One Man, Two Cultures, the Making of “Losing My Religion”: Part 2 of Interview with Dr. Jide Familoni

(EDITOR’S NOTE: Dr. Jide Familoni spent close to ten years developing and writing what has become Losing My Religion, an exceptional novel about a Nigerian, Femi, moving to Canada and then the South – and facing the differences between the cultures.

Dr. Familoni based some of the book and Femi on his own life, a life in which he has deeply cared for and practiced the traditions and cultures of two entirely different places – Nigeria and the United States, particularly the South. He also lovingly (and not so longingly, at times) described the religion-culture in which he grew up, Yoruba, one of the few truly ancient traditions still standing in close to its original form. It is one of 11 world religions that state and practice the golden rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. It draws from the ancient indigenous tenet that man and nature are not separate, but part of one wheel of life.

Losing My Religion holds tension with both its action and subtext – Femi’s strain to hold dear to his native and adopted cultures. It also contains everything you want in a good novel – well-developed characters, conflict, villains, incisive conversations, settings both beautiful and menacing, and a couple of surprise twists. Oh yes, there’s even a love story woven in.

This is the second of a two-part interview with Dr. Familoni. Losing My Religion will be published in June 2013, and available on Amazon.com and through bookstores everywhere.)

WORD JOURNEYS: In Losing My Religion, you write about situations considered unfortunate, but almost socially normal here – such as divorce – that are seen as loss of face back in Nigeria. What aspects of these very difficult choices did you want to convey in the telling of the story?

JIDE FAMILONI: Growing up, the authority of parents was unquestionable. They also subscribed totally to societal norms. That systematically avoided some of the social missteps. I remember when one of my older sisters was already engaged. The family was in high gear preparing for what turned out to be a very elaborate wedding, during the heyday of my father’s political prowess. One evening, her groom-to-be came to take her to one of the key social events in Ibadan. The University of Ibadan held an annual dance/concert/jamboree called Havana. It was the event of the year for college-age and young professionals. He arrived to pick up my sister around 8 p.m., and my father refused to let her go. While she bawled her eyes out, her mother and the groom were pleading, but my dad did not budge.

Now, it seems absurd that the social order was so tight and inflexible. The inflexibility made it acceptable for odious practices, such as domestic abuse, to be tolerated in the name of ‘saving face’. But I believe it was also responsible in part for keeping down divorces, teenage pregnancies etc.  Even now, any time I discuss same-sex issues and rights with many Africans, the discussions are often difficult. Some of my old friends find it so difficult to understand my liberal stance that they often conclude that I must be in the closet.

When I got separated and eventually divorced, my father was very cross with me. The family saw me as being ‘assimilated’ (equivalent to a four-letter word) … too Americanized to value what they valued … a prodigal son of sorts.

WJ: In the novel, you also wove in how pop music bookmarked key periods of Femi’s life. ABBA, Michael Jackson, Teddy Pendergrass, etc. It’s such a universal trait, isn’t it, for music to occupy such a big place in our lives? Could you share how deeply music is ingrained in your character – and some of the memories specific songs trigger?

JF: Music transcends languages and cultures and geography. I love music from the profane to the ecclesiastical. My father was an organist and choirmaster at different times in his life. I remember sitting in All Saints’ Anglican Church in Ibadan and listening to an Easter cantata. Handel’s Messiah makes chills run up and down my spine. But the same brain and mind that is transfixed by the Halleluiah chorus gets happy to Fela Kuti’s or Bob Marley’s profane and political lyrics.

I remember Bob Marley’s War. As much of a peace lover as I was, I deeply believed with him that until the philosophy that holds one race superior and another inferior is abolished, there would be war and it would be justified. During South African Apartheid, Nigerian Sonny Okosun sang that there was a fire in Soweto burning all our people to memorialize the Soweto riots.  Those tunes gave expression to things I felt deeply. Femi’s emotional overflow to ABBA’s Departure was me on a jet, leaving my loved ones and my life for a foreign land where I did not know a single soul, but believed in a better future.

WJ: What have been the nicest surprises of your journey from Nigeria to Canada to the South? And your most challenging moments?

JF: The nicest surprise is that I have seen more and become a better person that I ever imagined. I have met made lifelong friends. I love the way this culture has informed my Africanness to make me see parts of the African culture that can be improved. Of course, that same blessing also alienates me from some Africans still in Africa.

My most challenging moments are those times that I am confronted with the stark differences of my current reality and what I used to believe. For instance, as a result of the extended family structure, Africans believe in supporting family members who are struggling. I do that some for those who are closest to me. However, on occasion, when I travel home and see people who kindnesses contributed to who I am today, or cousins that I am persuaded to help out of obligation and I have not, I feel inadequate and foreign.

After my mother passed away, one of my greatest regrets is that she never visited the U.S. to spend a night in my home or dote on her grandchild.

WJ: How long did it take you to write Losing My Religion? How does it shape and read now compared to your original conception for the book?

JF: It did not start out as a novel or book. I was merely reverting to a tried and true self-protection mechanism in a time of crisis. After my mother’s death and burial, I returned to the States very sad, maybe even depressed. Late in 1994, in a bid to get some perspective, I started writing my thoughts about her just as I used to do as a teenager. It provided such relief and outlet that very soon, I was staying up the whole night to write, after working my regular day job.

Chapter 9, “Eventide,” was written in about 7 or 10 days and remained as notes for about 3 years. One day, I read it again and realized that there were gaps in the story. My decision to fill in those gaps is what became Losing My Religion. Writing mostly at night, the framework was done by in about 9 months.

WJ: If you could boil down the essence of Losing My Religion to two sentences, what would they be?

JF: LMR is about coming to the West and becoming of the western world without losing what is good and of value from the old world. It is an ode to the ties that bind to simple beginnings and parents that even death could not unravel.

WJ: When you speak with African-Americans, is there any need or effort on your part to reconnect them to their ancestral roots – or to show the way those traditions still were practiced during your growing up years? Could you share an example or two of talks you’ve had with people about this?

JF: My experience with my African American friends is that many have a yearning to reconnect and be connected back to Africa. I discuss the way things used to be. I also find to my chagrin that some of them are more Afrocentric than I am. Especially in February, during Black History programs, I sometimes get requests to speak or give advice about programs in churches.  My female friends are very keen to wear the most elegant African designs. Luckily, I have a cousin in Atlanta that has a large and internet accessible African fashion business.

