The Bliss of An Uncluttered Day

I started to turn off my alarm this morning, but then I remembered that I have nowhere to be until 7:15 tonight, which means I am free for the entire day and I didn't want to miss any of it. I did lie in bed for about twenty minutes just enjoying the fact that I didn't have to get up and be ready to go somewhere. But then it was up for tea and devotions and browsing the Internet while I let my thoughts on my blog gel in a meandering, leisurely pace. I read a little, had some breakfast and another cup of tea, and here I am, two hours later, writing my post. After this, I might read some more--I'm getting to the good part of my book--or I may FINALLY get some writing done.

I have been thinking a lot about retirement lately. Trying to decide at what point I'm going to hang up my teacher spurs and turn to writing full-time. Despite the fact that I'm just in love with my kids again, there are times when I yearn for the ability to do this regularly. Get up early because I want to. Read. Write. Promote. Exercise. As my old friend Dan Daniel always used to say, make every week six Saturdays and a Sunday.

But then I think about just how much I was looking forward to today. A single uncluttered day in the midst of calendar slots filled with school activities and writing activities and church activities. And it takes me back to the summer, when I had great long stretches of days with literally nothing requiring my time. I took them for granted. I took no great joy in them. I failed to take advantage in the way I should have. I mean yes, I did travel a good deal and spend time with people I treasure, but I didn't get nearly the writing done that I could have and I definitely didn't read as much as I could have. Why? Because I had all the time in the world. If I didn't get 5,000 words written today, that's all right--I have tomorrow. Until I didn't. And then I looked back on all that time I didn't use how I could have. I'm not on a guilt trip. It was a good summer. But what I'm saying is that I tend not to appreciate free time unless I don't have it. Intellectually, I know that it's finite, but I'm not always intellectual. Sometimes I'm lazy and unfocused.

But not on days like today. Today I'm like a laser. Reading. Writing. Cleaning up my room. Enjoying the fact that tomorrow, when it's back to the rat race of church and school and ClutchMOV stuff, I'll be able to look back at a day spent well.

30 Day Blog Challenge: Day 1

Not long ago, I was scrolling through Pinterest when I came across a month-long blog challenge. It sounded like fun and I'm kind of in between writing projects right now, so I'm going to give it a shot. I hope you enjoy reading them. Most of the topics are about me, so by the end of this month, you'll probably know me uncomfortably well.

Day 1--Introduction

Well, that should be easy enough. Hi, I'm Joe. Joe Stephens, to be more precise. I'm the youngest of four children of Dave and Nancy Stephens. My siblings are, in birth order, Dave (not Dave Junior--he has a different middle name than Dad), Barb, and Don. All of us, including my parents, are still living.

I'm a teacher at Parkersburg High School, where I teach Advanced Placement English Literature and Composition to seniors and Careers in Education to mixed grades. I'm also the advisor for the senior class. I've been at PHS since 1997. Before that, I was a youth minister at Emmanuel Baptist Church and before that I was in seminary and before that I taught for two years in Ritchie County, which is right next door to Wood County, the county I teach in now.

I'm also a writer, mainly of books. I've self-published three novels. They're parts of a series called The Shalan Adventures. I recently completed the first draft of Shalan Adventure #4. It will likely come out this summer. If you're interested in buying one, they're all available on all online booksellers in paperback and on Amazon for Kindle. You can also click on the "My Books" link at the top of this page and learn more about them. There are also sales links there.

I also write for an online and print magazine entitled ClutchMOV. I started out being their book reviewer, but have slowly morphed into a general contributor. I still write book reviews, but now I also write theater reviews, general articles, and occasional fiction. If you go to the website right now, you'll find two of my articles in the main rotation. One is an essay on moving in with my parents as they age and the other is a review of a book by Homer Hickam entitled Red Helmet.

