...it's tough not to complain about the new year, when every day there seems to be yet another blow dealt below the waist. While I'd consider the penning of a woeful list as being trite, if not laborious to read through on a Sunday evening, the lineup of rotten luck, six weeks into 2013, would be lengthy.
Therefore, when I opened my email this afternoon and read a personal letter from a young lady who'd recently finished my novel, South of Charm, the timing was impeccable.
...Mr. Grace, my aunt let me borrow your book when my husband and I were visiting. I am an avid reader, but it usually takes quite a book to hold my attention, so I was surprised to finish your story in two days. I just want to say, wow!, what an amazing book. I believe that some of the story is indeed a memoir, which made it so haunting for me.
Thank you for shedding such an honest and raw light on mental illness. After reading this book, I was reminded that mental illness does not discriminate against age, gender, religion, or ethnicity. It can truly affect people at any time in their life, be them a spouse, parent, friend, or co-worker.
I am looking forward to reading many more novels by you!
...I don't believe in coincidence. Never have. However, the timing of this letter urges one to consider those signs that we're quietly offered from a higher power, often showing themselves during a period turmoil.
It's a showing of hope. A promise of better days to come. A warm hand upon one's shoulder, urging them onward.
I emailed her back, thanked her for the letter, and included the link to The Fall, currently available on Kindle, just in case she was serious about reading more of my work ;)
Thanks everyone for reading!
El
http://www.amazon.com/South-Charm-A-Novel-ebook/dp/B005DJ945A/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_t_3_MKZX
http://www.amazon.com/The-Fall-ebook/dp/B00AZBIM68/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_t_2_EHM6
...first, and of most importance, just another of those special moments of fatherhood worth sharing.
While sliding into our shoes en route to a quick run to Walmart, my twelve year old, him of utter innocence, (if not ignorance) asks, "Hey Dad, is it mean to call someone a douche-bag?"
From across the room, the sixteen year old releases a sound similar to the croak of an irritable bullfrog, leading to an all out burst of laughter.
I maintained my composure. "Um...well, have you already called someone a douche-bag?"
"Well, not yet, but almost. And I keep hearing it at school."
"Hmm...maybe try and avoid using it if you can."
"Is it worse than calling someone a moron, or a dumb ass?"
"Well, calling someone a dumb ass will get you grounded, but so will douche-bag. I'm not fond of moron either, but in a pinch, I guess that would be the favorable choice if the moment calls for it. But I'm hoping it doesn't, don't you?"
The twelve year old considers this while looping his laces. I manage to shush the teenager with a scowl. Then, "Yeah, but it can be tough at recess."
"Okay, I understand."
...such lasting memories ;)
Just a few quick updates...I've been lured into the Tweeter. ( Yeah, yeah, I know what it's really called.)
Track me down @elliot_grace
My latest tweet, you ask? Earlier this evening I shared my current read, "Remembering You," by Robynne Rand. You may not recognize the name, but you'll surely feel at home when you visit that Piedmont Writer from Carolina Blue ;)
And you can check out Remembering You here...
http://www.amazon.com/Remembering-You-a-novel-ebook/dp/B0083IDAU8/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_t_1_FVB1
As for my newest release, hop over to, The Fall, here...
http://www.amazon.com/The-Fall-ebook/dp/B00AZBIM68/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_t_2_3AF5
It's a heart stopper that one can gobble up during an evening by the fire. It's new to the race, and desperate for some reviews, be them good or bad. After all, for us writers, it's all about boasting a thick skin ;)
El
...A rising sun the color of an ocean's pearl casts and eerie glow upon an awakening coastline. Jessica watches as thinning tendrils of fog form a veil to the east, rising to meet the sun, only to smolder and vanish in the heat. The whispering rainfall that had caused her teeth to chatter, her flesh to bristle with goose bumps, calms to an occasional drip. And through the gray, pinholes of light begin warming the metal under her fingers.
"Beautiful," Jessica marvels, her gaze finding a rainbow arching over the streets of Goose Creek, several miles to the north.
Vehicles begin streaming over the bridge, their vibrations causing her hold on the guardrail to falter. Throbbing muscles deny her any chance of adjusting her dangling position. She'd lost her footing on the bottom rail minutes earlier. Her legs now dangled and swayed above the river. Pulling herself to safety would be impossible now.
"That's okay," she stammers, answering her own thoughts. "It's better this way. Better for everyone..."
The Fall, available now on Kindle for $.99
Check it out!
http://www.amazon.com/The-Fall-ebook/dp/B00AZBIM68/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_t_1_B0JY
El ;)
...it was on this day, sixteen years ago, that my oldest son, Dylan, was born.
He arrived on the coldest day of the year, having fought the inevitable to more than a week past his due date. Roughly through the mid-way point of what would become a sixteen hour delivery for his soon to be mother, I decided on a costly mistake, by leaving the hospital in order to rush home and let the dog out for a quick bathroom break.
It was during my return to the maternity ward, a mile or so from the entrance, when the car decided it was simply too cold to cooperate any longer, and blew its water pump.
In 1997 I did not own a cell phone.
And so, determined not to miss out on the birth of my son, I braved the frigid temps, and ran the final mile to the hospital...arriving in plenty of time to thaw out, contact the family mechanic, and catch my first born's grand entrance.
That son of mine would go on to become the starting tailback on the gridiron, the saxophone player in the high school band, and a 4.0 student in the class room.
That son of mine would also be the one to dig up a long forgotten manuscript, dating back several years prior to 1997, and find it, (in his words, the most entertaining short story he'd ever read.)
"Dad, this story's gotta be shared! Are you gonna do something about this, or should I?" ...or something like that.
And so I thought about that old story, entitled The Fall. I thought about a boy named Johnny, who spends an evening on the run, trekking across town in order to save the girl of his dreams from making a terrible mistake.
I thought back to that cold day in '97, racing to the hospital, my face burnt from a windchill temp below zero, in order to see the birth of my son, and found the irony too perfect to pass up.
Afterall, there are no coincidences ;)
And so, to my son, on his sixteenth birthday, I've dedicated to him, The Fall, available now on Amazon Kindle.
For a mere $.99, you can see what all the fuss is about.
http://www.amazon.com/The-Fall-ebook/dp/B00AZBIM68/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_t_1_BANV
Happy Birthday, Dylan ;)
El
January, 2013
And here...we...go ;)
El
...have you ever listened to a song and thought, "Wow, could I ever hammer out the perfect scene with that tune drumming in the background!"
That's what this righteous jam does for me.
I listen to the beat, like a countdown to "The Fall's" unveiling, and think, "Yep, it's comin'. It's comin'..."
Enjoy ;)
El