It is sometimes very difficult. There is so much misunderstanding of what is worthy by so many. So much misunderstanding between Africans in diaspora of their own will, and their cousins who have been here for generations. This doesn’t surprise me because my own son, born to two African parents, sometimes finds it difficult to see what is worth loving about Africa. A line often comes to my mind from Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart. In Okonkwo’s village, as things started to unravel, he opined something to the effect that the white man had put a knife to the things that joined us together, so that we can no longer think as one.

 

One Man, Two Cultures: Interview with “Losing My Religion” author Dr. Jide Familoni

One of the joys of being an independent book editor and consultant is the diversity of the titles I read. Recently, I was referred to Dr. Jide Familoni by fine editor/writer Laura Taylor, whose novels, most especially Intimate Strangers, have charted highly on Amazon and Amazon UK for the past couple of years.  What followed was the opportunity to work with Dr. Familoni and read Losing My Religion, an exceptional book about a Nigerian, Femi, moving to Canada and then the South – and facing the differences between the cultures.

Interestingly, the religion-culture in which Dr. Familoni grew up, Yoruba, is one of 11 world religions that state and practice the golden rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. It draws from the ancient indigenous tenet that man and nature are not separate, but part of one wheel of life.

Losing My Religion peers into the eyes and souls of its characters, holds tension with both its action and subtext – Femi’s strain to hold dear to his native and adopted cultures – and the final harrowing scenes. Oh yes, there’s even a love story woven in.

This is the first of a two-part interview with Dr. Familoni. Losing My Religion will be published in June 2013.)

WORD JOURNEYS: You began writing at a very young age, going off on your own, writing thoughts and observations in journals. Could you speak to how that set a tone for the way you approached your life?

Jide Familoni: I don’t remember how it came about, probably from my looking for places to be alone to indulge my voracious reading appetite. But I remember as early as when I was 12 or so writing my thoughts and emotions down. Sometimes in prose; other times in poetry. I lived in a large house with a couple of dozen brothers, sisters, and cousins. Finding a place to be alone and write probably made me seem weird.

Even as a grown man, I still believe in writing down my thoughts as a form of introspection.  I think it also makes me slightly awkward and antisocial.

WJ: What were some of the biggest challenges in moving from your life in Nigeria after university to Canada – and what did you seek to establish most in your portrayal of this in Losing My Religion?

JF: When I moved from Nigeria, I went from being around family and friends. Canada was my first experience living overseas. Everything was different to the extreme … the social structure, orderliness, and public infrastructures. I wrote in Losing My Religion about moving into Student Residence and having a landline the next week. I remember how the telecommunication infrastructure was in shambles in Nigeria. Telephones were luxury items that only the very rich and powerful could afford. Even then, they would bribe everyone in the pipeline, from the clerk filing the paperwork to the bosses, and then wait years and eventually, bribe the technicians who would install it. In Losing My Religion, I sought to portray through Femi how my life became different, especially culturally.

WJ:  At what point did you start to see yourself helping others as a doctor?

JF: A particular incident crystallized a sense of helping others for me better than any other. A good portion of my career to date had been in medical research.  At some point in mid ‘90s, we progressed from an animal model to human studies in the development of a treatment that I was working on. I remember getting a page from the hospital on a weekend. It was about our youngest patient that we had implanted with this device, barely beyond his 18^th birthday. He was in the ER; he had been sick for about 3 days. After a few tests, we determined that the electrodes in his stomach had somehow pulled loose. So he was nauseated, throwing up and in pain again.

Before we admitted him, he had dropped out of high school and was wasting away on account of his illness. As soon as he turned 18, we implanted the device. I questioned him because it was so unusual for the electrodes to pull out. He started smiling sheepishly and confessed that he had gone to play baseball. He had not been able to do that for years. We fixed his device, he felt better, and his mother took a picture of him with me that I keep with me today. I was humbled and gladdened that something I designed was able to improve another human beings life.

WJ: You show the distinct differences between Yoruba and Western views in an almost magical way at times. What great riches would the Western culture gain by embracing these universal and beautiful points of view more?

JF: This is an example of the crisscross between Yoruba beliefs and religions and cultures. The Yoruba people ascribe personalities to things … roads, for instance. Therefore, things that have personalities deserve respect from humans … roads, the sea, the land. If we in the Western world were to adopt a posture that ascribes personalities to nature and show adequate and appropriate respect, care of our environment would become more paramount.

WJ:  Nigeria is one of the most politically attuned countries in the world; as you put it in your book, put two people in a room, and a third party will emerge. And yet, it is today a crippled country in many ways. Could you speak to the way growing up there shaped your world and political view?

JF: Even now, my friends wonder why I am so ‘political’. I love the 12 or 18 months leading to general elections in the U.S. I listen to the Talking Heads on NPR and the TV talk shows incessantly. This is in part because my father was a politician and in part because every African, especially Nigerians that I know, are into politics. Which sometimes make you wonder why the continent is not more politically advanced.

Growing up, our historical lessons blamed the ills of society on Western colonization and occupation. With independence in East and West Africa, people started expecting to collect on the promise of indigenous governance. This happened in Ghana, Kenya, Sierra Leone, Cameroun, Uganda, and of course Nigerian. Then the leadership quickly became corrupt and unresponsive. Rather than go the route of Western democracy, i.e., voting the rascals out, one by one, just like dominoes, the civilian leadership was toppled and replaced by authoritatarian and often totalitarian military dictatorship.

WJ:  You also write several gritty chapters in Losing My Religion in which Femi, the protagonist, clashes with the NSO. This will remind Baby Boomer generation readers of the clashes on college campuses in the U.S. forty years ago. How did Femi’s experience – which also took place in the 1970s – mirror yours?

JF: The staging of the Civil Rights struggles are structurally similar to the struggles I grew up with. You have a population of citizens denied certain rights by government. In Nigerian, the military leadership was a dictatorship. University students formed one of the little coherent opposition to their authoritarianism.

Even today, I am very sensitive to preservation of the populace’s rights vis-à-vis a domineering central authority. I love fighting on the side of the underdog. Often when I am watching a sports event in which I have no stakes, I root for the underdog.

WJ: What dynamics of tribal/village society create your fondest memories, dynamics that you don’t experience in the US?

JF: No question – the extended family structure. No family was small. Even a nuclear husband and wife unit was part of an extended family, and you practiced it daily. Sometimes, annoyingly so. Such as when people dropped in uninvited or come looking for help. But taking together, I love the large family community and fellowship. An area in which it is obvious is the abundance of caregivers for the very young and the very old.

