The Uncommon Adventure

Another amazing story I get to tell

2012-01-24T11:36:00.000-08:00

Lopez Lomong is many things: A college graduate, a world class athlete, a US Olympian, and one of the Lost Boys of Sudan. If you are unfamiliar with the Lost Boys, watch this video. Lopez was not part of the original group of boys who walked to Ethiopia then to Kenya. While those boys were walking, he enjoyed a normal life in south Sudan. Then the war came to his village. His story is amazing. Lopez and I tell it in the upcoming book, Running for My Life. Watch for its release in July, 2012.

Legendary coach Ed Thomas continues to impact Parkersburg. - Ben Glicksman - SI.com

2011-09-08T06:14:00.000-07:00

Legendary coach Ed Thomas continues to impact Parkersburg. - Ben Glicksman - SI.com

"The Sacred Acre" launch

2011-08-22T13:18:00.000-07:00

KCRG-TV, Cedar Rapids, coverage of the launch of my latest book.

Tony Dungy on "The Sacred Acre."

2011-08-21T05:44:00.000-07:00

Tony Dungy had this to say about my latest book...

New Releases, Part 2

2011-08-01T06:36:00.000-07:00

I first learned of the inspirational yet tragic story of Ed Thomas in March, 2010. The moment I heard it, I knew I had to write the book. He invested his life in a small group of students and football players in a tiny little town in northeast Iowa, yet his life made an incredible impact. Even if you couldn't care less about football, you will want to read this book. Order it here: The Sacred Acre: The Ed Thomas Story

New Releases, part 1

2011-08-01T06:26:00.000-07:00

At long last my book with 2007 World Series of Poker Champion Jerry Yang is now in stores. One day in 2005 Jerry happened across the WSOP on television and paused to watch. He'd never played cards in his life, yet after watching for one hour he stood and proclaimed to his wife, "I can do this, and when I win, I will use the money for good." Two years later he was world champion, and that's not even the best part of his story. "All In" takes you from the hills of Laos to the WSOP final table. You travel with Jerry and his family as they flee through the jungle, communist soldiers hot on their trail. This is, without a doubt, one of the most emotionally compelling stories I've ever had the privilege of telling. Order it here: All In: From Refugee Camp to Poker Champ

Where are my own books?

2010-09-14T06:21:00.000-07:00

With the release of my latest collaborative book a couple of days away, people ask me, "Hey Mark, when are you going to write another of your own books?" by which they mean, a book where my name doesn't come after the word "with". It is a fair question, one I've asked myself many times over the past year. The problem I run into is basically this: I don't have any good ideas that should grow into books. That doesn't mean I don't have any possible books floating around in my head. I have this one about a dachshund who takes over the world, or at least the US of A, and when you hear the story you will say to yourself, yep, that's plausible. Maybe I'll write that someday. Maybe not. Perhaps I'll save it and tell it to my grandkids someday in the distant future since I'm not sure it has any real potential to grow into anything larger.

Yet when it comes to ideas burning inside me that I simply must write, the well is dry. Honestly, I don't see it as a big deal. Out of my 12 solo titles, three are what I refer to as life message books. (That is, books that I HAD to write.) Of those three, two are actually the same book. That leaves just two books as my core books, the books for which I became a writer, books that I pray stay in print for a very long time, books that I want everyone I can reach to read. Anyone who knows me can name the titles. They are "How Can A Good God Let Bad Things Happen?" (aka, Out of the Whirlwind), and "Living with Less, the upside of downsizing your life." God gave me the ministry of writing for these two books.

