The Value of Unplugging

The novel is finished, just dealing with some polishing and touch ups, and the queries have been sent out to the publishing world. Sins of Iniquity is the beginning of a running series involving the life of private investigator Leroy Cutter. He’s not your typical P.I. in that he’s a disgraced former Detroit Police detective that’s loose with the dollar and hell bent on living a life of leisure. Unfortunately for Cutter, he can’t seem to avoid the underbelly of Detroit.

I started to the second book, Bone Cay, back in January while Sins of Iniquity was cooling between drafts. It’s a third of the way complete, but before I planted my hind end back in the chair, I needed to unplug.

I started by going on a trip to the mountains for a weekend and then I went camping. There will be a few more road trips in the next coming weeks to Ohio and California. During my excursions I completely unplug from the world, turning off my phone and not picking it back up until the adventure is finished. The unplugging lasts as little as a few days to a few weeks.

Unplugging was, at one time, difficult. I enjoy being connected. However, I also hate being connected. But the more I unplugged, the more comfortable I was with it and the less I desired that 24/7 connection.

During normal operating hours, I seem to be constantly aware of every single happening in the world, how my friends and family feel, coming attractions, predictions, and quasi-prophetical inclinations. The barrage of information, true or false, has a detrimental effect on me physically and emotionally. I am unaware of this during normal operating hours, of course. Then I unplug.

It is amazing how refreshed, both physically and emotionally, you are when you no longer care about everyone’s opinions on every little thing going on in this giant world. Unplugging from the electronic umbilical cord frees your mind, allows perspective, and most of all, kicks stress in the no-nos. This was how we felt before the internet age, before 24 hour news coverage, before Chicken Little started reproducing like a jack rabbit. This is real life.

So, I’m going to do it more and more until it’s not just something I do, but something I have done for good. If you want to save your soul, if you want to gain back control, unplug and experience your life, the joys and pains. Free your mind. Unplug.

Out of the darkness and into the light

As some of you may already know, I have recently wandered from my writing cave after finishing my new novel, Sins of Iniquity. It’s good again to breathe fresh air and feel sunlight on my face. I’ve missed you all.

The novel was a little under a year in the making and it is in the hands of my first readers. What’s a first reader? Simply put, they are the readers that tell me what works and what doesn’t work. In other words, they get to read a book that is almost there, but not quite. It’s a dirty job, but I’m happy they choose to do it. Once I receive their feedback, I go in for another round of revisions, send it off to my editor and then wait some more. Eventually, the book does go to print. Eventually.

The Final RoundIf you’re not a first reader, don’t worry. You can be a second, third, or fourth There is a Seasonreader. I wish those numbers were higher. Kidding, of course. They’re much higher… but not much. Anyway, to become a higher number, simply pick up a copy of my last two books There is a Season and The Final Round. One will rip your heart out and the other will punch you in the gut. You decide which does what.

But if you’re still itching to find out what Sins of Iniquity is all about, I’ll give you teaser.

Lee Cutter, recently forced to retire early from the Detroit Police Department, is a private investigator looking for a way to do as little as possible and live a life of leisure, but he has one problem. He needs money like the rest of the world. When Barbara Goldman is willing to pay him anything to find her missing sister, he jumps at the chance. It’s easy money and he’s all about easy. However, unfortunately for Cutter, the easy life will have to wait. He soon finds himself thrown into a world filled with family secrets, dirty politicians and a turf war between the mob and a city gang called Mickey Cobras. Now, he’s just hoping to get out on the other end alive.

You’ll have to read the book when it comes out to find out more.

Finally, summer is upon us and I am in need of much R&R before I begin the second Lee Cutter novel, which is tentatively titled Bone Cay. Until then, there are margaritas in need of my attention. Keep your eyes open for contests and giveaways and feel free to share this with your friends and enemies.

Have a safe summer and stay cool, my friends.


An Interview With Writer Gary Allison

Gary W. Allison:

This is an interview I did recently about writing, filmmaking and Detroit.

Originally posted on elizagalesinterviews:

gary a

Gary Allison is the author of the book The Final Round; here is a link to his website:



Q:  What made you start writing in the first place?

