REPRISE A DEDICATION TO TEACHERS

I write thrillers.

I write about normal, everyday people forced into unlikely situations to overcome personal tragedies: painful divorces, addiction, mid-life crisis...even serial killers.

I have been known to travel to some pretty dark places to provide conflict for these characters.

Just ask SAMI SAXTON, my flawed, anti-heroine in A PERFECT HUSBAND...and soon to be released A PERFECT SETUP.

Readers ask me, "how do I go there?"

I smile.

I was raised in a small town in Ohio.

I was born into a family of women. Probably one of the reasons I gravitate to writing strong female characters. My father was absent. My mother was a single, twice-divorced woman trying to juggle six children on monthly alimony payments -- whether the checks arrived or not. Life was chaotic, unsafe and over-the-top. I was always one-step away from a foster home. My security and sanity was kept, just barely, by several 'angels' in my young life. An unknown woman (to this day, I still have no idea who she was) paid my yearly YMCA membership. I submerged myself in physical activities which kept me away from home and exhausted.

And... the library. There I was, sneaking my precocious, adolescent self past the elderly librarian through the cranky turnstile into the glorious world of adult fiction. Freedom. At last. Until I got caught. With money I earned from my paper route, I joined the Double-Day-Book-Club. Remember when you could buy six books for a penny? The excitement I felt, adrenaline- filled anticipation running home after school, looking forward to that little brown packaged box filled with my personal, private literary choices. To this day it still makes me grin. (Still makes it difficult to read from a Kindle!)

... CATCH-22, MIDNIGHT COWBOY, VALLEY OF THE DOLLS... these were some of the titles I purchased and devoured well before I hit the seventh grade. (Precocious, I did say that!) Those books, among others catapulted me into exotic worlds and make-shift lives where words expressed on paper allowed a portal for my escape. A place to hide where I secretly read, viewed and related to other people's troubles far away from my own.

I was a sensitive boy, inward and not overly confident. I had few friends and even though I was well-liked in school, I was far from popular. My attempts at masculine imitation were futile. I was the one-off, the left-of-center, always trying to find that place to fit in, belong...a home.

I expressed my hidden self, that secretive part of me with words. My voice, full of emotional angst and pubescent longing -- rage -- found a quiet resting place on the page. And, my 10th grade English teacher nurtured that innocent discovery. For whatever reason, she took an interest in my poetry. (I know...poetry?) Her attention to my writing instilled an inner confidence in me, a willingness to continue, a way to move past my fears. An avalanche of emotions gushed forth, an outpouring of feelings experienced -- past, present and future. For once, I was able to represent myself without intimidation or embarrassment or shame. Pain became a metaphor, new but interestingly mysterious and useable.

Through some difficult patches in high school this teacher also became a friend. She allowed me to sign hall passes, forging her name when anxiety grew too great to arrive to school on time, or when the pressures of my seemingly overwhelming life bogged me down to a complete, sloggy hault. There was even a time when a group of us shared pizza at her upstairs, quaint apartment. I remember her nestled, guru style before us, leaning against tie-dyed covered furniture wearing a 60's collared shirt and exhibiting hip! The color was turquoise.

My gratitude will always be to my 10th grade English teacher.

Teachers DO make a difference.

On graduation day, before I left for the Navy, this specific teacher gave me a gift, a book called THE PROPHET by Kahlil Gibran. Inside was a note, now framed in my home. She wrote:

'Doug, you have a definite talent for writing. Your style is simple. This is important because wordiness sometimes conceals all the meaning. Truth does not need embellishment. Life should be simple ~ simply beautiful...'

I will always have a deep appreciation for this teacher. She gave my dream wings... my words flight...

Thank you...to all the teachers who have touched their student's lives in ways they may never know.
Thank you...from the bottom of my heart, PATSY GRIMM, my 10th grade English teacher for always believing in my true, authentic self. But, more importantly my...voice.

My next book, Patsy will be dedicated to you!

Much love,

Douglas

THE AWAKENING

Frequently, I am asked the question, ‘where did you get the title for your debut novel?’ And, my answer is always the same: my agent. A PERFECT HUSBAND was his suggestion and I immediately changed the title. When Sami became a popular fictional character, the prompt came to create a sequel, and naturally, the PERFECT series came into existence. Now, I take the inference far more personal, perfection being an Everest, the Zenith in a never-ending cycle to achieve that critical state and the nose-dive crash into personal suffering that can certainly follow if not performing up to par.

Is failure an option? Was it ever?

 Or, is it part of our societal culture to always be winners? What if we were only average? What if we didn’t stand out? Make a name for ourselves? Be somebody. I have been burdened with the lifelong weight of wanting to be somebody…other than myself. What information chip was inserted into my brain giving me the impression that just being me, was not enough?  Am I the only one?

I no longer blame my mother. Her reckless actions, the tools she used to raise her children were a byproduct of her youth -- turbulent, volatile and full of loss. Nevertheless, the message somehow got through and the process of awakening into my Divine Life has been a constant effort.  There have been times when ‘things fell apart,’ the ground shifted, my security, safety and livelihood was threatened. And, my immediate response – panic! I cannot be perceived as a failure, I can’t look bad. What if somebody hears? Sees? How will I ever live with myself? Precisely. How DID I ever live with myself? At any cost, I protected THE image.

The plot thickens. 

This awakening comes at a major turning point. Chasing personal demons the last eight months has been a testament to my endurance; emotionally, spiritually, mentally and physically. Grappling with the bottom rung of my unsavory behaviors, all the tedious ways I avoided the salty in between -- image versus worthlessness. What a colossal amount of energy that took. The unconscious cycle of my wretched attacks to try harder, get more, be better was a non-stop, monotonous campaign.  The dichotomous nature of my psyche so enmeshed in polar opposite thinking I never had an opportunity to come up for air. Take a breath. The price of losing…far too great. It would be the total and irrevocable loss of me -- whoever that me was. And, the greater question, who was watching anyway?

