancy). If I counted correctly, we’ll be in twenty US states and five Canadian provinces. Yes, this is aggressive:
2022
Elkhart, Indiana
Joliet, Illinois
Bevier, Missouri
Mt. Pleasant/Fairfield, Iowa
Rochester, Minnesota
Hill City, South Dakota
Island Park, Idaho
West Yellowstone, Montana
Portland, Oregon
Sequim/Port Townsend, Washington
Seaside/Astoria, Oregon
Lincoln City, Oregon
Coos Bay/North Bend, Oregon
Brookings, Oregon
Eureka, California
Petaluma, California (SF Bay Area)
Groveland/Yosemite, California
Visalia/Joshua Tree, California
Temecula, California area (between LA & San Diego)
Plus any spontaneous events along the way (for example, maybe while Kay is at Sea World in San Diego).
I’ll post dates and venues as they solidify. I’d love to see you if we meander into your neck of the woods!
3. Worldwide “Black Blizzard” Distribution Update:
I am really excited to share with you that Kindle, paperback and hardcover editions of “Black Blizzard” are available worldwide on Amazon. Also, its eBook edition is available at:
Apple Books
Barnes & Noble
Kobo (in 130 countries, also at Kobo Plus, similar to Kindle Unlimited)
Scribd (premium subscriber reading service)
Tolino (German consortium with 1,500 stores)
OverDrive (leading digital distribution platform to libraries, schools & retailers)
bibliotheca (dedicated to growing & sustaining lilbraries worldwide)
Baker & Taylor (long-term relationships with major book & music labels in 120 countries)
BorrowBox (serves libraries & public schools in Australia)
Hoopla (serves libraries of all sizes across North America)
Vivlio (French company servicing bookstore chains across Europe)
Click here for D2D’s universal book link to “Black Blizzard”
Keep reading for a sample of my latest historical crime novel, “Black Blizzard.”
4. Excerpt: “Black Blizzard”
Preface
America trembled through an era of extremes. Millions perished. Not one, but two pandemics swept the globe following the Great War that ended in 1918. On October 29, 1929—Black Tuesday—the free-and-easy Roaring Twenties died a sudden and traumatic death. But the emotional reverberations and illicit vices it spawned did not. Hundreds hurled themselves through skyscraper windows, and tens of thousands across America surrendered their souls to Black Tuesday. Of those who survived its traumatic after-shocks, many drowned their sorrows, but even more were unwilling to do so. Some turned to their faith.
Then the world slipped from bleak to worse. The skies dried up and scorched the earth below. Shadows deepened over the creased land that once offered her keepers bounty for their labor. Farmers took reckless shortcuts hoping to save their acreages. Many could not. Instead of the new decade ushering in new hope, quite the opposite became the new reality.
* * *
The summer of 1931 on the Great Plains of Nebraska and Western Iowa felt like Armageddon. As time stalled, millions of Americans merely subsisted in the clutches of escalating squalor—starving and displaced from their homes. Hundreds of thousands more sought to re-discover Eden—elsewhere. Anywhere else. Those who stayed, struggled for a breath of air free of dust and despair under a drab sky that mocked their foolhardiness. And yes, most stayed put for fear of the sickness.
But even with faces swathed in handkerchiefs, and those lucky enough to own goggles for covering their eyes against the grit, they could not fill the hollow pit where a solid meal and contentment once settled. However, during zero-visibility dust storms they called black blizzards, the larger issue remained—the simple task of breathing more air than dirt.
Banks and private lenders alike gasped for their own survival. They called in notes on homes and farms and businesses that were no longer viable, hoping to turn an economic vacuum into an opportunity for their own survival. Somehow, a few ordinary folk still held money—in land, livestock, inventory, or precious metals. Many more leaned on the only two things of substance left—their faith and their community. Otherwise, the future might be too bleak to contemplate.
This is one such story.
Chapter 1
December 1932
Most birds of prey aren’t large, but their quarry often disagrees. To a field mouse, anything larger than her poses a threat. Yesterday’s brief thaw surrendered to an overnight freeze. The mouse’s tiny nails clicked over the delicate ice crust. Her cheek bulged with a rare grain of winter wheat for her babies who awaited her return in their cozy underground burrow.
The forenoon sun promised a crisp but pleasant morning. A distant screech preceded a quicksilver shadow that cast doubt on the momma mouse’s prospects. The red-tailed hawk swooped in for breakfast. Momma scurried. It was over.
