Tag: new book

Blast-off! And 50% Off!

Blast-off! And 50% Off!

Help me launch the first book in my new series: “Voodoo Vendetta – A Literati Mystery”

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:

  1. RV Rally Fun
  2. Voodoo Vendetta en route to Worldwide Distribution
  3. Case Study – Evolution of a Book Cover
  4. Ice Ops – A Short Story
  5. 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.

2. Voodoo Vendetta” is on its way around the world

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…

Happy Holidays!

Gene

Obiwan Geno

Launching A New Mystery Series From Ground Zero

Launching A New Mystery Series From Ground Zero

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

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 keyboardthey’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

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!

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.

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.
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?
Only Good News Today!

Only Good News Today!

Dateline March 8, 2022
Location: Punta Gorda, Florida

In this issue:

  1. Book News
  2. Travel News & Book Signings
  3. New GK Jurrens Book Distribution Update
  4. “Black Blizzard” Excerpt
  5. 2022 Coastal 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

  1. Elkhart, Indiana
  2. Joliet, Illinois
  3. Bevier, Missouri
  4. Mt. Pleasant/Fairfield, Iowa
  5. Rochester, Minnesota
  6. Hill City, South Dakota
  7. Island Park, Idaho
  8. West Yellowstone, Montana
  9. Portland, Oregon
  10. Sequim/Port Townsend, Washington
  11. Seaside/Astoria, Oregon
  12. Lincoln City, Oregon
  13. Coos Bay/North Bend, Oregon
  14. Brookings, Oregon
  15. Eureka, California
  16. Petaluma, California (SF Bay Area)
  17. Groveland/Yosemite, California
  18. Visalia/Joshua Tree, California
  19. Temecula, California area (between LA & San Diego)
  20. Oasis, California (Salton Sea/The Slabs)

2023

  1. Mesa, Arizona (Phoenix),
  2. Quartzsite, Arizona
  3. Tucson, Arizona
  4. Las Cruces, New Mexico
  5. San Antonio, Texas
  6. Jarrold/Georgetown, Texas
  7. Joplin, Missouri
  8. Mt. Pleasant, Iowa
  9. Oronoco, Minnesota
  10. Big Rock, Illinois
  11. St. Catherine’s/Niagara Falls, Ontario
  12. St. Phillip/Montreal, Quebec
  13. Levis/Quebec City, Quebec
  14. St. John’s, New Brunswick
  15. Charlotte Town, Prince Edward Island
  16. Hammond Plains/Halifax, Nova Scotia
  17. Hopewell Cape, New Brunswick
  18. Trenton/Arcadia, Maine
  19. Ease Wareham/Boston/Cape Cod, Martha’s Vineyard, Massachusetts
  20. West Kingston/Newport, Rhode Island
  21. Mystic, Connecticut
  22. Florida/West Point, New York
  23. Punta Gorda, Florida
  24. Fort Myers Beach, Florida

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:

  1. Apple Books
  2. Barnes & Noble
  3. Kobo (in 130 countries, also at Kobo Plus, similar to Kindle Unlimited)
  4. Scribd (premium subscriber reading service)
  5. Tolino (German consortium with 1,500 stores)
  6. OverDrive (leading digital distribution platform to libraries, schools & retailers)
  7. bibliotheca (dedicated to growing & sustaining lilbraries worldwide)
  8. Baker & Taylor (long-term relationships with major book & music labels in 120 countries)
  9. BorrowBox (serves libraries & public schools in Australia)
  10. Hoopla (serves libraries of all sizes across North America)
  11. 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 page here 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!

News!

News!

A New GK Jurrens Book is Almost Here

Happy New Year!

Thirteen days and counting….

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 ownthe 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.

Battles

Battles

The only constant is change. Embrace it.

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 surgery later, 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 2021-2022 by GK Jurrens

New June

New June

So many levels…

You’re in the right place

for a mix of stories you just won’t find anywhere else…

Here’s to the allure of the obscure!”

Dateline June 28, 2021
Location: Southeastern Minnesota

Drink it in…

"June's Picture" 

 Let me paint June's picture—first I take some gold,
Fill the picture full of sun, all that it can hold;
Save some for the butterflies, darting all around,
And some more for buttercups here upon the ground;
Take a lot of baby-blue—this—to make the sky,
With a lot of downy white—soft clouds floating by;
Cover all the ground with green, hang it from the trees,
Sprinkle it with shiny white, neatly as you please;
So—a million daisies spring up everywhere,
Surely you can see now what is in the air!
Here's a thread of silver—that's a little brook
To hide in dainty places where only children look.