Perhaps God will give me another life message book at some point in the future. I don't know. Until then, I find collaborative writing to be a natural extension of both my calling as a writer and the pastoral gifts God gave me. The collab books with which I work are not the basic celebrity tell alls. Instead, I primarily write books that tell of finding great hope in the midst of tragedy, of seeing God at work when it appears He has forgotten us. From Clay and Renee Crosse's book, "I Surrender All," to "Mistaken Identity" and on to the book on which I will start this week, "The Sacred Acre, the Ed Thomas Story," I find myself working on this theme time and time again. One of my favorites, and I believe one of the most powerful stories I have yet told, is Jerry Yang's "All In," which comes out next July. It weaves together the theme of God's faithfulness in suffering along with the idea that true success in life is measured by the lives we touch.

For the eight or nine people who have read both "How Can a Good God..." and "Living with Less" you should now see a connection. As a collaborative writer, most of the stories I have the privilege of telling echo the themes found in my two life message books. I don't see this as a coincidence. When will I write another of my own books? people ask. The way I see it, I never stopped.

My new books have arrived

2010-09-10T09:58:00.000-07:00

Yesterday afternoon the UPS guy delivered a box of 20 copies of "One Step at a Time." I love opening my new books for the first time. After so much time of staring at the words on my computer screen, they take on a whole new quality when I see them in book form. Josh appeared on Fox and Friends today (Sept. 10) to talk about the book. He did a great job. Check out the video below.

Count down to my newest release

2010-08-10T05:04:00.001-07:00

Seeing a new book's cover for the first time is a little like seeing a new baby on a sonogram or ultrasound. Triumph Books, the publisher for my book with Josh Bleill, just released the cover. The book itself comes out next month. When I step back I am more than a little blown away by this timetable. Josh and I sat down to work on the book for the first time on June 3. Forty-five days later we had a final manuscript. For those outside the world of collaborative writers, that's really, really fast. I love the cover. The story is incredible. I can't wait for the book to come out. By the way, you can order the book at http://www.triumphbooks.com/products/one_step_at_a_time/1572436184.php?page_id=340

Next Book

2010-08-05T09:45:00.000-07:00

I have the honor of telling the story of coach Ed Thomas. Watch these clips and you will understand why I am so excited about telling this incredible story of faith, perseverance, and forgiveness.

Counting down the day

2010-08-04T15:37:00.000-07:00

My next book, One Step at a Time: A Young Marine's Story of Courage, Hope and a New Life in the NFL, comes out on September 19. That may not strike you as significant, but it does the other writers out there. Most publishers prefer a one year turn around between the time I turn in a manuscript and its release. To put this in perspective, I wrote two books last year, both of which will not come out until 2011. I hope I get a chance to enjoy the release of "One Step at a Time," because I am also counting down the days until I can formally announce my next project. All I can say at this time is it is unbelievable. Many of you have already watched a preview of the project without even knowing it. Check back here in a day or two. I should have a huge announcement.

The really fast post

2010-07-06T10:41:00.001-07:00

The deadline for my book with Josh Bleill is bearing down, so what do I do? I post something here. That's pretty much normal behavior during deadlines, especially as I retool my brain to move from chapter 11 which I just finished, to chapter 12 which I hope to knock out in three hours or less. That would be a record, by the way. I am very excited about this book, even more so knowing it comes out in two months. That's crazy fast. You can order the book now at Amazon.com (One Step at a Time: A Young Marine's Story of Courage, Hope and a New Life in the NFL). I'm thinking about ordering a copy so I can find out how it ends. In the meantime, I appreciate your prayers as I finish this mad dash toward an insanely tight deadline. Pray that the book will glorify God above all else. I think it could be a life changer for readers. That's my goal for all my books.

More on my next book

2010-06-23T07:33:00.000-07:00

Here's more video that gives some of the background on my next book. The book, "One Step at a Time" is available for pre-order through Amazon.com.