WJ: There’s a moment of levity when Femi moves to Canada – and goes straight from the tropics to the freezer. That was a perfect metaphor for the culture shock Femi – and you – must have experienced. What was your first winter in Canada like?

JF: God has a sense of humor. Today, I cannot stand hot and humid weather! Growing up in Nigeria, everything about Canada was a shock to my senses and systems. Although I excelled in the sciences as a student, I did not have a sensory understanding of say 15^o C versus 2^o C. In Nigeria, it was almost always in the twenties or higher, and I still remember wearing 3-piece suits in Lagos and being only slightly uncomfortable. It took a long time for me to master cold weather dressing. This was in part because I hated looking over-dressed and silly.

(Part 2 of the interview with Dr. Jade Familoni will run on Wednesday, May 22)

 

 

Looking at Writing with a Sideways Glance

 (This is the second of two blogs on the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books)

What happens when you put four novelists in a room and ask them for their take on the world? Chances are, you’ll get four very different impressions – eloquently stated, of course. Unless one is Ernest Hemingway. He’ll get it done in eight words or less – noun, verb, predicate. Time to go fishing.

For some reason, this crossed my mind as I entered the “Sideways Glance” panel discussion at the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books. The name caught my eye and lured me in (score a point for good branding and titling); it didn’t sound like the usual conversation about plot points or how good someone’s sales are going.  “You come at the truth from a sideways angle through the words you choose or images you create,” moderator Chris Daley, the fiction reviewer for the Los Angeles Times, said. “There’s a surprising inevitability at the end.”

Given that definition, event organizers picked the right cast. These authors shared very, very different takes on the worlds they create and how they create them.

Other Blogs on LA Times Festival of Books

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Crime Fiction Collective

Independent Writers Network

The panelists included Jess Walter (Beautiful Ruins), Diana Wagman (Care and Feeding of Exotic Pets), Fiona Maazel (Woke Up Lonely) and David Abrams (Fobbit). All four books are available on Amazon.com and through bookstores. This quartet could not be more different, in appearance, personal background, hometown, or literary preferences, all of which created what had to be one of the top discussions at the two-day festival.

To state the case, here are one-sentence descriptions of their newest books:

• Beautiful Ruins: A funny, romantic tale of a near-affair in Hollywood that rekindles 50 years later. Says the Washington Post of Walter, “As talented a natural storyteller as is working in American fiction these days.”

• Care and Feeding of Exotic Pets: A woman learns how to deal with the deranged iguana owner who kidnapped her.

• Woke Up Lonely: A wild ride through North Korea and the vice section of Cincinnati with the leader of a cult and a covert agent.

• Fobbit: A stunning behind-the-lines war story that takes place at a Forward Operating Base (FOB) in Iraq. Stunning not only for its poignant scenes, but also for its humor.

If you’re a writer trying to sell your novel to an agent or publisher, here is the first thing to take away from this cross-section of books: the storylines are unique, distinctive, and quirky in their own ways. In all four cases, the authors tossed aside others’ notions of what readers would buy, and wrote their stories. Their styles couldn’t be more different: Walter is sweet and funny; Wagman hilarious in a dark, twisted sort of way but also a laser with character development; Maazel a dazzling wordsmith and purveyor of the richly textured multi-plot; and Abrams a former soldier who writes between-combat scenes with the depth of Tim O’Brien, the humor of Elmore Leonard and the emotional richness of Joyce Carol Oates. He kept a daily journal while in Iraq, then grew a book out of it.

As for Wagman, who also won the 2001 PEN Award for new fiction and wrote the screenplay for Delivering Milo, the movie starring Bridget Fonda and Albert Finney? Trust me on this: looks are deceiving. I was all set to listen to a prim, proper, bespectacled, short-haired Midwestern professor expound on fiction. Instead, she sent the capacity crowd into hysterics time and again with her twisted, raw humor, leaving the youngest and wildest looking author – Maazel – in stitches and saying, “I’m a wuss compared to you when it comes to sex scenes and blood and gore.” As it turns out, Maazel is the professor – she teaches at Columbia, Princeton and NYU. And she’s in her 30s. How’s that for a great mind?

How different from “what sells”, as we often read in magazines or are told, are these books? While writing, all four authors admitted to seriously doubting their stories would sell, no matter their publishing pasts, because they were so far removed from typical mainstream fiction. But guess what? They sold – and all four books are being hailed as among the top books of the past year. In Maazel’s case, it earned her a spot in the “Top 5 Under 35” as one of the nation’s best young novelists.

It goes to show you: there’s no cookie cutter formula to writing, selling and buying great novels. All of them hold true and fast to the famous quote by southern novelist Flannery O’Connor: “To the hard of hearing, you shout, and to the almost blind, you draw large and startling figures.”

During the panel discussion, each of the four made numerous comments that bear repeating. Rather than take the rest of the morning to build a story around it, one way too long for a single blog, I thought I’d leave you with some highlights:

David Abrams: “There is no real truth. To immortalize your experience you have to manipulate it to some degree. To tell anyone a truth, you have to tell a story, and if you tell a story, you quit telling the actual truth, because you’re always moving facts and memories around.”

Diana Wagman: “I love it when life surprises you, or I hear something that just takes everything I think I know and believe and sends it flying. I’m always looking for what makes people laugh and cry, or what makes them change … and then I add my own little twists and things I would do to people who kidnapped me …”

Jess Walter: “Each of my books tends to drive the thematic interest of whatever I’m carrying around at the time (of writing). That’s what is on top of me, ready to come out, so I find characters and time periods to match.”

Fiona Maazel: “Good writing, really good writing, is a matter of getting at things through the back door. We can all go through the front door, but what happens when you peek in, sneak in, creep in? Like, how would you describe desire in a way no one else has tried, in a way that messes with your comfort zone? I like to write stories that tell the same truths over and over again from new angles that make you see them fresh.”

Ready to take these words into your writing or reading week? I sure am.

Two Crazy Weeks of Publishing Bliss

It’s been quite a two-week period on the writing front, and just goes to show what happens sometimes when you throw enough seeds in the garden. So, this blog is going to feel like a combination of a newsletter and announcements.

Last week, two books came out on Amazon.com with which I was involved: The Hummingbird Review Spring 2013 “Hollywood & Literature” edition, which I edited and also contributed a couple of pieces; and Brian Wilkes’ book Stroking the Media, for which I contributed a chapter on the four essentials of generating good publicity – Timing, Opportunity, Newsworthiness and Perception. Will get into these in a future blog. Never had two Amazon listings in the same week, but there they are! Please order a copy – and one for a friend!