My investigation into the nooks and crannies of my existence became a quest, my mission. And, the allowance of one small emotion created an avalanche of change: compassion. I began seeing myself compassionately for the first time, which allowed a greater opportunity to see the world more compassionately. Then gratitude slipped into the mix. I began not wanting to numb-out my existence; instead, I wanted to feel my Life more intensely. I wanted to lean into the painful dualities that caused so much of my internal indignation. I allowed myself permission to FAIL. I gave myself a break! I let go! I began not judging myself so harshly by book rankings, the amount of money I made, or how much cash was left in the bank after payday. I began a heartfelt discussion with that needy neurosis that blanketed my Life with vicious self-talk. I opened myself up to a different set of parameters that allowed conversation, and should an attack begin, I could let go, take a deep breath and look leisurely at the big blue sky.

Of course, these cathartic change-of-Life events always happen at a precipice. When the world left behind is of the old, and the newness up front, full of the unknown.  When work is ending and times are unstable and the ground beneath me has a quivering Richter scale lurking…threatening.  Even in this, I feel an AWAKENING. A growing up. A new platform in which to take this last chapter. My journey from hell to this place, this unstable, unsure, unsafe position feels infinitely better than the self-created duality I manifested. I would be lying to say there is no fear – of course, there is – it’s the unknown, but I am optimistic, not nostalgic…in a curious way, reborn. Now, it’s about patience. It’s all working. I will step into this new Life, again, without so much baggage, and what carry-on I do take with me, I can handle. I have such gratitude for this moment.  FREEDOM. This awakening to awareness is a blessing, a feeling of weightlessness – the voice of the child walking toward a horizon looking to the light. THIS IS IN ME!  It’s okay to fail. Fail big, even. For once, it’s okay to be me…TO BE ENOUGH!

Certainly not…perfect!

 

THE END OF A 30 YEAR RELATIONSHIP

Right from the get-go, I was blindsided by the attraction, seduced into a cozy, symbiotic relationship.

The shy, approval-seeking young man with choirboy politeness transformed, magically into a fun, cocksure, sexy bad-boy! Intoxicated by this new, renegade, ‘don’t-give-a-damn’ attitude, I flung myself, at quick-speed velocity into the fire. Several times, throughout the rocky liaison, I pledged separation. On a trial basis. But, the mere thought of saying good-bye sent chills of expectant loss so intense I’d hurry back, dismissing any crazy ideas of parting. My Life developed into a comfortable dependency and denial -- my annoying, arrogant friend – cemented our bond of lifelong togetherness.

Now, after 30 years of faithful, reckless devotion, I am ending my relationship with Alcohol.

The long good-bye accompanies intense sadness and loss. Who am I without my loyal companion, my liquidly soul mate?  The comparison to a lover is provocative yet interestingly accurate. What began as nonchalant flirtation at the age of twenty-six blossomed into a lifelong burdensome secret? Even my marriage, with its untimely ending and ultimate divorce seemed easier to handle. The emotional pain experienced over the loss and separation of a liquid heart far exceeded the damage endured by the abandonment of a beating one. Alcohol was there, available and eager for my affection, offering me that slight rush, that enigmatic ‘click,’ and finally that pistol-ready release into the gallows of uninhibited darkness.

I would never allow myself the privilege of hitting ‘rock bottom,’ as twelve-step programs refer to that identifiable moment when addiction crushes the human spirit making a Life no longer able or willing to continue living in such a wretched state. Nope, not me. I performed my role perfectly. Always. I never lost a job, never arrived late, never lost time at work, never, never, never… admitted my vice and called myself an alcoholic. Me? Heaven’s no. I was above all that.

Was I what ‘they’ refer to as a functioning…one? Probably. My defense mechanisms -- state-of-the- art artillery – buried deep in my structured unconscious guarded the lurking monster. Did I want to admit it? No. Of course not. I teased with it for years, danced like Nureyev around the topic, avoiding all truth and any inevitable confrontation. Instead, I looked forward to that next chilled martini glass, that salty rim of a margarita, knowing the forgetful ‘click’ was only a few icy sips away. Deceptively delicious, indeed.

I scrambled headlong into the arena of my self-destruction. What was left, after the effects of Alcohol wore off was regret, a letdown, loss of integrity, respect and, let’s not forget, shame. Instead of pondering these feelings, I sprinted like a world-class athlete back to its solace. Alone, I could bury myself in its languid grip, wait expectantly for its recognizable take-off, hover dangerously overhead circling for deliverance and then, with reckless abandon, plunge myself into the absent abyss, that surly void where perfection failed to exist. The lack of calculated awareness allowed me a defiant, proud and defensive posture, a cover up to continue the abuse -- a slow-suicidal routine as scheduled and relaxed as drawing an evening bath.

Alcohol had no agenda. I was the taskmaster playing the slots, unable to balance my odds, eager to lose myself in the bells-and-whistle payoff -- I thought -- a win-win situation. I lost, of course. Years later, I realized the odds were never in my favor. Are they ever in self-delusion?

I have been given, by grace, the elegant choice to surrender my need. I am in deep gratitude for this option, this awakening into mindful awareness. As Sami Saxton expressed candidly in A PERFECT HUSBAND:  

“But those days are over. Too much drama, too many lost days, and too many missed opportunities catapulted me into soberness. A shaky sobriety. One, I fight daily. One, I often lose. I’m aware of the symptoms, what sets me off. And I try, like hell, to heed the warning signs.”

I find Sami’s admission honorable. Honest. I too, will fight the good fight for the rest of my Life. I refuse to go back. My path is forward, my direction clear, my intention for the future…to heal.

All in good time. All in good time…

“…the ideal spiritual journey needs the balance of ‘gloriousness’ and ‘wretchedness.’ If it were all glory, just one success after another, we’d get extremely arrogant and be completely out of touch with human suffering. On the other hand, if it were all wretchedness and we never had any insights, and never experienced joy or inspiration, then we’d get so discouraged that we’d give up. So, what’s needed is balance. But as a species, we tend to overemphasize the wretchedness.”

Chogyam Trungpa

10 TRUTHS: A Personal Journey to Gratitude

TRUTH ONE: I have never been a religious person.

