Signing Books: Late Summer Book Tour

My daughter played her last travel softball game a few weeks ago. It's surreal to think, given I once wrote about her in the context of overcoming hurdles. Yet, here we are: Weeks away from taking a road trip to her college, where her next game will be at the collegiate level. 

Along the way, I'm hoping she learns a few things, too. Some of what I hope she learns comes full circle to that column I wrote ten years ago. The overemphasis on image, popularity, and crowd thinking in social media life has a long history of undermining good ideas, worthwhile efforts, and individual actions.  

Ten years ago, I wasn't a novelist. I'm on a book tour this summer. 

People tend to ask authors two common questions. First, what advice would you give to any aspiring writers? Second, what was the worst advice you ever received? 

I have a variety of answers to the first question in interviews but the one that stands out the most hit me today. Don't wait. We spend far too much time fretting over reasons not to pursue our passions. 

The second goes hand in hand with the first. Don't start because you'll never finish it is the worst advice I ever received. And if you finish it, they cotninued, no one will ever read it. It doesn't even matter if we hear this bad advice from someone else or that little voice in the back of our head that prefers practicality over aspiration. Don't believe it. I've sold thousands of books.

I've also lined up a book tour that coincides with the trip. We'll take in some sights and stop at bookstores along the way. You can follow us on TikTok, Instagram, X, Facebook, and elsewhere. Or, even better, drop by if I am in your area (or afterward to snap up a signed copy left behind). Event times will be posted on Facebook as they are finalized. 

Pretour Warmup

July 16: The Book Haven in Prescott Valley, Arizona

Summer Book Tour

August 26: Barnes & Noble Grand Junction (signing) in Grand Junction, Colorado 

August 27: Old Firehouse Books (visit) in Fort Collins, Colorado

August 28: Barnes & Noble SouthPointe (signing) in Lincoln, Nebraska 

August 29: Bumble Books (signing/reading) in Amana, Iowa 

August 31: The Atlas Collective (visit) in Moline, Illinois 

September 2: Wordsmith Bookshoppe (signing) in Galesburg, Illinois

September 3: Spine Indie Bookstore (author showcase) in St. Louis, Missouri 

September 5: Commonplace Books (signing) in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

September 6: Barnes & Noble Coronado (signing) in Albuquerque, New Mexico

September 7: Page 1 Books (signing) in Albuquerque, New Mexico 

Posttour Wrapup 

October 19: Las Vegas Book Festival in Las Vegas, Nevada

Stay tuned. I might be adding another mini-book tour in early October. My sights are set on Maine, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Rhode Island. The trip is still tentative, but I hope it will help move my next WIP forward. It's set in Maine and will become my second novel, and fourth or fifth book (depending on what happens in the next few months). Pretty exciting — stuff I would have done sooner had I already carved out time to write fiction alongside client work. And that's the point. 

I've never been happier writing fiction. In fact, doing so has elevated my commercial work too. And that's what I want my daughter to learn before I drop her off at her new home away from home. Don't wait. Be happy. 

Pushing AI: A Reduction In Creativity

In his book The Creative Act: A Way of Being, Rick Rubin praises artificial intelligence (AI). But he doesn’t find its strength in being creative as much as in seeing problems with a fresh perspective.

He highlights AlphaGo’s approach to the game Go as his example. AlphaGo, the first AI to defeat a Go grandmaster, applied a never-seen-before move that no human would have made. Indeed. Most humans saw the move as a mistake when the AI made it, failing to recognize anything beyond the two choices that the grandmaster expected the program to make. But the algorithm didn’t care about 4,000 years of Go history. It was programmed to win. It did. 

Rubin is right in that the AlphaGo win is a teachable moment for human beings. Sometimes, we carry too much emotional, intellectual, and historical baggage around with us to be truly creative. Ergo, divergent thinking is still king when it comes to creativity. 

Divergent thinking is also where the proliferation of AI ceases to interest me. Don’t get me wrong. I still pay attention, especially when my colleagues point it out.

Hugh Behm-Steinberg, who teaches writing at the California College of the Arts, recently did so when he mentioned: “One of the dark pleasures of teaching uncanonical work is reading the AI hallucinations my students think I won’t notice.” 

To be clear, Behm-Steinberg allows AI assistance if his students include their prompts with the work. He says it’s better than forcing them to sneak it into their assignments and then failing them when he spots what he calls AI hallucinations (something nonsensical, akin to those crazy hand defects that litter some graphics). 

I don’t know. After seeing the first official music video made with OpenAI’s Sora on LinkedIn, I still struggle to condone its broader applications that attempt to supplant human creativity. The video is largely unoriginal, with horrible camera angles and bad morphing effects that cause some people motion sickness — AI hallucinations that we can see rather than read. It’s a fail, propped up only by the crutch of AI infancy. 

So, what is the status of AI creativity? There isn’t any. I mean, using AI editors as a prompt to improve sentence structure is one thing, along with applying a photo effect that saves some tedious pixel tweaking or creating elements that can inform a component of a bigger project. Those are suitable solutions. This continued pursuit of trying to make it capture a human’s imagination, on the other hand, is faulty by design.

