Every author has their own way of tackling their stories. I for one have always been driven by the voices of my characters, as they talk to me in my head. No, I’m not crazy. At least I don’t think so. The story of Haakon and his fallen angels has many real-world roots, inspired by a novel by Larry Benjamin, What Binds Us, a pedophile I once knew, my experiences from India, and my love of travel, all contributed to this dark tale. I did not foresee Michel though. When he appeared early on in the story, during Haakon’s first trip abroad to London, on page twenty-three of the printed novel, I didn’t know the impact the character would have on me, until he, Michel, passes away from complications with HIV on a park bench near the Eiffel Tower. That’s on page sixty-four.
There were reasons for that to happen most of which I honestly don’t remember. But Michel’s death is still, to this day, one of my very favorite scenes to read in public, and I still, seven years later, cannot get through it without my voice cracking. Michel had entered my life and he was not about to leave.
Six years later, Michel asked me to tell his story
Early on in 2020, days before the pandemic hit, I had just completed a major IT project as a consultant and my “billable hours” were dropping to nil when, as happens sometimes, I heard a voice. It was Michel, and he was ready to tell me his story. Then the pandemic hit and my inspiration took a nosedive. It wasn’t until this fall that I was able to really work on the novel again in earnest. And Michel’s life, as short as it was, had plenty of interesting things to tell. Writing about a ‘dead’ character is difficult, and I’m reminded of writing Disease. How do you write a hopeful ending about a subject that inevitably leads to death? There is was Alzheimer’s, here it’s AIDS (and the fact that the character actually passed away in the fall of.1986.) I am very pleased with the outcome. I hope you will, too.
There is, of course, a tentative connection to Haakon and The Fallen Angels of Karnataka but you can read this story completely as a stand-alone, although you’ll miss the death scene, which is not included in Michel, as it’s based on his diaries and yeah, I’m sure you understand. Wouldn’t work. Although it might be a great commercial hook: read the first diary written by a dead person.
I’m editing, getting ready to market: the day job of authoring
A snippet of a possible paperback cover for Michel.
The manuscript of Michel is currently in flux. The story is 99% written, I’d say, and I’ve already begun the editing process, i.e. the author editing. My publisher will edit the book later on with their fresh set of eyes, then set it, proof it, etc. We just discussed this morning, that it is my target to get the manuscript over to them by Christmas, and we tentatively talk about an April release. Before that, I’ll be in New Orleans for Sinners & Saints and hopefully, be able to let Michel meet his audience. We’ve also begun the process of creating a cover, which as I’m sure you know has always been crucial to me. That work included hiring a photographer to source licensed pictures of an angel I had found online. This angel and the expression on his face and his body language had spoken to me and I just knew I needed him on the cover. We’ll reveal the full cover later on, but here’s a sample of what it might look like. As I said, a work in progress. Things might yet change.
Authors are people stuck in a lonely cabin behind with only their cats and a typewriter
Many people think of authors as people in front of a typewriter, writing books all day long. Yes, that is part of what we do, but so is this, blogging, marketing, PR. To be an author is also to be an entrepreneur, owning a small/tiny business, being self-employed in this gig economy. Part of that aspect of our jobs is to secure funding, of course, from events, but also to market not only ourselves but our works, A lot of my colleagues believe this to be the publisher’s job, and yes, they do have their role to play, particularly as it means to get the product into stores, aka book stores and libraries, but they don’t really care about my author gigs in schools and libraries, at events. Because they don’t earn any money from those events. That’s just for the author. We have different roles, and as an author, marketing myself alongside my work is an important part of my job description as an author. Lest we forget.
Next steps: several more rounds of editing, filing on the finer details
Before I feel confident enough to release Michel to my publisher, there are still countless rounds of reading, editing, changing, and filing on the finer details of the story that remain. Because of its complicated conception with several chapters late in the book written early on, I need to make sure the timeline holds, and that different aspects of the story don’t clash. Who needs plot holes, right? That’s going to keep me busy for the coming weeks. It’s my goal to have the manuscript finalized by December 20th and send it to my publisher. We leave for our vacation the next day, and I don’t usually work on vacation unless it’s time-sensitive. After that commences the most difficult time for me, until I hear from the editor at Beaten Track, telling me what they think about the book.
Suffering from an extreme case of imposter syndrome, I always assume the worst, fully expecting them to turn me down before they never do (so far…) and I get the manuscript back and we work on it together until it is done and proofed. Meanwhile, I’ll contract the audio narrator, and work on a PR plan for the book, for what it’s worth. That usually includes blog appearances, Podcasts, and conventions. We’ll see what 2022 offers in that regard.