A: I’m not sure. I like stories. My family told stories, some good, some bad, some repeated. I wrote as a teenager. It was garbage. Writing was for sissies and I’d be damn if anyone called me a sissy. The teenage years were secret notebooks of cringe inducing plots, incomplete philosophical assaults birthed from a black hearted, greasy teen whose mind was preoccupied with getting laid or lying about getting laid. They were awful years: the pimpled years.

Once eighteen, the writing stopped. I joined the Navy and proceeded to indulge in worldly customs that mainly involved experimental liver endurance tests. I was an iron man. When I wasn’t working at defending this great nation of ours single handedly…

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2015 was a great year

This was a great year. I know it has just begun, but I figured I would start off on a good note. Yeah sure, there will be ups and downs, but in the grand scheme of things, 2015 will be great.

I just wanted to jot a quick note for those that read the blog, all ten of you. Normally, I write an end of the year review of my accomplishments, failures, and other nonsense. I didn’t do it this year, because, well, I was busy writing. I still am. That is why this is going to be quick.

My wife asked me on New Year’s Eve as we had dinner at a local restaurant,  what is your resolution? She knows that I don’t make resolutions. I gave her that look and she said, “What do you hope to accomplish in 2015?” That was better, though we may have been splitting hairs. I gave her a straightforward answer and so, without further ado, here is what I hope to accomplish in the year 2015.

  1. Land a publisher
  2. Save Money
  3. Spend Money
  4. Travel More
  5. Write three more books
  6. Sell what has been written already

That’s it. Although this list does not represent all of my goals, they are the focal points of 2015. I have a more comprehensive list that I update every year, five years, and ten years. As always, goals are important. It gives you a target for precise aiming. Make a goal or goals for the year, that way you can also say 2015 was a good year.

What are your goals for 2015?

Thanks for reading!

The Glue that Binds Us

It has been a while since my last article. The blog, unfortunately, was a low priority due to my current writing project and other business ventures. I’m happy to say that as we ease into 2015, that the end of 2014 is turning out to be exciting and rewarding. However, this isn’t the reason for my sudden break in silence.

I could write about Ferguson, MO and draw a lot of attention to myself by fanning the flames on either side of the issue. I could cheapen myself by enraging people or appeasing them. But I’m not going to do that. Instead, this article will be about something that I’ve witnessed for quite some time now and the opportunity to present it seems appropriate.

When I’m not working, I like to observe. I don’t like to write a blog for the sake of the blog, but I prefer to have something worthy to write about.  I observe and then I comment either in the form of a fictional story or a newspaper article or this blog. All writers must be observers of people and of life in general. It’s not always acceptable, nor is it pleasant. For example, while shopping at the mall the other day with my wife, I would constantly leave a store to go out and sit while my wife stood in line to purchase an item. Finally, after doing this several times, she came out and asked why I wouldn’t stand in line with her. I told her that I liked to sit and look at the faces. Yes, I’m that creepy man staring at you at the mall.

The faces inspire me. I make up stories, voices and situations. I watch the way you interact with others, how you move when you speak, everything about you. You are all rather interesting. But here is what I’ve observed either first hand or on television or on the internet. We are an increasingly less polite society and it is the bane of our existence. It will ultimately be our undoing.

You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.

A polite society is the glue that binds us together. When we cease adding glue, the binding unravels. When we start insisting rather than asking, the willingness to tend to our needs wanes and leaves us wanting and open for frustration, violence, and disappointment. This applies to the little things in life, as well as the big things, from your life at home to the governing.

Politeness demands respect, because politeness is not meekness, but it is secure and confident. It shows respect and, therefore, requires respect.

Last night, I attended the Bills and Jets game at Ford Field in Detroit. The Bills couldn’t host a home game at their stadium due to seven feet of snow dumping on their city. Detroit opened their doors and it was a great time. The stadium was packed, the Bills slaughtered the Jets and the crowd loved it. I almost became a Bills fan.

Before the game started, the stadium announcer asked us to stand and remove our hats for the National Anthem. It’s customary in the United States to do this before every sporting event. I’m not exactly sure why, but it is a tradition and we do it. No big deal. As a veteran, I don’t mind a little patriotism now and then. Besides, we only sing the first part of the song. I’m not sure if we sang the entire song would everyone agree that it is the right song for our anthem. But I digress.

Anyway, there was a group of men in front of me that had one too many pops before the game. One of them didn’t remove his hat when the song started. I’m not sure he even knew where he was, let alone knew he had a hat on his head. The fellow sitting a couple sits down from me reached over and slapped the guy on the shoulder and said, “Take off your f#@&ing hat! What the #$!@ is the matter with ya?” Can you guess what happened next?