At its core, the true strength of art in all its forms is one human’s mastery over some medium so they may share their unique perspective of the world with others. These perspectives — a lifetime of experience and knowledge and, sometimes, the purposeful subtraction of said experience and knowledge — is more unique than a human iris. And this is why AI, programmed to mix and match other people’s work, will never truly obtain human creativity — even if it is constructed to be born and live like a human being. Because, even if it were built to be born, then it would still only represent a single point in an infinite ocean of stars. 

No. More likely, AI merely represents a reverse renaissance or a great reduction in creativity. As humans allow machines to copy processes, techniques, and rules, they may become even lazier in the pursuit of original thinking. And it will be only then that AI may succeed in simulating something superior, not because it’s creative but only because we will cease to be. 

Ho hum. I liked it better when programmers focused on teaching AI to wash the dishes and mop the floors so that we could have more time to be creative. Instead, this trend to program AI to be faux creative will only give us more time to wash the dishes and mop the floors. And we’ll all be too dumbed down to even know the difference. Good night and good luck. 

Writing Romance: What’s Love Got To Do With It?

I met my first girlfriend in the third grade. She thought I was a rebel of sorts — a transfer from the public school system, repeating third grade. I wasn’t a rebel. I still couldn’t read.

We were “boyfriend and girlfriend” for three short months. I moved away after the school year ended. 

We might have been “together” longer, but she didn’t know I liked her. I always liked her. 

I finally worked up the courage to let her know how I felt on Valentine’s Day. I wrote it in the Valentine’s Day card I gave her — the biggest one in the box. They always came like that in a class pack. There were 23 or 29 regular Valentine’s Day cards in the box and one (sometimes two) super special ones. I gave her THAT one. 

The only problem was my writing. Because I didn’t read well, I didn’t write well either. So when she opened my card, she wrinkled her nose and joked about how she couldn’t read it. I made a joke about it, too. I didn’t want her to know it came from me. So she didn’t think I liked her because I didn’t give her a card. Or, so she thought. 

My second chance came a month later. We had an auction at the school, and she had donated a tapestry with a Native American on it. She thought it was cool because she was Native American, too. But nobody bid on it. So I did. I bid everything I had, which I didn’t have to do. She got the message. I liked her as much as anybody likes somebody in third grade. 

Love makes you do crazy things, even when you don’t understand it. It’s one part anticipation and two parts relief. There really is someone out there for you, at least until you move away. 

Young love in the novel Third Wheel.

While my novel Third Wheel is often described as a coming-of-age thriller that follows Brady Wilks along the fringe of the 1980s suburban drug scene in Las Vegas, it’s not without heart. In between the tension, Brady pursues two love interests in the book. 

The first is with an 18-year-old named Cheryl. The relationship is immediately problematic because Brady lies about his age, fearing she will lose interest, knowing this is the summer before his sophomore year. Brady won’t celebrate his 15th birthday until late fall.

He meets Cheryl early in the book. She is one of several satellites orbiting the parties hosted by his older friend group. Cheryl has every reason to believe he was in her ballpark — a soon-to-be junior or senior — until his adolescent awkwardness gives him away.

For Brady, he is drawn to the impossibility of the relationship and the promise of emotional stability, filling a void that can’t be found in his unstable life. Cheryl puts his troubles on pause, even if he never understands her interest in him. 

Because the story is told entirely from Brady’s self-centered point of view, most readers don’t either. Everybody’s best guess is that dating someone younger might even the playing field for a recent high school grad in the 1980s. Sure, while the 70s may have moved the needle on gender equality, the 80s dating scene didn’t know it. 

Brady’s perceived rivals drive this point home. They always appear more confident in winning over her attention and affection. With Brady, it’s an internal tug of war. She pulls him toward her and pushes him away at the same time.

She wants it to work but knows it will never work. Maybe Brady feels that way, which is why he leaves himself open for two alcohol- and drug-infused flirtations during the book. One doesn’t amount to anything, but the second one leads to the start of something, even if we never see what exactly that might be. 

Brady meets this second girl, Sandy, in a Mob-owned strip club. Despite working as a server and part-time stripper, Sandy is an underage runaway from California, much closer in age to Brady than the lie she tells him. 

“Twenty-one, hun.” “Beat you by a year,” he lies in return. 

The contrast in these two relationships has more to do with the girls than the boy. When Sandy looks at Brady, she sees a reflection of herself. Despite a facade of self-confidence that initially attracts Brady’s attention, Sandy is just as out of her league as he is out of his. 

Broken people tend to attract broken people, and Sandy is empathetic enough to see he’s broken. Together, being broken feels safe and normal. It leads to something much more casual, comfortable, and accidental. 

Each relationship is different but somehow gives Brady what he needs most when he needs it. That’s how stories go sometimes. 

Love is desperation, anticipation, and infatuation on the front end. It’s affection, acceptance, and attachment on the back end if it lasts long enough. But it rarely lasts long enough because the strongest thing in the world is also the most fragile; hard to find and easy to lose. Cherish every minute before you move away. Happy Valentine’s Day.