I’m sitting in a Kansas City Marriott, about to launch into an adventure at the 2025 Nebulas. That all picks up and starts tomorrow. Today, I need to take a moment and talk about the Sacramento Book Festival and the Bay Area Book Festival that just transpired a few days ago.

Sacramento Book Festival

Going into this event, I wasn’t sure what to expect. The guys running the event did a fantastic job of promoting it, and I heard there would be around 140 local authors attending. But, it’s Sacramento. How big could the festival actually be?

It turns out, pretty big! It’s estimated that over 5000 people attended the event. And, the event made really good use the facilities, in spite them being somewhat small.

The Water Dragon table was in the smaller East room, which had air conditioning and lots of good natural light. The Graveside Press table was outside the East room, and in spite the hottest May 31st in Sacramento in 100 years, both tables did very well!

The parking was a bit of a pain. As I said before, the facilities were small. If you needed to go to the bathroom, you had to walk through the room used for presentations, which felt uncomfortable and weird. In spite that and a handful of other nuisances, the event was actually kind of amazing.

We outsold and outperformed the LA Book Festival from just a couple weeks ago. In LA, taking in the cost of the table, we lost money, even though there were over 180,000 people in attendance. In Sacramento, on the other hand, we made nearly $1,000. I think with a bigger space, the Sacramento Book Festival will be an even bigger success.

I’m looking forward to it next year. It was a lot of fun, and I was really happy to see so many familiar faces.

Bay Area Book Festival

The day after Sacramento, Melissa and I got up early and went to Berkley.

I did this event last year, in weather that was sunny and hot. I wound up severely burned last year, and so we armed ourselves with a hat, sunscreen, and attire that’s perfect to handle a really hot day. We had just had the hottest day on record for a May 31st, so this seemed reasonable. I should have looked at the weather for Berkely.

With the temperatures never really getting over 65F, and often being lower that, with lots of shade a breeze, I was not appropriately dressed for the area.

It wasn’t that bad. But as we setup, I looked around and had serious doubts about our prospects. Our space was on an off-street. The main event took place on the other side of a busy street. Given the geography, I really didn’t think we were going to get that much traffic.

Again, I was wrong. Plenty of people came by our booth, which had Graveside, Cupid’s Arrow, Water Dragon, Paper Angel, and Small Publishing in a Big Universe organized in a U shape beneath a canopy. Lots more books on display than in Sacramento. Much larger space, and easier for people to get in and look at everything.

In spite the easier access and plenty of traffic, sales were not as good as they’d been in Sacramento. We still made a profit, and Graveside Press was the big seller, but I continue to feel like the answer isn’t to put more books out on the table. I think a smaller, more focused offering is the way to get more sales. Feature the authors that are at the event, have backlog easily available on demand, and have really solid pitches and summaries for the books on the table. I think that’s the route to success.

A good time was had by all. I enjoyed promoting Arlo Z. Graves’ book, Black Rose, almost as much as I enjoyed promoting my own titles. The author attended the event, their first time doing something like that, and for their debut novel, and they were clearly having a great time. Also, Arlo Graves is a fantastic author. You should check out their book.

In Closing…

I like selling books from our table. I really like selling one of my books, because those sales carry the hope that I might entertain someone and improve their day. Mostly, I really enjoy talking with people at these events about books, stories, storytelling, the industry, and all of the other topics that come up when surrounded by so many books.

I don’t make a ton of money from these events. My writing career costs more money than it generates. But I love it, and I’ll keep doing it for as long as I can afford to do so.

Oh, and I broke a tooth while in Berkley. It doesn’t hurt at the moment. Haven’t had time to have it looked at, though. Hope that doesn’t come back to bite me. (Pun intended)

I think this is the third time I’ve talked about A.I. and writing. The first time, I concluded that the main problem with A.I. and writing is that we live in a Capitalist society which is always looking for the cheapest labor and a better bottom line. The second time, I came down harder and talked about how it is a machine designed to steal the voices and styles from artists and writers.

My day job is programming. I have an understanding of machine learning, and there are absolutely wonderful uses for A.I. that are not confined to large language models (LLMs) and art simulation. Seriously, when technology is used for good, it is great, and I’m always going to be a fan.