Colts Video: Colts Spokesman Featured on NFL Network

New book deadline

2010-06-22T04:44:00.001-07:00

I am very excited about "One Step at a Time", the new book I am writing with Josh Bleill. Check out more below. The deadline is tight, unbelievably tight, so tight I shouldn't go to bed at night and should write 24/7. Watch for the book's release in September. More soon.

the one handed post

2010-04-23T14:20:00.000-07:00

no capital letters. limited punctuation. numrous tpos. and i don't care, even though i am a professional writer. i punched this post out typing one handed, left handed, which isn't easy for a righty like me. my right arm sits in a sling, its home for the next six weeks. the pain in the arm is better than the side effects from the anti inflammatory drug that made me more than a little nuts this week. at least it is healing pain, post op pain, pain i gladly accept because i know the stitches and anchors and all the other refinements the surgeon made to my shoulder will soon knit together and i will be good as new, or at least as new as a 48 year old can be. the happy end is in sight. until then it is left handed typing, typoss and all.

New office politics

2010-03-24T09:55:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I moved out of my rented office space and back into the small home office in which I did some of my best work. "Out of the Whirlwind" (now known as "How Can A Good God Let Bad Things Happen?"), "Living With Less," and everything in between came out of this small space. I don't mind the size. All I need is a keyboard and a window, and my home office has plenty of both.

There is, however, one downsize to the new/ old arrangement, one that slipped my mind during my three year exile to the north side of Highway 40. Six years ago I bought my wife the best birthday present I've ever given her before or since: a miniature dachshund puppy. Back when I first brought him home he spent most days perched on my lap while I pecked out words on my keyboard. His presence didn't create any problems when he weighed three pounds and didn't quite fill my two hands put together. Today he is by no means a large dog, even by dachshund standards, weighing in at a hefty eleven pounds and stretching out a foot and half, maybe a little more from the tip of his nose to the end of his tail. He has, however, reclaimed his daily spot atop my lap, with his his head perched atop my right arm. (This gives him the best view out the window so that he can make sure the neighbor's cats don't get away with anything.) The downward pressure of the family dog on my right arm makes typing a bit tricky even in the best of days. Throw my soon-to-be surgically repaired right shoulder into the mix, and the dog's act has become less than cute and charming.

Unfortunately for me, office politics being what they are, the dog usually gets what he wants. Like a nine year old whose life will end if she doesn't get an iPhone for her birthday, my dog doesn't like to take "no" for an answer. Thankfully the new/ old office has more substantial doors than its previous incarnation. The little dictator may insist on his prime spot with the view out the window, but there's not a lot he can do when he's locked out on the other side. Still, I close the doors with a sense of unease. I full well know that I will be in serious trouble if he ever develops opposable thumbs.

Resurrection

2010-03-16T12:35:00.000-07:00

This is my third post today, yet I felt it necessary. I really needed to explain why, after signing off as a blogger, I suddenly jumped back in with both feet. I have no explanation other than to say that I haven't written a book since October, and the longer I go without writing, the more I feel the life draining out of me. So blogging it is until a new book idea comes along to capture all of my attention. Hopefully this makes sense to the two or three people who read this blog.

MRI time

2010-03-16T12:21:00.000-07:00

Two months ago I hurt my shoulder while fighting a fire. No, my house wasn't burning down. I am a volunteer fire fighter, which is why I was inside a smoke filled house, SCBA on my back, a pike pole in my hands. That latter was a mistake. By the time my airpack ran out of air, I could hardly life my right arm. Doctor's visits followed, and weeks of physical therapy. When my arm still hurt every time I tried to lift anything larger than a carton of orange juice, I told the insurance company I need to see a shoulder specialist. Three weeks later I finally got in to see the doctor. He prescribed an MRI, which only took the insurance company another two weeks to approve. The arm doesn't hurt nearly as bad as it did two weeks ago, but then again, I haven't done much with it. I subscribe to the Archie Campbell school of medical thought (only those of you who grew up watching Hee Haw understand this reference): If it hurts when I do this or that, I don't do this or that.

So now, after all this waiting, I finally get to have a look inside my arm to see how severe of a labrial tear I have. Why we couldn't have done all of this when the injury first happened is beyond me. Hopefully the snapshot of the interior of my right shoulder will help bring all of this to a satisfying conclusion. I would really like to use my right arm again.