This week kept up the pace. I wrapped proposals for two people I have admired for many years: former Surfer Magazine publisher-editor Jim Kempton, who is now shopping his fantastic book of exotic recipes coupled with great surf travel and cultural stories, The Surfing Chef; and Stevie Salas, the Contemporary Music Advisor to the Smithsonian Institution (and great guitarist from Carlsbad), with whom I’m working on his memoir (more details forthcoming). Add to that the chapters I’ve either cranked out or edited for a number of other clients, and it’s been productive.

That’s not all: On Tuesday, Houghton Mifflin announced the acquisition and forthcoming publication of Just Add Water, my biography of surfing great Clay Marzo, who does it all with Asperger Syndrome. For this book, which is truly a joy to write (as those familiar with my long background as former promoter of the ASP World Tour and writing for the surf mags know), I owe a special shout-out to my longtime friend Mitch Varnes, who is Clay’s manager and who suggested I take a shot at writing this book when we had dinner a few months ago.

Mitch and I have history in turning ideas into great books; 20 years ago, Mitch helped me button down my concept and connect me with astronauts and NASA officials for one of the greatest projects of my career, One Giant Leap for Mankind. It was the 25^th anniversary publication for the Apollo 11 moon mission, one edition of which NASA later picked up.

Oh yes, one more bit of news: on Thursday, the popular online magazine Indie Writer Net picked up the first of my two blogs on last weekend’s Los Angeles Times Festival of Books (the second blog will be right here on Saturday).

So, to cap it all off, I’m headed up to Orange County later this morning to appear as the guest on the Write NOW! TV show, with hosts Judy Saxon and Charles Redner. We’ll be talking about, well, writing, but also the benefits of writing about something different every day, and reading on a wide variety of subjects with the curiosity and precociousness of a child.

A quick advisory note on that, to take into the weekend: When you spread out your writing subjects – and forms of writing, from letters to journals to essays and short fiction, and everything in between – you develop the diversity to tackle anything and everything. When you read widely, your brain comes along for the ride and makes connections and observations you never thought you had.

Enjoy your writing and reading this weekend!

Cruising the L.A. Times Festival of Books (part one)

(This is the first of two blogs from the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books. It also serves to launch a new companion blog, http://366writing.wordpress.com, which will be my daily account of one writer’s life and activities. The Festival of Books blogs will appear on both sites; after that, I will continue with a variety of pieces on this site while keeping the daily account on 366writing.)

Here’s a quick trivia question: Which author with a name recognizable to millions lists as her most influential writers such titans as Joan Didion, Gustave Flaubert, Leo Tolstoy, Fyodor Dyostoevsky, Toni Morrison, Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and, most notably, the late short story master Raymond Carver?

I’m sure you can come up with plenty of good guesses – such as, your favorite authors. After all, many working authors of renown in the late 20^th and early 21^st century were influenced by all or some of these writers.

THE LATEST from 366WRITING BLOG

But what if I told you that this particular author made her first splash in a much different way, as America’s teen cinematic sweetheart in the classic 1980s movies Pretty In Pink, Sixteen Candles and The Breakfast Club?

“When It Happens to You” author Molly Ringwald

Hard to believe Molly Ringwald is now 45, but there she stood, resplendent on the LA Times Festival of Books main stage at USC, being celebrated for the passion that burned within her well before becoming a movie star: writing. She read a chapter-story from her bestselling novel-in-stories, When It Happens To You, and answered audience questions with a fresh openness that doesn’t happen so often at these events.

What struck me most about her work was its depth and quality: this was no actress cashing in on her entertainment platform to get a book out. You could sense Didion’s astute observation, Hemingway’s sparseness, Fitzgerald’s intimacy and Carver’s incisive delivery in her work, yet it was exclusively her voice. That takes years of practice. As Molly said in response to a question about when he knew her work was ready, “I just wrote and rewrote and worked on it and then let it sit there until I felt my voice was good enough to bring it out.”

In so many words, she described what makes the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books, and other major book festivals, such celebrations of the written word. For two days, more than 150,000 people converge upon the USC campus – a quite stately setting for the festival. We were there all day Saturday to see author friends, meet with our agent briefly, shop the booths, and listen to speakers like Molly and former Wonder Years star Danica McKellar, whose “Math is Cool” stream of books might be one of the best things going for the self-esteem of teenaged girls.

We also dropped in on panel conversations, which to me are the hidden treasures of these and any book festivals. Book writing is about storytelling, and the stories behind the stories are often treasures of their own. As good as books might be, you won’t get them within the pages, or sometimes even in interviews with the authors. You will get them in these panel discussions, when guards and sales pitches are down and high-spirited interaction is the name of the game. And the LA Times Festival of Books moderators are experts at it.

So many things happened at the Festival of Books, which took place on a day the LA Chamber of Commerce baked up in their dreams: sunny, 80 degrees, the Exposition Park Rose Garden in full bloom across the street, and people of all ages completely celebrating the joy of creativity and good books. The Tumbler vehicle from The Dark Knight was there, as were perfectly costumed members of the Jane Austen Society. The USC Trojan marching band opened the Festival, while a third-grader won a $500 Barnes & Noble gift card in a coloring contest. Funny: I don’t remember prizes like that when I was in third grade. Maybe I would have colored more between the lines! Check that – writers spend their time outside the lines, approaching their subjects sideways and from the back as often as straightforward.

Everyone was also celebrating the end to the tragic week and manhunt in Boston, none moreso than the young lady working the Harvard University Press booth. She flew in Friday night from Cambridge, where the bombing suspects shot and killed an MIT campus officer before getting into a nighttime shootout with police. “I am so happy to be here,” she said, her body visibly decompressing. “No one ever needs to have a week like that. It was wicked weird to drive to the airport in Boston on a Friday without any cars on the road. None.” Added Southern California Writer’s Conference co-director Wes Albers, the author of a great crime novel, Black & White, and himself a longtime San Diego police officer: “The stakes were way too high for us not to succeed (in apprehending the Boston suspects).” His comments clearly showed the sense of brotherhood all law enforcement officers felt this week.

Getting right back to the fun side of the weekend, I heard a few great stories (for which books have been written) during a fine panel discussion on “Nonfiction: A Singular Passion”:

• Did you know the federal duck stamp contest program is one of the U.S. government’s most profitable ventures? Duck hunters must purchase a stamp for their licenses every year. The stamp is designed from the winning painting from 250 to 300 artists. The government spends $850,000 to run the contest, and receives $25 million in annual revenue. 98 percent of that money is invested into restoring wetlands. Since being initiated in 1930, the program has resulted in restoring wetlands the size of Massachusetts. And oh yes, The Wild Duck Chase author and Orange Coast Magazine editor Martin J. Smith added,  the vast majority of duck hunters favor background checks as a form of gun control – unlike half of the U.S. senators (all fearful of the NRA), who ignored 90% of the public’s preference the other day (that’s another story).