As far as personal life goes, I'm divorced and don't have any children, though I adopt approximately 140 kids every August and lose them every May. It's hard to say goodbye but only because I really love them a lot and enjoy every minute with them. I also have a group of really clos friends with whom I share a Christian faith as well as a general insanity over all things nerdy. We read and share graphic novels, watch superhero and fantasy movies together, and collect memorabilia. We truly are nerds and I love every minute that I share with them.


I said I don't have children, but there are two young ladies that I love just like they were my daughters. Their names are Jenna and Poonam and they mean the world to me. Sadly, one lives in New Orleans now and the other in Baltimore, so I don't get to see them as often as I'd like. But we stay in touch electronically.

Gifts Ungiven Part 1

The following is part 1 of a short story I wrote recently. It was first published on ClutchMOV.com. Parts two and three will follow over the next two weeks. It's set during Christmas time, but it's not just a Christmas story. It's about a young man trying to work up the courage to open his heart to a girl he really likes. Chapter two of the story of Evan and Renee will be appearing on ClutchMOV and then here over the next couple of months.

 

The box seemed to weigh a ton in his pocket. He reached in to finger the bow, long battered into submission by being carried around in his coat since the first day after Thanksgiving break. He opened his pocket just enough to peek in. Her name was still legible, but only barely. By this time, he not only had the struggle of working up courage to give a gift to the girl of his dreams, but of explaining why it looked like he’d kicked it all the way to school before he gave it to her. Even if it were pristine, he was taking the gut-wrenching chance that she would reject him or, worse, accept it out of pity. He didn’t want to think about the absolute worst case scenario, in which she publicly humiliated him by laughing, along with all her friends, at the idea that she, a beauty with guys lining up to date her, would accept a gift from, let alone go steady with, a troll like him.

 

On his good days, which were (at least in his 8^th grade mind) much rarer than average, he felt like he might not actually be a troll. He was a smart kid. He could act; he could sing; he made people laugh. And he was nice to everyone. But then, he always came back to the thought that those things didn’t exactly scream hunk. Chunk maybe, he thought, rubbing his round belly.

 

He looked at the clock. Two minutes until the end of class and the beginning of lunch. He realized he’d heard not a word of Mr. Beck’s lecture on erosion. It was their only class together that year, so he needed to give her the gift by the next day or suffer the sting of taking home her gift, ungiven and still wrapped. He couldn’t face the idea of it joining the present he’d gotten her the year before, but never managed to work up the courage to give her, under his bed, mingling with the dirty socks, old board games, and sports equipment.

 

“Hey Renee,” he said as she walked by after class, giggling with a couple of other girls. Well, the other girls were giggling. When she laughed, it was more like the flutter of angel wings. Her dark ponytail swung as she turned toward him.

 

“Hey Evan.” She smiled. He froze. Even in braces, her smile bewitched him. He had the box, which contained earrings with a tiny chip of her birthstone in each—his mother had helped him pick them out of the Avon catalog—in his sweaty hand, but his arm was immobilized, unresponsive. As was his mouth. No sounds came out, but at least it did open and close repeatedly, kind of like a goldfish.

 

“Going to lunch?” she asked as she and her friends swept by. She didn’t seem to have noticed his buffoonery.

 

“Yeah.” Well, at least that was a word. Sort of.

 

“You okay?”

 

“Yeah.” No. Give it to her, you moron, he thought. But still his hand remained clenched, his arm unmoving.

 

“Well, maybe see you in the cafeteria?” She hesitated at the door.

 

“Okay.”

 

She gave him a look he couldn’t decipher. Sympathy? Puzzlement? Nausea? He was betting on the last. “Okay. Well, bye.”

 

“You really need to give her that present.”







 

 

Will he give her the present? Tune in next week to find out--same Bat time, same Bat channel!

Six Rules For Attending a Public Performance

I went to see a play at the Actors Guild of Parkersburg last night. I won't talk about the play itself because as soon as I finish posting this blog I'm going to be writing a review of it for ClutchMOV. I'll let you know as soon as it's published so you can read it there. But the event motivated me to write about something else. I hesitate to do this because I hate to come off as an old crank, but I just think something needs to be said about the crumbling decay of civil behavior in our culture.
 