Patience

2010-03-16T10:03:00.000-07:00

I often wonder why lessons from God have to be repeated time after time. Usually this reflection comes in a moment of self pity, when the old "woe is me I thought we were passed this" kicks into high gear. In the midst of one such moment I suddenly realized that these are not lessons to be learned like endless repetition of the times tables in grade school, but skills to be used every moment of every day. The moments of testing are instead an opportunity for me to use the skills, skills which prepare me for more difficult days which lay ahead, the running with horses God promised Jeremiah, rather than mere speed bumps which lay between me and a life of spiritual ease. The latter is an illusion, a lie from the pit of hell itself, which tempts me to question God's wisdom, rather than applauding His grace. Patience is a virtue, a wise man once said. Perhaps. Yet I find that the more I ask God for patience, the more I realize that it is He who must exercise this most illusive virtue with me. Why are we so slow to learn, and so quick to forget?

Failure is an option

2010-01-26T13:00:00.000-08:00

I've failed as a blogger. I don't know how else to assess my performance. My blog entries come so rarely, and even then I don't have much to say. I mean, come one, who really cares about my experiences with rental car agencies or my trip to the Super Bowl? So this is probably my last blog entry. Why keep trying? I am a failure of a blogger. The shame of it all is almost more than I can bear, or not. After all, I'm a writer, not a blogger. I never kept a journal, either, and that fact didn't keep me from getting published.

Rental car insanity

2009-11-18T07:16:00.001-08:00

Friday night I booked a trip to Oklahoma. (My mom had surgery and I wanted to help her for a few days. ) To my shock, I found a cheap flight for the very next day. I do not understand airline logic, but for some reason, I saved four hundred dollars by booking a flight twelve hours in advance as opposed to booking it three days or a week in advance. Go figure. I also booked a rental car through one of the major rental car agencies. Apparently I hit the wrong button while making my rental car reservation because when I walked up to the rental car counter they had no record of my reservation, and neither did my computer. No harm no foul, I thought. Since I made the reservation the night before, I figured this major company had lots and lots of cars just waiting for me to rent. The rental car company had other ideas. "We're all out of cars," I was told, "except for minivans." I knew minivans were much more expensive than the compact car I'd reserved the night before, so I told the guy thanks, but no thanks. With five other rental car counters in the baggage claim area of the airport, I thought I could get a car from someone else. How wrong I was. Over the course of the next hour, I went from one counter to the next, and each one told me the same thing: We have no cars available to rent. Some big horse show was in town, which made all the cars disappear. After going back to the original rental car counter and asking the guy how much for one of his minvans (sixty-five dollars a day, way too much for me), I sulked over to a chair next to an abandoned baggage carousel and fumed over finding myself stuck in a hick airport. Then it hit me. I popped open my trusty Macbook, logged onto my Yahoo account, and clicked the "travel" tab. I then proceeded to reserve a rental car from one of the companies who had just informed me that the horses in town for a show had taken all of their cars away. Five minutes later I was behind the wheel of my midsize car (a free upgrade from the compact I reserved) on my way to my mother's house. The company that had no cars when I asked a human being if I could rent one, suddenly had anything and everything I wanted. What the human being could not produce, my trusty laptop did. The moral of the story, as far as I can tell, is this: The government must run rental car companies. I don't know how else to explain such a screwy, messed up, illogical way of doing business.

32 years and counting

2009-10-28T07:03:00.000-07:00

I've always thought of myself as the creative type, the ready to try new things type, the never one to get stuck in the mud type. Now I have to rethink everything. On the day of the writing of this blog entry I am doing my best to concentrate on work, but all I can really think about is how excited I am about watching the Yankees play game one of the World Series tonight. And how did I get myself ready for the exciting Series action that promises to unfold on my television screen? By watching a replay of Game 6 of the 1977 Series last night on ESPN Classic, of course. I can still remember watching that game the first time, 32 years ago. My dog sat right next to me through every pitch. He barked whenever Reggie hit a home run, which, of course, Reggie did three times in that game. My current dog sat next to me during last night's rebroadcast. He didn't so much bark for Reggie as snore. My old dog cared more about baseball than the new one.