Though I secretly wished for a drunken brawl for the sake of a good story to tell later, it did not happen. But it almost did. The guy with the hat reached up and felt his head, realized he had a hat then took it off. He then turned to the other guy that delicately reminded him of that fact and told him to do things that are physically impossible. They mixed words like respect, disrespectful, pride, and honor with other words that we tend to frown upon in public. Cooler heads prevailed and they eventually stop their shouting just in time to hear the home of the brave.

This is just one example but it is more common than not. A polite person would have reached over and said, “Excuse, but would you mind removing your hat, please?” Most likely, the drunk would have reached up, found that he had a hat on his head, removed it and then apologized. And if he didn’t, you wait until the anthem is over and either skewer him with shame or live with your disappointment in today’s society. However, if we all lived with politeness, the first response is more likely.

Consider this in your daily life. Do you demand or do you ask? Do you think before you speak? Do you treat people as you want others to treat you or do you walk around like the world’s official badass, policing people because you think you’re smarter than the average bear? Do you think you are entitled to respect without showing that same respect? How big is that chip on your shoulder, whether earned or not? And just because you earned a chip, doesn’t mean you have to accept it. The way you interact with others will say more about you than those around you.

So, here’s the starter package for becoming a confident, secure and, therefore, polite person. Add these words to your daily vocabulary: please and thank you. Once you have mastered those two words, you can move on to a more advanced stage of politeness. Don’t worry, it will then be as natural as breathing. And you if you don’t breath, you die.

Have a happy Thanksgiving to those in the States and to those abroad, enjoy your week.  Look for my end of the year blog where I’ll reflect on 2014 and plan for 2015. In the meantime, work on that politeness.

The Ferguson Truth

Have you been watching the news, following Twitter, listening to the radio talk show hosts lately? It’s all about Ferguson and it should be, but are you getting the whole picture? Probably not. You’re most likely getting a version of the picture as repainted by a talking head with an agenda. Beware.

I’ll start off by saying that I’m not angry about the shooting of Michael Brown. I don’t know enough details about the shooting, whether he was a threat or not. I’ve heard conflicting accounts, but that doesn’t mean anything. The truth is something that will come out in the investigation, which includes forensics, eye-witnesses, the officer’s report, time stamps, and recordings. The law will abide and it will comb every detail and it will answer the hard questions with answers we may like or that we may not like, but they will answer them. I’m willing to wait for those answers and accept them. That is, if the authorities leading the investigation can conduct it without outside influences. And just so we’re clear, I’m not talking about Ferguson PD as the authorities. For crying out loud, the State of Missouri and the Justice Department are vying for position here and the world is watching. There’s no room for covering anything up, assuming that authorities would attempt to cover up the details, of course. But that’s a large assumption.

Instead, what I am angry about is the handling of the protests. My anger isn’t reserved for one side, either. I am upset with both sides. I am upset that there are those that will take advantage of a tragedy for gain, for ideology, for crime, or just because they are bad people. I am upset that law enforcement is ran like a para-military group, goose-stepping across Ferguson, suppressing the media, unable to isolate the bad guys, strong arming innocents and making a mockery of the Second Amendment and the American way.

There is no doubt that law enforcement has mishandled the protests. They should be embarrassed, even held accountable. However, the protesters, the organizers, the people that truly care about rights, about justice, who want nothing but the truth and who want their voices heard should also be embarrassed. There are wolves among the sheep and the sheep welcomed them with opened arms. The wolves are not working for them, but they are working against them, using the sheep for their own personal gain. They darken the silver-lining and remove true hope and community then eventually turn the sheep on one another, while placing the blame on the “other side”. The wolves want only chaos, because in chaos they gain power.

I am also upset that there are those on the sidelines, watching on their televisions that have strong, uninformed opinions, spreading half-truths while making bold declarations. Nobody knows anything even when they think they know everything. The color of our skin does not make us experts on any subject, white or black. We are only experts on ourselves, our experiences, our hearts and we project those things upon what is happening around us and somehow think that makes us right. It doesn’t. Only the facts will clear the air and by the time the air clears, no one will care. We will have moved on, latching onto some other national tragedy or agenda. The only people that will care are the family and friends of Michael Brown and the officer that shot him. We get to go on with our lives, forgetting all about the chaos. They will live with it forever. It will keep them up at night. It will hit them at odd moments throughout the day, weighing them down, reopening wounds they thought time had healed.

