Seventh Earth

Day 9

2011-10-03T16:43:00.000-05:00

I'm not alone.

Day 8

2011-03-29T20:20:00.004-05:00

It's May seventeenth. I know this because the clock on the wall in the 7-11 said it was. This fact was also confirmed by the date on the watch I found hunting through the sporting goods store today. That means it's already been eight days. It's hard to believe it's been three days since I crawled out of the rubble of the Vera-Cross building. It seems that when it collapsed it didn't just fall in on itself like you see on TV. I suspect if it had, I wouldn't be here right now, wouldn't be laying on a therapeutic bed in someone's empty uptown apartment writing in my notebook under the dim light of two candles that smell of sugar cookies and pumpkin bread. No, I would have ended up a quickly forgotten red stain on the floor of what used to be a custodial closet, just another one of the hundreds of thousands.

The shock is beginning to wear-off and I'm starting to realize that there is no waking from this nightmare. Earlier today, as the sun was beginning to set and the evening rays were streaming through the countless columns of smoke, reflecting a kaleidoscope of light onto the piles of rubble, it hit me. It finally hit me that this is my new life, this desolation is my new reality. I had to sit down as a wave of emotions swallowed me bringing a toxic mixture of tears and nausea. I thought I was going to throw-up and pass-out at the same time. It was regrettably painful like an unexpected punch in the gut, but at least I was finally feeling something. It was the release from the numbness that I needed, a cleansing of sorts and the crossing of a gate that stood between two very different worlds. I realized then that it was time for me to say goodbye to the old and accept the new, no matter how bad it may be.

After searching for the last two days I have come to the conclusion that there is no one left in the city, at least no one left alive. I haven't been able to search the entire area but I've done enough walking and searching to realize that there is nothing here for me. Tomorrow I'm going to head to California and see if my mom is okay. I've checked every cell phone and land line I could find but nothing works, not even the internet. With no power or working phones in the city I still have no idea what happened or how extensive this mess is. For all I know, I could be the last person on earth. I fear the worst but hope for the best.

Day 4

2011-03-21T21:12:00.005-05:00

It's been at least four days now. I don't know what's happening. I have yet to see or even hear evidence of a rescue attempt. I am beginning to lose any sense of hope. Where are the firemen or the police? Shouldn't there be teams of men and dogs hunting through this pile of rubble? Maybe they are. Maybe they are just so far above me that I can't hear them. For all I know they have given me up for dead—something I'm trying not to do myself.

Yesterday I found a flashlight, half of a power bar and some bandages in an old crushed up first aid kit clinging to a wall. No water though. Even just sitting here I'm exhausted. I've been thirsty before but nothing like this. I can feel my body shriveling up like a grape off the vine baking in the hot sun. I would literally give my right arm for a sip of cool water.

I'm trying my best to keep my mind occupied, occupied with things other than vaporized concrete and tangled metal but the walls seem to be closing in. Every once in a while I can hear the creaking of distressed metal, the crash and bang of unstable pieces succumbing to the uneven weight of broken chaos. I fear that soon enough one of the crash and bangs will be in this room and on me, which is why I have come to the conclusion that if I don't hear or see anything signs of rescue by the end of the day I am going to try and find a way out tomorrow. My leg is still intensely sore but it is becoming clear that if I stay much longer this room will be a tomb rather than a prison. If I'm going to die in this mess it's not going to be sitting here. No doubt this is already a tomb to who knows how many mangled bodies. I woke up last night, cold and frightened. I'm sure it was just my tired imagination but I swear I felt the cold hand of death on my shoulder. I could almost feel his chilled voice calling my name as he collected the souls of those rotting above me.

I can't think about this anymore. I have to find a way to think positive, to find some hope. Where is my sunshine?

Day 2

2011-03-17T20:50:00.003-05:00

It's morning I think. I don't wear a watch and I left my cell phone on my desk upstairs. I can only imagine where it is now, no doubt crushed into a thousand pieces under the weight of smoldering concrete and twisted metal. I still can't believe I'm alive. I'm trapped in a small custodial closet in the basement of the Vera-Cross building. It was by pure dumb luck that I ended up in this stinking, moldy hole of a closet. When I heard the roar of the building collapsing I ran. I ran down the hall as fast as I could, but the power cut out before I reached the stairs and in my panic I opened the custodial closet door thinking it was the stairwell. It was pitch black and before I figured out where I was it was too late. The hallway collapsed, crushing the closet door and shooting a blast of scorching dust and debris my way, throwing me against the back wall. That is when everything went silent and numb. My last thought before losing consciousness was wondering who was going to feed my dog, James. Odd, I know. Here I was on the verge of a horrible, crushing death and I was worried about James. I have no idea how long I was out; an hour, two hours, two days? All I know is that I awoke to a heavy blackness, a silent void of smoldering nothingness. I thought I was dead and with the thick scent of smoke burning my lungs and the chalky taste of ash on my lips I could swear I was in hell. When I found the lighter in my pocket and was finally able to shed some light into the room my fears were confirmed. No, I wasn't dead, but I was in hell, stranded alive in the moldy basement of a large building under a jigsaw of twenty-one crumpled floors with a jagged piece of rebar embedded three inches into my leg. But it's okay because its morning I think and a lone shaft of dusty sunlight has found its way into my stale prison, a warm ray of life and hope. So now I sit, waiting for my rescuers, leg bandaged, sitting in a bloody pool, waiting to be found--a lone needle in a ten thousand ton haystack clasping onto this single amazing ray of life, of hope, of sunshine.