I don't mean the lack of civility in public discourse. Enough has been written about whether people are too easily offended by others' words and whether Donald Trump is a breath of fresh air or just one more loud-mouthed kook. No, I'm talking about the simple civility of knowing how to behave in public, more specifically at public events such as plays and concerts.
 
As the play started last night, I actually had a hard time hearing the actor onstage over the conversations that continued for a good minute or two after the curtain went up. It was also quite evident that no special lighting was really needed since the entire audience was lit up by the cell phones that people had just been told to silence and put away. Speaking of which I counted three separate phones going off during the show.
 
Let me say at this point that this particular play sort of lent itself to audience participation in that it was quite raucous and zany, with the actors often breaking the fourth wall and talking directly to us, but the sad fact is it wouldn't have mattered if that had been true or not--the audience would still have behaved  boorishly. I know this from years of attending plays and concerts in the area. Just go to the PHS Acappella Chistmas concert if you don't believe me. And I don't mean the student performance. No, I mean the evening concert, where the audience, at least ostensibly, knows how to behave. People like me, who look forward to the emotionally transporting nature of this event, walk away frustrated and angry every single time  because of the crying babies, lit and often ringing cell phones, people wandering in and out doors and up and down aisles in the middle of songs, talking, laughing, constant coughing--I could go on.
 
I fear I may be preaching to the choir here, if you'll pardon the cliché, but I just feel like it needs to be said. There are, or at least there used to be and still should be, rules for civilized behavior at a performance:
 

• If you're at a concert or play and it's the middle of a song or scene, you just DON'T GET UP AND WALK AROUND, barring a medical emergency. Getting up and moving around disturbs the experience of everyone around you.

 

If you feel the need to take a walk,
consider a setting such as this
rather than in a theater mid-song.

• Keep your CELL PHONE SILENT AND IN YOUR POCKET. That includes you parents who feel it's necessary to video record every living second of your child's life. Here's a novel idea: actually experience those moments live rather than busying yourself recording them and blinding all the people around you with the dazzling light of your television-sized phone screen.

My view at about a bazillion
concerts over the years.

• Again barring emergency, JUST DON'T TALK. Your running commentary may be just flippin' hilarious to your seatmate, but it makes the people around you wish they knew how to actually perform the Vulcan neck pinch.

An actual person at the play I
attended last night.

•  NO BABIES. I love babies, I really do. Just ask anyone. But there is simply no excuse for bringing an infant to a concert or play. Get a sitter or just don't go.

Unlike a concert or play, this is a
wonderful place to take a child.



• NO DISEASE SPREADERS. Again, I'm sympathetic to the fact that your child or friend or husband or whoever may be in that choir, band, or play up there, but what are you doing disturbing everyone and spreading germs? If you know there's a good chance you'll start coughing, don't go to the concert or at least sit right next to a door so you can minimize the damage. And if there's even the slightest chance you could be contagious, DO NOT GO!





If you're sick, stay home and do this
rather than go to a play and share your
germs with everyone else.

• Finally, and this one will cause all the previous five bullets to be pretty much unnecessary: THE RULES APPLY TO YOU. You aren't above them. You aren't special. It's not about you. I'm not sure how many other ways I can think of to say it, but I'm pretty sure those cover it.

Hope To See You Tuesday

Late last year, I heard from a former student named Kaity Eaton, who is now coordinating events at the Vienna Public Library. I was quite excited that she thought of me when she started scheduling for the new year. We decided on a signing and reading and the date was set. It seemed so far away when we did it, but, as always seems to be true, the time flew by. And suddenly, it's almost time.