• The best-tasting taco, according to OC Weekly food editor Gustavo Arellano, the author of Taco USA: How Mexican Food Conquered America, is at a taco truck in Santa Ana. He just spent three years canvassing every good Mexican restaurant in the country for his book on the history of Mexican food in the US; he knows.

• Did you know that, while he made marijuana illegal in the United States starting in the 1930s, Federal Bureau of Narcotics director Harry Anslinger – the J. Edgar Hoover of his department – helped Coca-Cola continue to import coca leaves from Peru for its product, even though the importation was explicitly banned by an international treaty? It’s quite a story Richard Cortes dug up — but the blowback he felt is what we heard on the panel discussion about his new book, A Secret History of Coffee, Coca & Cola. “When I matched the letters from Anslinger to Coca-Cola, and called Coca-Cola for comment, I heard complete silence on the phone … they didn’t appreciate it very much,” Cortes said.

These are the tidbits that come from panel discussions – and the authors’ stories about how they find out these delights. Behind it all, they said, are stories about people and social issues far beyond tacos, duck stamps and crooked federal officials. And that’s what makes the books that we come to book festivals to buy.

(NEXT: More from this non-fiction panel – and a wild ride from four top-selling fiction panelists who threw away the typical “how to write a novel” guidelines long ago).  

The Morning After … From This Boston Marathoner

Normally, the morning after running a Boston Marathon looks and feels like this: a smile that no one can wipe off your face, an appetite that keeps crying for more food, fresh memories of the faces and sights of the past 26.2 miles, a phone that won’t stop ringing or pinging with text messages, and stiff legs that would protest very much if they saw stairs, or any uphill or especially downhill grade.

Most of all, there is the sense of achievement and satisfaction that a dream of years or decades, backed by months of hard, lonely miles on roads and tracks, came true at the most storied of all marathons. I can’t tell you how many great conversations I’ve had on the Boston course along these lines, before the Newton hills quickly took the wind out of our talking moods.

I’ve rejoiced in the Boston “morning after” on three different occasions – 2005, 2007, and 2009 – and I plan to experience it again in 2014.

But right now, like the rest of America and the running world, I have a different feeling this morning. One of sadness. Shock. Anger. Disgust.

This is not how it is supposed to feel. It is supposed to feel like it did yesterday morning, when I watched the Boston Marathon elite race online, saw the parts of the course I’ve come to know well, and marveled at how Rita Jeptoo made up a 90-second gap in the span of three miles to win her second women’s title going away; or how Lelisa Desisa waited until 800 meters from the finish, before outkicking his two pursuers to win the men’s title by just five seconds.

It’s supposed to feel like it did in 2005, 2007 and 2009, when I turned onto Boylston Street, pushed the throttle one more time with the last of my energy, smiling and hurting all at once, and drove 600 meters to the finish. Like the other runners, I was privileged to run the ultimate gauntlet – tens of thousands of cheering spectators packed like sardines on the sidewalks and viewing stands. In 2005, those fans included my mother, brother and sister-in-law, whose birthday we celebrated beforehand. They cheered me in from the exact spot where the first bomb went off, twenty yards from the finish line, after I’d seen them 10 miles earlier at Newton Lower Falls.

From the exact spot where the first bomb went off. I can only pretend to imagine what the 4:10 marathoners felt when, so close to achieving their dream, they heard the concussive blasts and saw the smoke – and in some cases, were blown to the side as by a hard wind. It’s not supposed to feel like this.

I watched this year’s race with memories and pride, a Boston Marathon t-shirt on to mark the occasion, hoping the ten friends or so in the race would have great days. The thing about Boston is this: The hardest work is in qualifying to get there. If you don’t run a qualifying time, you don’t go, unless you’re a superb fund-raiser. I’ve raced Boston hard, all three times, setting my personal best in 2009, but it’s always felt as much a celebration as a race. So I knew my friends were welling up inside, so happy to be there, thrilled to see spectators along all 26.2 miles spanning eight towns, maybe snapping photos with their smartphones. The guys would be thoroughly stoked when they came upon the Wellesley girls at the 12-mile mark, the co-eds more than happy to bestow everything from a hand-slap and scream of support to a fat kiss. All would be thrilled when they crested Heartbreak Hill and came upon the Boston College co-eds, who might even run up and naively but good-naturedly offer a beer to a passing runner (as one did to me in 2007).

Now, my friends and 24,000 others have to head home with a different picture in their minds, one that I pray and hope will be erased in time by their achievement. It’s not supposed to be like this.

I also watched yesterday’s race with building anticipation. After three years of dealing with injuries and an on-again, off-again attitude toward my own running (thanks, in part, to focusing on the many great high school and middle school kids I coached), I’m marathon training again. I just ran 18 miles Sunday, my personal homage to the Boston field, my longest run in two years, and felt the engine really roar yesterday. With my qualifier in Montana still three months away, a 20-minute 5K under my belt, and early long workout paces tracking below the 3:35 I have to run to get back in, I’m licking my chops.

So this morning, I planned to begin the visualization process for the 2014 Boston, to start bringing the reality of the race home. Marathon racing is 80% mental, and it starts well before race day. When you race a marathon, the last things you want to deal with are surprises – or any major changes to how you planned out and visualized the race.

Instead, on the suggestion of fellow Boston Marathoner and good friend Kathryn Van Arsdall, I found myself running an 8.26-mile memorial run in my black Boston Marathon windbreaker – 8 miles for Martin Richard, the 8-year-old boy who died yesterday, and .26 to commemorate the length of the marathon. One friend, Southern Indiana running ace Tim Roman, did the same – and added two steps at the end for the final two-tenths of a mile. It is not supposed to be this way.

Yesterday was four years since my last Boston – which happened to be my last marathon. I’m now committed to having one last flurry of races, and have even coaxed my great high school track and cross-country coach, Brad Roy (who ran Boston in a near world-class time of 2:22 in 1979), into coaching me. Seems things have changed the past four years – starting with recovery time and foot speed – and Brad’s guidance is already proving huge. After the Missoula Marathon in July, I will race my hometown run, the Carlsbad Marathon, in January. Then, next April, one year from now, Lord willing, I’ll be feeling the exquisite joy of another completed Boston, just outside my 55^th birthday.

