Tag Archives: The Silent Fountain

A Personal Review

“I couldn’t put it down.”

What author doesn’t love to hear that?!  Especially about their debut novel!

I had a late lunch/early dinner (I’ll call it “lunner”) at a nearby restaurant.  It had been a full, yet satisfying day.  On many levels, things are starting to improve for me.  I won’t go into dramatic detail, but I felt better Friday than I had in months.  The stress of dealing with aging parents and now unemployment in the midst of a global pandemic has beaten my mental and physical health down worse than anything I’ve ever experienced.

So I decided to treat myself for a good meal and a couple of mixed drinks.  My favorite server, Kendra*, was staffing the bar, and after providing my first beverage, suddenly told me how much she loved my novel, The Silent Fountain.  I have known Kendra for a few years and only through the restaurant where she works – long and hard.  It seems every time I visit the place, Kendra is there.  I had provided her an autographed copy of the book back in June, shortly after my mother died.  Friday was the first time I’d been to the restaurant since then.

I didn’t expect Kendra to bring up The Silent Fountain.  Her reaction to it was extraordinary.  It’s my nature to be suspicious of people most of the time.  I don’t know Kendra that well, but I like her.  She has a pleasant and personable demeanor.  Still, it took me a little while to accept fully how much she seems to like my book.  I thought she might be exaggerating just to make me feel good and because I’m somewhat of a regular who tips very well.  So I just let her talk.

And I quickly realized the impact the tale had on her.  In fact, it had the effect I hope to achieve with my readers – for this and all of my stories.  The characters and the locale meshed with the pastoral imagery to create the universe in Kendra’s mind that I envisioned in my own.  A few others who have read it so far have had mostly the same response.

It’s intoxicating to hear all of that, but I have to temper my literary ego with sanity.  Writers work hard to compose a world – realistic or fantastic – within their stories.  We always want to attain that level of likeability as raconteurs; as someone who can dream up a tale – no matter how outrageous – and still be credible.  But then isn’t that what all artists want?

I’ve come to accept that I may never become rich and famous with my writing, and that’s genuinely fine with me.  I don’t write stories – and I didn’t start this blog – to become acclaimed and unbelievably wealthy.  Admittedly, that would be great and ideal, but it simply isn’t realistic.  And no one should engage in any kind of artistic pursuit with that goal in mind.  It’s foolish.

But if I don’t achieve any kind of notoriety until after I die, then that would be just as good for me.  We are still consuming the writings and other artworks of people who passed away long ago.  Kendra is just one person, yet her opinion meant so much to me.  She expressed what I hoped someone would feel when they read that book.  Again, that’s what every artist wants: to be appreciated.

*Name changed.

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In the Beginning…

It’s great to know the e-version of my debut novel is now on sale at Wal-Mart – right next to the cheesy romance stuff.  But hey, a writer has to start somewhere, right?!

 

Juan Miguel thought of his great-aunt again and suddenly recollected another death even further back – one of his parents’ friends.  He’d never met the woman, but watched his mother, Marisol, become overwhelmed with grief; an unusually emotional response from a woman who’d driven herself to the hospital during evening rush hour, when she thought she’d gone into labor with him.

She and some other old friends had gathered shortly after the rosary – another long-ass rosary – to reminisce about their younger days and quickly found themselves laughing in the sanctity of the funeral home.

“Like I’ve said before,” his father, Armando, interjected, almost philosophically, “you need to get together.”

And everyone agreed.  They needed to get together; reconvene under more pleasant circumstances and relive the best parts of their lives.  They promised to call each other and do something; have lunch or dinner – anything!  Just stay in touch before it was too late.  Then they left – and his parents never heard from anybody.

Until someone’s name popped up in the obituaries.

 

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Of Cats, Moons and Unsettled Love

James paused before stepping onto the patio.  Juan Miguel followed.

A crescent moon hovered above.  He heard voices – and music.  He looked around, as the voices became louder; people talking and laughing, while gathered along the walkways in the yard.  Then, he noticed the orbs of light amidst the trees – lanterns.  Along with the moon, they lit up the area.  The chatter and laughter continued, as the orchestral music grew stronger.

“She’s out there,” James said.  “She’s waiting for you.  She loves you.”  He receded into the house and dropped into a chair.  The blue-eyed cat hopped onto his lap.  He began caressing it, as the animal laid its head upon its paws.

Juan Miguel peered into the foliage through the opaque light of both the moon and the lanterns.  The laughter – it sounded so good.  Nights made for lovers.  He smiled, as floral aromas swarmed around him, and light winds cavorted with the trees.

 

Remember, my debut novel, “The Silent Fountain”, is available in both print and e-versions.  It’s the perfect gift – birthday, Christmas, retirement, a month without a road incident – for anyone on any occasion, especially those who like their romance a little on the creepy – I mean, surreal! – side.

 

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Baker & Taylor

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Book Baby

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