Next, comes something—guess—it grows
Among green hedges—it's the rose!
Brown for a bird to sing a song,
Brown for a road to walk along.

Then add some happy children to the fields and flowers and skies,
And so you have June's picture here before your eyes.
by Annette Wynne

In this issue:


  1. New Memories
  2. New Book Release
  3. Not-So-New Institutional Insanity
  4. Featured Guest (A New Perspective)
  5. Did You Know?

1. New Memories

We’ve officially tumbled into summer where a new freedom is born, at least for Miss Kay and myself, along with four robin chicks in a nest just outside the door of our motorhome—a metaphor reflecting our own emergence from the Jurrens’ Florida COVID bunker after a year-and-a-half of isolation! Now, healthier than ever, we remain parked in Southeastern Minnesota, at least for a few more hours.

However you feel about COVID vaccinations, these injections have yielded such emotional relief for Kay and me, not only for our own protection, but for doing our part on behalf of all humanity to deprive this nasty little virus and its spawn a couple more hosts within which it can no longer grow and spread and mutate.

We are of a lighter spirit more so now than in the last eighteen months! For that we are grateful.

We celebrated Juneteenth quietly, without fanfare. After all, this first new national holiday in decades arrived so suddenly, we barely had time to truly understand its significance (click the link above if you’re interested in diving a little deeper. This new holiday possesses a fascinating heritage. So we made no elaborate plans other than educating ourselves over a dish of homemade dairy-free ice cream with a topping of personal reflection.

While our bus wasn’t parked under the now-famous heat dome out west during this last red-hot month, we did share in mid-90 temps even here in the upper Midwest. Thankfully, our two rooftop air conditioners performed flawlessly; however, I studied several articles on how to add a third. Maybe next year. The 2021 bus budget is now officially and irrevocably busted!

This was a memorable June, to be sure. Now here’s to creating more memories in July and beyond !


2. New Book Release

My latest non-fiction book entitled Why Write? Why Publish? is now available on Amazon as of Juneteenth! In this new book I lay out my approach to an end-to-end paperless writing and publishing process for the aspiring writer (or for the seasoned author). Even non-writers will appreciate the “how” behind the “what,” even the “why!”

If I can make this process work efficiently for my own writing and publishing, anyone can!

So why paperless? Because Miss Kay and I live in a beautiful old bus—and have for most of the last five years—but like most motorhomes, we lack wall and bookshelf space. So I had almost no room for endless post-it notes, timeline charts, a murder/mystery board, and even less space for a decent library of hard copy reference books. So I use this virtually paperless process that has turned out not only to be effective but efficient. And my rather extensive reference library weighs about the same as my iPad, although I do keep a few dog-eared paperback favorites on my end table.

I originally wrote this 170-page writer’s reference with generous help from some of the best authors I know or have studied so I could offer it as an instructive ebook to my seminar attendees this summer.  But early reader response encouraged me to publish this in a paperback edition as well. I call this book a self-guided seminar. One early reader —an aspiring writer—said, “This just might be the best first book I’ve read on the craft of writing and publishing.” Holy moley! Alrighty, then!

For your edification, I offer you this book’s back-cover text:

“Welcome to the weird and wonderful world of independent writing, editing, formatting, publishing, marketing and selling. This book simplifies an otherwise daunting process.

“Are you an aspiring author? Or a published author looking for more control over your work? Either way, this book comprises a comprehensive self-guided seminar that starts shallow and dives deeper as we progress, but at your own pace, unlike most seminars.

“Are you struggling to spark your inspiration for the book you know is inside of you somewhere? This book’s initial chapters will jump start your creative journey.

“Do you wonder how to efficiently begin and sustain progress on this writing journey? I will ask you: why should you write, and where should you start? Then what?  Find answers in this book that will streamline your own efficient and effective writing and publishing process, including a valuable survey of free or cheap software tools, cheat sheets and pointers to a treasure trove of resources for authors and publishers.  

“Why should you spend your precious time and creative energy on all the other stuff that comprises the business of being an author and a publisher? Or should you even bother? I’ll point you toward the condensed wisdom of dozens of my favorite industry experts who will answer the why and how. Fast.

Get started now writing and publishing just one book, or embark on a fulfilling career. Sip or gulp. The choice is yours.”