But, there are people using LLMs to write stories, and there are people using LLMs to write code. On the code-side, the term is “vibe coding.” A couple of decades ago, we called this “intentional programming,” in which a programmer uses tools to generate code based on their intentions, rather than having to roll up their sleaves and do all the plumbing themselves. We have frameworks and libraries and development environments dedicated to reducing the busy-work in programming.

I don’t blame anyone for wanting to make their life easier. As with all things in life, there is a balance. If you want to use an LLM in order to walk through a dataset or a database and create a bunch of standard plumbing code, go for it. Before you do, make sure you know how that plumbing code works. To gain that understanding, you’re probably going to have to write it yourself a time or two.

Don’t use an LLM in place of learning.

What about writing fiction? Is there a place for “vibe writing?”

No.

The most generous take I can give is that, there are visual artists that can take a squiggle on a piece of paper and turn it into art. It may be possible for a writer to take A.I. slop and turn it into something decent, but I can’t see a real writer doing that because they’re depriving themselves of the fun part.

Editing A.I. slop doesn’t save time. There is no such thing as “standard” fiction to tack onto your story. Writers create characters with voices, and they place those characters into situations baked from their imagination, which test truths that resonate in the writer’s soul.

How do you write a book? One word at a time.

Every word is a choice. Every verb and adjective. Every sentence fragment, every comma splice, every imperfection laced into the narrative, like the vocal fry of a singer as their belting out their biggest hit. Authorial voices are diamonds, given beauty by the flaws more than the perfection.

Machines abhor imperfection.

A writer sees the world and then writes something to the world about the world. LLMs regurgitate the words from the stories they were trained on, using math and probability to generate something that looks like a statement, but isn’t.

Vibe coding is giving the idea to the machine to generate a solution to a problem. Vibe writing is giving an idea to the machine to generate a story, but as I have said before, ideas are cheap. The idea is usually the least interesting thing about a story.

Writers do not need a machine to give them ideas. They’re already drowning in ideas. And they don’t need a machine to do the writing for them, because it’s the writing itself that sustains them and gives them joy. That’s why we do it.

I will conclude with stating something that is obvious, but related to this topic. There is a difference between making something and having something. There are many people that want to have written a story without going through all of the work to write it themselves. Most people that set out to write a story do not finish.

If you have started a story and stopped before reaching the end, hold your head up high. You’re in good company. Try again, and keep trying until you finish, because one of the defining characteristics of a writer is perseverance.

Don’t be fooled or tempted by the plagiarism machine. If you whisper your idea into ChatGPT and it gives you “your book,” you didn’t write it. You didn’t create anything. You may have a story, but you didn’t make it, and you have my pity, because you deprived yourself of something you may not even understand.

I went with my kids to see Thunderbolts* Thursday evening. As a reminder, Chris turned 27 last month, and Bryanna turns 29 in August, so I wasn’t bringing small children to a Disney movie. I brought adult children to a bloodless but still violent Marvel movie.

My Bias:

I remain a Marvel fan boy. I don’t go out to the movies as much as I used to, but I still go to see the latest Marvel flick. I’m part their target audience.

I don’t really believe in “superhero fatigue.” I think that audiences want interesting stories that come from the heart, regardless of whether or not there are fantasy, SciFi, or superhero elements involved. They don’t want to be fed something generated from a formula. They like being forced to think, but they love being made to feel.

Computer generated eye candy is not a replacement for good storytelling. Special effects are not a good substitute for solid setups and payoffs.

Finally, Marvel movies suffer the same problem that other large franchises suffer, which is toxic fandom. These are fans that are looking for excuses to shit on movies. These are fans that are taking popcorn filler way too seriously.

I am a fan of good storytelling. I am a fan of giving artists and directors the freedom to make something unique, even if it must exist within a larger playground. I am also willing to turn my brain off for a few minutes and just have a good time for the sake of a good time. For me, the story does not have to adhere with maximum accuracy to the comics that may have preceded it.

That is my bias. I think every reviewer should state something like this before their review, because the consumer checking reviews may or may not be looking for something that the reviewer has to offer. I know a bit about the comics, but if you’re here to see if I will give an account to the “accuracy” of the movie, you’re in the wrong place.