But when the 25,000 other runners and I gather in our corrals in Hopkinton on Patriot’s Day 2014, the mood will not be quite as festive. We’ll have our race strategies, ways of celebrating on the course, levels of excitement, and joys and feelings of achievement. However, if I know the running community, I know hearts will still be heavy and prayers will be plentiful.

Then, when we head into Boston a few hours later, we will smile, laugh and cry as we charge down Boylston Street, hear the cheers, cross the line and receive our unicorn medals. We will walk to our designated buses to grab the gear bags we left behind in Hopkinton. In my case, I will then hop the fence (cramps and all), and find my sweetheart, Martha, amidst the throng. She knows the feeling; she competed in the 2002 Dublin Marathon. I’ll indulge in my favorite post-race drink – a Starbucks hot black tea. After that, we’ll head on to a celebratory dinner with family members who live in the Boston area and New England — a few of whom might meet up with me earlier for another Boston Marathon tradition, our 30-second photo session, as I run up to the Exxon station just beyond the halfway point in Wellesley.

That’s how it’s supposed to feel. And when it does, we can begin to erase the horror all of us are now feeling.

15 Common Points Between Writing & Running Marathons (part 2)

(EDITOR’S NOTE: This is the conclusion of my two-part series that compares 15 points in common between the writing process – particularly book and extensive projects – and running marathons. Actually, it’s 18 points in common, but who’s counting?)

“The race begins at 20 miles”: Years ago, a friend, journalist and veteran marathoner said this to me. While most people might crash and burn at 20 miles (or before), serious marathon racers dig in the final 10K. So it is with book writing. The last leg is often the hardest. You’re tired, you’ve lived with the subject for months or years, and you want to be finished. But this is the most vital part of the book, next to the first chapter. Focus more intently than ever, tap emotional and creative reserves, and power through to the finish.

Enjoy the solitude: If ever four groups of people know and understand solitude better than the rest of the population, they would be runners, writers, artists and monks. We spend countless hours alone with our words. Enjoy the quiet time; enjoy the ideal atmosphere it provides you to create, think deeply, and work. Not everyone gets this chance. Ask someone who works in a cubicle or workstation all day. The material percolates in solitude. The more you can enjoy it and immerse in it, the more you can produce – and the more cohesive it will be.

Push the hills: One of the best road racing strategies is to push hills hard – and then surge for 30 meters or so at the top. All authors know there are many uphill climbs in the long course of writing a book – struggles with scenes, characters, getting the right information, fluid narrative description, etc. Some days, we feel like we can write anything; on others, our sentences feel like back roads clunkers. We all hit them; we all wonder how we’re going to get to the top. The answer: one word at a time. Push past the obstacles, while holding to the greater vision for your work. Write hard to keep the momentum going.

Increase focus as the race progresses: The same thing has happened in every marathon I’ve raced. For the first eight miles or so, runners talk to each other, compare strategies, talk about favorite runs they’ve ever taken, maybe shoot photos of the crowd (if they carry smartphones, which many do — not me!) and truly enjoy being out there. For the next eight miles, the focus tightens, paces become locked in, and the talking lessens. For the final ten miles, there is very little talking and very deep focus. Good authors take us deeper and deeper into their stories, a reflection of their increased focus as they deliver the goods. Focus, focus, focus.

Don’t hit too many aid stations: One of the myths (and, actually, physical dangers) of long races is that it is important to drink at every aid station. NOT SO. When I run marathons, I only drink six times – roughly once every 4½ miles. Everyone has their number, but point is: don’t take too many breaks. This applies directly to writing. Momentum and rhythm are everything; when you’re on a roll, stay on it. If you must, take only small breaks when writing books to recharge, but never more than a week or two. Long breaks are a no-no, unless you’re between drafts.

There will be pain: To borrow from a surfwear manufacturer’s 1980s ad campaign, Every marathoner knows the feeling. It starts at about 15 miles, hits fully at 18 to 20 miles, and envelops you the final 6 miles. PAIN. We know it’s coming when we toe the starting line, but we know how to handle it – by reaching down and taking the race one stride at a time. Likewise, book writing can be (and often is) emotionally painful and mentally taxing, especially tell-all memoirs and novels with characters exhibiting emotions that grab you from the page. When you read scenes like this, you know the writer is feeling it. Embrace the pain, and turn it into your ally. Use it to drive more deeply within yourself, opening new thresholds of possibility for your writing – and greater perspective as a person. The more you can work with writing pain in all its forms, the more deeply touched readers will be.

Head down; one step at a time: This extends from the last comment. I ran the 2009 Boston Marathon with moderate plantar fasciitis. In other words, the last five miles were hell. However, I nearly held my earlier race pace because I pulled my cap over my eyes like I was in the ‘hood, looked down at my toes, and took it one step at a time. That’s exactly how I write books; by adopting that technique, I’ve gone from being a good starter to a good finisher. Keep your head down and write one chapter at a time, one paragraph at a time – and one sentence at a time. This approach becomes especially important when revising and self-editing, when you make sure every word fits and every word counts.

Finish strong: One of the best ways to ensure good race results is to finish strong in each training run, picking up the pace at the end. Likewise with book writing. Good final chapters sew up the story or subject, and leave readers feeling: a) like they want more; b) wholly satisfied; or c) Googling you for more books, or for more perspectives based upon the great book you have given them. Reach down and give it everything you’ve got in the last chapter – just like a good racer.

Celebrate!: When we finish something as monumental as a book, or a marathon, it’s time to celebrate! Then take at least a week off from writing of any kind … your batteries will definitely need to be recharged.

15 Common Points Between Running Marathons & The Writing Process

(Part 1 of a two-blog series)

April means four things above others to me: National Poetry Month, the beginning of Major League baseball season, the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books, and the month of major running races.

Just finished watching the Ironman 70.3 in Oceanside, with the athletes running the last of those 70.3 miles right by the house. Now, gearing up for this weekend’s Carlsbad 5000, the world’s fastest 5K road race. And, in two weeks, the marathon world turns its focus to Boston for the Boston Marathon – which I plan to run for the fourth time in 2014.

Speaking of marathons, authors often compare writing books to running marathons. The usual line: “Writing a book is not a wind sprint, but a marathon.” They often don’t really think about why that is (except that writing a book usually takes a long time, along with all the mental energy you’ve got). I speak about this when teaching workshops. Readers and writers alike can gain great insight into how your favorite stories come together, and how the author got there, by drawing comparisons to the most celebrated of all long-distance races.