So check out my latest title now offered in both Kindle and paperback editions: Why Write? Why Publish? Get yours now on Amazon by clicking here. Or grab a free peek by clicking the link and then click “Look Inside” above the cover image.

Remember, you can read the Kindle edition of this book on any smart device (phone, tablet or computer) by downloading the free Kindle reader app also available by clicking on the link above!

3. Not-So-New Institutional Insanity – For Friends and Loved Ones of Authors (you know who you are!)…

Are you an author, or do you know someone who is so afflicted and you’re seeking a peek behind the purple curtain to see if the wizard is in the house? If you’re either, this article is for you.


Are you a stranger in a strange land? Do you feel like everyone thinks you are plagued by a creeping insanity? All because you represent this weird caricature—that of an author?

Do you especially perplex your friends and loved ones who perhaps unintentionally offer you that pitiful look? You know the one. Mostly because they either don’t read books at all, or more likely, the books you write don’t appeal to them?

So they naturally believe you don’t know what in your own unique brand of Hell you’re doing. All because you’re not yet banking a bazillion bucks, or because you’re not a household name. Maybe never will be. Or you’re investing a crazy big percentage of your life that takes away from other stuff, like what’s important to them?

If you’re even a quasi-serious writer who has publicly professed your allegiance to the craft, you know of what I speak. 

“You write books? Oh, that’s nice. Good for you! So have I ever heard of you? Why haven’t I seen your stuff in my local library?” Or, “I’ve thought about writing a book, but just haven’t gotten around to it.”

Like it’s a trivial pursuit or an amusing parlor trick.

Or have you heard this?

“Why do you write about stuff nobody (meaning them) cares about?” or, “If you don’t make a lot of money with your little stories, what is the point, you poor thing?

This latter clause usually isn’t spoken aloud, but you can see it in their eyes or hear it in their commiserative tone, can’t you? Bless their empathetic hearts. How could they possibly know until they’ve bled with you, sacrificed with you, died with you and your characters? And with me and mine.

Let’s face it, my fellow purveyors of prose, or worse, poetry, ours is a unique passion, not well understood by most earthlings, and that’s okay, isn’t it? We write because it is our passion, maybe even our destiny. Like I tell my seminar attendees, “Write because it makes you uncomfortable. You’ll write with greater authenticity.”

I’m most creative at 2AM, when I’m half asleep, incapable of plying pen and paper, or operating my iPhone voice recorder app always uselessly within reach. Part of our torturous trip, right?

Now that I’ve vocalized what many of you might be thinking or have heard, let’s get real. We write because we must. There exist worlds of wonder in us that scream to be set free. They keep us up at night. We imagine if we don’t stab them with our quills onto organic or digital parchment we shall surely burst. That can get messy.

If you’re like me, you’re feeding a need you likely can’t articulate with any precision. You are afflicted. But if you are anything like me, I know you want to do this, you must do this. And if you are very much like me, you’d have it no other way.

“Ours is a progressive disease. Many a life has been subsumed by the affliction of stabbing pen into parchment! For myself, I would suffer nothing less sublime, even IF I had a choice.”

GK Jurrens

When I started my literary journey years ago, I drove myself to finish just one book while I learned as much about the craft of writing as I could absorb while trying to balance that with everything else in my then-hectic life. I finished that book, a contemporary mystery/thriller, learned how to publish it, and did so.

Next, as I listened to other writers, I feared the self-sullying image of a “one-book wonder.” Not me, I quietly muttered! So I wrote and published another thriller—a sequel to the first. Yes, I had acquired the thirst I could not quench.

Then I wondered what it would it be like to tackle a different genre? So I invested two years in writing and publishing a science fiction trilogy, or so I thought. Not enough science, readers told me, but I had conjured plenty of solid twenty-second-century mysteries and thrills, I was told. I also created a reader magnet as an informative companion guide to this trio of gripping tales, two of which were of epic proportions (in other words, real thick books).

So now I’ve just completed my third work of non-fiction (mentioned above), adding it to a pair of earlier (non-fiction) coffee table books that failed to inspire all but a few hundred readers within the micro-niche of hard-core voyaging sailors. This, however, is my first book on the craft of writing. That makes seven new books in six busy years. All except the companion guide to my Mayhem trilogy will have been published worldwide in both ebook and paperback editions. With the two older non-fictions already in my backlist, my latest historical novel—very much a work in process—will comprise book number ten. At least I’m no OBW (One-Book-Wonder), damn it!