Uncle Conrad was a Reverend at the United Church of Christ, a nondescript chapel located at the north end of my small town. At the age of five, my mother sat me down and asked, point blank, “do you want to go to church?”

I answered back, defiantly,  “no!”

There was a reason for her deliberate inquisition.
Routinely, I would un-shackle my wrists from her constrictor grip and run, like a hellcat, up-and-down the carpeted aisle, screaming and giggling and pulling my pants down, reveling in the wave of laughter the congregation awarded me. 
Uncle Conrad prayed for heavenly patience.  His prayers...were answered.

So, on Sunday mornings, my sister’s and I would high-tail it to the living room, jump up on our old, worn davenport and watch, with curious fascination, the tiers of our quaint community promenade themselves down Center Street past our front window. Dressed in their finest wares, they offered themselves, once a week, before their altered God and doled out a healthy dose of allegiance.

TRUTH TWO: I never felt it.

In the Navy – at the naive age of seventeen, while studying medical technology in the frigid, sub-climates of Great Lakes, Illinois, I found baptism. By choice, I enlisted into a reverential pool of Presbyterian devotees. They offered a welcome sense of safety, a feeling of security and a sacred sanctuary of learned devotion. Should I carry through with my quest and follow their mission of trust, our circle of worship would guide me, hand-held into the shallow, cool water of initiation.
I, too, had a chance at redemption.
I, too, could find God.

TRUTH THREE: I never did. Or, quite possibly, God never found me.

I kept waiting for an answer, a feeling, a pulse of recognition. I imagined my God would respond like a warm wave, a tsunami of calm showering serenity over me and my Life like a light dusting of snow, allowing forward advancement in abundance, clarity, unwavering faith, and, of course...lots and lots of self-love.
A ‘happy ending’ was sure to follow. I was certain!

TRUTH FOUR:  It didn’t happen.

With or without my weekly dosage of religious doctrine, my ‘free will’ to make different, more reckless choices took over. And won. My core beliefs, adopted, digested and processed early on from an unstable upbringing had already achieved full download status, perculating in my pre-adolescent, uber-sensitive system.

I was at a spiritual stalemate.  I was running, again, like a hellcat down the carpeted aisles of my past, numbing, quite successfully my present, and focusing, far too much on an unrealistic future, a perfect setup for failure. At that time, it was far more fun abandoning those renegade thoughts than receiving any sort of blessed delivery. Youth is blind to the cachophony of warning signals.

Once again, I found myself in a quandary.

Not only was I battling the conflicted views of my own self worthiness, but now, I was balancing the judgmental badgering of religious dogma, adding additional fuel to the preverbal flame.

           
Good versus Evil.  Sinner versus Saint.  Perfection versus Imperfection. Worthy versus Unworthy.

TRUTH FIVE: I gave up. My attempted profession at sainthood squelched.

TRUTH SIX: God wasn’t answering.

REMEDY: I found therapy.

For years, while living in New York City, I attempted psychoanalysis. It too, proved empty and vague. And expensive. Without the underpinnings of a solid spiritual foundation hovering beneath me like a fall-net, my weekly meetings with Patience, (I know, go figure) my therapist were more about camouflaging my hidden self than engaging in honest, revelatory exposition. It wasn’t until I caught my beloved Patience reading a magazine article during one of my sessions that I confronted her – and quit!  Seven years into it!  Patience IS a virtue!   

TRUTH SEVEN: I guess I didn’t work the program.   

It was a time of wild, inhibition; a wacky, twisted period of reckless empowerment.  I acted out self-destructive behaviors affirmatively in an effort to ‘find myself.’  Honestly, at that time, I’m not even sure I knew my acts of entitlement were destructive. Compulsive? Perhaps.  But they succeeded, brilliantly in anesthetizing my pain, any pain, a growing pain that came from a divided self desperately searching for a light. Did these mind-altering acts serve me? Or, were they merely a path leading me further away from the person I longed to be, get closer to, become better acquainted with?

TRUTH EIGHT: Unfortunately, that time of my Life...lasted far too long.

Then, I was led by accident to an introduction into the magical qualities of gratitude.  

My Life took a strange and familiar hold.

TRUTH NINE:  A different kind of reverent peace embraced me.

No longer did I need.

"Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend."
Melody Beattie

I am in sincere gratitude for this fateful discovery and find reasons daily to offer thanks...

          ~ grateful for my health. I have lived a blessed life without illness.

Gratitude

            ~ grateful for my creative talent. In connecting with my artistic energy, I connect with a higher vibration of Divine creativity.

Gratitude

            ~  grateful for my work. A renewed faith that I will sustain myself and earn a living in the workforce, be it writing or other.

Gratitude

           ~ grateful for cultivating a community of like-minded, imaginative individuals invested in giving back, earning trust, loyalty and experiencing a sense of joyful camaraderie around and about the written word.

Gratitude

            ~ grateful for the opportunity to love and be loved. Lovers, past and present -- for one -- putting up with me. But, more importantly, showing me a mirror of myself. The necessity to grow beyond my human self and see me...through your eyes -- warts and all!

Gratitude

TRUTH TEN:  The most important truth of all. A profound ‘thank you’ to you! Thank you, thank you, thank you! My journey here, today, my path to GRATITUDE would not be complete without you.

Complete and utter GRATITUDE!
LOVE,
Douglas

A DEDICATION TO TEACHERS

I write thrillers.

I write about normal, everyday people forced into unlikely situations to overcome personal tragedies: painful divorces, addiction, mid-life crisis...even serial killers.

I have been known to travel to some pretty dark places to provide conflict for these characters.

Just ask SAMI SAXTON, my flawed, anti-heroine in A PERFECT HUSBAND...and soon to be released A PERFECT SETUP.

Readers ask me, "how do I go there?"

I smile.

I was raised in a small town in Ohio.