Are you interested in what’s going on? Stay tuned here. I’ll try to update this site regularly with any progress.
I’ve been spending the past few weeks in France, exploring cities like Paris, Brest, Rennes, and St. Malo. I’ve traveled through time and space to do so, all from the comfort of my writing chair here in my house in Sweden. No flights were needed, no train rides, although I’ve experienced the passage of time from regular trains to France’s modern TGV high-speed trains. I’ve had to re-experience the death of people close to me, and it’s been an emotional rollercoaster, with a lot of painful moments, but what is fictional pain, and is it different from “real” pain?
I’ve been to this place many times, mostly in my imagination, but also in real life. It blurs the lines between fictional pain and the real one.
A long-held dream
To write the story of Michel has been a long-held dream, ever since he had to be “killed off”/written out of the novel about his boyfriend Haakon in The Fallen Angels of Karnataka. Michel and Haakon fall in love, but their love gets in the way of the novel’s grand scheme of travel. Besides, with a great love story, it would’ve been a very different book, and not the one to be written then. Michel passed away, on a bench in Paris, on November 29, 1986, and Haakon embarked on his journey around the world for many years.
But Michel never really let go of me. And even though I’m not in the business of telling you which of my books is my favorite (that age-old question every interviewer asks), I can easily attest to the fact that Michel always was one of my favorite characters, and that hasn’t changed as he’s finally been allowed to tell me his story.
The sadness of letting go, again
When you start to write a book about someone you’ve already killed, you realize two things: a) writing an ending worthy of Her Majesty‘s approval will be hard, and b) it’s going to tear open old wounds again. I knew it would be a painful task at times. It’s also challenging to write a story where the actual death is part of another book, published years earlier. I had no interest in including that very scene again and had to find ways to deal with it. I hope you’ll enjoy how I’ve dealt with that sad day.
It’s been an emotional journey for me, to get to know Michel better. While it was plausible enough to have him die from the complications of his HIV infection, it was 1986 after all, but it’s a different thing to learn just how he did get infected in the first place, especially given his young age. Michel’s youth turned out to be very different than I had imagined, despite the guidance–limited as it was–from the original novel. To flesh out Michel’s parents, his friends, and to learn more about his life in the city where he grew up.
The pain of a character is my pain
I shed a lot of tears when I write, and I laugh at times. Michel is a dark story, given the ending, and the topic, but it’s also a story full of love, full of hope, and to see that Michel’s chosen family stood by him through thick and thin, that they provided a support net throughout was a pleasant surprise. I sometimes wonder just why the loss I feel is so strong, so palpable. These are, after all, just fictional characters, it’s fictional pain. They’re not real, they have not lived, they’ve never interacted with me physically. And that is true of course.
True is also that the memories of our actual life are shared in the same place as the memories of everything else, movies we’ve watched, books we’ve read, or books we’ve written. Chemically there is little difference, and if you’ve ever studied the concept called “false memories” you’ll understand just how real even fake can be. Indistinguishable for our brains. Fictional pain it may be, but it hurts just the same.
I for one spend a lot of time with my fictional characters, and to complicate matters further, those characters do spring from real life to a degree. Not that I could tell you the exact composition of each character’s personality, life experiences, etc., but I know that each and every one of my characters also includes a pinch of my secret sauce, to make sure they are life-like. It is that combination of real life, real people, real places, real emotions, real experiences with a pinch of the secret sauce that makes for realistic characters, and the pain I feel when they suffer, and the immense feeling of loss I sense when they die.
A word of caution
Knowing how our brain works, how easily we are absorbed into a story when reading a sequence of black letters on paper, and just how realistic that feels, I worry about the announcement from the Zuckerverse yesterday. While others have written books and made movies on the subject before (in other words, I’m far from the first to realize this risk), it scares me to think that we one day soon will be able to actually disappear into a virtual reality world.
Our eyes are so important to our brains in terms of how we experience our surrounding that it frightens me to think how easily people will be absorbed by virtual reality apps, and how easily they will be manipulated. At least I always know that my characters, as painful as their loss may be, are a figment of my imagination, but what’s to say that things you “see”, things you “experience” are not? Especially if you’re not adequately prepared? A scary prospect.