So I hope you'll be able to join me for an evening of signings and readings at the Vienna Public Library, which is, surprisingly enough, in Vienna, WV. Specifically, it's at 2300 River Road. If you are on Grand Central Avenue, just turn left at Neale Elementary. It's immediately on your right. If you drive into the river, you missed it.

It all starts at 6pm with sales and signing at 6pm in the main room of the library. After that, around 6:30pm, we'll be moving into a conference room for readings from my newest book, In The Shadow, as well as my Shalan prequel novella, "Harry and the Redheaded Angel." I'll also answer questions from the audience.

As is customary, I'll be giving away some prizes, including signed copies of books and posters. So, if nothing else, come to have the chance to get free stuff!

And while I have you here, let me remind you about ClutchMOV. I'm so ecstatic to be a part of this amazing publication. It's written by, about, and for people of the Mid-Ohio Valley. It's a hybrid in that it's both a print and online entity at the same time. The newest print edition is now out, so please consider picking up a copy. And also, peruse the online half. You'll find a little bit of everything, from articles on history, culture, local artisans and businesses, and reviews of local music and theater events. If it's found or happening in the MOV, chances are you'll find it on this site. You'll even find some stuff written by yours truly. Finally, soon you'll be able to find a really fun line of MOV-centric products for sale. You'll find clothing, coffee mugs, artwork--tons of stuff for anyone who loves our underrated little area. And it's easy to find! Just go to clutchmov.com.

Three Things I Learned In 2015

I've never been big on making resolutions on New Year's. I tried it a few times and promptly broke them every single time. But I do think that it's good to look back over the previous year and reflect on lessons learned. That's what this is. It may have a part two; frankly, I haven't thought that far out. But I know that, after this, I'll spend some time thinking about goals for 2016 and how to reach them. Anyway, here goes:

1. It's all about the writing.
Truth out--I don't sell a lot of books. I haven't added it up, but it's really a pretty small number. Partly that's because I am frustratingly incapable of getting people who tell me they enjoy them to actually review them on Amazon. But partly it's also because of the fact that I just don't do some of the things I need to do to get my work in front of people. And I am working on ways to get both of those things to change. Would I like to sell more books? Yes, to be sure. But selling more books and making a meaningful amount of money is the bonus of writing. The real value for me is the writing itself. I find great joy and solace in the creating of a story. It's a satisfaction I've rarely felt from any other endeavor in my life. And that's for me. I hope others like them, but, again, others reading and enjoying them is in addition to the central aim, which is storytelling.


2. It's really easy to forget number one.
One of the first entries I wrote in this blog was entitled something like "For a Writer I Don't Write Much." Oddly enough, that could easily be a title for entries nowadays too. To be fair, I'm branching out and writing other things. After all, I now write book reviews for ClutchMOV and I will soon also be writing occasional theater reviews as well as other miscellaneous articles. Of course, I also write this blog once a week. And all that is, by definition, writing. But when I think of being a writer, my first thought goes to my big work in progress. Right now it's Shalan book four, which I'm excited to say has a working title that I think I will not share yet. Only Maria "Pepper Potts" Delgado and I know it. I will tell you it's inspired by a Christmas song. Is that vague enough for you? But anyway, I'm currently in the early stages of day 11 of a 12-day Christmas break and yesterday morning was the first time I wrote one single solitary word on that book. Actually, I wrote almost 1000 single solitary words--not many, but more than none at all. I think they were pretty good words, though, and I plan to write some more of them as soon as I finish this post. Sorry to move, albeit temporarily, to goals, but one of the things I want to do this year is set aside time to work on my main work in progress at least five days a week.


3. It's not really all about the writing.
 That might sound just a tad contradictory, but I'll allow it. Yes, as a writer, it's all about the writing. But I'm more than just a writer. I'm more than just a teacher. I'm a human being and a child of God. I get great joy from writing, but I get even greater joy from my relationships with my family and my friends and God. If I were asked if I had to choose between writing and my relationships, it wouldn't be close. Yes, I would be sad to think that I'd never write another book or blog or review, but I would be inconsolable thinking that I would lose those people I hold most dear. Because I am not what I do for a living. So while writing is all about the writing, living is not.