I was born into a family of women. Probably one of the reasons I gravitate to writing strong female characters. My father was absent. My mother was a single, twice-divorced woman trying to juggle six children on monthly alimony payments -- whether the checks arrived or not. Life was chaotic, unsafe and over-the-top. I was always one-step away from a foster home. My security and sanity was kept, just barely, by several 'angels' in my young life. An unknown woman (to this day, I still have no idea who she was) paid my yearly YMCA membership. I submerged myself in physical activities which kept me away from home and exhausted.

And... the library. There I was, sneaking my precocious, adolescent self past the elderly librarian through the cranky turnstile into the glorious world of adult fiction. Freedom. At last. Until I got caught. With money I earned from my paper route, I joined the Double-Day-Book-Club.  Remember when you could buy six books for a penny? The excitement I felt, adrenaline- filled anticipation running home after school, looking forward to that little brown packaged box filled with my personal, private literary choices. To this day it still makes me grin. (Still makes it difficult to read from a Kindle!)

... CATCH-22, MIDNIGHT COWBOY, VALLEY OF THE DOLLS... these were some of the titles I purchased and devoured well before I hit the seventh grade. (Precocious, I did say that!) Those books, among others catapulted me into exotic worlds and make-shift lives where words expressed on paper allowed a portal for my escape. A place to hide where I secretly read, viewed and related to other people's troubles far away from my own.

I was a sensitive boy, inward and not overly confident. I had few friends and even though I was well-liked in school, I was far from popular. My attempts at masculine imitation were futile. I was the one-off, the left-of-center, always trying to find that place to fit in, belong...a home.

I expressed my hidden self, that secretive part of me with words. My voice, full of emotional angst and pubescent longing -- rage -- found a quiet resting place on the page. And, my 10th grade English teacher nurtured that innocent discovery. For whatever reason, she took an interest in my poetry. (I know...poetry?) Her attention to my writing instilled an inner confidence in me, a willingness to continue, a way to move past my fears. An avalanche of emotions gushed forth, an outpouring of feelings experienced -- past, present and future. For once, I was able to represent myself without intimidation or embarrassment or shame. Pain became a metaphor, new but interestingly mysterious and useable.

Through some difficult patches in high school this teacher also became a friend. She allowed me to sign hall passes, forging her name when anxiety grew too great to arrive to school on time, or when the pressures of my seemingly overwhelming life bogged me down to a complete, sloggy hault. There was even a time when a group of us shared pizza at her upstairs, quaint apartment. I remember her nestled, guru style before us, leaning against tie-dyed covered furniture wearing a 60's collared shirt and exhibiting hip! The color was turquoise.

My gratitude will always be to my 10th grade English teacher.

Teachers DO make a difference.

On graduation day, before I left for the Navy, this specific teacher gave me a gift, a book called THE PROPHET by Kahlil Gibran. Inside was a note, now framed in my home. She wrote:
       
'Doug, you have a definite talent for writing. Your style is simple. This is important because wordiness sometimes conceals all the meaning. Truth does not need embellishment. Life should be simple ~ simply beautiful...'

I will always have a deep appreciation for this teacher. She gave my dream wings... my words flight...

Thank you...to all the teachers who have touched their student's lives in ways they may never know.
Thank you...from the bottom of my heart, PATSY GRIMM,  my 10th grade English teacher for always believing in my true, authentic self. But, more importantly my...voice.

My next book, Patsy will be dedicated to you!

Much love,

Douglas

ENCOUNTER REWRITE 367 of 462 pages CONFIDENCE in writing!

I believe in destiny! I live my life as though there is a Divine purpose for me on this planet. And, I also realize there has only been one person who really stood in the way of me accomplishing my mission/purpose/destiny...and that was ME! Sure, I could blame it all on  (hate that word) my upbringing, but at a certain point in order to become mature with my accomplishments as well as my failures I needed to add that word...accountability. I had to take some responsibility. I am enjoying the success of A PERFECT HUSBAND now! That novel was written in 2005. It went through many stages before it was published - and during those arduous years...rejection was a common thread. To an artist becomming...rejection is a four-letter word. But, it gave my days fuel, fire, my purpose intent on proving myself right, victorious, a champion. And, it also drained my soul...affirming myself over-and-over again was, to say the least, depleting, all consuming and without the proper support--downright anquish. But I quelled my feelings...isn't this what artistry is all about for God's sake?  My mother used to say -- 'make sure you have something to fall back on.' The curse of an artist. How many years would it take for me to banish those words? How many people would I project her disapproval on in order to 'show them?' How many relationships, jobs, friendships would I manifest an opportunity to prove 'them' wrong? That insecurity, I beleive, kept me unpublished and angry. The spiral of rejection I encountered was a familiar ringtone, a comfortable worn sweater I was used to. But, it really had NOTHING to do with my writing, my art, my talent. My words always had prose, style, insight and power...sensitivity. The question was how to use those gifts with confidence rather than as a portal for healing. Or, better yet, how to unite those unique qualities and create aknew?  Maturity in writing awarded me an inward confidence. I do the work now for me. I have good days and bad. But, I persevere. I have a better understanding of my strengths as well as my weaknesses, my limitations. I am willing to be open to critique without allowing my buttons to be pushed or squashed. Sure, who doesn't want to hear 'the pages are sublime' each time a submission is sent out. It's innate, it's part of the reason we give our voice in words for flight. But, it doesn't hinder my process or my love of it.  And, I must admit, getting published has given me a gateway of self reliance I value. Like stepping over a threshhold from one side -- to the other.
Keep writing...keep creating!
Douglas

ENCOUNTER REWRITE pg. 327 of 462 Maturity in writing!