I’m heading back to Rennes. Michel’s mother wants to talk to him, and I have no idea what she has to say…
Of writing, procrastinating, pandemics and missing muses
I began writing on my current book, Opus XXIII, on March 2, 2020. Do the math and you realize this was just a couple of weeks before the world shut down, locked up and someone seemingly threw away the keys. Obsessed with the devleopment of this scary beast, with daily newsconferences, hourly updates on a dozen websites on infection rates, mortaliy and the number of people in ICUs, as well as trying to assist my elderly neighbors with grocery shopping, my creativity took an indefinite leave of absence. Writing became suffering, a struggle to get even a handful of sentences down on paper. For someone like me who’s always been able to write fluently, typing shorthand what my characters were whispering into my ears, this became painful. I even began to outline ideas just to have anything to write. Unheard of. The outrage within my self-esteem! As the pandemic progressed, I added very few pages to the manuscript, and weeks, even months could pass before I opened the document anew. Would I ever finish another novel? Would Matt become my final oeuvre?
Author Hans M Hirschi with the book that was the inspiration for Opus XXIII
My previous books wrote themselves
I am an avid listener of podcasts, and one of my friends, Wayne Goodman, has a weekly show, Queer Words, where he asks his guests if they are plotters or pantsers. I was invited to his show back in 2019 and my answer was given: “I’m your traditional pantser.” If there had ever been a pantser, point all fingers at me. I mention in my conversation with Wayne, who by the way is an accomplished writer in his own right often writing about faraway places, that I once experienced my main character’s death half-way through writing the novel. It was quite a shock, but alas, this is how I used to write. My subconscious would guide my fingers and type whatever the characters were telling me, and so I sat there, in front of my laptop, reading what appeared on page. Call it stream of consciousness, and it was not unlike the infamous episdoe The Muse in Deep Space 9 where the evil alien sucks the life force out of him. That was me, minus the evil alien and the nose bleeds. I could write up to 10,000 words a day, and my first two novels were both written (first rough draft I might add) in less than two weeks, each. Alas, along came opus XXIII. It’s been 598 days, and I am done-ish with my first draft. So what happened?
The pain of writing or what the experts tell you to do
Part of every writing podcast is the obligatory question of “do you have any advice?” to aspriting authors and writers. I have been asked the question, too, and I believe I have answered it, too, although less from a writing perspective but more from a “make sure you get feedback perspective”. It’s been a while. Prove me wrong. LOL However, I notice that some writers are dead set on “my way or the highway!”, an approach which invalidates any other writing process or approach that differes from their own. I’ve heard things like “make sure you write every day, even if it’s just a few sentences.” That is the most common advice out there. Picture me with big eyes and and my RBF expression along the question “why? What good does that do?” Sadly I’m never around when that statement is made, so I’ve never really been around to question it. Great if it works for you, but don’t presume that one size fits all. S’all I have to say.
Writing is often painful and slow, sometimes fast and exhilarating
I finally got out of my slump a few weeks ago, and I wrote 35,000 words in less than a week. In fact, I was so thrilled about my progress that I couldn’t wait to sit down and write. I did it while cooking, I did it in the morning before Sunday breakfast, I did it before joining my husband for some evening R&R (oh, not what you think. We’re talking Netflix here.), and I even wrote while my son was doing his homework. I couldn’t not write, if that makes sense. But until that moment came along, and my writing stars had aligned, it was painful. My characters were silent, and procrastination was the blanket to wrap myself into when inspiration failed. I often felt bad, depressed at the lack of progress, throwing myself into other projects, other things to do. Yet is it really to procrastinate if you don’t actually have anything intelligent to write? I know for sure that “writing for the sake of writing” will never be my tune, so rather than giving myself grief over the lack of inspiration, I should relax. Oddly, I have a hunch that I’ve said this before, but I guess this is a lesson that this pedagogue hasn’t fully embraced yet. Because could it be, maybe, just maybe, that I’d have gotten my mojo back faster if I hadn’t been so freaked out about the lack of progress, the lack of inspiration? Who knows. Hindsight may be a great teacher, but it sucks at the what-if-game.
Opus XXIII – What it is and other valuable inormation
So where am I with this latest novel? It’s somewhere in editing but also still in writing. I’m not entirely happy with all aspects of it, and given the difficult topic, I need to make sure I find the right balance. Opus XXIII will likely be named “Michel”, and it is all about the story of Michel, the amazing young man who tragically passes away from AIDS in November of 1986. He briefly appared as a side character in my novel The Fallen Angels of Karnataka from 2014, and he has been haunting me ever since. So, Michel finally gets to tell his story, and while it’s challenging to make sure I stick to canon, it’s also liberating to finally learn more about this character who has always held a special place in my heart, both for what he does for Haakon’s personal grown, ultimately kick-starting his traveling, but also for his spirit and character.