Day 1

2011-03-15T20:37:00.004-05:00

To whoever finds this:

My name is Cassidy Ranger. I am twenty-one years old and I work in this building on the fourth floor for Hoffman & Wells. I was in the basement getting a printer cartrige when the building collapsed. I don't know what happened but I'm trapped here and I don't know how long I can make it. My leg was cut. I think it's bad but I'm pretty sure I stopped the bleeding. I've been calling for help all day but nobody has come. I can't hear anybody and I don't think anyone knows I'm down here.

If you're reading this it probably means I didn't make it. Please tell my mother, Julie Ranger who lives at 394 Grant circle in Bakersfield, Ca that I love her. Please tell her that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for leaving her, sorry for Kyle and sorry about the car.

I'm so cold. So tired...

Query Letter, Starting Early This Time

2011-02-05T20:51:00.007-06:00

I am well into my next book and one of the things that I am doing that I wish I would have done with my first book is to start thinking about my query letter before I am finished writing. With my first book I didn't start thinking about the query letter until I had finished writing and was almost complete with editing phase. I think that was a big mistake on my part. I think as a writer one of the hardest things to do is to take a 90,000 word volume and condense it down into two paragraphs. It's difficult because you have spent countless hours mulling over details, developing your story and characters, and putting it all down on hundreds of pages. Now to squeeze that amount of work into such a tiny space, and doing it in such a way as to catch the eye of an agent, is beyond daunting. So in order to give myself the best chance for success with this new book, I started to think about my query letter very early in the writing process. Even before I have hit that milestone halfway point I have been spending time trying both in my mind and on paper to condense the story into a nice, neat little package, beautifully wrapped like a juicy Texas cheese burger just waiting for a hungry agent. I am determined to make the, "finding an agent" process much easier and more successful than my last endeavor. The query letter process for my last book felt much like being a city dweller being dropped empty handed into the middle of an East Asain jungle and told to find my way out. This time I am being dropped into that jungle with a backpack full of supplies and just enough training to make myself dangerous. Look out agents, I've got two paragraphs about a story that will blow your minds. I hope you're ready.

The Season

2010-11-11T20:08:00.002-06:00

This is a poem I wrote shortly after my son finished his flag football season. I think one of the hardest things to do as a father is to see your children try so hard and come just short. After writing this, I think I really came to realize that there are much more important things than touchdowns.

The Season

I paced along the sidelines, watching every game

Looking for my chances, to cheer out loud his name

I watched him run and dive, grabbing at a flag.

Sometimes he came up empty, sometimes he came up glad.

And every game once or twice, they'd let him run the ball

He'd twist and turn and run with might, sometimes he'd even fall.

And when the final whistle blew, to end that final night

I looked upon his face again, but saw no smile in sight.

Although he'd tried his hardest, and left the season sore

He hadn't met his goal that year, to cross the line and score.

My heart it started breaking as I searched in vain for words

To comfort him and tell him, "Ah scoring's for the birds."

But as I sat and thought that night, still feeling for his heart

The Savior reached inside my own, and whispered this to start,

Well done thou faithful servant, tell him this for me

He'd done just what I'd asked of him, let him know you see.

It really doesn't matter, how many points you score

What really counts in my big book is something worth much more.

Let him know I watched his games, each and every play

I saw his hands were clapping, his voice would always say,

"Good job, great catch Noah, nice try, good effort Brent

Great hands, nice grab Jackson, almost, we'll get 'em Kent."

He even stopped to help I saw, his foes across the line

Who'd fallen hard and wrenched too far, their tender little spine.

Now when at last his day is done, he'll stand before my face

My words won't turn to touchdowns, for points don't win this race.

You my servant Harrison, who didn't get to score

You spent your life in service, lifting others off the floor.

My hands will grab his shoulders, and pull him in so tight

And at that moment he will see, he'd played the season right.

Sequel

2010-10-18T20:13:00.004-05:00

Is there a sequel?

This is by far is the most frequent question I get when it comes to my book Seventh Earth. I both love and hate getting this question. I love it because I am excited that people enjoyed the first book. I love writing. It was pure joy to write Seventh Earth and I am ecstatic that people have shared in some of that bliss. However, I hate, or rather cringe, when I get that question because I am saddened by the fact that it is taking so long to complete the sequel. I would love nothing more than to be able to hide in the crook of a tall redwood in the middle of an enchanted forest and produce page after uninterrupted page of the (soon to be named) sequel. But alas, my days are consumed by a day job where I courageously plug away at deciphering the cryptic language of legal minds. Thus, I am not always able to devote the necessary time to capture onto paper the continuation of story that haunts my mind. Fear not however, the story must and will continue, for the characters that survived the first book lay in wait, desperate to tell their story, their tale of survival, to live again within your thoughts and to whisper in your minds.