You may be angry now– We may be angry now, but we get to move on with our lives, free and clear of guilt, lasting anger, heartbreak and pain.

So, while you are spitting your venom at the police or at the protesters, take a second and gain a little perspective. There are real people involved here, not characters in a story, not just organizations, but real people. They have real losses to deal with and it isn’t about the big picture that worries the rest of us. It’s about their small world, their neighborhood, their lives.

And the truth will prevail when the storm quiets.

Take a hold of your self worth

I’ve narrowed down the reasons why social networks drive me mad. It’s a bit of a quandary as I enjoy the use of social networks. But it’s safe to say that I want to quit them on a daily bases, as well.

First the good.

I like keeping up on what’s happening within my network of friends, family and news feeds. I have an eclectic group of friends that have varying political views, social views, senses of humor and lifestyles. Keeping up with what they are doing and thinking helps me better understand my world, keep a level headed perspective and appreciate all that I have, even during those moments when I don’t think I have much.

I aslo don’t watch television news, so I depend on my social networks to browse headlines that interest me. There’s a downside and an upside to this. The upside is that I can choose the information I want to digest. The downside is that I sometimes don’t get the entire picture and miss stories that are relevant to my world. However, I am able to filter out the fear mongering and hyperbole that is usually associated with broadcast media. I should say that for the most part I am able to filter. There are those occasions when those type of stories sneak through.

Now for the bad.

Van Gogh, the King of Selfies.

Van Gogh, the King of Selfies.

I hate selfies. I am of the belief that a selfie is a mental disorder. I’m not talking about a group selfie with your friends or family. I’m talking about that bathroom selfie, car selfie, sad face selfie, pouting selfie, on my way to the doctor selfie. It screams of desperation and desperation is one of the least attractive attributes of a human being. More on that in a moment.

Note: I’m using the word “hate” here and just so there are no misunderstandings, I mean hate in the harshest manner. If you want to tell me that no one should hate and I should choose a softer word that is more appropriate, send me an email and I’ll tell you what you can do with your suggestion.

I hate the incomplete, open ended status or tweet. The following examples are real:

“My life is over.”

“Nothing like having a doctor give you horrible news.”

“Is it even worth it anymore?”

“Don’t even ask.”

and of course



These type of statuses and tweets are followed by a slew of concern from friends and followers, questions concerning the writer’s well-being, encouragement, etc. They also rarely get a response from the original poster.

Selfies and status baiting aside, there is the one thing that absolutely drives me bonkers, the one thing that stirs within me a blackness, a deep seeded loathing that makes me scream at my laptop, and it is the tweets or statuses that declare despair or extreme joy based on a current relationship status or lack thereof.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not talking about someone announcing their breakup with their girlfriend or boyfriend. I’m not talking about someone who is in the middle of a divorce. I’m also not talking about an engagement announcement or a wedding anniversary. Those are noteworthy and understandable.

So, what am I talking about?

I’m talking about the young lady that posts, “I wish I had someone to hold.” I’m talking about the young man that tweets, “All the good women are taken.” I’m talking about the young lady that posts a selfie of her and her new beau with “My life is finally complete” written above it. I’m talking about the young man that posts a photo of his new girlfriend that says, “I don’t know how I lived without you all these years.”

But it doesn’t stop there. These same poor souls go on for weeks, months, even years posting and tweeting how incomplete, sad, or unlivable their lives are. Or they go on for the same amount of time posting and tweeting how amazing and fulfilling their lives are.

Of course, it all changes when they find someone or lose someone, but it’s all the same, good or bad.

What do I scream at my laptop? I scream, “Where’s your self worth?”

Self worth is lacking to such an alarming degree among people that it’s frustrating and sad. Yes, we all want to be loved. We’re human beings. We write poems, stories, books, make movies, paint pictures, sculpt and write songs about love. It’s with us in the morning when we wake up and it’s with us when we go to bed. Love motivates us in just about everything. It’s what separates us from the animals.

Exactly what am I getting at here?

You, the desperate one longing for love, are refusing to accept the love that is already around you. In other words, unless you are a complete asshole, you are drenched with love.