In this story we learn about his coming out, still a central theme for the LGBTQI community. But the story alsolooks at the coming of age for this one individual, his exploration of his own sexuality, and touches some difficult subjects such as sexual abuse, rape, and sexual addiction. I’m sure you appreciate how challenging it is to write that, and do justice to the character’s experience without taking away from the grand scheme of things. You’ll be the judge whether or not I’ve been successful. It’s a difficult book, both to write and (will be) to read, and one where Her Majesty had to work hard to pull off her magic of a hopeful and happy ending. Given that Michel has been dead for thirty-five years, it’s nothing short of a miracle.
I hope to finish the manuscript by the end of this year, and if all goes well, the book should be out in the spring of 2022, as always from my amazing publisher Beaten Track.
The unintentional children’s book about losing your first baby teeth
Let’s begin at the top, shall we? Picture a cruise vessel (this was before the pandemic), somewhere in the Caribbean. It’s time for Sascha, our son, to go to bed. As he’s done often before, he’s asking for a bedtime story, and for once, I manage to come up with one. I’m usually not very good at this. But we had been talking about his teeth and his anxiety (small kids, small problems) that he was one of the last kids in his class to still sport all his twenty baby teeth. Sidebar: he ended up being the last one to lose one. At the time the new teeth had already sprung up behind and I pulled them both to create the necessary space. Anyhow, back to the ship and Sascha tucked into bed. Somehow, I managed to come up with this crazy story about a vampire who lost his fangs. Sascha loved it and I figured I’d better jot it down just in case he wanted to hear it again.
From Joe to Elizabeth
What a wonderful illustration. I love to work with Finn. He’s got such a talent to visualize my work.
Over the weeks after our cruise, I got to tell him the story a few times and he really loved it. But as is the case with all my children’s stories, I tend to put them aside. I know they need a lot of time and work. During the pandemic, as I was struck with a complete writer’s block (I still haven’t recovered), I began to edit the story, making sure it was the best it could be. Fast forward to late May and I had the idea to use this story to create a video with Sascha. We had done a couple of trailers together for my previous children’s books (here and here) and he’d done such an amazing job at reading the books that I figured, why not let him read an entire book? The idea had originally come from an author friend of mine, Bru Baker when I’d begun to read my own works live at the beginning of the pandemic (they, too, can be found on my YouTube channel.)
Meanwhile, in the editing process, Joe had become Elizabeth, as I figured the world had enough male heroes in books. I let Sascha name the vampire and he chose Elizabeth (he thinks it’s a great vampire name.) I reached out to Finn Swan, who’s been kind enough to illustrate my stories about princes Valerius & Evander. He agreed and created six beautiful drawings for it. He also created a GIF that I could use for the video.
The unintentional book
As Sascha’s summer break approached, I began work on the video and had the bright idea to create a PDF to add to the video description so that parents and kids could read along with Sascha’s narration. I used a native Mac tool to set up the pages, typeset the text, and create the PDF. Since I’m not an expert on typesetting, I sent it to my publisher for a once over. Here’s what she sent back:
“I’d rather not give you feedback on this. You won’t like it, but as you asked… The images are lovely – I saw them arrive in the Dropbox folder on Saturday. Finn’s brilliant. The story is awesome too, so you’re golden with the content, and the order of image followed by text works – that’s how we handled the V&E ebooks.
The formatting… oy. […]
Question: is there a reason you’re doing this yourself rather than through BTP? I’d already included it in this year’s schedule.”
She was right, of course. My response was short and sweet: “It’s all yours.” I hadn’t known that she’d put it in the BTP schedule nor that she wanted to publish this. Two days later, the book was out, and Sascha was still in school. That’s how things happen sometimes. Looking back, I’m glad that Debbie pushed for getting the book out. I think it’s a great tool for parents to talk to their kids about losing their baby teeth which can be both scary and exciting. My son was really anxious about being “left behind” in this regard and couldn’t understand that it is perfectly normal for some kids to begin losing their teeth at five, while others have to wait until they’re seven. The story provided me with an opening to talk about different being totally okay, not worse. This is a topic we’ll sadly have to revisit countless times as he grows up, in so many other areas of life. I’m sure other parents can relate to this.