All this genre-hopping impacts my commercial viability, but I don’t seem to care because I believe my books represent metaphors for something that needs to be heard! And wait until you get a load of my anthology of, um, irreverent poems, essays and original images. That will be book number eleven, hopefully by year-end 2021, although this is also likely to be a real thick book!

All of this is to ask if you can relate to my smoldering dilemma, family, friends and fellow word players, an affliction that compels some of us to serve both readers and our own egos. And don’t even get me started on distractions!

Distractions suckle on the flesh of creativity. So just say no! (yeah, right…)

Ultimately, I cling to one inalienable literary truth. If I quit, I will have surrendered, and that is not an option, soldier! At least not yet. There are still mythical battles to be fought and won, characters to be punished, worlds to incinerate and victories to celebrate!


4. Featured Guest (And a New Perspective)

Meet Dorothy Ann Jones. More quickly than I could ask the question, she recounted precise details surrounding a storm on October 10, 1949, the year I was born!

As a writer, she makes me proud. Dorothy has documented every significant event in her life on the family farm they’ve held together for seven generations. She has witnessed events most of us can only read about and wonder.

I spent a few hours with this amazing matriarch to research topics I had only read about. I’ve mentioned my historical fiction project before, and I sought an understanding of direct visceral experience from someone who had lived through the 1930s and 1940s. You cannot Google that. Dorothy did not disappoint.

Her father had immigrated from Denmark to continue his profession as a blacksmith in the logging camps of Idaho and Washington state. There was still money to be made sharpening plow shares (blades with earth-turning points on the business end of a plow). Her father’s first wife grew ill, so they moved to Rochester, Minnesota where they could be close to the Mayo Clinic for her treatment.

After the tragic death of his first wife, this stalwart Dane later met and married Dorothy’s mother in 1930. They moved to the nearby small town of Eyota where Dorothy was born in the scorched summer of 1931. When she married Bill Jones in the late 1940s, they lived on the nearby farm that had been in his family since 1858.

As I was primarily researching the 1930s for my novel “Black Bllzzard” (which you may know I called “Jake’s Flame” before changing the working title), I needed to draw on Dorothy’s direct memories of her childhood as well as stories told to her by her parents. Like elsewhere in America, that period tested their mettle. Dorothy told me such a story. She said,

Between the Great War (World War One) and the Great Depression (1930s) some children spent hours daily in a horse-drawn school bus . We define the word “Great” somewhat differently these days, don’t we?

“The Depression came along. Husband Bill’s mom and dad couldn’t pay the mortgage on the home place, so they held an auction. They retrieved enough from the sale to make the mortgage payment, but they moved to the woodcutter’s shack on the farm and rented the rest until they could recover. They started over. Bill’s dad said of that time, ‘we weren’t living, we existed.'”

After Dorothy shared this with me, we both fell silent for a time. I asked Dorothy what routine tasks occupied them since working the land and attending church occupied all their time.

“Well, as kids on the farm in those days, we picked corn. Snapped it right off the stalk in the field, one ear at a time, to feed the pigs. Dad penned up stalls for the little pigs to separate them from their mothers who might accidentally lay on top of them and kill them. I also had to regularly check the heat lamps over our five hundred baby chicks. We were lucky. A lot of farms had no electricity. It was cold, and without the heat from those lamps, those chicks would huddle up so tightly together for warmth that they’d smother.”

Now this city boy had no idea, and you just don’t get such authentic stories like this from Internet searches or even from reading period novels! So I asked some more questions, and gained even more insights:

Shocks of wheat hand-tied into bundles with twine, waiting to be threshed.

“Life was quite primitive by today’s standards. My father worked in a dying profession. Less and less call for a blacksmith, but I can still smell the pungent smoke of red-hot metal. That smoke stung my eyes when I got too close, and I still remember the sound of Dad hammering a new point on a plowshare ringing in my ears. I can also remember the smell of strong coffee and cold sandwiches we’d deliver to the men in the field during threshing. The dusty wheat chafe they stirred up in the air clung to the sweat on our necks. That was so itchy!

A threshing machine separates stems of the wheat stalk from the precious grain generating the always unfortunate bi-product of exquisite itchiness and a bone-tiredness that defy description.

She shuddered as she thrust herself back into that vivid memory. I shuddered too. She helped me remember my own distant memory when I was only five—before we “moved to town” upon losing our farm). I had forgotten.