My review will be from the perspective of a writer, and from someone that has watched all 36(!) of the preceding films.

Spoiler Free Review:

Thunderbolts* is a solid movie that relies more on good storytelling and excellent acting than special effects. It is emotional. It is thoughtful. It has humor without becoming a comedy. The stakes are high without becoming cosmic.

I had a good time with this one. Florence Pugh is the star and plays the main viewpoint character. She gives an outstanding, emotional performance. I enjoyed her in Black Widow and the Hawkeye series, but she really stands out in this movie. I’m looking forward to seeing more of her in future movies.

David Harbour plays a more comedic character in the scenes, but again, it isn’t treated like a comedy. He does and says things that are funny, but there is an earnestness to his performance that balances it out. An argument could be made that he steals every scene he is in. The scenes that involve him and Florence are great. They play off of each other perfectly.

Lewis Pullman also knocks this out of the park. He’s asked to do a lot and he delivers. He must be vulnerable, sympathetic, menacing, and powerful, and he succeeds at all of it. I hope we see more of him in the future, but given the nature of his character, I think this is probably the only time we’ll see his character in this way. I hope I’m wrong about that, but I think his character is difficult to write around. You either relegate him to the background and hope the audience forgets about him, or you center your story around him because he has that much gravity. Again, this is the spoiler-free section. I’ll talk more about him in the spoilers below.

I enjoyed seeing Wyatt Russell again. He and the rest of the cast didn’t have as much to do, but they all did their part, and they all had moments to shine.

I can’t think of any parts of the movie that felt slow or uninteresting. The pacing was fine. I can see people saying that the resolution was a little rushed, but I don’t agree with that. I’ll talk more about that in the spoiler section, but I think that people unsatisfied with the ending probably didn’t understand it.

At least one other reviewer has said “this is the best one since Endgame” and while I had a great time and highly recommend this movie, I’m not sure I like the comparison. I think it sets up an expectation that the movie will not quite meet.

Endgame gave us payoffs to story arcs that spanned about a decade of storytelling. There were moments in Endgame that got the audience jumping out of their seats, cheering. Thunderbolts* does not do that.

What Thunderbolts* does do is give an audience a chance to cheer for underdogs and misfits. It tells a story of hope and healing, which is exactly what we need right now. It sets things up rather than pay things off.

Thunderbolts* is better than Captain America 4. It is not as funny as Deadpool and Wolverine. It is not as exciting or as nostalgic as Spider-man: No Way Home. If you go into Thunderbolts* expecting to see something that will make you jump out of your seat, you will probably be disappointed.

However, if you’re looking for a really good movie that just happens to have superheroes in it, something heartfelt without being sappy, then this is the movie for you.

Spoiler Details:

This is a sentence to give people a chance to bail out because they do not want to read spoilers.

This is also a sentence that does that, while also setting up a lie/lame joke. That is, I couldn’t believe it when the film stopped part way through and just starting playing the first twenty minutes of James Gunn’s Superman movie. It was a crossover none of us expected!

Okay, that’s enough padding. If you’re still reading this and you don’t want spoilers, that’s a you-problem, not a me-problem. You’ve been warned.

Let’s talk about Lewis Pullman and Sentry.

I went into this movie with some knowledge of Sentry from the comics, and I’d seen just enough of the advertisements that I knew Sentry was going to be in the movie, which is a little bit of a bummer. I think my viewing experience would have been slightly improved to have Bob Reynolds/Sentry revealed, rather than spoiled.

Pullman knocked it out of the park. Seriously. I’m not sure another actor would have succeeded in making Bob Reynolds sympathetic. But Pullman did it. And then when Sentry is revealed in his costume and becomes terrifying, Pullman succeeds again. Florence Pugh and David Harbour deserve their flowers, but I think this movie wouldn’t have succeeded if Lewis Pullman hadn’t performed the way he did.

I didn’t talk about Julia Louis-Dreyfus, not because she did a poor job, but because I didn’t want to spoil things. We’ve seen her character in previous movies, and I think she subtly added more nuance to her character. On the surface, she’s a cartoonish villain, but there’s more to it, and not just because we got to see her father killed in front of her when she was a child. There’s something in her eyes, and the tightness of the way she holds her body.