We got to the video, at last
Summer came, summer almost ended, before we got around to actually sit down and record the video. Sascha was stellar (yeah, totally biased) and after a day of editing and Sascha choosing a musical score, we published the video on my YouTube channel. And ever since then, Sascha’s been asking me almost daily about likes. His generation is totally in sync with that sort of thing. So help him feel great about himself, watch the video and press the “thumbs up”, and feel free to like and share it on Facebook or other social media.
As always, the book is available as a paperback and ebook from Beaten Track and is sold worldwide from Amazon and many other retailers, online but also from local bookstores (ask for it.) If you’d like to give it away as a gift to someone and wish it to be signed by me and/or Sascha, you can buy it directly from me.
I’m struggling for words, hence the above title. I just cannot express appropriately what I feel, still. Maybe it is still too raw, too fresh. Yesterday saw the conclusion of a project that I have been a part of for a long time, first as a translator of some official documents to accompany fundraising efforts and later, intrigued by the concept, having applied and having been accepted, as a participant. “To write for dance and to dance written text” seemed such an intriguing project for a novelist such as myself, especially in the context of the LGBTQ context it was founded on. I simply had to be a part of it and I guess the “powers to be” saw the passion in my application.
Three Swedish authors, three international authors, and the dance company Spinn
On September 19th, we kicked the project off over a cup of coffee. Little did I know how it would affect me. The final performance yesterday is still swirling around in my head, deeply affecting me emotionally. Hopefully, we’ll be able to meet up again this fall, post corona, for hugs and much needed personal thanks to everyone involved. It goes without saying that I am greatly indebted to the organizations that have funded this project, enabling me to spend time expanding my artistic horizon, returning to poetry after all these years.
In the following, rather than expressing how I feel, I would like the art to speak for itself. First, you have a video of the final performance yesterday, which included two works of me, a poem I wrote about four months ago, I feel love, everywhere, which I wrote off a clue from my writing buddy Claire Carter, based on two of her characters. Secondly, there’s the live improvisation that Claire, Rannhvi, Izabell, and I did, a conversation of poetry and dance toward the end. Following that, I have included the video that Izabell and I created inspired by Matt–More Than Words, and finally the actual poetry I wrote as a part of the process. Enjoy! 🙂 Maybe in small doses. It’s quite intense…
Live Performance from the Museum of World Culture, Gothenburg, May 28, 2020
Eyes open, wandering
Mouth open, drooling
Pain, constant pain
Muscle spasms, cramps
No way to speak
Moaning, groaning, wailing
Behind those eyes,
Is there a mind?
Thoughts, ideas, dreams?
My mind is full of thoughts, ideas, dreams
I dream of walking
Walking toward you, touching you
There is so much I want to say
So much I want to tell you
But I can’t
I am a prisoner inside my body
But I see you
And I love you
I am human
I am Matt
I am more than words
Other poetry I have written for the project
Cowering in the Dark
Cowering in the dark, alone
A chameleon, hiding in plain sight
At first, you can’t see it, the light
It cuts through cracks in the dark
Extending toward you, caressing you
Dare you reach out? Dare you touch it?
In time you step out from that dark
and as you spread your delicate wings
Your soul takes flight, at last.
I feel love, everywhere
So good, so good, so good
I feel the beat
I feel the heat
Pulsating, through me
Calling your name
I can’t see you
Bodies, all around me
Moving, moving, moving
dancing, grinding, sweating
Calling your name
I can see you
Dancing, dancing, dancing
Your face, your eyes, your smile
Calling your name
Turntables at my fingertips
Beats, beats, beats
Pulling you across the dance floor
Closer, closer, closer
You and me, together
I feel love, love, love
Glitter of the disco ball
Colors of the rainbow
Recorded for Improv Session, May 27, 2020 (This text is likely going to be re-written and edited for further use)
Flickering faces on a screen
Socially distanced togetherness
Quarantined in a closet with windows
I may talk to you, even see you,
But I can never reach you
Like a childhood nightmare long ago.
I watch your every move from afar
A distant voyeur
I see your hair
Those lovely eyes
And how you look at me
Through that screen in front of you
Can you see me?
Do you even care?
I watch you, I see you
As you swirl, twist, turn
But do you see me?
Distance, Closeness, Intimacy
How can we bridge the gap?
Will they ever let me out of the closet?
And when they do, will I dare?