Illuminating recollections poured out for two full hours with me furiously typing copious notes. What I found most remarkable was how intellectually intimidated I felt by this ninety-year-old amateur historian! I learned fascinating operational details of horse-drawn drags, plows, manure spreaders, threshing machines, and how hay and straw was hoisted up into a barn’s haymow with pulleys, ropes and literal horse power. This greenhorn bathed in a delightfully refreshing perspective. This was exactly the type of material I sought for my new book which I hope to finish by the end of this year.

This genre of historical fiction has spawned an unexpectedly ambitious project for me. But I’m finding this to be fulfilling as I just begin to scratch into a surface understanding of the non-stop chain of hardships these admirable titans of the period endured. They not only endured but thrived despite a lifestyle almost inconceivable to most folks alive today.

Thank you for moving my research forward, Dorothy, and for your delightful company on a sunny June afternoon on the farm!


5. Did You Know?

The Amazon rain forest produces more than 20% of the world’s oxygen supply.

The Amazon River pushes so much water into the Atlantic Ocean that more than a hundred miles at sea off the mouth of the river one can dip fresh water out of the ocean. The volume of water in the Amazon River is greater than the next eight largest rivers in the world combined, and three times the flow of all rivers in the United States.


With pen in hand,

Gene

P.S. After a prolonged period of unnatural isolation, we reveled in seeing and hugging so many friends and family this month. A cornucopia! Thank you all!

And just days before we were to leave Minnesota, we reveled in an extended family gathering that was so heart-warming, we were both close to tears. Mil gracias to Jim and Ellie White for hosting this party for nine-day-old great-grand-nephew Felix on behalf of his new parents, Will and Andrea. What a joy to see and hold this stout little fellow, but a greater joy to meet and talk and reminisce with his extended family! Yes, you now belong to him!

Jacob, you inspire me with your micro-wildlife tracker inventions! Jim, thanks for your tutilage in foraging for wild mushrooms (fabulous breakfast with your oyster ‘shrooms this morning!). Chuck, thanks for the stories of Europe and South America! Ellie, thanks for bequeathing my mom’s diary penned in May of 1930! Big sis Carol (80 going on 60), you’ve created an awesome family, and I look forward to the extraordinary journal you’ve described. Nicole, I hope you are soon reunited with the love of your life in Santiago, Chili. Becky and Gordy, so glad you and the girls could leave Alaska’s severely short summer to be there too! How long has it been?

So many other side discussions, so much love, so much food!

Can you almost smell the mental gaskets burning?

March Out of Madness…

March Out of Madness…

Dateline: March 31, 2021

You’re in the right place

for a mix of stories you just won’t find anywhere else…

Here’s to the allure of the obscure!”

My friends, it has been a roller coaster ride for all of us. Hang in there. We can now see more ups than downs, and that’s good. There is much to celebrate beyond the madness. Be of great cheer, compadres. We’ll see this through together as long as we remain vigilant.

In this issue:

  1. Vietnam War Veteran’s Day (Wall of Faces)
  2. Road Prep (Move to 2022)
  3. Why THIS Book? (Continued)
  4. Did You Know? (A New Regular Feature)
  5. Writer’s Side (A New Feature for Aspiring Authors)
  6. Featured Guest (New York Times Bestselling Author)

1. Vietnam War Veteran’s Day

The Wall in DC

Although I am a disabled Vietnam-era veteran. I did not go to Vietnam, but I served for six years during that time in the US Coast Guard search and rescue teams (4 years active, 2 in the reserves). If you are my age, you also likely know someone who went in-country but did not return.

This last Monday, March 29th, commemorated the war’s 50th anniversary. The Vietnam Veterans Memorial Fund Virtual Wall of Faces is nearly complete but needs help from the public to track down the last few dozen photos of those who made the ultimate sacrifice. Of the 58,279 names inscribed on The Wall in Washington, D.C., there are less than 80 photos needed to complete the Wall of Faces. Click here to see if you help provide photos for any of the names whose faces are still missing.

And thanks to all of you who have served or are serving our great nation!


2. Road Prep

Due to the pandemic and having heeded the advice of public health experts, we did not travel much this past year. We feel more confident with our “shields up” now that we are fully vaccinated; however, since we fall into a high risk group, we’ll obviously remain vigilant.

But here’s our bonus round! By staying put in the condo for the last year, in lieu of buying fuel for the monster and paying for RV sites to park our bus (some as expensive as a hotel room), we could afford to favor our bus with a big ole slurp from the fountain of youth. Now she’s had her fill, and she was mighty thirsty.