Since I’ve run eight marathons along with writing and ghostwriting many books, thought I’d share 15 points in common between running and training for marathons, and the writing process. Lace up your shoes, boot up the computer, and toe the starting line. Away we go:

Enter the race well prepared: Marathoners know better than to enter a race ill prepared. If they are not prepared, they will become very intimate with agony. Most marathoners train for 12 to 16 weeks, and work out every nuance of the race in their minds before lining up. Same with writing. Make sure your research, thoughts and rough outlines are in place before firing the starting gun for Chapter 1. Let the material mentally percolate for weeks, even months. Play out the scenes or sequences in your mind. Move them around. Sketch them out. Then write. The better prepared going in, the better the finished result – and the happier the reader.

Read the Race: All races are different. The courses, competitors, dynamics and conditions change from race to race. So does the way you feel, what you think is possible, and how you will run the race. Likewise, all stories are different. They require different approaches, paces and characters. That goes for subjects, too, especially when writing non-fiction books and interviewing. When interviewing people, read their faces and expressions, and listen for what is not said as much as what is said. Go into every article, book or story knowing it will be unique – and read it as it unfolds.

Vary your pace: A lot of people thinking racing marathons is a matter of finding a pace and sticking with it for all 26.2 miles –  or until fatigue and sore muscles slow you down. Not so. Good racers change their pace several times, pushing hills, speeding up for a half-mile in the middle, surging at the end, or even throwing in a 100-meter pick-up just to change the stride. It helps – a lot. Likewise, good writers vary their pace within a book, switching from fast-dramatic-action sequences to slower-thoughtful-contemplative scenes. They do it within dialogue, as well as the way they write sentences. Changes in pace reflect real life. Vary your pace.

Enjoy the process: About 10 years ago, during an arduous 20-mile run in the desert mountains above Tucson, ultramarathon star Pam Reed told me something: “It’s going to hurt, you know it’s going to hurt, so just relax and enjoy the process.” Likewise, whether writing or reading, enjoy it! Writing is very hard work, but what could be a better vocation than sharing stories and subjects with a reading audience? And communicating directly with them through the written (or electronic) page? Feel the creative buzz. Write from a place of love – love of process. No matter how tough the work, try to enjoy every moment. Trust me: readers will notice, and beg for more.

Make tight, well-angled turns: Road races often feature a lot of curves and turns – sometimes, hairpin turns on out-and-back courses. Good racers know to stay clear of the inside on hairpin turns, to swing a bit wide, lean into the turn, and then find a direct line to the next straight section. So it is with writing transitions from one scene to another. Make your transitions lean and mean. Lean into them, using the momentum of the prior scene. Write tightly, carrying us into the next scene, but don’t write them abruptly unless that is part of the dramatic tension of the story. Learn the art of the turn. Write transitions, metaphors and similes that connect – instantly. My all-time favorite comes from the late Los Angeles Times sports columnist extraordinaire Jim Murray, describing a picky home plate umpire: “He had a strike zone the size of Hitler’s heart.” That’s the art of a well-run turn.

Pick your way through the crowd: Good racers know how to anticipate traffic on the course, and pick their way through runners without breaking stride.  Likewise, as an author, you will have a crowded field of other writers in your genre. Distinguish your work by content and voice, identify the crux of every scene among the myriad thoughts pouring through your mind, and run to the exact sentences and words to best capture your scene. And do so without breaking form.

Make your move: Commit yourself fully: At some point in every race, runners make their move to ensure the best finish. They pick up the pace, tap into their inner reserves, and lay themselves out. These surges are beautiful to behold. And readers love it as well. When you commit to a character action or a line of argument or discussion in a non-fiction book, commit fully. Give it everything you’ve got, the fruits of all the hard research, interviewing, deep thinking and planning. Write every sentence as though it were your last. Don’t fall into the trap of thinking you need to “save it up for a knockout punch.” Be like Ernest Hemingway: pour your blood, sweat and collective life experience into every sentence you write. Commit fully.

(This blog will conclude on Thursday, April 4 by looking at: The Race Begins at 20 Miles • Push the Hills • Increase Focus as the Race Progresses • There Will Be Pain; Head Down, One Step at a Time • Finish Strong • Don’t Hit Too Many Aid Stations)

Previewing a Book for National Poetry Month … and A Book for Life

Closing out a month that I will forever remember as the Month of Voluminous Editing. Never have I worked on so many great books simultaneously – novels, memoirs, travel narratives, my own projects. It just goes to show that, in this age where traditional publishing, self-publishing and e-publishing all offer viable paths of publishing success, good writing will rule out in the end. There will never be any shortage of well-written, well-conceived books. In fact, from where I sit, it seems that we’re back on an upward curve when it comes to overall quality of writing. Let’s keep it up.

Now we come to April: . I want to profile a couple of books that are on their way to bookstores and online 

The first is The Hummingbird Review, the literary journal for which I’ve been editor for three years (except for the Spring 2012 issue, when I was teaching at Ananda College). Publisher, poet and author Charles Redner, who always keeps part of his heart attached to his dramatic arts past, decided to paint a Hollywood theme this time – combining movies and literature. For his part, Charlie wrote a short piece on those dramatic arts days … and a fine actor who emerged from his class. (I’m not telling you: you’ll have to read The Hummingbird Review).

The result is the Spring 2013 issue, our annual National Poetry Month issue, which features Hollywood-themed poetry and essays by our esteemed cast of new and established authors, including Dances With Wolves author Michael Blake, extraordinary poet Martin Espada, screenwriters Adam Rodman and David Milton, and a special lyrics package from my friend and client Stevie Salas, who scored Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventurein the late 1980s as his musical career was beginning to take off. Now Stevie is producing a documentary film on Native Americans in rock and pop music. We also have stirring lyrics from the solo work of legendary X frontman, lyricist and poet John Doe, who has appeared in more than 30 films and TV shows and series. (We did ask John to furnish the lyrics to one of X’s greatest songs, “The Haves and Have Nots”, which also appears).

We also pay tribute to an old friend of mine, the late Idaho Poet Laureate Emeritus Bill Studebaker, a man whose outrageous humor and sense of adventurism (especially white water kayaking) was matched by two things: his love of family, and his poetry writing. He was a fantastic poet whose works will live on for a long, long time. We present a half-dozen of his poems in a special tribute. Bill died in 2008 in a kayaking accident.