You are not finally worthy of someone’s love because you have a new girlfriend or boyfriend. You are not unworthy of someone’s love because you broke up, either. You are still you either way.

And about desperation…

Desperation breeds disappointment. It raises expectations that most cannot meet. Then it lowers your expectations to dangerous levels, leading to further disappointment. A desperate man or woman has never found true happiness or a way out of desperation. They are always desperate unless they choose not to be any longer. Circumstances normally never cure desperation. Circumstances only suppress it.

So, here’s my advice to those desperate souls, the ones longing for love:

  • Learn to love yourself, but keep it to yourself. No one wants to hear how much you love being you. There’s a reason Kanye West gets on everybody’s nerves.
  • Learn to appreciate the good in your life now. Most of us take for granted the good we have in our lives from time to time. Most of us are also able to realize we’re taking the goodness for granted. You, however, are not, do not, cannot. Take a step back and look at the good and behold.
  • Learn to accept the things you cannot change. You cannot control or change another person. You cannot change your race. You cannot change your past. You cannot see the future. You cannot change the weather. You cannot change how tall you are or how short you are. You cannot change your nationality. You cannot change your age. You cannot change the fact that you are going to die some day. You cannot change how strangers behave or react. Learn it and accept it.
  • Understand that the odds are in your favor. There are 7 billion people in this world. There are over 300 million people in the United States. In my town alone, there are 90 thousand people. The odds of you finding someone to love and someone to love you are great. If it’s not working with one, move on. As the saying goes, “There are plenty of fish in the sea.”
  • Understand that life is short. Too short. You can either spend it being miserable or you can enjoy it and live completely. Stop letting others decide how you will feel each day. You make the choice.
  • Finally, if you can’t do any of these things, then please, for the love of all that is holy, quit your public whining. At the very least, gain some perspective. While you’re crying that no one loves you or shouting to the world that your life is now awesome because you have a girlfriend, there are people in the world wondering if today will be the day someone cuts off their heads. Perspective is a beautiful thang.

That’s the rant. Thanks for reading and feel free to add your two cents in the comments.

Pope = Happiness

popePope Francis recently gave his top 10 secrets for happiness. They are what you would expect: treat others well, be giving, forgiving, etc. However, that’s just vanilla Pope PR. Here are his real top 10 secrets:

  1. Be a Pope. Let’s face it. Nothing groovier than being the Rock. Just ask Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson. But a pope rock comes with an extra dose of holy goodness, Batman!
  2. Live in Vatican City because, well, you’re the pope. It’s a city and it’s a country and it’s surrounded by Italy, Rome to be exact. Location! Location! Location!
  3. Have a throne. Not a crapper, but an actual golden throne to sit upon and look regal. Nothing beats a big chair that’s reserved just for you.
  4. Change your name to something cool and meaningful… because you’re the pope. How many Melvins out there wish they could change their name to something cool like Mark, Luke, Peter or Bartholomew? Okay, forget that last one.
  5. Make sure all of your needs from the smallest to the greatest are met… because you’re the pope. From socks to air travel, having your every need met is the bee’s knees. Worry about gas prices? Not if you’re the pope. Price of milk is going up? Who cares? You’re the pope!
  6. Remove yourself from any real accountability, but don’t take advantage it… because, well, you’re the pope. This is tricky. Granted you’re in a position that God ordained you for and, therefore, only God can remove you, it’s still not a good idea to let that go to your head. Half the world already hates you. No reason to give the other half fuel for the fire. But it’s still pretty cool not being accountable to anyone on this rocky cesspool of a planet.
  7. Wear a ring people will kiss when greeting you. It’s way cool. A lot like kissing your ass, this is more socially acceptable. When someone kisses your ring, there’s an air of respect involved. When someone kisses your ass, it’s disgusting.
  8. Have an array of funky hats. Nothing says I’m my own man like a collection of bad hats, Harry. Wear them with pride and wear them often.
  9. Wear a dress almost every day. On second thought, make it every day. Ditch the trousers and go for the muumuus. Great for all occasions and they are cool in the sweltering Roman summers.
  10. Two words: Pope selfies. Nothing says, I’m a good guy and I’m having a blast like a holy selfie. Live it up and tweet to the rest of the world the look of the day. Throw in a pic of you shaking hands with a cripple kid and watch the love pour in like a heavenly waterfall. You’ll be glad you did.