There came a moment while doing the rewrite on ENCOUNTER when I realized this rewrite was NOT the last rewrite. It was hubris. Folly! Of course, I knew I would be taking several more passes at the manuscript before freezing it, sending it to an editor for corrections and then sending the manuscript (sorry, WORD DOC) to my agent. BUT, there was that little bit of magical thinking, that tiny voice that prevailed. I don't know about you, but I am -- hands down --  into instant gratification. This personality trait gets me into trouble. That and the magical thinking part can catapult me into a heap of pain, quickly. It's been a difficult process for me to learn how to nuture my writing, take my time, cultivate the words, reread the sentences... find the poetry... the characters. I am always so eager for approval, attention and... love that I forget my adult professionalism. I forget I am an adult! I suppose the difference is maturity. Maturity has allowed me the benefits of sustaining the pleasurable aspects of my writing while using DISCIPLINE to ground me. I know I have work to do, so I do it. Whereas, before my petulant little boy wanted to stomp my feet and be done with it...now I linger... There is a long road to travel before ENCOUNTER is ready for eyes to read... But, I see this as a positive. It means my Life has developed, matured, and grown into an adult artist versus the child showoff constantly wanting positive feedback and admiration. Let me know if this is true for you??? I enjoy the feedback.
Keep writing... keep creating!
Douglas

ENCOUNTER REWRITE pg. 273 or 459

The daily rewrite goes well. The pages I read aloud until my throat gets hoarse. My focus the last couple of days has been on the sales of A Perfect Husband. My concern, now, having created some buzz with good reviews and a positive Kirkus is having the correct platform to lead traffic to my book and then, once there, securing the purchase. Not having a traditional publisher, my brand name has to be focused on daily. Three times a day, in fact.  (And, I understand even authors signed to traditional publishers must maintain their brand...themselves.) But, the platform is there for them. There is a clout associated with being an author signed to a major publishing house. I have no problem paying 25 dollars for a hardback book, or an eBook for half that price if the author is a brand name. Even new authors building their brand, which I read constantly, I pay top dollar for. The BRAND/AUTHOR is publicized by being with the publisher. The publisher is the BRAND. Their books get spotlighted on AMAZON, or BARNES & NOBLE. Their books receive advance praise from notable magazines, periodicals and literary columns that drive advance sales. Their books get put on shelves in a multitude of bookstores (what's left of them, anyway) across the country. My novel is that in between book... I'm not really competing with those books, yet, but I am competing for sales with the self published. Those strong, resilient writers who, by choice are leaving the competitive waters of publishing and doing it for themselves. And...winning at the game. More and more independent writers are ending up on the New York Times bestseller list because of their endurance and tenacity. And most for less than a buck! My book sells for $4.99. What a steal? Right? Until you notice most of the books being read and BOUGHT in my genre are selling for less than $2.99. Some for as low as a dollar. Some... FREE!!! So, I build my BRAND the slow way, building relationships with each blog writer, each reader and anybody who will follow me on TWEETER.
FOLLOW ME... PLEASE.
AND RT!
Keep writing and keep creating!
 

A TRIBUTE TO 'A PERFECT HUSBAND'

Thank you for all the wonderful reviews and support!! I wanted to give back to those who have read, those currently reading... and hopefully those who will read and attract some new fans! SAMI SAXTON is kicking BUTT! Here's a what everybody's saying!

5.0 out of 5 stars Titillating Thriller!, February 8, 2012

5.0 out of 5 stars Couldn't put it down!, February 2, 2012

5.0 out of 5 stars A GREAT READ!!!, February 1, 2012

5.0 out of 5 stars Amazing Book, January 31, 2012

5.0 out of 5 stars This book is more than a page-turner!, February 21, 2012

5.0 out of 5 stars What a great read!, February 13, 2012

5.0 out of 5 stars Preview Captivated Me, February 12, 2012

5.0 out of 5 stars A PSYCHOLOGICAL THRILLER, February 10, 2012

5.0 out of 5 stars It's fantastic! Really a great read!, February 9, 2012

Thank you all.

xoox

Douglas

ON THE BRINK OF... SOMETHING...

I sit in wonder and in immense gratitude for the various reviews coming in on A Perfect Husband, my debut novel introducing Sami Saxton to the reading community. So far the response has been unanimous... you don't need to have a tattoo,  a dragon on your back, a motorcycle in the garage or the ability to speak 22 different languages in 22 different countries... Sami Saxton is real, she's human, she is one of us and she's ready to 'kick ass' (with her dog Blue, of course) by her own two hands, her amazing ingenuity and gut instinct. That is exactly how I write. Gut! I don't want the fancy gimmicks, the exotic locations or a back story that differs so much more than what you and I have been through. ENOUGH! But, along with the hype and acclaim for APH there is the other side. I never gave up on my dream. Although few people knew about it, a quiet confidence prevailed. I worked at it...
And, now I feel a despair for those left behind. Is it NOT enough for me to swim in the hope pond. It is NOT enough for me to congratulate fellow swimmers treading water in that pond. It is NOT enough for me to wade out of the frozen water and look back, want support and then have them turn their back. It was easier then, it was easier there... it was easier in the numb waters of hopeful want... but it was NOT for me...
keep writing... keep creating...
It is all in YOU!

ENCOUNTER the new thriller by Douglas Wickard

You know him...
you've known him.
You met him in college... you were sweethearts, lovers... remember?
He wasn't your first...
But you vowed he'd be your last.
For over fifteen years you've been married to him...
had children by him...
created a life together with him...
Then...
he takes a business trip.
Not unusual for his profession... a normal occurrence.
Problem is...
he doesn't return...
EVER!


*  *  *

San Francisco
2010
Five men.
All mysteriously disappear.
No clues...
no ransom notes...
no bodies...
Vanished... without a trace.
ENCOUNTER
Are you available tonight... for a thriller?


copyright douglaswickardbooks.com
check out A PERFECT HUSBAND anywhere ebooks are sold

CHARACTERIZATION!

The portrayal; description: the actor's characterization of a (Oh, Geez, really?) a politician. The act of characterizing! The creation and convincing representation of fictitious characters. I drove to the beach today, one to get my tail light fixed, and to have lunch at Hillstone on Wilshire. I LOVE the beach and today was stellar. Tranquil, calm, inviting... on my way back, negotiating the frenzied gridlock of Pico Blvd., I thought about characterization and how much easier it is for me to write female characters... than male. WOW!!! That took the testosterone titers to an all-time LOW level! Here I am, obviously a male and my writing comes easier when I'm working with a female protagonist. I can inject the muscle, the sensitivity, the flirtation without a hitch. Men, on the other hand... I push, shove and squeeze any semblance of masculine order... and when I rewrite the material... it feels that way. It is that way. Tonight I had the great surprise of having a review on GOODREADS where JENN (thank you) from Canada states the exact same thing. She felt uncomfortable that a MALE was writing the female protagonist (in first person no less) from A PERFECT HUSBAND, and then she congratulated me. I made a WOMAN believe the feelings of a disenfranchised, bitter divorce believable. CHARACTERIZATION! But, more than that... I honestly could feel those feelings. I wasn't making it up... fictionalizing! So, what does that make me??? God only knows! Keep writing... keep finding YOU in YOUR writing and obviously... keep creating!!!
Good night!

