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!