To help me along this overdue quest I must ask two favors. First, I ask that you spread the word. Spread the word of Seventh Earth. Help others come to know Aura and Zack. Give others the chance to witness Aura's power to look into her soul as she fights against the gods of fate. Allow others to hear Zack's voice, to look into his eyes as he catches his first glimpse of love. Let someone else live vicariously through the characters as the characters live through them. Provide someone else the experience of staying up until three in the morning lost within a book. Second, I ask that you not give up on me. I lay this promise before your eyes that I will complete this sequel. I will give you a chance and all willing, to strap back in and enjoy part two of the ride that is Seventh Earth.

Wide Right (Part 1)

2010-07-23T21:18:00.024-05:00

The following is a true story taken from an experience I had in high school. This is part 1 of a story I often share when I speak at high schools. I offer this glimpse into my life for those writers and non-writers alike who may be feeling the pains of discouragement.

"Bradford," coach yelled as he held up three fingers. I knew this moment was coming. I could see the clock ticking down 20 seconds, then 15, then the whistle stopping the clock at 9 seconds. Just enough time for me to run onto the field and do what I had practiced a hundred times. Three steps back, two to the side, wait for the snap, then run and kick. I should be able to do this in my sleep. After all, this was my life. This was who I was, the kicker for the JV football team. I was my brother's successor and the one who would eventually make varsity and then help take Arlington back to the state championship.

I jogged onto the field and chewed nervously on my tattered mouth piece. It was a cold night and I could see the stadium lights shining off the damp grass. I handed the black rubber tee to my holder who set it on the ground and tapped it twice for luck. I placed my right foot against the tee, took a deep breath and looked to the uprights a mere 24 yards away. It was a straight shot, an easy three points for the win--so I thought. Soon after I had counted my steps and set my feet the ball was snapped. I charged forward and swung my leg hard into the leather ball. I felt my left foot connect and instantly knew it was amiss. My plant foot was too close to the tee causing the ball to hit the inside of my foot as I kicked. The ball careened far to the right in an awkward horizontal spin missing its target by several yards. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the clock tick 3, 2, 1, 0.

The adrenaline raging through my body was not nearly enough to mask the pain, and frustration settling in my stomach. I had failed again and as I jogged back to the sideline I knew a thousand eyes were centered on me. I could sense a thousand expletives being thrown in my direction by a thousand people who were now plotting my destruction and where to hide my body. I was living another nightmare, another game lost because another kick was missed.

There is nothing that can prepare someone for the experience of changing in a locker room full of muscular teenaged boys, reeking of testosterone who want nothing more than to separate your limbs from your body. Who could blame them? They had offered up a sacrifice of sweat and blood to the football gods only to lose the game in the final seconds because some some puny kicker wearing peewee shoulder pads and a spotless uniform couldn't do the one thing he was there to do - kick the ball through the uprights.

When the final whistle had blown that year I walked off the playing field having missed more kicks than I had made. In fact, I had missed at least one kick in every game and three of our losses were a result of missed field goals and extra point attempts. Stating that my performance was a disapointment would have been a severe understatement likely to land one in jail for obstructing the truth. I had become the poster child of how to fold under pressure--the new standard for failure. I walked out the locker room for the last time that season with a decision to make. The season was over and the lines marking the field would soon fade with the coming months. Was I going to allow my horrid experience to be my last mark on the field eventually fading into time or, like a determined boxer not knowing when to quit, was I going to step back into the blood soaked ring and keep on fighting?

Wouldn't Have It Any Other Way

2010-06-03T20:00:00.009-05:00

6:17 p.m. - I am finally heading home. I have been at the office since 6:30 this morning and I am exhausted. I try to focus my attention on my driving, try to push the last bits of the crafted chaos of spreadsheets and calculations from the day's work out of my head. My drive is quiet but short.

6:28 p.m. - I arrive home and am greeted by the spicy smell of simmering taco meat and warm buttered tortillas. My youngest is the first to greet me. He is two and wearing a faded pair of his older brother's Buzz Light Year underwear. It hangs loosely around his waste and I'm sure that with the slightest tug this image would quickly turn R rated. My wife is next to greet me and informs me that it's not two but rather three times that she has had to change the underwear of my youngest--a trend that won't soon end.

6:40 p.m. I finish my last taco, head to my room to change and realize I have three followers. I usher them to the family room and find a pair of shorts and a T-shirt with a paint stain. I finish changing just as my followers return. I am quickly bombarded. "Dad can you help me find my soccer ball?" "Dad can you pull my loose tooth out?" "Dad can you come look at my puzzle?" I am a wanted man.