I’m not a fan of flat, unmotivated villains. Her character could have been that, but I think her performance elevates into something I can respect.

Let’s talk about the ending.

The entire movie is about dealing with trauma and depression. From the opening dialog to the final conflict resolution, it treats the subject honestly and seriously. It doesn’t overstate or understate the themes. It is sincere.

Depression is the real villain in this movie. Trauma. Self-loathing. It is represented by The Void, but it is something everyone carries with them. The characters. The audience. Everyone.

And the answer to dealing with depression isn’t pushing it down and bottling it up. The answer also is not beating it down, because when you fight your depression, you fight yourself. It is part of you, and you deserve to be treated with care.

The answer to fighting depression isn’t to duke it out. It’s not punching and shooting your way out of the problem. The answer is to face the tragedy head on, with courage and without shame, and it is to face it together. Get help. Put away the violence and hold each other up. Which is exactly how the conflict was resolved.

Not only that, but it was a group of unlikely misfits that did it. The group had super powers, certainly, but it wasn’t through force of strength that they overcame the villain. It was by holding onto each other, defying the darkness, and giving each other light.

That’s good storytelling. It’s honest, true, and hopeful. Because if these not-quite-heroes can defeat The Void by banding together, what can we do?

From that perspective, maybe this is the best Marvel movie since Endgame. I’d rather not put it that way, though, because I’m not sure the average movie-goer is going to read into it as deeply as I have.

It’s popcorn fun, and it does have good special effects. I think the real beauty of the film is something that will ultimately go over the head of the average movie-goer. Maybe that’s me being cynical, but I haven’t seen much lately that would change my mind.

Final Thoughts on the After Credits Scene:

I think it was fine.

It was directed by The Russo brothers, and I enjoyed it for what it was. I’m also looking at it like it’s something completely separate from the movie that preceded it. You can skip it, if you like.

I’m excited to see The Fantastic Four, and seeing how it fits in with the rest of the stories that came before. This after credits scene gave us a hint how they’re going to do it, and I hope it wasn’t a spoiler for the movie coming out in a few months.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this review! If you think I left anything out or just want to talk with me about the movie, let me know.

I have lots of thoughts on the event, and I’m not sure where to begin. The TL;DR — I had a good time and I’m really glad we went, even if it wasn’t a pure financial success.

The thing about events like this though is that there are intangibles that are hard to quantify. For example, I was interviewed three different times this weekend. At least one of them was for a school project, I think. One might have been for a podcast. People enjoyed talking with me at the booth, and a few of those people had microphones and wanted me to answer questions and record my thoughts on writing and the industry.

I’ve spoken before how there is writing books, and there is selling books, and those are different skillsets. Enthusiasm helps with both, and both activities require practice. Working a table at an event like this is great, hands-on practice selling books directly. It’s not quite the same as marketing.

Really, the big thing I enjoyed the most about the event was meeting people. I met a system engineer that works for Riot, the company that makes League of Legends and Valorant. I met an actor/voice actor that sounded very interested in producing an audio book for me. I met a Chinese writer that, when she saw the title “The Repossessed Ghost” asked, “Is that real?” She talked about how her mind’s eye has remained opened and she’s helped people talk to the dead. She wanted to know how to get an agent.

One writer I spoke to wanted to know about tools to use, and I gave her a bunch of information. She went to take one of my cards from the table but grabbed Steven’s by mistake. I found out as we were driving home that she told Melissa that I was her new mentor, which would be great if I didn’t know how much she liked using ChatGPT to augment her stuff.

The event had its challenges, some of which I’m still paying for. As an example, I had to park pretty close to a mile away from our booth, and both days, I had to make multiple trips to the cars. My legs and back are sore from all the walking, and my feet are still complaining because of all the standing. The event ran until 5PM, and with tear down, we weren’t able to get on the road to come home until after 7PM. We didn’t get home until near 2AM, and I had to work Monday.

I’m tired and sore, but it feels like I did a good thing. The event was good for my mental health, though my physical health might have taken a hit. My voice is raspy and I’m right on the verge of getting sick.