SOLITUDE... ENCOUNTER rewrite, page 128...

I am a victim of structure. I work better when challenged, multitasking, under pressure, working within a deadline, bringing calm where once chaos played havoc. Ask me to perform, I will gladly be your circus seal, ready to jump through hoops of any height, shape or size... just don't forget to praise me. My life up till now has been a living testament to the subtle nuances (that word, again) of this rigid, strict, relentless program. Ask Sami Saxton, my strong and resilient female protagonist in A Perfect Husband. Now, I face a different conundrum. (THAT work, again!) I am relaxing into my unstructured Life. It is taking some adjustment. I am not used to having the freedom of time, constantly cramming in my two hours of writing each morning before rushing to the gym or my walk or to a job that demands I marry it! And rightly so, I performed my seal tricks well! From where there was once NO time... suddenly there is ONLY time. I catch myself checking my cell phone. A nervous tick. I look for messages, a life vest from the outside that there is a world out there besides me, my characters... and me. I am finding the slippery world of solitude, and in discovering it... rediscovering ME!!!
Keep writing... keep creating!

NUANCE

I am grateful I choose to continually learn from the Masters. Writing is a solitary art, no doubt about it! The hours spent alone within the four walls of my mind can be illuminating, shocking, devastating and downright self-destructive. (let's hope I don't take the last one too far!) The dictionary states the definition of NUANCE as: a subtle difference in or shade of meaning, expression, or sound.  To me, nuance is that pulse, that beat, that slice out of REAL life that takes the reader literally off the page and slaps them smack into another reality, allowing them to suspend belief enough that they are actually reading words, sentences, paragraphs on a page, but so very far away for the written page. I love that feeling, that aha moment! I'm there, right there, with that character, breathing the air, smelling the Chinese take out, eating the leftover turkey from Thanksgiving, burying the dead. And, in order to do this there has got to be the GIFT, a GIFT of nuance! And, as readers you know the difference when you're reading masters versus amateurs... and unfortunately, I put myself into the latter category more times than not. BUT, I am learning. I am passionate, I am driven and I understand the process. The question is... do I have that edge? That intelligence, bordering on genius where every second. every character, every detail is turned up to that pitch. I hope so... nuance!
Keep writing... keep creating!
Some (a few... since I read voraciously everybody) writers who I feel have that GIFT!
Susanna Moore
Bret Easton Ellis
Jonathan Franzen
Bradford Morrow
Stephen King
Adam Ross
Donald Ray Pollock
Like I said... a few!

The WRITER'S WALL

In the frantic pace of building an online brand -- since the surprise launch of A Perfect Husband last Tuesday -- I've been consumed with the daily chores, seriously... chores of keeping up with my Twitter account, my Facebook page and all the other components of 'social media' that make for a world-class, well-traveled current online writer trying to create a career in this new-fangled business called publishing... digitally. Do any of us actually know? Really? We write the best stories we can... we pray to the god's of fiction that the 'people,' the real readers out there, the ones who actually pay cash and download our books will read them and then actually take the time to write a blessed review that is positive... 5 STAR POSITIVE! Enough to encourage other readers to take the plunge and follow suit. I thank the writer's god... (if there is one) that I received one such review today, as well as a wonderful email from my agent in New York regarding a European sub-agent he uses for foreign rights and Hollywood and movies. Oh, it is all so provocative... exciting and exasperating... all at the same time! Anyway, what I really wanted to blog about today was the writer's wall. That dubious space away from all the so-called glamour of reviews, sales and movies and back to the essentials... writing! When I'm actually at my computer in pajamas, up early, smelling rank, two cups of hard, black coffee digesting in my gut and wondering why am I doing this? The writing sucks, the words stink, everything is the pits! I carry an ongoing mental discussion with myself over syntax. Syntax??? I read a multitude of novels, weekly, that read far better, are exquisitely written, the poetry of language perfect, pure music. And then, I spend two days on one chapter of Encounter. An exhausting 10 hours on 13 pages. The rewrite that I so clearly outlined, dedicated, made careless marks on my calendar to schedule two chapters a day to...ONLY! Ahhhhh the trials of the dreaded rewrite. Gone is the chase for a story, the quick daily pace of continuity and action. Now, the whole story's there, looking up at me in numbers highlighted at the bottom of the page... waiting... teasing me to 'make it all better!' I KNOW the damn story... all I'm supposed to do at this point is clean it up. But, I look at the clock, well before 6 AM. I feel  my ass hard against the wood seat, the computer blaring at me post-sunrise waiting for answers... Today, the writer's light stay's off. For some reason, I don't have the energy to deal with my characters. I don't have the compassion, the warmth. I take the day off. I grab a martini at Gulf Stream in Century City and some lunch and read a classic: Susanna Moore's 'In the Cut.' Susanna got it all right! A better day is ahead of me.
Yesterday, the compassion came back... the gratitude of my Life, what I'm allowed to do as a profession, the joy of the written word. A writer's life, the creative pit falls of living it and the roller coaster of the artist's wall! Yes... yes... yes... at least it's honest!
Keep writing... keep creating!  

AMAZON.COM HEATS UP!!!

A Perfect Husband went from being listed at #42 on Tuesday, (launch day) to #39 yesterday and I'm pleased to report this morning my book has generated enough heat to go all the way to #14. Thank you for all the support. I'm looking for #1!!
Keep writing... keep creating!