7:02 p.m. I walk into the kitchen where my youngest is sitting on the floor. Two things catch my eye. He is leaning far to his left at an awkward angle, and he is playing with the dog food. I soon spot a brown smudge between his legs and realize why he is leaning so far to the left. I quickly inform my wife that it is now four times that his underwear will be changed.

7:10 p.m. My two oldest are arguing for the sixth time over who is winning Connect Four. I begin to curse the game and those who invented it. I grab the ipod and select a dancing play list. Soon the family room is awash with little giggling bodies. I feel my lips tighten as a smile settles in. After a few minutes of twisting and shaking I sit on the couch and enjoy the show. All four kids jump and jive as we are serenaded by the sounds of Cold Play and Taylor Swift.

7:34 p.m. My two dogs are suspiciously sniffing around--a sign that they are either looking for food or looking for a place to do their business. They soon follow me outside. I stay outside while they do their business as I have learned that if I don't see them do it, they won't - until they get back inside.

7:38 p.m. After going to the pantry I notice that one of my dogs has reclaimed the trash can as his territory. Once again I am wishing he was neutered.

8:02 p.m. The ballet of putting kids to bed begins. As usual, it is a tough performance. My wife and I move from room to room getting drinks, reading books, getting toys, taking toys away, carrying kids back to bed, getting more drinks, getting more toys, reading more books. I feel as if I am being cast in a keystone cops remake.

8:41 p.m. I sit down on the couch and again realize the TV doesn't work. I watch as my wife walks down the stairs carrying another set of poopy underwear. She gives me the look as another request for a drink of water rings down from above. I realize it is my turn to fill the request. Again I read a book and get another toy.

9:01 p.m. I sit down on the couch again. My eyes begin to burn as the lack of sleep from the night before makes itself known. I soon hear the soft tap tap of footsteps coming down the stairs and I prepare to give a stern reprimand. My oldest pops his head around the corner. I ready myself to give a historic lecture on the importance of being in bed. Before I can commence he walks over to me and wraps his arms around my neck. "I love you Dad. Good night." I lean back on the couch and once again a smile finds its way onto my face.

9:02 p.m. I am content.

And I'm Back

2010-05-04T18:44:00.010-05:00

This last week gave me a glimpse at what life might be like if I’m ever to make the transition into the realm of full-time author. I felt somewhat like Scrooge led by the “Ghost of Christmas Future” able to gain a rare view into what the future may hold. Only for me, it was a most pleasant experience filled with excitement and success, one that I dove head-first into and loved.

Although undeserved, it was surreal for me to see my name displayed on hundreds of glossy pamphlets, 10-foot tall banners and hear my name announced throughout the day on the store’s intercom. I enjoyed every moment sitting at the table talking with readers from all over the country—some who walked away empty handed and some who left with my book tucked beneath their arm. I loved speaking at the local high school, sharing my experience with writing and offering informative bits that had been passed down to me by brilliant editors.

For a second, I even thought that I had met my first fan outside of a book signing. I was sitting on a chair in the Salt Lake airport waiting for my flight to return home when a young woman looked over, spotted me and made a beeline in my direction. It caught me completely by surprise. My heart started racing and my mind went blank as I tried to think of what I was going to say and how I was going to thank her for being a fan. However, just as I was preparing to open my mouth, she lifted her hand, tossed her empty drink cup into a trash can inches from my head and walked away. That happened to me four more times before I finally got up and moved to another seat. Now don’t get me wrong, I didn’t move because I was upset that people had no interest in me. I moved because every time someone tossed a cup into the trash I found myself dodging the occasional spray of coke or coffee as the cups hit the side of the trash can and released a fine, sticky mist.

Alas however, my trip is over and I’m back in the flat-lands of the Lone Star State, back amongst the sunshine, cedar pollen and wild flowers. Waking up this morning to the familiar yet painful sound of my alarm clock, I half wondered if last week wasn’t merely a dream. Maybe I had been led by the hand of a ghost through the realm of time, offering me a glimpse of a future I could only dream, a future filled with mystery and adventure neatly wrapped in paperback and hard-cover.

Upcoming Events

2010-04-21T20:17:00.003-05:00

My big trip to Utah is drawing close. By this time next week I will be standing in the baggage claim area in the Salt Lake Airport wondering if and when my bag will emerge from the black hole and onto the safety of the rotating carousel. It seems like lately when I fly its a crap shoot on whether or not my bags are going to arrive at the same destination I do. I'm crossing all my fingers on this trip as I will be toting along several extra copies of my book. It turns out I may have a few extra stops to make while on my journey to the Wasatch front. At this point I know that I have the book signing at BYU and then an author visit to Orem High. But there is also a chance I may be visiting another school in Orem and doing a second book signing at another store in Tooele, Utah. This could turn out to be quite a whirlwind of a trip. Regardless, it should be a great experience. I am excited to see friends and family and hopefully a few fans.