Once the rebroadcast of the game was over, I decided to listen to a little music. I pulled out my iPod and scrolled through the album covers, and, just like back in '77, one name dominated my music collection. That name hasn't changed since I picked up a copy of "Running on Empty" and found myself hooked. All my old lps and 8 tracks are long gone, replaced by cds and digital downloads, but the collection looks very much like it did back then.

So now I sit here in the quiet of my office, pondering the fact that I have not evolved very much as a human being. I've changed, of course, and matured, thank goodness. But my essential likes and dislikes are very much like they were thirty years ago when I drove around the streets of Moore, Oklahoma, the top down on my 1966 Mustang convertible, Jackson Browne blaring from my car stereo, a Yankee ball cap on my head. Now if I could just find a way to replace my beat up old Mercury Mystique with another Mustang, the circle would be complete.

One of everything, please, and how dare you charge me for it!

2009-09-25T05:43:00.000-07:00

While reading an article about the "tea party" movement, I came across the story of one of the protesters. She is upset, angry, on the verge of outrage. Her problem? The alleged socialist agenda of the current president, along with his desire to increase government control over everything. (She did not comment on how the previous resident of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue increased the size and scope of the federal government on a scale that makes FDR look like Ronald Reagan, even though the last president came from the supposed party of small government.) No, the object of her outrage is the current president along with his proposed changes on health care, energy, and everything else we Americans hold near and dear. "The government needs to back off and let capitalism work," she said. An interesting comment, since the thing that pushed over the edge into outrage was not healthcare, but the lack of help from the "someone" with her mortgage that she can no longer afford.

I think this is the reason why reasonable political discussion is nearly impossible. We live in a nation that wants the government to leave them alone, and to take care of our every problem. Yes, health care needs to be reformed, so the government should fix it by leaving it alone. We're sick of paying high property taxes, but we want world class schools. For that matter, we're sick of paying every kind of tax, and heads are going to roll down at city hall if someone doesn't get out here soon and fix that pot hole in the street in front of my house.

I thought of ending this post, my first since finishing my latest book, with a little sermonette of how we must live consistent lives, but I decided against it. Inconsistency in thought is the hall mark of the current age. We've grown so accustomed to holding onto mutually exclusive thoughts and beliefs as if they compliment, not contradict one another, that we cannot imagine life without them. In the words of the Brain, we want a world that is both flat and puffy. Now we have it. God help us.

Why posts are so few and far between

2009-07-22T18:44:00.000-07:00

I am six weeks away from a book deadline, the memoirs of a past World Series of Poker champion, and poker is only one very small part of his story. My daughters enjoy this time in my life which they affectionately refer to as "deadline dad." Deadline dad alternates between zany and cranky. Deadline dad also has very little time to do much writing beyond the book whose timeline is rapidly counting down. That's why there hasn't been a blog post in a while, and probably won't be another until sometime after September 1. In the meantime, shameless plug ahead, read "How Can A Good God Let Bad Things Happen."

The price of fame

2009-06-23T07:17:00.001-07:00

Another celebrity couple broke up this week, which shocked absolutely no one. Celebrity couples break up at an alarming rate, and they have since the day Cleopatra dumped Julius Caesar for Mark Anthony. Cleo and Jules didn't have a house full of children, which makes the latest case of celebrity divorce more tragic than the one immortalized by Hollywood a generation ago. Ironically, the latest and greatest couple to call it quits actually achieved fame because of their family life. Neither can act or sing or possesses any of the requisite skills earlier generations demanded before bestowing stardom. These people became famous by being themselves as the television cameras rolled, or more to the point, by being a couple joined together in the trials and travails of surviving parenthood. Now they've split up for the sake of the children. As a child of divorce I can honestly say that most children would prefer their parents learn to get along for their sake. Instead the celebs say they are going to go their separate ways, which, of course, is a nonsensical statement when you share eight children. Whether they like it or not, those eight little faces will keep the warring parents' lives intertwined for the rest of their lives.