Will we do the event again next year? Probably not the way we did it. We all might have enjoyed the intangibles, but the publishing company is a business, and we financially took a loss this weekend. I’m not sure what we could do differently that would get us into the land of profit.

I came away with some good experiences, some of which will show up in my stories. Now, I need to rest and recover, and take some of those good vibes and turn them into writing.

The festival started at 10AM today, but we needed to help set up the booth, starting from a position of greater disarray than normal. Steven suggested we meet him at USC around 6:30AM, and we tried, but that’s so early for us that we might as well have tried time traveling. We arrived a little bit later than asked, but we brought breakfast so all is forgiven.

Parking was a thing. When we entered the orbit of USC, we found a volunteer and asked where we should go. He directed us to the Royal parking, which as it turns out, is for authors and participants. I am an author, but I didn’t sign up as a participant. Melissa and I were just here to help with the booth.

The details get grainy and boring, but to spare you some of it, we parked where we were told, but did not have a code to complete a webform. I asked around to get a code, but no one working the event could help. Maybe I parked illegally all day? I don’t know. To try and rectify the situation, I used my phone to apply to be a participant. I don’t think they’re watching that form anymore now that the event has already started. I’m not sure what parking is going to be like tomorrow.

The parking garage is about a mile away from our booth. I made a few trips, carrying some wooden crates and two boxes of books. Not fun. Fortunately, the rain waited until after I finished hauling the goods.

I remember hearing there would be a 60% chance of rain on Saturday morning. It didn’t come as a surprise, but I didn’t expect it to be such a downpour. We pulled books from boxes, trying to get them in place on the table while at the same time, our space kept shrinking because rainwater seeped down the walls of our tent, threatening to ruin all our merchandise.

I’m not sure how we did it, but we kept the books and boxes safe. Some table cloths got a little wet, and packing paper placed to prevent precipitation from penetrating our place wound up soaked. Our neighbors on one side, noticing that their roof was drooping, decided the best course of action was to push the bubble of water up and out, which meant about 5 gallons of water flooded over our wall and into our space. Thankfully, we moved our stuff to the other side of the tent before they drenched us.

Melissa was ready to go to war. She managed to hold her temper until the sun came out, and we left to go eat $25 hamburgers from a van. After that, she calmed down and everything was fine.

I really enjoyed talking to people today. We didn’t get a ton of sales, but I had a good time.

Towards the end of the day, I spotted Chuck Wendig walking by and I said hello. I was going to buy him one of my books, but he didn’t have the space to take one. I walked with him to his next event and we chatted about writing and promoting books while the world is on fire. He remains one of the coolest dudes in the community, and it was a real treat for me to get to meet him again.

Melissa and I are back in our sketchy room. Outside, I can hear angry shouting and cars racing by. Melissa asked me to bolt the door, and for once, I did it without complaint.

Tomorrow should be sunnier. Hopefully we’ll have more people at the booth. I don’t think the sales will justify the cost of participating, but I’m enjoying the adventure, and I’m really glad we came.

This event is the first of many for me this year. I’m not sure what to expect. Looking at the festival’s web page, this is bigger in every way than I imagined. Chuck Wendig will be here! And John Scalzi! And so many, many more people!

I’ll be helping with the Waterdragon booth. If you’re at the event and you’re looking for me, I shouldn’t be far from the vendors.

I’m writing this from a hotel not far from the event. Probably a little further than I want to walk, but I hear parking is a nightmare, so maybe we’ll look at all our options before heading out tomorrow. Maybe Uber? I don’t know.

Speaking of this hotel, let me tell you a story.

Before Melissa and I married, we had a big argument that landed a good portion of my possessions onto the street. Afterwards, we decided to make up and run away together for the weekend. We picked Santa Fe, and the hotel was around $110/night. I remember thinking that it was kind of expensive, but nice. A perfect place for us to patch our relationship back together.

The hotel I’m in right now is also $110/night, but this is Los Angeles, and it’s 30 years later, and oh my goodness is this place a little bit sketchy. There are bars on all the windows. When we entered the room, a blacklight shown from the wall, which I assume is to help guests see that there aren’t any blood stains on the floor or blankets.