For those who are wondering, I will be at the BYU Bookstore on Thursday April 29th from 4-6 and on Friday April 30th from 11-1. I believe there will be several authors at the BYU bookstore siging books. So for those who don't know what I look like I will be the guy that looks like a perfect cross between Robert Pattinson and Zac Effron (17 Again Zac not High School Musical Zac), or just look for the guy sitting at the table with all the Seventh Earth books.

Two Firsts

2010-04-15T20:02:00.004-05:00

Since my last blog I have had two firsts concerning my book--my first book signing at a bookstore and my first author visit to a high school. Both of these activities turned out to be fantastic.

I wasn't sure what to expect for the author visit to Rudder High School. The librarian had arranged for me to do a two hour presentation followed by a luncheon with the students. The presentation was to a book club at the school that had previously purchased and read my book. The prospect of getting up in front of a group of students who had read and discussed my book in a book club setting was quite unnerving. However, the presentation went great. In fact, it went so well that we didn't even get through the whole presentation. The students had so many good comments, questions and insights that I was overcome with awe. The depth of their understanding of the book amazed me. They were bringing up points about the book that I hadn't even thought of. At the end, one of the students walked up to me and pulled out a very worn copy of my book and stated that she had read it three times already. She also mentioned that my book was way better than Twilight--her words not mine. I walked away from the school that afternoon feeling very good about myself and my future as a writer.

The book signing went great as well. The store manager at Hastings placed me right at the front of the store so every customer who walked in was either forced to make eye contact or walk into the store with their eyes closed. I was actually surprised at how many customers went out of their way to avoid looking at me as they walked in. One customer even tripped over a display he failed to notice because he had so overtly directed his eyes in the opposite of my direction. But, there were quite a few who did make eye contact and came over to my table to find out what Seventh Earth was all about. Before the day was over I sold all but one of the store's copies. The store manager was also quick to offer another signing opportunity when I had another chance. I think I will hold off on this until Parents Weekend at A&M in the fall. That week College Station is so full of Aggies and their parents that you can't throw a stone in town without hitting maroon.

Later this month I will be flying out to Utah to do another book signing and another author visit to a high school. This time I will be visiting Orem High on the 30th of April and will be doing a book signing at the BYU bookstore on the 29-30th. If any of you are in the area on those dates I would love for you to stop by the bookstore and see me.

2010-03-25T19:59:00.006-05:00

Again I am finding little time to write. It seems that all my spare time is either spent chasing my four kids around the house or marketing Seventh Earth. Again I am surprised at how much time and effort it takes to market a book. And again I can see why so many good books fail. I used to think that all I had to do was write a good book, get a few people to read and like it and sit back while word of mouth spread and sold my book like wildfire. That is so not the case. The massive efforts however are starting to pay off. Recently my book has been featured in three publications--The Willits News, The Meridian Magazine and the Bryan/College Station Eagle--you can see a link to these articles on my website at http://www.seventhearthseries.com/. This new publicity has thankfully lead to a decent increase in sales. However, I am far from being a bestseller, but I have my fingers crossed.

Next week I will be doing my first author visit at a school. I will be visiting Rudder High School in Bryan, Texas. I am both excited and nervous. I'm excited at the opportunity and nervous about the 1 in 3 chance that I might bore the kids to death. Yeah, that would make a great headline, "Local Author Bores Students To Death With His New Novel Seventh Earth--Authorities Beg Him Not To Finish The Sequel." I will be giving a one hour presentation about my book and my writing process, followed by a one hour writing workshop, followed by lunch. I am hoping that school lunches have improved since my time in high school. I seem to remember eating burgers that I swear contained less meat than a PETA board meeting, tater tots that were swimming in a thick mixture of aged cooking oil topped off with a brownie that tasted suspiciously like play dough and had the density of uranium. I'm sure it was all very healthy.

The success or failure of the author visit will be short lived as I will be doing a book signing at the local Hastings Bookstore in College Station the following Saturday. This prospect has my nerves on edge as well. I used to feel bad every time I went to a book store when an author was signing books. They always seemed to be stuck way in the back somewhere between the WWII and Home Improvement sections--back there all alone. I never understood why those two sections were near each other. Like some guy is going to be flipping through pictures of Omaha Beach on D-Day and then all of a sudden think, "Hey, I wonder how hard it would be to build a deck." Hopefully I will get a better location at Hastings. Right in front of the check-out stands would be nice.

Passion

2010-02-11T20:12:00.002-06:00

Just some random inspiration while listening to DJ Earworm's United States of Pop 2009. For fun try listening to it while reading this.

I look out into the world before me. But my eyes see only a false reality that doesn't exist beyond my frontal lobe. I wonder how a world filled with the talent to create music, to write novels, build cities and express true love is encompassed with so much hate. Are we not all brothers born from the same dust? Do we not share the same breath? Do we not lie on the same earth?

Why must one think ill of another? Why is it that so many think they can be taller by standing upon the backs of those who have fallen? Do we not all look upon the same sun? Do we not all cast a shadow before the light of God? Do we not all hunger? Do we not all thirst?