The cycle of life was about to accelerate further, beginning with this otherwise sleepy morning in the rolling plains of northwest Iowa. The hawk, with breakfast in her talons for her own young, contemplated landing near the top of a power pole alongside Lyon County 14. But she thought better of it as she dodged a speeding motorcar slicing through the bitter wind. The auto swirled up a vortex of new snow in its wake, a feathery dusting that refused to stick after last night’s freeze.
* * *
The driver swelled with pride at the chromium hood ornament of a leaping hound on the far end of his motorcar’s sleek hood. It wasn’t just that handsome marquis, but what it represented: prestige and respect. The brand-new auto had been a Christmas gift from Mr. Finn Malone of Chicago, Illinois. Her ultra-modern coachwork concealed her road-proven four-cylinder power plant. There were just too many stylish innovations to count over her predecessor, the Model A. Important folks drove cars like this.
The musky smell of tanned cowhide—and this kid’s breath—filled the car’s interior. No surprise, with those teeth. He did wonder what that was all about. Seemed out of place with those snappy duds. Big city types. Immigrants, no less! With a brilliant but hazy sun off to his left, the driver risked a glance at the big-city passenger to his right. The serene fellow with scary undercurrents gave him the creeps. Especially that lop-sided smirk, his brown teeth, and those eyes. He could still spot traces of blood around the edges of the kid’s fingernails. And who in hell wore a black shirt with white buttons, anyway?
He’d met guys like this before in his line of work—thankfully, not often. More so these days. Short, but larger than life, he was Irish, not German like most folks around these parts. Sounded like a Mick too. Close-cropped ginger hair sprouted from beneath a flat-topped skimmer that shaded his youthful brow. Not very practical. Too damn cold for a straw hat. That overcoat he called his Crombie—whatever that meant—just had to cost a bundle. Slickers! Regardless, with the grim task at hand, the driver struggled to bury the charred-black corner of his conscience.
The scary little gunsel they called Sticks Leary worked for Mr. Malone. That meant he was to be respected—on the surface, anyway—and not just because this kid was a shooter. Malone commanded, the world obeyed, and not just in the Windy City.
As Leary thumbed loose two huge buttons of his Crombie and flipped down its generous collar, the driver caught a metallic flash. A shiny pistol nestled under the kid’s right armpit in a fancy shoulder holster. A show piece. So, he’s a southpaw. Leary shrugged the coat forward with a jerk on both lapels. The cannon disappeared as the huge collar lay down, revealing the rangy kid’s neck and a purplish circle beneath his jawbone. A puckered scar from a bullet wound to the left side of his scrawny throat. No, despite his youthful appearance, Leary was no kid.
He rolled his bug-eyes up to gaze at the driver in the rearview mirror. “Just watch the road, boy-o. Wouldn’t do to put this pretty new sedan into the ditch, now would it?”
“Right. So, Mr. Leary, just curious. Who’s under the blanket in the back?”
“It’s just Sticks, ‘kay?” Why did Just Sticks’ smile not warm him up? “Don’t ya be worryin’ ‘bout any a that just now.”
The driver already knew who was under that blanket, but he didn’t know why. Not that it mattered, other than worrying about the stink of the recently deceased. He’d been beckoned after the deed was done. Leary and another guy had loaded that cargo of dead weight before they allowed him back into his own brand new car. Leary had laughed, “Some jobs ya do yerself, yeh?” And there had been that spooky smirk with those jagged chompers and a cheerful glint in those crazy bug-eyes. Well, in for a penny….
The small Irishman, a hellish leprechaun, continued with conversation meant to sound congenial, as if warming up to a recruit. He obviously enjoyed the sound of his own clipped voice dripping in that ridiculous brogue. Again, with the unconvincing smile. Or was he flirting with a leer?
The gunsel said, “I see why Finn likes the lay a the land out here. Borin’ with a big “B” as far as the eye can see, yeh, boy-o?”
“If he’s looking for rural isolation and no G-Men within a hundred miles, yep, this area should suit his needs.”
They were only to drive a short distance south of George on Lyon County 14. Hopefully, this would be a brief conversation. The kid turned toward the driver, swiveling his left knee up onto the seat between them and slinging his left arm behind the driver’s shoulder. The frontal assault from the kid’s maw damn-near gagged him. “Tell me ‘bout this dealership. Why should Finn get into this at all?”