Page 63... ENCOUNTER

Okay, so I'm at the beginning of my rewrite on Encounter... page 63 to be precise... enough celebrating! I have found in order to be at my best, 100% effective when I sit down at my computer I cannot have a freaking HANGOVER!!! Which, unfortunately I woke with on Wednesday morning after far too much celebrating on Tuesday after the initial launch of A Perfect Husband. Ouch! I'm an early riser, sometimes before 5 AM so it doesn't work for me to be in bed past 8. I feel my entire day is shot. Today I felt better. I woke with a full agenda. I got busy on the rewrite by 7:30 AM and when I looked at the clock it was already 1:30 PM. What??? Where did the time go? It flew by so quickly I had to drop everything, jump in the shower, do a quick pit-stop at El Compadre for some late lunch then meet up with a PR person at Coffee Bean on Sunset for some media work on APH. Somebody said, I don't know who... I'll paraphrase the gist of it 'if you're passionate about the work you do, you won't notice the passage of time...' I am so grateful to have finally found that space!
Keep writing... keep creating!

A PERFECT HUSBAND goes LIVE!

WOW! What an accomplishment? You can find my just published novel, A Perfect Husband on any online, Ebook search engine. Whoo hoo!!!  I just checked amazon and it's there. Ready to be bought!!! I have friends in London who just contacted me, they've already downloaded their copy and are tweeting to their friends tomorrow! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I don't want to be too ingratiating... but, the support is wonderful and obviously as a new writer launching my brand... very much needed. And necessary. If you do download the book and take a day or two to actually read it... please write a review!! The word of mouth is invaluable. Again, thank you and as I always say... keep creating... keep writing!!!

 

E-books, Kindle and the romantic association with a hard cover book!

Yesterday, after a full day of rewriting I rewarded myself with lunch at one of my favorite spots, GULF STREAM in Century City. It is true that Houston's, or should I say Hillstone's closed quite a while ago, which left a deep loss in my gut. I was forlorn and melancholy, a huge loss since I would go to the mall during the week (weekends are the pits for parking) and have a leisurely lunch at Houston's then go see a movie, or visa versa... anyway, after a wonderful lunch at Gulf Stream I headed to the Landmark Cinemas at Pico and Westwood to watch La Bella. Unfortunately, it wasn't playing so I thought I'd go to Barnes & Noble to stall some time, peruse some books... CLOSED!! What??? There was a feeling of... okay... Douglas you're an author, a writer, an E-book person, why does this affect you so strongly?  And, I guess it's the 'old school' in me. That hard back edition is the coveted book for me. Soon, there  won't be bookstores selling books anywhere. Then I'll consider myself fortunate for beginning my writing career in E-book publishing. I am truly sorry about B&N closing. I loved that store. Now, where do I go? I recently bought a Kindle in Portland (no tax, 20% off at Office Depot). Anyway, I, who thought I would never appreciate nothing except a HARD back lopped on my lap have converted. I LOVE IT!! I am currently reading STATE OF WONDER by Ann Pratchet and the book is, undoubtedly beautiful in its writing and context, but above all else, it is there, in front of me, in a font I chose, ready when I am... sort of plug and play. By the way, due to all the closures of big, conglomerate bookstores, Miss Patchet is opening her own bookstore... Yes. I love that. Anyway, i can't advocate the graces of technology any longer. Do yourself a favor, go out and grab yourself a Kindle, a Nook, an IPAD and see what I'm writing about. Let me know. Otherwise... it's your life... keep writing, keep creating!

COVER ART

I spent my Sunday in Palm Springs, a pleasant retreat from the cold, snowy weather I'd encountered last weekend in Portland. I enjoyed lazy time with my adopted family, rested by their pool, took a nap in the afternoon sunshine and relaxed. Returning home late last evening, I checked my emails (an unnerving, neurotic habit I acquired from my past work position) and received a message from my publisher with new cover art attached. Of course, I immediately opened it! And, instantaneously, I knew the new art was the right fit. While doing the edits on A Perfect Husband, I realized my book wasn't the grisly, hacker, serial killer thriller of that genre, but more, a coming of age story about my main character, Sami. The new cover represented that... a bit literary with an intriguing title. Hopefully, buyers will be interested enough to enter into the world of Sami Saxton and discover the small township of Montague, New Jersey and be swept up in an absorbing mystery. A 'cozy thriller' as I like to call it. Whew! Now, I must ramble a bit about my existence as a full time writer. I LOVE IT! My days whiz by, the hours fly. I start early, most mornings by 6 AM and by the time I look at the clock it's already 2 in the afternoon. It's a daily agenda. I write every day. There is NO exception. Doing the rewrites on Encounter has taught me the arduous task of rewriting. When I began the novel in September I wrote everyday, a chapter each morning, no matter what. The pages got printed after each session and were deposited into a white, cardboard box. I would watch the pages materialize, the stack getting wider, the fold growing. It fueled the process. Some days I would create two pages, other days, ten. It didn't matter. I went to the end, printed them out, and then left the computer. Now, the pages take time. Last Thursday, I spent six hours on four pages. And, when I went back to it on Friday morning, I worked on the same pages another two hours. Even today, I read aloud the opening chapter and made slight adjustments, changes. So, the lesson in this... REWRITES take time. Give yourself the JOY of living your dream. Don't hurry the creative process. Nurture it! Finally, I can take the time I need to realize the words, my words, my characters, the coming together of plots, action and setting without the hurried glances at clocks, places to be, somewhere to go with people expecting me on time and in uniform... Ahhh!
Keep writing... keep creating!!

I attached the cover art page to A Perfect Husband. I would love some constructive feedback!