If you would like to see the original article listing Pope Francis’s top 10 vanilla secrets to happiness, click here.

Inside There is a Season

TIASSince the publishing of my novella There is a Season, I’ve received letters and emails, as well as had conversations with readers about the book, the origins of the story, and how it has impacted lives. I’ve enjoyed each and every one of them, good and bad, but mostly the good.

I thought I would write an article about the book, answering common questions and addressing aspects of the book that usually come up when talking about it with readers.

There is a Season was my first long form story. It’s a novella because it isn’t long enough to be a novel, nor is it short enough to be a short story. I like novellas, but I didn’t start out writing one. My hope was to have a novel; however, during the writing process, I realized that it was not to be. The best part about writing a novella is that it’s great practice for a novel. Forty-thousand plus words is no small feat, and it prepares you for the grandness of a novel, which I eventually wrote with The Final Round.

I’m often asked if There is a Season was based on a true story. I’m happy to say that it was not. Although, it was inspired by bad news that ran wild with my imagination.

The character of Tom Hatcher was tromping through my head for years before I sat down to write the story. I had the idea of a man that had everything and was living the American dream, only to have it snatched away by tragedy. Often the idea mirrored my worst fears and other times, it had a life of its own. Then one day, a very good friend of mine called and told me that doctors had diagnosed him with cancer. If you’ve ever had a close friend or family member share this sort of news, it has the ability to hit you square in the jaw, making you dizzy and sick with fear.

As I dealt with the news in my own way, Tom Hatcher kept knocking on my door. I didn’t realize it then, but he was also my muse and was telling me that I needed to write his story.

My friend had it all: a wonderful family, great job, a nice home in the country, friends everywhere he turned. He was living the American dream and loving it. The fear that swept through everything when he was diagnosed was unavoidable. Yet, my friend was a rock. Eventually, after surgery and treatment, he was declared cancer free, and all was well.

Yet, Tom Hatcher continued hounding me.

Finally, it was too much. His consistent knocking and nightly badgering was becoming a problem. He insisted on me telling his story, but I had a problem. Tom Hatcher didn’t have cancer. He was a picture of health. He was climbing the ladder of success and enjoying the ride. I knew something bad had happened to him, but I had no idea what. That is, until I took a look at his family.

Cancer is a terrible disease. I’ve lost family members and friends to it. I’ve watched family members and friends battle it. I’ve heard stories of triumph and defeat. Even the triumphant stories are terribly gut-wrenching. It’s something that just about everyone in the world has dealt with in one way or another. And I was going to make Tom Hatcher deal with it, but as a powerless bystander.

Tom’s daughter, Tiffany, is a precocious six years old. She’s adorable, friendly, instantly liked, and well loved. Giving her cancer wasn’t easy, but it was necessary. The only way I could show Tom Hatcher overcoming his greatest obstacles was to destroy the very thing he loved the most.

I had no idea how the story was going to end. I didn’t outline. I only had a vague idea of how Tom was going to come out in the end. Ultimately, I was just as surprised by the ending as every reader who has written to me. I cried, also, and my heart broke to pieces. It was a magical moment as a writer, but a horrible one as a reader.

There is a Season is a tragic tale, but I didn’t want to end on a tragic note. Some readers have disagreed with my choice, but in order to show Tom’s growth as a man, I needed to carry it through.

Another aspect of the novella that many have written to me about is the religion woven throughout the book. Some were pleased, even happy with its message. Others were disheartened by it. What readers don’t understand is that There is a Season is not a religious book or story. I didn’t sit down with the thought of writing a message story. I had no purpose other than to tell the story of Tom Hatcher. Religion just happened to be a part of it.

I don’t consider There is a Season to be a spiritual book or Christian fiction. It is merely the story of one man’s tragedy and how he dealt with it. What is important to note, however, is that no one in There is a Season is perfect. They are all flawed characters, just as it is in real life. And we all react accordingly.

There is a Season is a special book for me as it was my first. It is also special because it has had a positive impact on readers. A writer can only hope for such praises.

For the summer, this little book is at a special low price of $0.99 for Amazon Kindle users. If you haven’t picked it up, give it a shot. It’s worth the time.

Thanks for reading.


You’ll shoot your eye out!