The parking lot is the size of a newspaper. Folded.

Melissa is understandably a bit intimidated by this place. It’s a step up from some of the hostels I stayed in when adventuring in Seattle a few years ago, but there’s a vibe about the place that maybe they don’t typically rent for the whole night. The attendant behind the glass did look surprised that we wanted to stay here 2 nights.

I’m not that worried. Sure, there was a guy half-naked walking around the upstairs landing, but he didn’t seem angry or hostile. Just stoned.

I still don’t know what tomorrow and Sunday will be like, but I’m sure hanging out with some cool people and talking about books will do me a lot of good. Maybe I’ll even sell a couple of books while I’m here.

It is Saturday, April 12th, and it doesn’t feel like it’s been one week since Melissa and I were in Vegas. My sense of the passage of time doesn’t work very well anymore. We walked with the protest in Vegas, but that could have been a yesterday, or maybe a month ago. There is another protest next week, and if I can attend, I bet that the Vegas protest will feel like last year.

There is nothing wrong with my memory. In fact, I have a very long, detailed memory, which is one of the things that makes me valuable at work. It helps with my writing, too. My sense of when is off, though, which is a problem when trying to maintain relationships.

There are people I think about all the time that I haven’t spoken with for years. There are people that I spent time with decades ago that are still an influence in my life today. To say that I miss these people is an understatement. Many of them would see me as a stranger if I were to cross paths with them again tomorrow, and though we would be strangers, despite the span of miles and years, I would still feel excitement at seeing them again, and pain for the reminder that we are no longer close.

With almost every one of those relationships, it is my fault that we have grown apart. I am responsible for the long silences. I could have called, wrote a message, or reached out, but I didn’t. It didn’t occur to me. I thought I saw them just a few days ago, when it was actually a few years, and they’ve moved on.

I’m well into the back half of my life, and I can count on one hand the number of people with whom I’m still close. I have a lot of friendships that have become acquaintances, and that’s okay, but there are people I thought I’d grow old with. In honor of those folks, and without naming names, I want to share some thoughts as a kind of tribute to people that are no longer meaningfully in my life.

One, you were my best friend. We shared art and music and stories, and I opened up to you about things I never shared with anyone else. We harmonized, literally and figuratively. At a certain point, it seemed like I grew up and you remained Peter Pan. I did try to keep things alive between us, but something happened. I was a little too successful, and you went through painful hardship without me, and I think you became a little bit jealous. Having gone through my own hardships, I couldn’t understand why. My attempts to help only made things worse, and now my presence makes you sad and uncomfortable. You’re one of the people I miss the most, and I wish I could tell you that I still love you.

Two, you were one of the few people that truly let me cry when I needed to. You and I lifted each other up, and we hurt each other, and we probably could have gone through that cycle our entire lives, but some walls are built out of scars. We’re too old for that nonsense, now. I do hear from you from time to time, but you’re not the person I remember any more than I’m the person you remember. Too much has happened. We’re as much strangers to each other as we would be to ourselves if we were to go back in time. And yet, we contain the people we once were. We build our lives on top of the corpse of our youth. What would happen to the foundation if we were to reanimate those old bones and make them dance and sing once again?

Three, you used to inspire me. I looked up to you. In some ways, I moved my life around so that I could be in your orbit, but you changed while we were still sharing space. We had so much in common, and enough differences that we could talk for hours without getting bored. You challenged me in good ways, and made me grow without losing touch with who I am. What the hell happened to you, man? It’s like you and I swapped places, but in trying to achieve what I did at an early age, you gave up the most important aspects of that which you seek. To be less myopic: if you seek to make Jesus a central pillar in your life, you should become more forgiving, more loving, and more charitable. You claim Jesus, but eschew the qualities of Christ, and that more than anything is why you and I are no longer friends.

Four. I think of you often, and at this point, I wish for a better closure. You were always cool. Boisterous. Popular. Bigger-than-life. We had such a great friendship for so long, which from my perspective, is wild because I have never seen myself as being all that cool. Your greatest flaw is that when you look back, you only see the bad times and the faults. This makes it easy for you to slam the door and cut the cord. All I want from you these days is a chance to hang out one last time, give you a stack of my books, and then quietly close the door with a good memory. I guess I’m still hopeful that we would be friends again, but I know the reality.