I see colors in this world--blue, red, green, black, white, yellow and brown. I see differences that aren't afraid to be cast into the light, aren't afraid to be found upon lips, to be spoken by borrowed breath. I see variety that forms a symbiotic relationship of life and love, of celebration and yes, sadness. I see a hand rising from a destruction that has created a bond between life and death. I see one stepping forth from amongst the dust of his skin to emerge into a greatness he will hold with him for an eternity.

I wonder how a world secluded and alone, unique among the void and desperately clinging to life can offer so much death. I see an earth in patient defiance, an earth with a gentle hand filled with flowers, trees and beasts pointing toward heaven, pointing toward the son. I hear soft whispers from the ground offering the way. I see many with their ears pressed against trees, listening but not hearing as whispers wander past and fall back to the earth.

I am listening. I am a traveler with foot placed before foot on a narrow path, watching as the eyes of the world bore into my soul. I am scarred with the stains of the fallen who grab at my feet and dream of a life never known. I push forward with a hope, knowing that the darkness will soon give way to light. Speak to me dear earth. I will catch your falling breath. Speak to me, I am now ready to listen.

Marketing the Necessary Evil

2010-01-13T18:08:00.004-06:00

This last week I finally reintroduced my fingers to my keyboard. I took some time off this last month from writing the sequel to Seventh Earth so I could work on marketing Seventh Earth. I didn't anticipate how much time it would actually take to market a book. Working with a small publisher with a limited budget much of the marketing of Seventh Earth has been up to me. I knew that would be the case and I accepted it. Even if I had been picked up by a larger publisher for this first release I would have still been tasked with marketing my book. Sure a larger publisher would have the resources to arrange and pay for major ad and release campaigns but still, even with a large publisher the author has to put forth a great deal of effort to make the book a success. I read recently that many authors think that once they find an agent and publisher that they can sit back, relax and let the royalty checks flow in. Now if you are an established author with a good following that may be the case. However, for us first-timers that is not the case. To be successful an author must be willing to market. This is often a difficult and somewhat daunting prospect considering that many authors seem to be introverts.

To give you some idea of some of the marketing I have done I have created the following list. Now keep in mind that this is just some of the marketing I have done.

Hosted a book release party
Set up and attended book signing events
Created Seventh Earth T-shirts
Designed and printed bookmarks
Contacted public schools to set up author visits
Designed posters
Developed and continually update the website
Run a blog
Contact the media
Give away free personal copies to the media
Write press releases
Write news articles

I am always looking for, and thinking of new ways to market. To be honest I would much rather spend my time pounding away on the keyboard engrossed in a gripping story, but in order to afford to continue to write, I must sell.

Now don't get me wrong, I do love marketing my book--probably because I believe in it and because so many have said how much they love it. But its tough pushing a book when you have several others bursting from your fingertips begging to be the next.

Christmas Gift From My Wife

2009-12-19T19:24:00.006-06:00

Here I sit in a small room, no larger I imagine, than a cell found within the great walls of a prison. The angle of the ceiling prohibits me from standing up straight in all but half the room. There is no outlet, no three holed prong flush against the wall offering unlimited electricity. The only power comes from a forest green extension cord stretching from the hall to the room like a deadly snake with a powerful bite. The carpet in the room is still soft and plush, having rarely seen the bottom of a foot. The heavy scent of fresh paint still radiates from the dark, navy, walls lined with Van Goghs and black and white photographs. This room is mine, my sanctuary, my escape. This is where creation will happen, where worlds will be formed, where battles will be won and lives will be lost. This is where stories of great kingdoms will be found from ideas, born from dreams. This former closet is now my room, my gift from my love. No bigger than a prison cell to some, this room is larger than life to me. Thank you, my dear wife, for creating this magical rabbit hole for me to hide and turn my dreams to reality.

Book Release Party

2009-12-07T12:05:00.007-06:00

Here are a few pictures from the book release party held in College Station on December 4th. Despite the unusually cold weather we had about 50 people show up. It was a whirlwind of meeting, greeting signing, eating and thanking. I was very surprised and thankful for the huge turnout.We had several door prizes we gave away, including three Seventh Earth T-Shirts and a signed copy of the book.

We even had a few attending the book release party who had already purchased a copy of the book and came to purchase more. It was great to hear their feedback about the book.

My kids even got into the Seventh Earth spirit and daunted their Seventh Earth T-shirts. Unfortunately I didn't have a shirt small enough to fit the youngest.

First Reviews Are In!

2009-11-29T19:06:00.006-06:00

With my book officially out and into the hands of the public not quite a week I am beginning to get some feedback from readers. I knew this day would come and to be honest its been a bit nerve racking, to say the least, waiting for this feedback.

So far, however, I am pleased to say that the feedback has been better than expected! One reader, a small business owner in Michigan, wrote in the guest book of my website the following:

"What a read! I could not put it down. The story is MAGNETIC!! I felt as if I were right there. A great combination of STARGATE, BATTLESTAR GALLATICA and STAR TREK! Looking forward to more from this author. Keep it up. The Universe awaits you."

