I've spent my life trying to do the right thing and fixing it when I don't. "A man must be big enough to admit his mistakes, smart enough to profit from them, and strong enough to correct them." That's John Maxwell.

I’ve contributed to time capsules. I’ve written journal pages that have, on review, made me a lot more gentle on myself. I’ve cranked out many, many love notes I hope my wife keeps. I’ve tried to express myself to my children, so they’ll know their value. In all this writing, I am very conscious of the preservative, time-traveling nature of “putting it in writing.”

From passing notes and writing poems in grade school to writing in my journal and blog, and now writing longer public, published works—it all makes me feel good.

I hope just a few of them leave class for the day listening to the euphony of a word, like diarrhea or mammogram...

Here’s the impetus for this post: I’m standing at the book fair, technically Local Author’s Day, when someone strolls by and asks me what my books are about.

I’ve unwittingly (well, for the most part) been the historian of my own life for my entire life. Every time I’ve crafted a diary or journal entry—and more recently a blog post—I’ve been pinning down a bit of history, even if it’s an internal thought that I, or my great grandkids, might someday review.

What do Harry Houdini and Mason’s Knights Templar have to do with one another? What do they have to do with my science-fiction writing? Get a sneak peek inside my “research.” It’s fun to be me!

Wherein a “pantser” gets his pants in a knot…

Honestly, writing through these things is just as fun as reading books written by someone else.

Then in 2019 I decided I would get something accomplished. I would fulfill a long-time dream, and by the following March, I had written a draft of a hundred thousand word novel!