Five. We have always been matter and anti-matter, which has led to some cataclysmic and destructive times. And yet, we would dust ourselves off, come back together, and give each other energy. We’ve been there for each other, but you have always taken me for granted. We smile and share pleasantries now more often than share time and make memories. You’re not that far away, and yet I miss you just the same.

I think that’s enough for now. There are many others I can talk about obliquely. If you’re reading this, I’m almost certainly not talking about you. But if you see yourself in any of these descriptions, maybe we should talk. Maybe we should have a meal together, make some memories, and actually be friends.

If you’re like me and you have trouble perceiving the passage of time, take this post as a reminder to reach out to the people you care about, so you don’t find yourself in your 50s wondering where everyone went.

It is April 5th, and I’m nowhere near home. My company is celebrating its 25th anniversary, and the CEO has generously paid for Trimark employees to come to Vegas to celebrate. This was planned months in advance. Certainly before Trump was sworn in. I’ve been with Trimark over 13 years, and I couldn’t say no to this.

At the same time, this is April 5th, and there are protests happening across the country. My biggest regret with coming on this Vegas trip is that, once again, I’m just some asshole posting shit on the Internet, and not actually putting my ass on the line. I’m letting other people protest and do the work, while I just bitch and moan safely, from afar.

It couldn’t be helped. This is another moment for our country, and it was going to come and go without me. Again.

Unless…

While Melissa and I ate our greasy sandwiches from Eggslut, I looked up what protests were happening today in Las Vegas. Sure enough, #HandsOff was starting in less than an hour, only a couple of blocks away.

So, Melissa and I walked. We joined the procession heading along the street. Many people carried signs. There were lots of chants, the most popular being “Hey hey! Ho ho! Donald Trump has got to go!”

Melissa and I walked with them, for at least 30 minutes. We chanted with them. We were actually there for a change.

Will this make a difference? Since the major medias do not seem to be covering it very much, I doubt it. The protests have been peaceful and respectful. The one in Vegas was along the street, not on it. We marched and didn’t even disturb traffic.

The will is there. Protests are happening. I’m happy I got to walk in one. Maybe with the next one in Sacramento, I’ll show up carrying a sign.

• Is it prudent of me to publicly post about participating in a protest? (Edited to improve alliteration)
• Isn’t this blog supposed to be about my writing journey?

There’s no point in me writing my fiction if the books can’t be published. And I’m having trouble writing while I watch my country burn to the ground. Doing something about it, talking about it, will help me get back to writing. Eventually, some of these experiences will show up in my stories.

As for the wisdom of posting this publicly… for about 10 years, I’ve made it obvious that I am anti-Trump. I’m not a Democrat, though my goals align with what theirs should be at this point. I’m anti-Trump. I’m not going to hide that fact.

I wish for him to die in obscurity. The greatest justice would be for him to live out the rest of his life as no one. Some doddering old fool that wanders his golf course, cheating at something that does not matter. A laughable old man that no one takes seriously. That would be a greater justice than killing him.

There were thousands of people on the streets in Vegas. There are many, many thousand across the country, all doing the same thing. At some point, something will change. Either the representatives elected to serve their constituents will start listening to the protestors, or the protestors will get more direct, until they cannot be ignored.

Trump does not not follow the will of the people. We will see how long before the people’s will is made manifest.

Hello friends, stalkers, and people that subscribed to this Blog/Newsletter by accident.

I went quiet for most of March, mostly because I was busy with work, and also I was not in a particularly great headspace. When I know that the post is going to be just a huge bummer, I tend to hold off. I don’t want to bring anyone down, fish for pity, or promote negativity. These times are hard enough. You probably don’t need me to tell you how bad things are. (But if you do want me to talk to you about the state of the world, let me know and we can have a personalized rant and/or discussion.)

That being said, I have an idea for a post I’ve been sitting on which might be a little bit sad. It’s a lament for friends lost, as it were. Sort of a way for me to honor some of the people I still think about that are no longer in my life. That post is coming, when I have the time and mental space to write such a thing.