In a couple of weeks we’re off to pick up our baby, our sweet-sixteen-year-old motorhome, and then it’s off to Minnesota to visit family, friends, and to help celebrate our middle grandson’s graduation from high school before we start an extended tour of America’s southeast coast (next year, we head west again). But “Ma” (our Newmar Mountain Aire) will look younger and prettier from now on, both outside and inside, quite different from last December when we dropped her off at the factory in Indiana.

So we’re still in Florida, and the bus is still at the factory, but we’re going to join her mid-April.

Old busted (well, old-looking anyway):

Before she slurped from the RV fountain of youth… You can’t see the myriad spider cracks in the fiberglass and misaligned body parts which required a major rework by the delightful gang at the factory.

New hotness (ain’t she grand?):

If she looks as good up close and in person, we’ll by flyin’ high!

After her facelift: Notice the custom rocket launcher above the entry door? Nah, just kidding. She now sports all new fiberglass sidewalls, paint, mirrors, lights, batteries, king mattress, carpeting, skylight, a new window awning, extensive body work, wipers/motors, resealed roof, freshly serviced boiler. From Indiana we’re off to Michigan for a health check of the chassis (engine, drive train, suspension, air brakes, etc.). .. egads, eh?

We’re damn proud of—and grateful for—our old bus. Sorry, we just had to share this good news story with y’all. We’re anxiously staging (stacking) by the condo’s front door all the stuff we’ll need to take with us (stashed in a U-Haul trailer we’ll tow to Indiana behind the Jeep). We’ll load up the bus for a seven-month adventure. Our wanderlust is every bit as addictive as our love for each other (aw, a tender moment)! But our gratitude for such adventures together is like swimming in waves of sweet gravy at the beach, although not an apt simile for a couple of aging weight-conscious vegans! You get the idea, though, don’t you?


3. Why Write THIS Book?

Say what? What book?

Last month I teased you with a preview of my new project, a novel that should be available later this year (I don’t write and publish all that fast). You may recall it will be a 1930s-era story of love, survival and intrigue transformed into a rural rock-the-house crime drama.”

So why this project, and why now? Some of you have asked how authors come up with ideas for books. Lots of answers to these questions, but indulge me as I share my personal motivation for this project with you.

I grew up in America as part of what many considered (including me) an entitled generation in a wealthy nation, yet righteously indignant while living in relative privilege, even though my parents’ subsistence level constantly flirted with poverty. They just worked that hard. I’m feeling that more than ever as I plod through the initial research for “Jake’s Flame” (working title only at this point). Dare I say my generation had it relatively easy growing up from the fifties to today compared to my parents’ generation. And yes, that’s my humble and perhaps myopic opinion.  

Worse, we can’t really appreciate what their generation endured. They just sucked it up and we thrived, at least emotionally, if not financially. I’m just now beginning to fully appreciate that. My parents were special people.

As a young adult, unlike my parents, I suffered through no Great Depression, no World Wars, no dust bowl, no days or weeks (or more) of gut-cramping hunger (at least in my circles), no massive social reformation (like FDR’s New Deal) or major pandemics. My mom was crippled for life by Polio as a child and lost scores of family & friends to the Spanish Flu. These were the pandemics of their day. Most recently, however, we’re witnessing a few similar tribulations. The story I now feel compelled to write and publish seems timely. All the craziness we’re going through right now? We’ve been here before, and we’re going to be okay. It seems we are poised to witness sweeping change. I’m confident we’ll see it through.

As I research the late 1920s and early 1930s life in America for this book, learning of that pivotal period shook loose a passion in me I was not expecting. This book will be a meat and potatoes romantic crime drama that I believe my generation of “boomers” can sink their teeth into. And if I’m lucky, this story will also resonate with others the ages of our children and grandchildren. Yup, I’m a dreamer, like my conflicted father.

My dad died of a heart condition, some say of a broken heart from unrealized dreams. Soon thereafter, my mom died of complications from her childhood disease and hard, hard living. She had willingly abandoned a life of privilege as a young woman simply for the unadulterated love of a guy who had little more to offer her than his love, his humor and a pioneer spirit that consumed them both. I regretted waiting until my mother was literally on her death bed to ask all the poignant questions I am now asking of others who remember while there is still time.  This will be their story based on their young adult lives, an epic of conflicted devotion to family, to friends, to lovers, as well as to off-and-on law and order.

