A moment to say 'Thanks'

Sometime tomorrow, I don't know when, the next book, our second book, Holy Ground, will be born. What started years ago as a way to memorialize my grandfather's stories we all had to listen to, over, and over, and over again, writing them down so we could read about him, morphed into, well, this.

I hope you like it.

No, Mark, you really hope we hate it. What person would create something so the viewer or reader would hate what they created? Good point. No, I say that because this is a story about a lot of us. Us with issues.

Stand in line.

When I first drafted this story, it was funnier. I had some ghosts and, well, it was just funnier. But only to me and a select handful who helped me create those characters over some well worn single-malt scotch. Everything is funnier over scotch, especially well worn scotch.

Then my editors read it and they all slapped me like I was stealing candy. So, I listened to them. That's what Stephen King said you are suppose to do, listen to your editors. Especially if you're paying them to be listened to. I thought they were wrong. But when the three of them came to the same conclusion. Look, I can be stubborn, but I'm not totally stupid. They saw something that I didn't want to. So the book took a turn.

Now, you can see the story for what it is, not what it was trying to be.

I hope you like it because of all the insecure reasons anyone hopes people like what they do. Like a party. You go to a friend's party and they have some wonderful food. But on the way home, you are happy to point out that they used Chick'n-in-a-bisk't crackers as the foundation for their Cheese Whiz and salami. Tsk, tsk, tsk.

No, I want you to like it because I want to enjoy this feeling of being absolutely humbled, brought to my knees humbled, that I have been allowed to go this far. Sure, it costs some greenbacks on my part, but there is something you all have caused and I want to share it with you. You see, you helped create this baby. It's ours. I believe everyone we meet, effects our lives, changes our path, sometimes in big ways, sometimes just a degree or two at a time. Most of the time-at that moment of contact, it is insignificant to us. We don't even feel it until later. Then, it has had time to build and grow, until we find ourselves on a grassy knoll with our own box of thoughts and issues. Then, in the sunlight and never alone, we look back over time.

So take a look at the cover. It's a neighborhood bar like a thousand others, but its a safe place, at least it was for our main character and a few others. It is a warm and inviting place, with fresh pastas, ice-cold beer, fresh made breads, and a French onion soup made with Guinness beer that you want to try to figure out how to bathe in-its that good. You can sit and have a conversation or just sit. Our hero likes to sit right there at the corner where the bar turns. He can watch the TV to his upper right. His favorite program comes on late and the bar owner flips it off of ESPN just for his friend. A small two-piece band, the Catfish Hunters, is playing for a few who venture out on the floor, another pair are playing some pool. The smell of whiskey in oak casks and fresh bread fill the air. You find yourself just sitting back in your chair, not speaking. You can actually feel your pulse slow, your blood pressure drop.

Yeah, I don't want to stop doing this.

Enjoy the ride.