As I talked with a friend this morning, we were discussing the trial and errors ofTFR independent film making, particularly the trial and errors of our own journey with producing The Final Round, a period boxing film based on my book of the same name.

Five years ago, we bravely, and ignorantly declared that we were going to make The Final Round. We had big plans, but we didn’t have a script. I wrote the script. Then I rewrote it and rewrote it and rewrote it and rewrote it and… Well, you get the idea. Eventually, we ended up with not just a satisfactory screenplay, but a great one (Toot! Toot!).

We had  meetings with money, executives, agents, producers, actors, more producers, directors, even more producers, investment firms, millionaires, billionaires, groups of millionaires, production companies, and studios. We attended conferences, had readings, I thought about jumping off a bridge, made changes to the script, had more readings, made even more changes to the script. We met with big talkers, liars, thieves, crazy people, has-beens, wannabes, mystery men, shady characters, and people with strange accents.

We hired producers and fired producers. People threatened lawsuits and we threatened lawsuits right back. Men in three-piece suits offered custom fittings for cement shoes. We had “A” list stars on board, “B” list stars, “C”, “D”, back to “A”, and back on down the line again.

To say that this job has its ups and downs is putting it mildly.

Anyway, we’re on an up and were talking about how naive and egocentric we were five years ago. I admit, I’m still a little naive and my ego has not taken any major blows. It rarely does. I’m confident and patient, a deadly combination and one many should aspire to having. See?

My friend then made the comparison to the movie A Christmas Story. You know the one where Ralphie wants a Red Ryder BB Gun.ACSmovieposter

He said that we were like Ralphie with his essay on why he wanted a Red Ryder BB Gun. It was a masterpiece and he had visions of praise pouring from his teacher and fellow students. Then he received a low grade and the note, “You’ll shoot your eye out.” Ralphie was bummed and I laughed at the comparison, because my friend was right. But it started me thinking.

A Christmas Story is a perfect analogy for the film business.

Film makers have one goal and one goal only: We want to get our movies made. It’s that simple. We will do anything to get it done. Some have gone as far as doing everything to get it done. That’s gross. However, one thing that we all have in common is that our lives revolve around getting our project done.

We talk about it constantly, always on the lookout for who’s who. We work every angle, search every crack in the wall, get brave and make that cold call and spend an hour talking on the phone with a legendary producer, only to have a great story to tell at parties, but still no money for the film.

It’s the same thing poor Ralphie did in A Christmas Story.

Ralphie wanted nothing else for Christmas other than that Red Ryder BB Gun. He would stop at nothing to get it. He dropped subtle hints to his mom and the Old Man. He wrote an essay to get his teacher on his side. He fantasized about what he would do once he had the gun, the heroism, the glory. Eventually, Ralphie grew desperate and decided to take it up with a legend – Santa. But that jolly elf was of no help. Everywhere Ralphie turned, he was met with rejection. Yet, he still held onto hope.

Then, as it usually goes in the film business, on Christmas morning his dream came true via someone close to him – the Old Man. It was everything that Ralphie thought it would be and he couldn’t wait to try out his shiny, new gun. If you saw the movie, you know what happened next.

He shot his eye out!

ACSRalphBut like any good director, writer, or producer, Ralphie blamed his mistake on something else and came out on top.

So, what’s the lesson of A Christmas Story? There are a few.

  1. Never give up – You have a dream. It’s your film and your film only. No one else will make it for you. Keep the dream alive.
  2. Work every angle – Never leave a door unopened. Knock on every one of them. Open a window if you have to. The point is, get inside no matter what!
  3. Don’t burn bridges – You never know what may happen down the line. A rejection can come for many reasons. Most of the time, it’s because the story wasn’t good enough or you didn’t have a sound business plan or you’re too inexperienced. Other times, it’s just not the right moment, but moments can change in a flash in Hollywood. Keep everyone close.
  4. Sometimes, it’s exactly as everyone said it would be – Yes, you just might shoot your eye out. Your movie might stink, the studio might fire you, they’ll rewrite it, or it will never see distribution. It happens. It will hurt. You may even cry.
  5. Never admit failure – So you shot your eye out. Big deal. Take the spotlight off your failure and point it in another direction. Try not to throw anyone under the bus, but hey, you have to look out for numero uno, pal. The important thing is that you get to shoot your gun again.

That’s it. Thanks for reading. What are some lessons you’ve learned in film making?