I'd like to think I learned more than that, but I can't tell you everything all at once or you wouldn't need to come back next week, would you? And I hope you do come back--and bring some friends. In the meantime, I hope you have a peaceful, meaningful 2016 and that you make a difference to the people around you.

Warm Christmas Memories, Part 3

Disclaimer: only the first half of this post is dedicated to a Christmas memory. The rest will be crass commercialism. At least it's only half crass.

For my third memory, I'd like to share something that's not even actually a memory. It was a dream. A vivid, real dream that I woke from convinced it was real. So convinced that I spent part of my childhood trying to prove it to myself. Sadly, I never succeeded.

The bedroom arrangements in our house changed as kids grew up and moved out. I started out when I was wee little in my sister's room because it was just down the hall from Mom and Dad. When my sister married and moved out, the room became my oldest brother Dave's and I moved into the giant attic bedroom with my middle brother, Don. When Dave moved out, if I recall correctly, that downstairs room became Mom's sewing room and the place where all the toys got stored. So when I say the closet in question was in Dave's room, I have to tell you it may or may not have been his room at the time of The Dream.

One night, as wasn't unusual for me, I was playing in the closet of that room. It was big and deep and very dark when you closed the door, so it was ideal for the little projector toy I had. It was, looking back, nothing more than a kind of scaled-down slide projector with a slot where multiple-slide strips could be pushed through. Each strip, four slides in length, told a miniature story. So anyway, I was playing in there, way in the back. I don't remember how, but I discovered that the back wall of that closet had a secret door in it. When I opened it and crawled through, it was a portal to the North Pole. I saw the elves and the reindeer and even the big man himself. I don't recall if he told me or I just got the sense of it, but I felt like he was showing me this place because someday I was going to be Santa Claus when he retired. It was one of the happiest, most magical moments of my life.

Suddenly, without warning, I was no longer at the North Pole. I was lying in bed with Mom yelling at me that it was time to get up for school. I've never experienced anything quite like it since. Unlike most dreams, I retained every little detail of the trip. I was so convinced that it was more than a dream that, periodically for the next year or more, I checked the back wall of that closet, hoping that the door was only visible when Santa wanted it to be.

Unfortunately, that door never reappeared, in a dream or while I was awake. Over the years, I've lost the specific details of the North Pole, though I've never lost the sense of joy and wonder that I felt while I was there. The memory of it pops up at the most unexpected times. Often, it's when I need a boost of joy and wonder.

I have a confession to make. When I was older, my folks sold that house to build the one they live in now. I never told anyone this, but before they moved out for the last time and turned over the keys to the new owners, I checked for that door one last time. Missed it again.

And now to the commercialism. I want to tell you about an organization called ClutchMOV. As it says on the masthead of its website, clutchmov.com, it's an online lifestyle magazine for the Mid-Ohio Valley. It was created by two amazing young women named Liv Reeder and Sarah Arnold. They are multi-talented folks who feel, as I do, that the Mid-Ohio Valley gets an undeservedly bad reputation as a place only good for giving kids thirteen years of free education so they can leave for somewhere bigger and start their real lives. They strongly believe that this area is an amazing place not just to grow up, but to put down permanent roots. So they created ClutchMOV as a way to celebrate all the area has to offer, from arts to culture to food to history to its amazingly kind, talented people.

I'm committed enough to this cause that I've begun writing for the website. I do book reviews. Soon, I'll start writing reviews of local plays. And, occasionally, like right now, they allow me to contribute short fiction. And I'm one of several folks who contribute our talents, all for free.

And that's what Liv and Sarah want to change. They not only want to move beyond the web to regularly publishing print magazines, they want to make this a going commercial venture in which they can actually pay the people who write and photograph and edit and do all the countless things it takes to run a quality publication.