Another reader, a junior attending high school in San Antonio, wrote the following on my wife's Facebook page.

"YOUR HUSBAND'S BOOK IS AMAZING!!!"

A third review of my book comes from a young reader whose mother had purchased a copy. Her mother reported to me that her daughter read the book from front to back in one sitting as she could not put the book down. The mother said she walked into her daughter's room in the middle of the night to find her daughter up in bed reading. The girl said, "Mom, this book is so good. I can't put it down. I have to keep reading."

Now I know that this feedback is not from the New York Times or USA Today, but for me it doesn't matter. Sure I would love a critic from the Times to review the book. But for me it means more when a reader comes up to me and tells me that they love the book and can't wait for the sequel. That's what I love. That's what is important to me. That's when I truly feel like a writer.

Book Updates and Where to Purchase

2009-11-21T10:20:00.003-06:00

Just a few more days until the official release of Seventh Earth. We are already planning several events. There will be a book release party in College Station on December 4th and on the following day a release party in Utah on December 5th. Unfortunately I will not be able to attend the party in Utah as I will be at the one in College Station. However, I will most likely be doing a book signing near Christmas in Utah. I will post the location and date on my website as we get closer.

Many have asked where they will be able to purchase Seventh Earth. The best answer to that right now is on Amazon.com as at first the release to bookstores will be somewhat limited geographically. However, feel free to ask your local bookstore if they have it in stock. But again, the best place at least for now will be to purchase it online at www.amazon.com.

Advance Copies Now Available

2009-11-14T19:05:00.002-06:00

There are advance copies of my book now available. You can purchase one by going to www.seventhearthseries.com and clicking the amazon.com link. Because the official release is not until November 24th the only way you can find the book on amazon.com is through the link on my website. So in other words. if you try to go straight to amazon.com to purchase my book you are not going to find it. And yes, if you do purchase the advance copy it will ship right away. Its not like going to Walmart and purchasing an advance copy of a movie only to find out you have to wait for two months before you actually get the movie. This you will actually get within a few days after you purchase it.

Book Release Party!!!

2009-11-09T20:13:00.004-06:00

With the overwhelming support that I have received from so many of you I have decided to host a book release party. Although the book will be available for purchase on November 24th, because of the holiday schedule I have decided to hold the party on the evening of December 4th. That should give people enough time to get over the turkey overload and be ready for some good reading.

The party will be in College Station, Texas. I am however thinking of scheduling a book signing event in Utah in late December. I will be in Salt Lake over the Christmas holiday and figure I might as well take advantage of the opportunity.

So, if you are in the Salt Lake or surrounding area and would like for me to do a book signing please send an email to seventhearth@ymail.com. If I can get some interest I will see what we can do about finding a venue. Heck, I would be willing to do it out of some body's home if needed.

In Honor of Halloween

2009-10-29T20:47:00.008-05:00

I heard the scream again and this time I was sure it wasn't a dream. I looked over to my wife whose black silhouette lay motionless and undisturbed. Confused, I thought about the scream and wondered if maybe it wasn't real. Maybe I was stuck in some quasi dream state where the images and noises were a mix match of reality and fiction from an exhausted mind on a desperate search for sleep. I blinked my eyes several times trying to bring clarity to my vision and head.

I heard a noise again. Not a scream this time but a low, painful groan. The sound was muffled and distorted, as if its source didn't want the sound to escape. But it did, I heard it and instantly wished I hadn't. Someone, or something, had entered my home.

The soft sounds of footsteps falling against the carpet broke into the silence and grabbed sharply at my attention. The air grew thick and heavy as the feeling like I was being watched crept silently into the room. I could sense a pair of eyes staring at me through the blackness as I searched in vain into void. The shadows seemed to enjoy my discomfort and confusion as they toyed with my mind hiding the evil that was before me.

Without warning a voice scraped forth from the darkness and called to me. The voice pierced my soul with an icy finger sending a wave of chills up my spine. My blood pounded as my heart raced at an unnatural pace. Again the voice called through the icy darkness beckoning me. How does it know me? I thought. What is this evil that befalls me? I pulled the comforter up to my eyes, not daring to look away. Then, through the darkness a shadow moved. At first it seemed to shift slightly from right to left. I soon realized it was not shifting at all but instead moving right toward me. I could hear the footsteps growing closer. The shadow grew in the blackness and my heart pounded through my flesh. And as I stood on the doorstep of a terrifying and violent death, the voice called to me again. But this time its clarity rose above the pounding in my ears. This time I clearly understood. And this time I knew it was no dream. "Dad, I'm thirsty!"

Cover Design

2009-10-25T19:53:00.007-05:00

Lately I have had several inquiries concerning the design of the cover of Seventh Earth. So, to answer the questions the following is the story behind the cover.

