Remembering Those Who Inspired

June 8, 2015

I’ve been working hard re-writing and polishing my fourth novel, Barkerton. Trying to balance that with blogging and getting on Twitter, and...well...failing. Yesterday, however, I was given pause to think and reflect. It was four years ago, June 7th, that my Father passed away. I know they say time heals all wounds, but no matter how much I appear to be coping, his loss, and that of my Mother still hits me hard.

My Mom has been gone for eleven years now. It was a loss that struck me to the core of my being; I had a great relationship with my Mom, and she provided a voice and guidance that I could turn to when life became complicated – or just when I wanted someone to talk to. If your Mom is still around, do not underestimate the value of being able to pick up the phone and call her; for me, it is now just a dream.

My Mother dedicated herself to raising her kids, and gave her all to us. Now that I look back, I honestly believe she was a frustrated writer; it was my Mother that instilled a love of reading and writing in me. She wrote well, and I can’t help but wonder what she would have written if she’d actually nurtured her talent. Instead she nurtured my talent. I believe she sacrificed her dreams, to give me my dream; she set me on the path, that has now developed into novel writing, and that is a gift I am unable to truly thank her for, as I’ve realized all of this only after her passing.

Dad, well, Dad was a presence; he was a giant of a man with a good heart. He never failed to help others, and did so because he really truly cared. Dad wasn’t an avid reader of books, but he consumed newspapers on a daily basis, as well as magazines devoted to history. In his own way, he was a well-read and intelligent man. What he gave me is whatever strength of character I currently have. He showed me what it was to be a good human being, and while I know I’ll never completely measure up to him, by making me strive to do so, he has made me a better man. My Dad and I were close, and his passing still haunts me to this day. You see, when Mom became sick with cancer, Dad was her main caretaker, and it wasn’t until that wretched disease afflicted him, and my wife and I became his main caretaker, that I realized all he had done for her and all he had gone through – with grace, dignity and no complaints.

Don’t get me wrong, my parents were not perfect, but from what I do know, in being born as their son, I did win a biological lottery. So much of whom and what they were, makes me who and what I am today. I believe that is reflected in my writing and my ability to have become a writer.

I miss them.

Distractions – But the Right Distraction

It's been a while since I've posted to my marketing diary-blog, and while I have been focusing on marketing, fine-tuning what I all ready have online, and looking for new places to create profiles and mention my books, I have also been distracted.

Over two decades ago, I had the idea for a novel – a horror novel to be exact. I wanted to write about racism, but wanted to do it in a creative way. My mind took me to the undead zombies. I decided to write a novel in which the undead, who become reanimated, are not out to kill and eat the living, but are troubled souls who suddenly find themselves trapped in their old, inferior and decayed bodies. The living, having experienced movies about zombies, figures the undead are like they're depicted in them. Because nobody takes the time to communicate, but instead fear one another, or hate one another because of their differences, violence eventually breaks out between the two groups.

When I first started writing this, zombie novels and entertainment was limited; as I attempt to finish the novel, entitled Barkerton (named in tribute to horror writer Clive Barker), I'll look like I'm jumping on an all ready well worn bandwagon. That I don't mind so much. A good story is a good story and will either entertain or not. I'm willing to let it stand on its own.

Barkerton, with its vast scope was the novel that led me to believe I couldn't write novels. I soon turned to screenplays, and became an expert in that medium. Over the years, Barkerton has been my White Whale.

Having written, Tripping on Tears, The Merry Pranked and The Marquis Mark, three books I’m proud of, I finally decided Barkerton was due to be finished. I did all ready have 90,000 words written and was close to the finish after all, and over the years had re-written and polished what I had written, but just couldn't finish it nonetheless.

As I continue promoting my thriller, The Marquis Mark (pre-ordering on Amazon-Kindle and due out on June 7th) and the other books, inspiration for Barkerton has finally arrived; not because I sat down and waited, but because I just began writing, hoping that inspiration would find me; it has. Barkerton isn't finished just yet, but it's very close; and this time I will succeed. I've proven I can write books, and it's time to wipe away that 20-year-plus fear that has stayed my hand in the medium of novels thanks to Barkerton.

Barkerton is definitely a distraction, but one worth indulging, because even though I have written three novels, it is the fear I must finally conquer.