He’d already explained this to Mr. Malone up in Worthington. With more obligatory deference than genuine sarcasm, he addressed the odious little creep. “Well, George, Iowa is a sleepy little town of about a thousand folks. Mostly farmers who’ve moved to town after making their bucks, or they just got too old to work the land. There’s money there. But they’re mostly poor folks getting by—especially these days. No local law enforcement. Only up in Rock Rapids, the county seat over ten miles northwest as the crow flies, and almost twice that by motorcar. Bairns Motors, the only dealership in George, buys respectability with a low profile. And they have a lot of square footage under roof. It’s the perfect front. Plus, all the well-to-do farmers from the surrounding area buy their Chevies from Henry Bairns. It’s a legitimate business, at least according to our expert consultant—our mutual friend.”
Leary pasted a smug look on his face as he stretched thin leather gloves over his bony fingers. “Finn tells me yer a good soldier, and yer regular. That’s worth somethin’.”
An arrogant little prick, this Mick. The gunsel swiveled a practiced three-sixty with his dark bug-eyes showing lots of white. First ahead, then over his left shoulder, and the same over his right, shifting in his seat as he did so. There was that cannon again. Pausing, Leary didn’t look the driver in the eye, only at his gloved hands on the wheel. “Pull over. Right here. Ya hang tight while I take out the trash.” Dead serious.
The driver jerked the wheel. The car swerved to the edge of the road with two tires in stiff ditch weed. The tires crunched. He ground the gears before he settled the floor shifter into its sweet spot. He squeezed, then pulled the ratcheting brake handle with his left hand. The car skidded to a stop.
Leary slid out of the passenger’s side, but stumbled in his city oxfords on the snowy weeds at the precipice of the shallow ditch. He’d have fallen without his chokehold on the handle inside of the still-open front door. Grabbed the rear door’s exterior handle with his left hand, swung it open and back. The driver stole a glance at the passenger-side fender mirror. Partially blocked by the open door, he still saw Leary tugging his cargo from under the wool blanket and dragging it into the ditch. The blanket stayed on the floor behind the front seat.
With the task complete and his legs still dangling out of the door, Leary kicked his heels together. Jettisoned wet snow that clung to his warm shoes before swinging his legs back into the car. He tossed a small but heavy trophy from the kill into the driver’s lap. “A keepsake fer yeh. Let’s go.” Flat voice, no emotion. But when he caught the driver looking at him, he offered another one of those tiny foul-mouthed smirks—the left corner of his mouth higher and more puckered than the right. The driver stared down at the wet and cool Lyon County Deputy badge he now held in his right hand—scratched and dented. Retrieving a silk hanky, Leary polished his shoes. “What say you show me this town with the funny name, ‘kay, Sheriff?”
Strictly speaking, dumping murdered deputies was not part of his job description as Sheriff.
What have I gotten myself into?
To keep reading, visit your favorite online storefront to purchase your copy of “Black Blizzard” and find out what kind of trouble brews in an unlikely corner of the Midwestern Dust Bowl during the Great Depression! I guarantee more than a few surprises, and all based on true stories of the period.
Visit my Amazon author pagehere for a complete listing of all my currently published titles. More are on the way.
5. 2022 Coastal Writer’s Conference
(brought to you by Judy Howard & GK Jurrens)
One more exciting piece of good news for you.
I’m delighted to share with you that my friend, mentor, motivational speaker and top-selling author, Judy Howard is co-sponsoring with me a two-day writer’s conference in Brookings, Oregon this September 8th and 9th. We will host this writer’s retreat near the Oregon coast for a couple of dozen aspiring writers and experienced authors for seminars, workshops and camaraderie. We have a lot of enthusiasm and experience to share! And we always learn from other writers.
Keep on keepin’ on, y’all.
With pen in hand… wherever… and until…
Gene
P.S. “Books must be the axe to break the frozen sea inside me.”
– Franz Kafka (1883 – 1924)
If you enjoy “Black Blizzard,” please consider writing a review where you bought the book. We authors live or die by reviews. So support the authors of the books you read, especially this starving artist!
The next “Lyon County Mystery” will come your way circa Labor Day 2022. I plan to thrust your favorite “Black Blizzard” characters into even more trouble in this next book, which will serve up a tale of mystery and suspense. Wait for it… be ready!