Live Improv Session, May 28, 2020 (This text is likely going to be re-written and edited for further use)
Flickering faces on a screen
Socially distanced communion
Separated by PPE, glass or space
Quarantine be hallowed
Isolated in a closet with windows
I may talk to you, even see you, But I can never reach you
Like that childhood nightmare.
I see the glass, beyond it the sky, the sun
Oh, that look you give me,
I miss your touch
Your silky lips against mine
Your caresses, body against body
Dance for me baby, dance
I feel like I’m in an aquarium
Surrounded by glass, freedom beyond
Yet here I am, drowning in water
I want to shatter the glass, the fish tank
I dream of the beach, waves coming ashore
Lapping against the warm sand.
Can you see it?
I see your swirls, your elegant moves
Our electronic Togetherness
A dreamscape, a Tsunami of emotions Let us break out of the confinement Find a Secret pathway
I long to be with you again
Don’t deny me this one thing. HOPE
A great big thank you!
Finally, a great big thank you to The Region of West Sweden, The Nordic Culture Fund, and the City of Gothenburg for funding the project. How lucky am I to be able to get paid to do something that gives me so much joy? A big thank you to the Writers’ Center West Sweden (Hedvig & Kristín) for organizing it and allowing me to be a part of it, to Danskompaniet Spinn (Veera) for working with us on this, and helping us expand our horizons, to the dancers, particularly Rannvhi and Izabell, for working with Claire and me, to the other writers (Sara, Hilding & Elias) for all the discussions, the open dialogue, and your creativity, and last, not least, to Claire Carter, for putting up with me, and literally blowing up any preconceptions I had about poetry, dancing and expanding my mind and my creative courage like the big bang. Your thoughts on the influence of text and dance, the interdependence between the two, has been mindblowing and I can’t express just how much it has influenced me. The project that Izabell and I did about Matt had not been possible without that, and I doubt our improv session yesterday either. Thank you, all, from the bottom of my heart.
I haven’t written a decent word of prose since March 4. I just can’t. My mind’s not there. I’ve been lucky to have been writing other stuff, but nothing new. We live in ding-ding times. But let’s not speak of that today. Because today is one of those special days in the life of an author when a brand new book reaches readers. Today is the release day for Matt–More Than Words. I’ve spoken before about how Matt first appeared to me, more than a year ago, on one of my walks, and just this morning I read an article in the Guardian about authors and their “relationships” to their characters. Interesting reading.
The cover of Matt–More Than Words
In this context, you may wonder how a character unable to communicate spoke to me…
Well, first and foremost, it may be worth pointing out that Matt is a literary character. I often have to remind myself of this distinction, as my characters feel so real to me, I see them out in the world and they really take on a life of their own. However, their world is physically contained within the confines of my skull (and that of other readers.) In a way, Matt finally gets to move out of my mind and inhabit others. But his conversations with me were more of a metaphysical kind, empathy mixed with telepathy if you will. But unlike many other characters, Matt didn’t speak to me in words, which made writing him more challenging than others, finding the right words tricky even.
Matt isn’t the only character in that book…
There is not a huge array of characters in this novel. Matt lives in a very, almost corona-adapted, world. He has his mother and his assistants, s’it. The biggest change comes from the constant change in assistants, and most of them are painted in sketchy colors because they come and go in a steady stream. There are two exceptions, Timmy and Colin. Timmy is also one of the people from whose point-of-view the story is told. There is so much going on in and around Matt that not everything can be told from his perspective. His mother’s and Timmy’s perspective were important from a narrative perspective. Both Timmy and Matt’s mother go through major changes in their lives and their journeys are supported by tertiary characters, the owner of a restaurant, parents, and friends. You’ll see.
When I last wrote a release day post, I promised an epic ending. I do no such thing today. I could tell you how the book ends. It is not the point of the book. So, yes, Matt will eventually find a way to communicate. The point of this story is a completely different one: it’s to highlight the plight of some of our siblings in society who are in Matt’s shoes, and how society is getting better at helping them to live life to the fullest. We have amazing tools at our disposal to enable help and assistance, if only we give them a chance. Matt–More Than Words is an exercise in empathy, to spend a few hours in the shoes of someone so very much unlike us, someone unable to tell his own story. I hope you will give Matt a chance. The eBook and paperback are available starting today, the audiobook will be coming shortly, narrated by the amazing Michael Bakkensen.
If you’ve read this post, and it’s 4/30, why don’t you join us today for a small release day party on Zoom? 11 am PST, 2 pm EST, 8 pm CET.