Artist's Conundrum

Today, I began the rewrite on ENCOUNTER. I am excited, withdrawn, perplexed and apprehensive... the artist's roller coaster, as I've called it, can be so fickle. I was up at 4:30 AM, drank strong coffee, read the NY Times, then took to the pages. Some days... I am the Viking warrior; confident, stoic, self-congratulatory... a gladiator, and then other days... I am depressed, confused, my work sucks, I can't find the words to describe... why am I a writer anyway? Then, something wonderful happens... an omen, a pleasant word, a  nice review... I sit back, take a breath and continue. It's only a rewrite for God's sake! Not the final edit, which I've now accomplished on my first novel. Still, the CHOICES linger... the career I've used to subsidize me, or, the career I have genuine passion for. Why did it take so long to make these stoic, confident, self-congratulatory choices? Why?  I sit in wonder at the artist's conundrum... I sit in wonder at where it all comes from... where it all came... and how I've become such an amazing transcriber of the WONDER.
Keep writing... keep creating!

Escapism

Today, I finished reading the first draft of ENCOUNTER. As I walked along the manicured lawns of Hancock Park, I thought about theme, the central subject that resonated in the work. It wasn't a surprise. I had come upon it while immersed in writing the first draft months ago. In fact, at that point, I celebrated! It gave the novel a foundation, a dramatic pulse, a sturdy fuel. At the core of my characters was a truth... each one was acting out their lives in escapism, distraction, compulsion and/or addiction. Whether it was lovely Rhonda from Chicago, dutifully devoted to her pristine life with children and husband, or Master D., the body builder gym rat using steroids and narcotics to dull the roar from his past, or the splintering of a personality to such a breaking point that a psychopathic killer was unleashed upon the City of San Francisco... it became their painful truth. And I, the ready recorder of it! ENCOUNTER!
Cover art from A PERFECT HUSBAND arrived yesterday. I sent my suggestions back to the publisher... it feels as if the book will be launched soon. Fingers crossed!
Keep writing... keep creating!

THE REWRITE!

Back from a relaxing weekend in Portland, catching up with friends, enjoying (kind of) the cold, wet winter of the Pacific Northeast! Ah, the Alpine's... then back to Southern California for a wonderful, relaxing day in Santa Monica at a spa overlooking the ocean. My post birthday treat to myself. Today, up early, a bit apprehensive at the looming job ahead of me. A large, white box filled with 423 pages of manuscript sits at the base of my desk. It has sat there for almost a month now, awaiting my return. The rewrite!  Now, the work begins. First, a quick read through. Not one to read the pages as I write, I tend to be a 'go to the end' sort of storyteller. I want to keep the pace, continuity of character and follow my hunches as I amble steadfastly toward the denouement. Afterwards, I go through the manuscript with a fine toothed comb, adding the 'magic,' as I call it. So, today I started reading, aloud, the words, the pages, the story. After reading 128 pages, I decided to go on my walk. I am ecstatic. The book has a strong start. Of course, there will be changes, development, additions. But all-n-all, it WORKS. Details come to mind as I walk. Minute observations that will be added when I go back to the computer. Today, I celebrate. It makes me look forward to tomorrow...
Keep writing... keep creating!

BIRTHDAY WISHES!!!

Taking some long deserved time off and running to Portland, Oregon for my birthday weekend. New City, new experiences... who knows... a new book may blossom!! Everything is a possibility!!! Keep creating! XO

A PERFECT HUSBAND complete

Daunting! The task before me! A novel, my novel needing final author's approval. The tedious, meticulous detail, reading it aloud, finding the poetry in the written words. DONE! Final edited version sent today!  Here's to writing. Here's to creativity. Here's to friends who support the artist way! Keep creating! Cheers!

COVER ART PAGE

I received a questionnaire from my publisher today regarding the cover art for my soon to be published novel... A PERFECT HUSBAND!  Do I need to say, YELL... HOLLA... how ecstatic I was??? I've been registering my emotions after exiting my position at a prominent hotel in the City, questioning the structure in my Life, how important the day-to-day jostling of hours and creative time kept me focused, alert... working! Not that I don't work now, I do. In fact today I logged anther twenty chapters, on my way to sending the completed edit back tomorrow... BUT, I have never known a Life without work, a Life without balance, a Life without STRUCTURE...I thought my existence would be different with out the boundaries of a ten hour work day... surprise!!! It will take some time to adjust. I AM READY!!!  Peace! Love! Keep creating!

A PERFECT HUSBAND edit

Just finished my first read through of the edited manuscript A PERFECT HUSBAND. Subtle changes, here and there, but, WOW the book works! It's an amazing feeling to read my work again, with so much time in between, almost a year to the date that I sent my completed draft to my agent for submission. Every thing feels fresh, the characters, like old friends, jump from the page welcoming me back. The small county of Montague, New Jersey with its rolling vistas and winding tributaries, a sanctuary. It kidnapped me back, relishing the months of research I did for accuracy. Now, the real work begins. I will go through the novel again, combing for detail, reading aloud the passages, making corrections where needed. I must admit, I'm loving the process!!!

BITTERSWEET DAY

There came a moment, months ago, when I fully STEPPED into my life; independent of worry, without the FEAR, abandoning the languished history of my family's bankrupt plot. Somehow, in this new found autonomy, in this rediscovered land, I felt protected... by a fragile thread, delicate and worn, weary of all the baggage I had stowed for far too long on shoulders not meant to carry. Then came grace. The acceptance of who I am and where I know I must go. Warrior words. Spoken bravely before the summit of this journey! WATCH WHAT HAPPENS NOW!!!
2012!!

REWRITES!

Just received my post-edited version of A PERFECT HUSBAND from my publisher. So, I will be taking some time to go through the proof and make corrections as necessary. Also, while reading this week my pile of research novels as well as others, I happened upon a book by Bradford Morrow titled The Uninnocent. I read a review in the New York Times Book Review a few weeks ago and went out and grabbed a copy. WOW!!! If you really want to read dark, lush, provocative prose directed toward damaged, bruised people, who might quite possibly live next door to you... this one is for you AND one hell of a book. I had several ah-ah moments while reading. You know, the times you just shake your head and are grateful for artists who really know how to draw their sword and create magical, toxic  worlds. Hats off, Bradford. I will be reading everything you scribble. And taking notes... for tonight... good night!

Walker's Blog: HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Walker's Blog: HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!: May 2012 be a successful one!!! Keep writing!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

May 2012 be a successful one!!! Keep writing!