As the news of this latest celebrity divorce takes its turn as the lead story in all the news outlets this morning, I can't help but wonder why the couple allows the television cameras to continue to invade their lives. They announced their split on their television show last night, with new episodes planned for the remainder of the summer season. "The show must go on," they said, as if the show really had to go on. At the risk of stating the obvious, couldn't they have pulled the plug a long time ago right around the moment they noticed their relationship had started to go south? What makes fame so alluring, so addictive, that they would rather cancel their marriage than their television contract? One of the two stated that their marriage would have ended whether they were on television or not. Perhaps. Yet I can't help but wonder why, if one's marriage is that shaky, you would willingly add the weight of celebrity on top of an already poor foundation. For that matter, I have trouble understanding why anyone would want the headaches and hassles of fame. I know a few famous people. They all say the same thing: being famous is a royal pain in the backside. It always has been, and always will be. Yet people will pay any price, make any sacrifice, to place themselves in the middle of the public eye. We want to be known. We want people to care about the most insignificant details of our lives. I don't understand why. Throwing away ten years of marriage and forcing eight children to become statistics seems an awfully high price to pay for celebrity. But then again, their show's ratings have never been higher. The custody fight episodes should prove to be quite the encore.

I thought this only happened to old people

2009-05-21T04:45:00.000-07:00

Later today I will drive north one hour, fill the car with part of my daughter's possessions that fill her college apartment, then drive back home to store them in the garage. It's an annual dance we do, but this is my daughter and my last whirl around the dance floor. Four years at Taylor University end Saturday when she walks across the stage and receives her degree. Two weeks later we will stand together on another stage where I will pronounce her the wife of a man I did not know twelve months ago. Eventually the two of them may move into a place large enough to hold the odd boxes of her possessions stacked in my garage. Until then they will sit and gather dust, a reminder of how quickly these years shot by. I thought this only happened to old people.

I am trying not to get caught up in the emotions of the weekend. I am doing my best to remember that this is exactly what my wife and I raised our daughters to do, beginning with the moment the doctor handed each one to us and said, "It's a girl." My mind wants to run back to dances with my daughter in a living room converted into a ball room, where a high pitched little voice would say, "Spin me, daddy," only to erupt into laughter when I did. I'm trying to keep the memories at bay, but I find it is a losing battle. Only old people live in the past, yet I find the past is trying to suck me in as I face a quickly transforming present. I don't begrudge the changes sweeping over me. I don't want to live in the land of what once was because that which is now holds too much promise. Yet I find myself on the edge of something that feels almost like grief. I do not mind the passing of time, I only wish it had not passed so quickly.

The Bad Review

2009-05-05T11:05:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite books received a bad review at Amazon. Not just a bad review. A scathing review. A review that included the words, "I'm sorry I wasted my time and money on it." Like I said, it was a bad review. I've had bad reviews before. A few people have dissed my book "Living with Less," one because it had too much God in it (which I took as a compliment) and another because the book did not give you Dave Ramsey type details for how to downsize but instead spent most of its time telling you why to downsize (which was exactly my point). I can brush aside those kinds of bad reviews because the reader actually got my point. They just didn't happen to like it. The writer of the bad review that prompted this blog entry didn't care what my point may or may not have been. He simply hated my book. He hated the way I wrote it. He hated the content. He just hated my book. And this particular book happens to be one of my personal favorites. And this bad review also happens to be the only one posted for the book at Amazon. The sales numbers are so bad that this may be the only person who has ever ordered the book online.

