Category: RV Maintenance
Launching A New Mystery Series From Ground Zero

Launching A New Mystery Series From Ground Zero

By |
Help me launch the first book in my new series: “Voodoo Vendetta – A Literati Mystery”
But first, this….
Location: Punta Gorda, Florida

In this issue:

  1. Eye-Witness Report From Hurricane Country
  2. Wonder Whodunnit 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:

  1. 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.
  2. 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.
  3. 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)…

Gene (and Miss Kay)

My Jedi imitation….
Standing Apart

Standing Apart

By | 
Location: Rochester, Southeast Minnesota

In this issue:

  1. A Thank you!
  2. Excerpt From My Daring New Book

1. Thanks to My Seminar Attendees

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 synopsis here. 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 metaphorical imagery, 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!
Free Seminars & Book Signing

Free Seminars & Book Signing

By | 
Dateline: Thursday, July 14, 2022
Location: Rochester, Southeast Minnesota

In this issue:

  1. Three Free Seminars
  2. 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 software demonstrations 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 publishing process. 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.
STOP, ALREADY!

STOP, ALREADY!

By | 
Dateline: Thursday, June 30, 2022
Location: Rochester, Minnesota, USA, Earth, Milky Way,Sector A1X44.22

In this issue:

  1. New GK Jurrens Novel Available
  2. Another Book On the Way
  3. 2022 Coastal Writer’s Conference Update
  4. 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?
Rough Foreplay

Rough Foreplay

By | 
Dateline: Sunday, May 7, 2022
Location: Rochester, Minnesota

In this issue:

  1. Bragging Rights
  2. 2022 Coastal Writer’s Conference
  3. Walkabout Preparation
  4. Heavenly Retaliation

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 out here.

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 onion stuffing, 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 

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