After writing the book I wanted to make sure that I had a cover that would not only provide a touch of insight into the book, but give it enough intrigue to capture the eyes of readers wandering through the book stores. If you haven't noticed, there is fierce competition out there in the young adult genre and I didn't want my book to be the one on the shelf collecting dust.

While working on the book my mother had informed me that my niece, Madeline, was becoming quite an artist and suggested that I might use her to do the artwork for the cover. Each time my mother made this suggestion I would thank her politely for the idea but decline. I wanted my book to have a professional polished look and I was not convinced that my fifteen-year-old niece would be able to deliver. However, my mother was quite persistent and insisted that I at least let my niece draw something I could look at.

In the book I use the Palace of Fine Arts in San Francisco as a setting for one of my scenes. I love this building with its intricate architecture set among a beautifully crafted landscape. I decided to have my niece take a crack at sketching this building as something I might want to incorporate in the cover. The result was a beautiful charcoal rendition of the Palace. I knew I had found my artist. The only problem was that I wasn't convinced that the Palace, although stunning, would be enough to capture attention. My wife came up with the idea of having my niece recreate a portion of Michelangelo's The Creation of Adam. But instead of using the hand of God reaching out to touch Adam we used the hand of a Reficul--an alien being in the book.

With these two drawings in hand I incorporated the skills of a wonderfully gifted graphics design artist, Melissa Lewis, who just happened to be a good friend. She was able to take the sketches, along with a few ideas jumping out of my head and create what I see as a masterpiece.

Only time will tell if the cover holds enough mystique to grasp attention, but at least for now I couldn't be happier with how it turned out.

The Story

2009-10-21T19:30:00.005-05:00

One thing I tried to do in writing Seventh Earth was infuse a sense of symbolism throughout the story. I wanted the book to be a fun read, but I also wanted it to be understood on multiple levels. I imagine it to be something that one could read multiple times and get an entirely new appreciation and understanding of it and its message each time.

Adding to the sense of depth is the fact that writing Seventh Earth was almost a religious experience for me, as at times the story seemed to write itself as if I was only there as a medium, a tool to transcribe the words onto the pages. I remember one day sitting down in the Texas A&M library and typing vigorously away as the story flowed smoothly onto the screen seeming to come from somewhere else. I remember reading the words I had just typed not knowing what was coming next as if I was the reader and not the writer.

So as you read Seventh Earth understand that there is a depth within the pages waiting to be discovered. Understand that the story goes far beyond the words on the pages, far beyond good versus evil, and far beyond boy meets girl.

The Road

2009-10-19T20:19:00.004-05:00

On Saturday I sent my book to the printer. I rushed into the UPS store a few minutes before closing, taped up a box with a hard and soft copy of the book, and sent it packing.

I'm surprised at the amount of effort it has taken to get this far. I can see why some give up. As a first time writer I naively thought that writing and publishing a book was little more than typing on the computer for a few months and then sending the manuscript to a publisher who then sends you a big fat check. Not so my friends, not so--at least for those of us not named Stephenie Meyer or Scott Westerfield. No, for us unknowns the road to first time publication is quite often a dusty road filled with countless pot holes, blind corners and gigantic speed bumps. Its a long, lonely road that at its climax may never seem to end. However, for those who push on through the speed bumps and survive the potholes, the reward can be magnificent--so I hear.

The Time Is Drawing Near

2009-10-14T19:17:00.008-05:00

This week my book is finally heading off to the printer. I should be overly excited that it will finally be in print. I have dreamt about this for years just waiting for the day that I might walk into a book store and see my book on a shelf.

I have worked on Seventh Earth for more than two years. I have poured countless hours into writing, rewriting and then writing again. I have spent sleepless nights developing characters, devising plots and filling in holes. I have written in bookstores, empty offices, libraries, parked cars, moving cars, locked bedrooms, hotel rooms, parks, and restaurants. I have pounded my fists in frustration and cheered with joy. I have been through three career changes, seen the birth of my fourth child, purchased two dogs, three cars and experienced one recession all while writing. Yes, I should be overly excited. But at least for now, excitement is not what I am feeling.

As I'm sure like any other author, writing a book is more than laying out a plot, developing interesting characters and figuring out a creative way to get from "Once upon a time" to "And they lived happily ever after." Rather, writing a book is more akin to delicately extracting one's very soul and descriptively laying it all out for everyone to see on several hundred 8X5, off-white, recycled pages. So at least for now its not excitement that I feel but rather a feeling comparable, I imagine, to trying out for American Idol on national TV. I just hope however, that I'm the one the producers have chosen to perform in front of the judges not because I am completely void of talent but rather completely engulfed in it.

And So Here We Are

2009-10-12T21:02:00.000-05:00

The darkness of the night crawls over me swallowing the last speck of light and hope. I can feel its coarseness scraping across my skin like a heavy wool blanket on a cold winters night. My mind follows the luring sound of silence into the eerie blackness, into the void. I fear nothing and yet I fear everything. Death has looked me in the eye and I did not blink. I welcome the fate that awaits me.