I guess by now I should start trying to wrap this little entry up and move toward some semblance of a point. I don't know that there is one. I've had bad reviews before, and I know I will get them again. In fact, I recently read the first few pages of one of my most recent releases and I put the book down in disgust. I guess I just gave myself a very bad review. Bad reviews, scathing reviews, reviews that use the words "a waste of time and money" are a part of the writing life. And the worst part of all of this is not the fact that someone posted a bad review to one of my books, but the knowledge that I've posted a few of my own in the past.

State of fear

2009-04-27T06:18:00.001-07:00

I last heard of swine flu back in the 70's when Jimmy Carter spent a ton of money to stockpile enough swine flu vaccine for every man, woman, and swine in the US of A. At least it seemed like a ton of money before Bush and Obama showed us what real spending looks like. Now, out of nowhere, the swine flu is back with a vengeance, and it's a good thing, too. More and more people have grown so numb to the constant drumbeat of fear about the economy that we no longer run around like our hair is on fire when Wolf Blitzer comes on the air and tells us how the next six months will make October, 1929 seem like a vacation in Maui. Thank God we can panic again. Health officials say we may be on the brink of the first global pandemic in a generation. As of today 20 cases of the flu had been reported in the US. 20! And this out of a population of 300,000,000!

This may well become the feared pandemic Jimmy Carter warned us about thirty years ago. I pray it does not. My guess is that the swine flu will be this year's equivalent of the bird flu, that is, something the prophets of doom in the sensationalist news media tell us will be a dire threat to the survival of the species that turns out to be nothing of the sort. Therefore, in honor of the well coifed doomsday prophets of cable news, I now present my five favorite ways in which life on earth will be wiped out.

5. The Atlantic Ocean current will stop flowing due to the influx of too much fresh water into the ocean, therefore triggering a new ice age in which we all die.

4. An unknown comet comes hurtling toward earth, and our best efforts to stop it only split it in half. When it hits, we all die.

3. An asteroid the size of Texas comes hurtling toward earth, and since we do not have a team of Texas oil drillers to send up to stop it, it hits the earth, and we all die.

2. The core of the earth stops spinning, thus causing the earth's electromagnetic field to fail. Without this field, solar radiation cooks the earth, and we all die.

1. Grave robbers from outer space invade the earth two at a time. The bring an army of the recent dead back to life, and when the leaders of the earth refuse to listen to their warnings, we go ahead and develop solaranite, which, when ignited, blows up the earth and the sun and we all die.

The death of free speech

2009-04-21T04:54:00.000-07:00

I'm not exactly sure what date needs to be placed on the tombstone. April 19, 2009 is not that date. No, it was merely the latest evidence that free speech is dead and buried in the United States. In case you missed it, Miss California lost the Miss USA contest after answering a question regarding gay marriage. Rather than pander to the judges, and rather than fill the next two minutes with meaningless fluff that would offend no one (and not answer the question), she spoke her mind. Believe it or not, she answered the question. She exercised free speech. The openly gay judge who had asked the question was aghast. He later said that if she had won the title, he would have run up on the stage and ripped the crown off of her head. Later, on the Tuesday, April 21 edition of the Today show, he explained his outrage. In short, he said she should have answered her question in a way that would not offend anyone, except, of course, Miss California's own conscience. He basically told Matt Lauer, how dare she speak her mind! How dare she actually answer the question! How dare she speak freely!

The Miss USA controversy is only the latest round of criticism leveled at one who dares to go against the rising tide of accepted belief. We expect such dissent only from those on the far right fringe, from the Limbaughs and Becks of the world. Not from real people. I'm told that a law against "hate speech" is winding its way through the Congress. The law will bring into the legal code that which is already the prevailing sentiment. If and when the law passes, it will merely be the final nail on the coffin of free speech.