I wish readers to truly appreciate how my parents’ generation struggled to make the lives of their family and their small but cherished community easier, more fulfilling, and to weave the tale of what they sacrificed at a time when it would have been so easy just to give up. My parents and their parents left us an untold legacy. I need to tell you this story based on their lives.

Full disclosure: this is a novel, not a biography, because that’s what I am compelled to write. I am constitutionally incapable of telling the whole truth in any event, and that’s okay. That’s what novelists do.

I write this story as I now approach the age at which my sainted parents shed their own mortal coils. I need to share the story based on their young adulthood from within the genres of crime and drama, and yes, some romance. Before it is too late.

That’s why this book. And why now

Hawking my wares, like an old school traveling salesman of yesteryear (I rather like that image)…

Oh, after a year in the bunker and with our COVID vaccinations now behind us, I finally feel more confident than I have in a while to get out and sell a few of my other books face-to-face (behind a mask, of course)… Old school is fun!


4. Did You Know?

While researching Jake’s Flame I came across an obscure but pivotal moment in our nation’s history that has largely settled into the dust of our great nation’s history.

Did you know that if one leg of a wooden chair hadn’t been slightly shorter than the other three in 1933, our country would likely have a very different face today?

At just 5’1″ Giuseppe “Joe” Zangara couldn’t see much as he stood in a crowd of taller folks on the evening of February 15, 1933.

The crowd had gathered on this balmy Miami evening in Bayfront Park near Little Havana to hear and see the soon-to-be-inaugurated U.S. president, Franklin D. Roosevelt. The president-elect concluded his speech at 9:35PM from the back seat of his light-blue Buick convertible. Joe Zangara was determined to empty his .32 caliber pistol into FDR. But because of his diminutive stature, he resorted to perching on a wobbly chair to line up his shots.

The would-be assassin fired five rounds but missed the president-elect arguably because that chair upon which he stood had one leg a fraction of an inch shorter than the others.

The thirty-second president-elect was not injured, but several others were, including Chicago’s mayor who would later succumb to his wounds. FDR stayed on the scene to comfort the victims despite the vociferous objections of his Secret Service detail.

This act of calm heroism was not missed by the press. FDR gained the confidence and trust of the American people even before being sworn in to the highest office of the land.

Had Joe Zangara, an unemployed blue-collar bricklayer, succeeded in assassinating FDR, our nation might look very different today, but FDR’s reaction to the attempt on his life cemented the people’s confidence in this new president even before he was inaugurated. Much later, journalist Florence King wrote an article in 1999 entitled, “A Date Which Should Live in Irony.”

The early 1930s saw our nation knocked flat on its laurels by the Great Depression. The country was in serious trouble. Between 1933 and 1939, FDR took action to bring about economic relief as well as reforms in industry, agriculture, finance, waterpower, labor and housing. He vastly increased the scope of the federal government’s activities at a time when the nation desperately needed strong leadership to mitigate the risk of another devastating blow to the global economy (he created the Securities Exchange Commission). He bolstered confidence in a failed banking system (by establishing the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation).

Despite scathing criticism, many lauded FDR’s actions to create countless jobs for the “forgotten man” (with the Civilian Conservation Corps). He enhanced and modernized the deteriorated power grid across seven states with modern hydroelectric power generation (Tennessee Valley Authority), and strengthened unions to combat a spreading sweat shop mentality (with a new National Labor Relations Board which established maximum working hours and a minimum wage). He created Social Security (for widows’ and retirees’ well-being).

Despite criticism of his “socialistic tendencies” at the time, much of FDR’s “New Deal” achieved nationwide acceptance. Some even suggested later that FDR saved capitalism.

Roosevelt’s domestic programs were largely followed in the “Fair Deal” of President Harry S. Truman (1945–53), and both major U.S. parties came to accept most New Deal reforms as a permanent part of the national life.

Whatever your political leanings, I think you’d agree FDR did indeed change the face of our nation during his tenure from 1933 until his death in 1945.

If that chair in Miami hadn’t wobbled…

Did you know? If not, now you do.


5. Writer’s Side

By request, this column will now be a regular feature in this newsletter for those of you who aspire to becoming an author, or for those of you who write and are drawn to what other writers practice in their own advancement of the craft. Check it out.

Stephen King famously said, “If you don’t have time to read, you don’t have the time (or tools) to write.” Even if you don’t care for his style or genre, the man understands the craft of writing and has made a ton of money practicing it.