So why am I telling you all this? For three reasons. First, I want you to go to clutchmov.com and just look at all the neat stuff that's there. The writing is top-notch, as are all aspects of the site. Second, while you're there, please consider clicking on the link to their Kickstarter campaign. Their goal is $17,500, which will allow them to fully implement their business plan. But they really need your help. Even if it's just $5. If every person in the MOV contributed $5, they would more than meet their goal, and I'm here to tell you that this is a deeply worthy cause.

The third reason? So you can read my story, of course!

Writers are Jugglers

I knew going in that writing would be a hard job to do, but I sometimes wonder if I had known all that was involved in trying to be a successful independent author whether I would have published that first book. I like to think I would have, but I think it's probably the ignorance of just how monumental a task sometimes is, is the only thing that makes people start out trying to do it.

First, there's the writing part, but that's not as simple as just sitting down to write. At this moment, I have three different works in progress in various stages of completeness. I'm polishing Shalan book three, which comes out on October 1. I'm about to start the second draft of the prequel novella. And this week I started the initial draft of book four, which is so preliminary that I have no idea even what the title is. And then there's this blog, which I write once a week, as well as contributing to Writing Wranglers and Warriors anywhere from one to three times a month. I also write a book review every month for ClutchMOV, an online lifestyle magazine for my area.

Then there are the various other things that go into the creation of a book. There's cover art and design to think about. Do I do it myself or do I have someone else do it? If so, do I go to my friend the art teacher whose life is probably ten times as busy as mine and hope she has time to work me in? And then there are blurbs and calls to action and the back cover's layout and acknowledgements to think about.

But that's not all there is to being an indie author either. You're also your own publicist. Most of what I do is electronic, though I do make occasional appearances in the meat world and, in actuality, most of my sales are face-to-face. But every day I do the rounds electronically speaking. I check my Facebook page, adding items regularly to remind people that I'm here and I have books for sale and a mailing list to join and a blog (sometimes two) to read. Then I head to Twitter to follow and promote other indie authors so they'll follow and promote me. And when I can, I also post there. And then I check Amazon, Kindle Direct Publishing, and CreateSpace to see if there are any new reviews to tout or any new sales. I also check my mailing list distribution program to see how many people have or haven't opened my weekly email blasts or if anyone has joined or quit the list. And finally, there's my website to maintain. As a little-known indie, I can hardly afford to pay someone to do that for me. And there are even publicity flyers to be designed and printed and distributed. When I have time to do more than that, I try to contact librarians and booksellers and organizations about scheduling a signing or reading or getting my book placed with them. And that's not everything. There are dozens of other little things that go into creating an audience and getting reviews and getting my book in front of people, but I won't bore you with the list.

And then there are the personal appearances. I have launch parties every time I come out with a new

book and readings and signings whenever I can. But, after the first launch, I've found them to be, at best, break-even propositions financially. Because of a recent financial setback, I've had to start really watching every penny I spend, so I have to seriously consider whether something is financially viable before I do it now. So I'm also a bean counter. Yes, ultimately, there's a return on that investment, but you have to have it to spend it and my pool of spendable cash is now much smaller than it was just a month ago, so I have to decide between projects sometimes.

In looking back on this, I realize it probably sounds negative. I don't mean it to. I really do love writing. And I love the idea of someone reading and loving my book. And I'm also aware that I would probably be doing a lot of these same things if I had an agent and a publisher. I just thought it might be interesting to take a look behind the curtain, so to speak, at all that's involved in the indie author life.

Buy on Amazon!

Buy on Amazon!

I'm the author of two novels, both Shalan Adventures. Harsh Prey and Kisses and Lies are both available in paperback and ebook format (Kindle only at the moment). In the Shadow will be available around October 1. A prequel novella, "Harry and the Redheaded Angel", will be free to mailing list members at the beginning of November and for sale in Kindle format the week of Thanksgiving for everyone else.