Dateline January 5, 2022
Location: Punta Gorda, Florida
I fell off a roof, but I am still alive! Just like in the movies, but with a longer recovery time. I’m old. Plus, I perform my own stunts.
Book News
Yes, I am recovering nicely from my tumble off the RV’s roof mid-October, but that is not why I’ve been M.I.A. for the last month-and-a half. Written, edited, reviewed and formatted, my latest novel, “Black Blizzard,” publishes later this month. This story took a year to tell, and I am ecstatic.
Now I must tell you why I am so excited. I believe this novel, by all reports to date, is my best book by far. At least that’s what my dedicated (and some very seasoned) pre-publication readers are saying:
“I had to stay up way past my bedtime last night to finish the book… because I wanted to find out how the story ends. The book is quite gripping, not just because the characters are so relatable and likable, but because you inject a story line with believable tension. Having lived in Iowa and gotten to know many students from farm families, I felt at home with the Iowa people.“
“I just finished your book. Thought it was excellent.“
“I’m impressed by your writing.“
“A great job of tying subparts of the story together. Bravo!”
“One word: authentic.”
“The ending was very satisfying.“
Now, I must tell you that after spending thousands of hours crafting “Black Blizzard,” amidst all the other things in life I sacrificed to share this story (including Kay’s patience, at times), I live for such reactions, like every serious author. Oh, I’m sure my humongous ego plays a role (pro tip: every successful author nurtures one), but beyond that, I was driven to write this book because it represents something important to me.
“Black Blizzard” is a satisfying adventure yarn with engaging characters you’ll grow to care deeply about as they face dismal odds, but still manage to thrive—somehow. At least some of them. And I offer an authentic voice to those who, even today, don’t feel like they have a voice of their own—the disenfranchised and marginalized who seek to fulfill their destinies.
“Black Blizzard” is set in the summer of 1934. I loosely base this story on my parents’ incredible lives during America’s Great Depression. Though fictional, I’ve attempted to make this story, and its characters, despite the sweeping stakes and unlikely settings, as authentic and engaging as any of the classics.
Get lost in the Dust Bowl of rural America for a few enjoyable evenings. You’ll never again think of the folks who lived through that maelstrom the same.
Would you like to hear which scene in “Black Blizzard” was the hardest to envision and to write?
Put yourself in my shoes: you know that in order to be true to this dramatic but adventurous story line, you must craft a special love scene—a sexual encounter—involving a newly married version of your parents. Yup, I lost sleep over that one, kids, but chapter thirty-three is both blazing and tender. Got ‘er done!
To read a synopsis of “Black Blizzard” click here. I hope to have this new novel available for pre-order within a week or so. I still await some last-minute feedback on the manuscript’s final draft from my wonderful pre-publication readers. Yes, things move quickly in the world of independent publishing, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Travel News & Informal Book Signings
Kay and I will hit the big slab again by mid-March in our faithful old bus. This time, we’ll first travel north to visit our favorite Indiana Amish community. After that, family, and then west for several summer stays along the way. This Fall, we’ll run down the west coast, and on to the Southwest before returning to Florida in the Fall of 2023. Total trip time: approximately eighteen months, barring catastrophe.
Too soon for a prediction?
We’re planning several stops along the way where I also hope to meet new fans. Here’s the itinerary for informal book signing events (nothing fancy) we’re planning so far:
Rochester, Minnesota,
West Yellowstone, Montana,
Port Townsend, Washington,
Brookings, Oregon,
Santa Rosa, California (SF Bay Area)?
San Diego, California area?
Quartzsite, Arizona,
Mesa, Arizona,
Tucson, Arizona
Punta Gorda, Florida,
Fort Myers Beach, Florida,
Plus a few more spontaneous events as the spirit moves Miss Kay and me (maybe in the San Diego area).
I’ll post dates and venues as they solidify. I’d love to see you!
After visiting the Pacific Northwest this Fall, where I plan to co-sponsor a writers conference, Kay and l will run down the Oregon and California coasts (wildfires willing) and ultimately visit a few places in Southern California before we spend next winter in Arizona. We’ve not seen old friends there in far too long. If you’re a Dream Runners fan, you may recall our time in Arizona inspired the novel, Fractured Dreams. I long to reconnect with the “desert rats” in Quartzsite, and “fluties” in Tucson who collectively inspired that fanciful tale of drama and intrigue from aboard a forty-three-foot bus. Some have become dear friends.
