Newsletter

Newsletter

Big Drop Virgin

Big Drop Virgin

Fifteen minutes of a young surfer’s morning at Mavericks—California’s most brutal break

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(the eternal riddle of) HOW TO SELL BOOKS!

(the eternal riddle of) HOW TO SELL BOOKS!

The Sage of Oxford, William Faulkner, proved that one could become a giant of letters even if only a shrimp of a man. The size of a mind, heart or talent, y’see, just ain’t dependent on physical stature.

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Return To the Scene of My Grind

Return To the Scene of My Grind

You can have Sedona’s supposed vortexes, rumored peaks of holy repute such as Shasta, Mayan pyramidal cenotaphs or Britain’s maze of sacred ley lines… For me, one of earth’s tiptop magical spots shall always be a wee town on California’s coast named Mendocino.

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The Story of a Shell

The Story of a Shell

I come to your Earth of 2023 from a much different world. And that distant planet from which I arrive was Earth back in the 1950s. Okay, right, I’ll admit that doesn’t sound like much of a gap or such a grand span of years.

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Judge This Book by Its Cover

Judge This Book by Its Cover

A book’s cover can open a window into a story. Of course, that view should not be a spoiler. So, a good cover ought to tease every bit as much as it tells.

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Why Do I Write of War?

Why Do I Write of War?

Like the prospect of a gallows, the Russia vs Ukraine war ought to concentrate our thoughts about our response to conflict or bloodshed. It’s certainly invigorated my thinking about my most recent novel, SPLINTER—causing me to analyze my own stance on violence.

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To Open a Door To Survival

To Open a Door To Survival

I pursued entertainments that might be clumped under a heading of “risk sports,” oh, for about four decades of life. Throughout this funfest, I strove to be guided by a clear and abiding principle: Never let my last thought be: yeow, that was dumb!

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On Location, A Well of Vision

On Location, A Well of Vision

Some five years back, I winged o’er the Pond to Norway and swan-dove into research for a new novel, “Splinter.” Yet that span of years now seems nearly non-existent.

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We All Are Constant Comets

We All Are Constant Comets

A bronze statue of author Jack London in a vigorous pose juts up at Jack London Square (well, where else would it be?) in Oakland CA. It bears a plaque that bears a quote from Jack that bears repeating.

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How to Build Your Process

How to Build Your Process

If writers were awarded a nickel every time they were asked, “So, what’s your process?”, they could probably retire to a lovely Greek isle and never need to scribble another line in their lives.

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An Analog Man Logs In

An Analog Man Logs In

My early childhood was haunted by a nightmare in which skin on my body progressively thickened till it turned as dense as crocodile hide. Every sensation then proceeded to disappear—I could no longer feel a thing.

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On All Parades Some Rain Must Fall

On All Parades Some Rain Must Fall

It’s no use trying to divide life into good and bad parts, into the painful and the pleasurable, or—more palpably—into the stuff you prefer to accept versus that other crap which you feel must be shunned at all costs.

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An Open Road is a Blank Slate

An Open Road is a Blank Slate

All clichés about U.S. pavement bard Jack Kerouac aside, chasing life along America’s roadways does provide a fine chance to get some good writing done.

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