On the writing front, I’ve stalled out on the next Mel Walker story again. I made some progress in March, but drafting for me lately has been like performing surgery on myself, without anesthesia. Painful, difficult, a bad idea, and almost certainly unhealthy.

I’m writing this, though, which is easy and breezy, while also a way for me to avoid going down and into the throng of people inhabiting Las Vegas.

Why am I in Vegas? Trimark just turned 25, and the owner, Mark Morosky, has paid for all of Trimark to come to this city of sin for a big celebration. Melissa and I will be here tonight and tomorrow night, with our only mandatory obligation being a party from 6PM to 11PM tomorrow night. That means we have a lot of time to run around and play.

Did I mention that neither Melissa nor I gamble much? We’ll host poker parties at our house from time to time, but actual gambling doesn’t appeal to either of us.

There are other things to do here, of course. Shows, mini-golf, an aquarium, Cirque de Solei, which I already mentioned because that’s a show… there’s plenty of mischief we can get up to.

The truth is, I’m a little bit tired from the drive, which lowers my desire to breathe the same air as a city of half-drunk strangers. We got up at 5AM and drove from Sacramento to Las Vegas. There was quite a bit of traffic, but the worst part is that the check engine light came on after we’d already driven about four hours. We stopped in Delano and a very friendly mechanic determined that it was my fuel sensor, and had us patched up and back on the road within an hour. The repair experience couldn’t have been better, but the stress of the car trouble itself was not something I had on my wish list.

I’m fine, though. Melissa is fine. The U.S. is getting destroyed in an extremely predictable way, in that I and others predicted that this would happen, but The Buhls are fine. I alternate between rage and sorrow as I read the news, but I haven’t done anything stupid yet.

Stay safe out there. Support each other. Love each other. It sounds cliche, but it’s true that the only way we’re going to get through this is together.

Yesterday, Melissa and I went to Barnes and Noble. I had a great conversation about books and authors with someone that worked there, and he recommend this book to me. I wouldn’t have found it otherwise, since I mostly hang out in the Fantasy and Science Fiction sections, and this was in General Fiction.

Brian’s Summary:

What if there is one true religion, and it’s Zoroastrianism? The main character, Soren Johansson, a devout Mormon, discovers the truth the hard way, when he dies and goes to Hell. The story is about his journey through a particular hell, in which he must find the book of his life before he can move on to heaven.

The Review:

I’ll try to do this without spoilers, though apparently the book has been out for 13 years or so.

It’s very good! I recommend it.

I appreciate the craft of it. The prose, and the execution. It manages to cover a nearly unimaginable scope of time and space, without losing track of the character and emotional journey.

I’ll say it again: It’s very good.

It’s written in first person. It’s short. Probably around 25,000 words. I easily read it one sitting, with gray daylight streaming in the window and a cat on my lap.

While reading it, I thought I could see something of a puzzle in the story.

When I finished reading it, I sat back and thought about it for a little while. I’m not sure the conclusion is satisfying, but then, I don’t know that there is a satisfying way to conclude this kind of story.

I hadn’t looked at blurbs on the back until I finished. When I did, I discovered a familiar name: Dan Wells. In his blurb, he says ‘it will haunt you, fittingly, for a very, very long time.’ The next time I see Dan, I’ll ask if he still thinks about this story.

I think Michael Gallowglas will enjoy this book. The next time I see him, I’ll give him this copy.

Other Thoughts:

I’m not sure I’m particularly good at book reviews. I’ve only done a couple, and I feel like I should do more.

The problem is that I’m critical about some things that most people don’t care about, and I’m more forgiving about some things that other people complain about. I want to fall into a story and feel something, and if the prose is too cheap or lazy, I’m going to be distracted by that and fail to engage. Once I’m into the story, though, I can forgive and ignore plot holes or inconsistencies, as long as the emotions I’m feeling are real.

I didn’t have those problems reading A Short Stay in Hell. The writing was far from lazy, and the emotions I felt were profound.

If you’ve read it, let me know, and maybe we can talk about it. If you’d like to see more reviews from me, let me know that, too.