Do you want to write? Your most valuable tools come from reading… a lot. But here’s the thing. You need to read like a writer, not just for the hell of it (well, that too). Pay attention. Take notes. I keep a virtual notebook for just such a purpose. Whether I’m reading a paperback or an ebook (on my computer, phone or tablet), I take notes. I highlight that which speaks to me. My paperbacks are chuck full of highlights, margin notes and dog-eared pages.

When I finish reading a book, my notes get transcribed into my Idea Factory, a concept created by well-known author, James Scott Bell. This practice doesn’t take a lot of time. This is a computer file (backed up to ‘the cloud’ for safekeeping). In that file, I maintain categories to which I add every time I complete another book, the kind of book I wish to write, by authors I want to emulate.

These categories include ideas for fabulous first lines, wondrous words, fascinating phrases, compelling characters, sensational settings, odd occupations, tempting tropes (themes), inspired plot ideas, borrowed old plots, and so on. I also scan the media for ideas within and across these categories. I may then adopt a few of these—with my own unique twists—for my own book ideas and promote them to my back burner category. Over time, a few of these will move to my front burner category with some further development (detail). And a few of those will inevitably get promoted to my white hots category. From there, one or two will move to my serious book ideas category. By regularly practicing this methodology, I always have developed ideas marinating. Writer’s block? Not this geriatric kid.

To read more about this methodology, see Writing Your Novel From the Middle by James Scott Bell.

But none of this idea incubation happens without first reading both fiction (my favorite genres) or non-fiction (my favorites are books on the craft of writing). Further, without reading like a writer and adding regularly to my idea factory, I’m not improving as a writer.

So then what? I’ve been reading, taking notes and collecting ideas. Yup. I still gotta write, and like any artistic endeavor, practice makes perfect.

The good news? This is easy. I just write. Anything. A little every day. Editing comes later. If I’m reading and studying the craft of writing (by reading books and articles on all aspects of writing), even a little every day, writing a little every day will make me a better writer.

If you do this, year from now, you will amaze yourself, even if you’re just writing for your own enjoyment, filling journal after journal… there’s gold in them thar journals. OR you’ll be publishing your work in blog posts, articles, or even a novel.

The process IS the journey!

So get ‘er done… or not. But know this. YOU are the captain of your ship: sink, swim, sail, or get stuck in the Suez Canal, skipper! Have fun!


6. My Featured Guest Author

A few years ago, I met Nick Russell in a small online hangout for authors who live, travel and write on the road. I’ve been a fan since. If you’re an avid RV enthusiast, it’s likely you’ve read or heard of Nick’s Gypsy Journal newspaper. Besides his acclaim as a prolific and successful author, I just enjoy the hell out of Nick’s unusual sense of take-no-prisoners humor, especially in his online persona and in his monthly newsletters.

Nick, be a pal. Give us the scoop…


Sure. To date, I’ve authored forty-five books, including my Big Lake mystery series, the John Lee Quarrels series, the two-book Dog’s Run series, and the Tinder Street family saga. I was very fortunate that my first novel, Big Lake, made the New York Times bestseller list.

I come from a cop family. My dad was a deputy sheriff who later became a Border Patrolman. When he retired, he became a city cop in Ohio. I also had two uncles and an older brother who were law enforcement officers.

I joined the Army right after high school and served in Vietnam with the First Cavalry Division, getting myself banged up a couple of times. When I returned stateside and was once again fit for duty, I was a firearms instructor at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point. It was the best job I ever had. I got paid to play with guns all day long. I went to a lot of Army schools and audited classes at West Point. By the time I left the Army I had almost enough credits for a bachelor’s degree.

I was a reserve cop in Ohio until my dad talked me out of law enforcement as a career. He convinced me to pursue my dream of being a writer. I did, but first I spent six years as a criminal investigator with the Arizona Attorney General’s office.

I’m a lifelong lover of books and writing. For most of my working life I ran small-town newspapers on the Pacific Northwest coast and in Arizona. In 1999, my wife Terry and I became full-time RVers, spending the next 18+ years wandering around the country in a motorhome publishing the Gypsy Journal RV travel newspaper.

In October of 2016, we bought a house in central Florida’s east coast, midway between Daytona Beach and Cape Canaveral. We love it and can watch rocket launches from our yard.


Thanks, Nick, for your books, for your wit, for your service in Vietnam and here at home.

Check out his latest book, Fresh Out of Mojo.

Write on, brother!


With pen in hand,

Gene