In addition, the spring issue features three dozen fine poems from new and regular contributors from throughout the country. It opens with one of the more memorable conversation-interviews I’ve conducted, with former Poet Laureate of the United States Billy Collins. The interview features plenty of Billy’s trademark humor, while also touching on subjects near and dear to his heart – such as bringing contemporary poetry into the schools through his Poetry 180 project.

The Hummingbird Review will be available through bookstores, on Amazon.com and on the website at www.thehummingbirdreview.com in mid-April, which is National Poetry Month.

• • •

About 18 months ago, the person who would later become my literary agent, Dana Newman, asked if I would be interested in editing a very special memoir that she was representing. I took a look at the manuscript, and knew it was a book I would never forget.

Now, here it comes. Cracked … Not Broken is the story of Kevin Hines, a young man from San Francisco, diagnosed with bi-polar disorder, who attempted to end his life at age 19 by jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge. He survived. Halfway through his plunge, he realized he wanted to live, and by the grace of God, his body turned in such a way that he survived impact.

From there, Kevin started embracing life. It was tough, and painful, but now, he is a dynamic, nationally recognized speaker and advocate for suicide prevention, a man whose story has inspired countless thousands. Maybe millions. This memoir is a testament to the will to live, and to learning to fall in love with life – after nearly ending it. There’s no sugar coating in this book: it is tough, gritty, emotionally raw, and leaves nothing to chance or speculation. Which makes it a great book.

Cracked … Not Broken is available on pre-order from Amazon.com.

A Higher Purpose: Not Fearing Death Part 2 of Interview with ‘A Taste of Eternity’ Author Martha Halda

How do life-changing or transforming events affect our life purpose? And how do we integrate everything we do into that purpose – and then share it with others?

Martha Halda has found her way: By writing A Taste of Eternity, a forthcoming memoir about how one afternoon reshaped her outlook on life, and the way she chooses to live it.

On October 8, 1999, Martha suffered a horrific car accident, after which she was pronounced clinically dead three times. She remains the only person in the 50-year history of Palomar Pomerado Hospital (North San Diego County) to survive after scoring 0 on her CRAM (Clinical Risk Assessment and Management). Those who score 0 to 1 almost always die, or live in a paralyzed and/or persistent vegetative state. She recovered fully – even completing the 2002 Dublin Marathon.

During her passing over, she had a profound near death experience. How that experience transformed and shifted her life, and how she carried it forward, is covered in A Taste of Eternity, now making its rounds among major publishers through literary agent Dana Newman.

Martha also offers behind-the-chapters stories pertaining to the book at her blog, http://atasteofeternity.wordpress.com.

This is the second of a touching, life-affirming two-part interview with Martha, which comes at a most fitting time, as millions begin to celebrate Easter or Passover.

Word Journeys: Why do so many people find it hard to believe someone can have a near death experience, taste eternity, or have direct perception of God?

Martha Halda: I feel it’s because we are too busy judging.  Judgment causes the unbearable fear of non-acceptance.  Think about it, from our first day on the playground, all we want is to be accepted, to be part of the group, invited in.  Some people can’t accept what they haven’t seen, touched or felt themselves. Some need science to prove anything or everything before they will accept it, Often, people are afraid that society will think them odd or mentally off.  To talk about this, I needed the faith that comes from knowing that what I experienced was 100% real.   Faith can go a long way, but first we must to get out of our own way. We need to remove the mighty ego.  Many people still need society to accept it, before they are willing.

WJ: That’s a great point – and leads to my next question. A Taste of Eternity crosses all religious lines – and goes beyond them. When I read it, I saw how you touched and experienced the unifying point behind ALL religions. Could you speak to the essence of spirit, based on your experience?

MH: For me, the essence of spirit is sharing, caring, love, a unity of all things.  I mean all things: everything is energy, it is all particles or atoms or cells, and they are all part of each other.  During my experience, at one point, I had a mental vision or thought that a waterfall would be nice; suddenly, particles from all over a meadow came together and re-formed as a waterfall.  It was as if everything existed to bring pleasure.

WJ: Three years after your accident, after being told you would never walk again, you completed the Dublin Marathon. How did the marathon intensify your desire to live life to the max, without fear of what may or may not happen next?  

MH: I know that any day could be my last. When it’s my time, then it’s my time, I have no fear of death; in fact, I welcome the day.  I won’t do anything to bring it on myself, because I want to be sure I get to go to Heaven again, and I don’t want to feel the hurt I would cause my friends.

WJ: How does your family view your experience now, compared with how they first responded to it?

MH: They don’t really view it differently at all.  We don’t talk about it much.  It may have changed their views of life indirectly, but it is a personal thing.  I feel they have a beauty inside their souls knowing that God is there for each of us, and there is no reason to fear death.

WJ: How did your life purpose change from your experience?

MH: Today, I don’t know if I really have one, in the traditional way. I used to have a very clear purpose as a mother. Now, it is just to see life in all things with joy. I want to understand how and why religions say their way is the only right way; the loving embrace of the God I met was not that condemning.  I feel if people would open their hearts and minds to another’s way, they would see the commonality in our beliefs, customs, and lifestyles, and not the differences.

WJ: You came back with heightened senses, one of which is a particular affinity with animals, which you discuss in the book. Could you elaborate?

MH: I just look into the eyes of birds, dogs, cats, birds or deer and can tell if they are happy and well or not.  They don’t fear me, and some will become very assertive toward me in a good way. They know they are safe with me.  That’s all.  When you bring this up, I get the opportunity to feel the way some of the people in my life felt about me talking about my near death experience – shoosh! someone might hear you. (laughs)

WJ: When people read books like A Taste of Eternity, or talk with you about it, what would you like them to take away from the experience?

MH: Simply the Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have done unto you.  To give, share, and express love; it’s the most important thing we have to offer! Love is the only Eternal possession we have. When we die, the only thing we take is the love we shared, the memories we make, and our integrity. Everything else stays here.  No U-Hauls in Heaven.

WJ: Finally, last year on your birthday, you did something not a lot of 50-somethings would do: jumped off a 50-foot cliff into the Ganges River near Varanasi, India – not once, but several times.

MH: Well, I was also the only high school girl skateboarder in the mid-1970s who bombed the steep La Costa hills in Carlsbad (Calif.), where I grew up! So it’s not that much of a departure for me. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I’d been white-water rafting all morning with two young ladies from Scotland who were also go-for-it women. I saw the cliffs, told our guide to beach the raft, walked past some Indian men who were thinking about it but were afraid to jump … and I stepped in front of them and jumped. I laugh every time I close my eyes and see the looks on their faces! It was one of those extraordinary moments. I’m always ready for them.