For the summer of 2024, we’ll swing north of the border and aim east: Quebec, Ontario, Prince Edward Island, New Brunswick, possibly Newfoundland and Nova Scotia. Our primary objective for that northern junket: the Montreal Jazz Festival in June. Then we’ll aim the bus down through the Northeastern U.S. and back to SW Florida for the winter. At least, that’s currently our plan. Watch this space.
Well, that’s it from this side of the screen for now. I’d be honored if you’d give “Black Blizzard” a read. And should we cross paths on the road, let’s get together for a cup!
Happy Hopeful New Year to you and yours!
With pen in hand… wherever… and until…
Gene
P.S. “Books admitted me to their world open-handedly, as people for their most part, did not. The life I lived in books was one of ease and freedom, worldly wisdom, glitter, dash and style.”
– Jonathan Raban, “For Love and Money” (1987)
Now that “Black Blizzard” is nearly “in the can,” as screenwriters say, I’m conjuring my next “Lyon County Mystery.” I think maybe I’ll title it, “Murder in Purgatory,” which I hope to complete by Labor Day 2022. One thing I know for sure at this early stage… a gypsy circus will visit Lyon County and wreak havoc on the locals’ perception of what’s normal. More disenfranchised voices? Watch this space, my friends.
Dateline November 14, 2021
Location: Punta Gorda, Florida
You battle personal tendencies that run counter to what you desire, don’t you? Me too. I could have died last month in a personal battle with gravity. I didn’t. But after facing my mortality yet again, I now choose to wage a campaign against anything that deprives me and mine of spending time—that oh-so-precious commodity—on what I enjoy most: writing and publishing books. And I will spend less time on, well, other stuff! I beg your indulgence.
Pride goeth before a (twelve-foot) fall.
We all eat, drink, say, think, or do that which we know produces self-defeating results in our quest for mythical fulfillment. Of course we do the opposite as well—that which we believe supports our true wants and needs, which assumes we know what those are. But right now, I’m facing an assault from the former.
I’m struggling to avoid becoming one of those illusive characters that my readers remember only as a vague notion, perhaps with some interest, but only as a distant and irrelevant memory. At the same time, I’m spending time away from my second love—writing novels. My first love is, and always will be, my bride—now also my caregiver.
Any convenient excuse to do nothing but work on my next book is close at hand these days. Falling off the twelve-foot-high roof of my RV onto unforgiving asphalt last month comes to mind. To be blunt, I’m fortunate to have survived that fall. I’ve read stories of folks who did not survive, or became permanently disabled. With a fractured right heel the worst of my own injuries, I’m off my feet for a few months, and that’s about it.
So having faced my mortality once again a few weeks ago, at age 72, I rigorously interrogated myself the other day. Here are a few epiphanies that I discovered, and would like to share with you:
I love writing. No big surprise. So I’ll keep doing that. I’ve joined a small writing group with my friend, Judy Howard. We critique each other’s work. Delightful.
To the business side of being an author, I’ve always been less than enthusiastic, like many authors I know. This includes timekeeping, bookkeeping, preparation and submission of quarterly taxes, ordering inventory (books, software), tracking income and expenses, itemizing deductions, and justifying to the hardworking folks at the IRS why this is so much more than a hobby, even though I’m not yet accumulating wealth from my books. Kay has kindly offered to help me from skidding off the rails on that baffling set of tracks. I thank God for Kay.
Personal marketing and sales? That I love. So that’s where I’ll now spend more time. I love selling my books face-to-face, getting to know readers and collecting their stories while sharing my own. I even enjoy handing out my business cards to anyone who will take one, knowing nine of ten will get tossed. You know how I know I love this part of my literary trip? Immediately after my accident on October 15th, despite the excruciating pain of a full-body trauma, I pitched my books to the EMT caring for me in the ambulance on the way to the emergency room after my accident. But by that point, the pain meds had kicked in. I was inspired. She was kind.
You should be asking here,“So what? Why should I care?” Well, maybe you don’t, so bear with me. As long as I’m confessing, I grow increasingly candid about my lukewarm (approaching tepid) attitude toward traveling in our motorhome much of the time; however, this has always been Kay’s dream, and that is why we’ll continue to play the role of itinerant vagabonds. Together. I will leverage those travels and stories from wonderful people we meet as opportunities to continue gathering inspiration for my writing. That’s my silver lining. Plus, I love being with Kay. So the inconvenience to me is worth what it costs, once I have the use of both legs again, that is, and I can lose knee scooter.