As I ponder the question of what killed the first amendment, I find only one logical answer. Political correctness did not kill it. Nor did politicians. And neither did bloviating social commentators on the left or the right. No, I think something far more insidious, something far more difficult to root out of the culture dealt the final blow to what was, in truth, a rather fragile right. I believe the collective immaturity of the American culture and people killed free speech. Tolerating dissent, engaging in an intelligent conversation with those who see the world in a completely different way, and allowing those with whom we disagree to speak freely and openly, all require a level of maturity America has not seen in nearly a generation. Instead we puff up like a toddler whose favorite toy was taken away whenever anyone disagrees with us. We shout and try to drown out dissenting opinion rather than enter into genuine debate. Worse yet, we feel personally attacked whenever anyone thinks in a way that forces us to rethink our own positions.

I have long believed that independent thought is the most dangerous thing in the world. The angry reaction to one lone beauty pageant expressing something other than the company line shows how true this is. Since independent thought can only be expressed through free speech, we must eliminate the latter to protect ourselves against the former. The fatal blow was dealt long ago. Today we are merely free to say that which will offend no one, no one that is, except ourselves.

The week after

2009-04-20T10:53:00.000-07:00

Two weeks ago I finished the first draft of my latest book. Unfortunately, that meant I hadn't actually finished anything. Finishing the draft is like the seventh inning stretch of a ball game. You stand up, stretch, sing a few bars of "Take Me Out to the Ball Game," then you sit down and get back to work. I always watch "The Matrix" when I finish the first draft. I don't know why. I did it once, and now it is my personal tradition. I took a couple of days off after my Matrix viewing. Since it was the weekend, that only seemed like the thing to do. I also went to an actual ball game, a Thursday afternoon Reds game during the first week of the season. That too is a tradition. Then it was back to work, back to page one of the manuscript, time to rewrite, revise, re-evaluate what it is I love about writing. I love to write. I'm not so wild about rewriting.

A couple of days ago, in between creating this blog and tweeting on Twitter about how much I do not like rewriting, I finished the final draft. The book, a collaborative work called, "Don't Just Survive It - Sing!" comes out some time next year. The person for whom I wrote it loved it, which makes me very, very happy. And the publisher loved it, and since the woman for whom I wrote it owns the publishing company, I had a pretty good idea they would. Now I can finally relax. The book is done. The deadline was stretched, but I delivered. Book twenty-three now moves from my "works in progress" to the "finished books" file folder on my MacBook's hard drive.

Now it is Monday. No deadline. No stress. And I'm not quite sure what to do with myself. I have a new book on which I will start working as soon as my partner signs his contract. In the meantime I am going through deadline withdrawal. I have this nagging sense that I need to rush to my office and buckle down, only to remember the book is finished. I think I will spend this week reading. Writers love to read. Then again, I may choose to sit on the couch, a little dog at my side, and do nothing at all. It is, after all, the week after a deadline. I always enter such weeks with high hopes of accomplishing so much, only to discover my brain has rebeled after being squeezed a little too hard for a little too long. My dog is about to fall asleep. I think I will join him.

Mark

Maggie

2009-04-16T08:17:00.000-07:00

A cardinal decided to crash into my kitchen window the other day. She liked the experience so much that she backed up, and crashed into it again and again and again. Her wings must have tired, because eventually she sat on the window sill and pecked away at the glass. I read somewhere that birds do this when they see their reflection in the window. Either this bird is pulling an A-Rod, and giving herself a little self love, or she isn't very bright. Come to think of it, the two are one in the same. The bird was really starting to get on my nerves until I looked deep into her dark little eyes. To me, she looked like a Maggie. Now that's her name. She isn't so annoying any more. In fact, everyone in the family looks forward to her visits. Maybe there's a lesson to be learned here. Maybe Maggie came to my house to teach us all about how building relationships allows us to move beyond focusing on one another's annoying little habits. Or maybe Maggie is just a less than bright bird that is too stupid to stop running into the bird flying right at her near my house.