The Cape Coral, Florida ER was slammed on Friday, October 15, 2021 (COVID, plus Friday crazies, like me), so they planted me in a hallway. Six hours and a battery of X-rays and CT-scans later, they pronounced me still alive and sent me on my way with my right leg in a splint. Two weeks and one surgerylater, to implant two titanium screws and a modicum of humility, I was (and am) in a fiberglass cast for a couple of months. Then, PT for a couple more. Survival of the stupidest!
Now, we come to the heat of the meat…
I’m offering this self-analysis and confession to you in this monthly newsletter that is now almost two weeks late. I missed my end-of-month (October) commitment to you. For that I apologize, and I throw myself upon the mercy of the court.
Back on task at home with computer, meds, prune juice, and a whole lotta attitude!
Another personal epiphany: calendared commitments are not something I relish. Life is too damn short and precarious and precious to commit to anything I am not totally committed to. My accident shone a bright light on that.
I’ve published these newsletters faithfully each month since early 2018, and they will continue to spew from my digital pen, but perhaps on not as rigid and relentless a schedule. So I’m declaring a hiatus from a monthly schedule in favor of one that “feels right” to this errant scribe, and hopefully, also acceptable to you, dear subscriber.
The good news (for me, anyway)? After surviving what could have been a fatal fall, I’m still around to finish the book I really wanted to write, and I believe you’ll want to read. I’ve teased you before that a new book called “Black Blizzard” is coming Winter 2021-2022 (eBook, paperback, and hardcover). The new news is that I now envision this book will be the first in a series sharing the tagline, “Lyon County Archives,” true to their historical bones. I am indeed close to publishing “Black Blizzard,” perhaps by the end of 2021, but again, I’m fending off self-imposed deadlines with tenacity. And as an independent publisher (UpLife Press), I have the luxury of defining my own schedule. Someone asked me to characterize this new novel in one sentence. This is what came to mind one morning at two AM:
“Rube Goldberg smashes the Grapes of Wrath with outlandish steampunk devices of dubious invention. That’s ‘Black Blizzard!'” – GK Jurrens
I now offer you the new book’s synopsis (you’re the first to see this version). As the back cover’s text, some suggested it should be shorter (you folks should only read the bold print). Others pleaded for this descriptive text to be longer (y’all can read it all). I’m hoping this version is just right:
How can a naïve but passionate group of small town and rural neighbors prevent the invasion, corruption and poisoning of their community by big-city mobsters? To do so, they must overcome their differences while battling inner demons and navigating awkward affairs of the heart.
Conflict, greed and patriotic zeal result in sacrifice, loyalty, and betrayal from within the most turbulent maelstrom of our nation’s history. Millions lose everything during the Great Depression. The Dust Bowl, mass migrations, unprecedented unemployment, and profound poverty pummel America without mercy.
This classic story—with unconventional twists—will grab your gut in unexpected ways. Witness an escalating series of misadventures on the ground and in the air as an unlikely handful of German and Irish immigrants, along with a young half-breed Indian, change America’s history during the summer of 1933.
Black Blizzard Cover Reveal. I always welcome constructive criticism.
What do you think? Let me know! For that, I thank you in advance.
Here’s to the precious commodity we call life, enabled by the fickle master we call time, including all its idiosyncratic oddities and delicious moments yet to be captured and shared. It’s just all just so darned interesting, isn’t it?
Seeking transcendental consciousness, and the meaning of a wakeful state under the influence of prescription opioids(the sooner done with those pups, the better!)
Happy Veteran’s Day to all who are serving or who have served!
With pen in hand… wherever… and until…
Gene
P.S. “Books are the carriers of civilization… They are companions, teachers, magicians, bankers of the treasures of the mind. Books are humanity in print.” – Barbara W. Tuchman (1912 – 1989)
Now how can I plunge the everyday heroes in my latest manuscript into even more deep guilty? What emotional lies will they tell themselves to ease their pain, or to justify their actions? To what tiny prejudices will they surrender or defeat to protect their own? How far are they willing–or able–to go? Look for “Black Blizzard” Winter 2021-2022by GK Jurrens
