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I will also be including a signed (8.5 x 11) poster cover of Fantastik along with a bookmark for all winners. Giveaway ends tomorrow 2/10

Charlie stood in the entrance to the back room. Jake sat in the same seat he’d been in that past Sunday. He was stoic as always...he had a whiskey in front of him.

“Thanks for calling,� Charlie said.

“He was a Caspian,� Jake replied. Staring into his shot glass he continued, “A rare breed, arguably the oldest breed of horses that still exists, but that’s not what made him special. That horse had heart. That horse had feelings…no different than yours or mine. He was shot dead by some crackers out joy riding from town. He was shot because he was owned by niggers. That horse was the only true friend I ever had. I buried ’im myself, and from that day on I stopped feeling. I put ’im on my shoulder when I came back from ’Nam.�

Charlie whispered, “What was his name?�

Jake looked up from his shot glass, his eyes went wide and his expression softened. “Thunder,� Jake replied. “He was born wild on a dirt road called Thunder.�

Jake motioned to an empty chair across the table from him. “Have a seat.�

Praise for Fantastik
"Extraordinary story...will think of it for a long time and recommend it to others for its amazing plot, extraordinary characters, and insight into two troubled souls."
—Writers Digest Judge, 2014

Very proud that Fantastik has hit #3 on Amazon's Top 100 Religious Mysteries




"Extraordinary story...will think of it for a long time and recommend it to others for its amazing plot, extraordinary characters, and insight into two troubled souls."
—Writers Digest Judge, 2014

I am posting a recent short story I wrote for download, it's free. I hope anyone that downloads it enjoys it.

It is a story that hits a little close to home...it is loosely based off actual events that happened to me almost two years ago to the day--December 5, 2015.

I have fully recovered from my fall and head trauma and now have the Secret as a nice memory of it all!

Please feel free to share it with any family, friends or fellow readers in your sphere!



Best!

C. A. McGroarty

@camcgroarty

Thanks to Pat Rullo for a great interview on Friday on her Podcast, SpeakUp Talk Radio--I really enjoyed our inspirational chat! Hope and Redemption Live Strong!

Anxious, mind racing, feeling very unfulfilled, knowing life was passing me by. My brain on overdrive, sitting at my desk Friday afternoon contemplating if this was it. If this was as good as it was going to get.

Whatever amount of brain power we use on a daily basis, 1%, 10%, 20% (ten percent seems to be the most popular opinion), it is for some people, I'm sure, far less than they would like, while for others too much. It's only fitting that science cannot yet determine the full capacity of what our brains can do, that three pounds of jelly inside our heads made up of 100 billion neurons with electrical mapping that is as unique to each one of us as our own fingerprint. When you pause to think, it truly is the single most significant and complex organ in our body.

My father died in August, 2012 of ALS. His last request was his brain be donated to science for ALS research...they are still studying it! It will be three years in August that Pop was carted out of the den at home, little did any of us believe we would still be waiting to officially bury him three years later, and when that day comes it will no doubt be a true Irish Wake!

My own intrigue of the brain stems from two specific yearnings that seem to constantly fight for my attention, my thirst for liquor and my thirst for knowledge. One physical, one emotional, they both provide me some level of unique satisfaction.

I go through stretches of time where I have this desire to learn something new, or learn more about something that interests me, then I will go through a period of darkness...heavy drinking, not much thought. A couple weeks ago I was at the computer, early in the AM, watching a Yale Professor, Robert Schiller lecture on Financial Markets. A 75 minute lecture he gave to his class (ECON 252 - Financial Markets) which was made available on YouTube--I understand this is not for everyone, but obviously Finance interests me.

By the way, if you were not aware Yale makes many of their college courses available for free to the public via Open Yale, mind you with no course credit or degree available, but kudos to them for doing so.

So what happens during these stretches of enlightenment that I have when I abstain from alcohol for a period of time? Do I think more clearly when I have not drank for a few days or even a full Week!?!?

Yes, I most definitely do.

Am I sharper in my exchanges with people, my communication with them?

Yes, at least it feels that way.

Do I write better?

Without question I write better.

So then why continue to drink at all?

Because I enjoy it, arguably as much all of the above.

Which brings me back to the power of the brain. One act is better for me and I know this--it allows me to create, do, and achieve, the other causes me to think less, slow down and go dark, only to ponder whether I like Tito's better than Ketel One. And that's about the time when I get that internal question again…Is this it?

The modern day human/spiritual dilemma that there must be something more to life than this. Have I in fact reached my full potential?

It can be argued that life, the daily pressures of living it, prevent some of us from ever beginning to realize our full potential. I am always amazed when I come across a single parent that's managing to do it all: raise their children, keep food on the table, keeping their kids' lives enriched with sports or after school activities.

Couldn't it be said that single mother or father is not reaching their full potential because they are too busy seeing to the lives of their kids? Certainly a very subjective opinion, however they (mom and dad) may say the exact opposite of what I think. Just knowing they are doing the best for their child that they can, is fulfillment enough for them. The beauty of our minds, they all work so differently and yet it is for that very reason that we have neurosurgeons and truck drivers, teachers and investment bankers, garbage men and architects.

Anxious, mind racing, feeling unfulfilled put me in my car, about an hour’s commute home, and I was struck by three things that I saw. The first was two women standing outside of John's Bar (not kidding, that is the name) a few puffs into their cigarettes they looked like they were well on their way to kick starting the Memorial Day weekend. They were laughing out loud happy. The second, a silver haired man, probably in his mid-fifties, singing a song as he sat in traffic behind the wheel of his Mercedes-Benz in the opposite lane from me. Both at a stand-still, I turned my own radio off to try and catch a sound of his beat, but the noise around us was too much. He turned and looked at me, we both smiled at one another and shared a chuckle and a nod. And the last—the airplane that glided over my car as I drove down I-95 and the man I imagined, in my head, that wasn't sitting on that plane.

This man, in my head, let’s call him Adam--a production of my recent enlightenment that had happened just seconds earlier--has a plight that begins a few months back when he interviews with a new company for a job making more money with perhaps less pressure. A very desirable position and one he covets it is between he and one other candidate. He's had one phone interview and two face to face interviews over a three month period, all three interviews have gone well. His contact there, Tom, informs him the last step in the hiring process is a trip to Chicago, where the company is headquartered, to meet with the top brass, basically a rubber stamping of things.

Adam pencils in the date, he’s there, he knows it. A few days go by and he receives a call from Tom. “Sorry Adam, but we decided on the other candidate. I won’t be brining you to Chicago.�

Adam’s devastated, he's been working toward this new opportunity for months. He wanted it more than anything in the world, but by midnight he resigns himself to the fact that it wasn’t meant to be, that there was something bigger happening here and he would find his place--that better job opportunity--in the future.

Two days later a US Airways flight from Philadelphia to Chicago crashes in Indiana, there were no survivors! His phone rings, it’s Tom. “Adam, we’d like to bring you to in, can you fly to Chicago tomorrow?�

Adam pauses, his world slows down. Do I take a job that almost killed me or do I owe it to Tom to take the job because he saved my life?

I couldn’t answer Adam’s dilemma myself, however celebrated my new found protagonist by pouring myself a stiff drink when I got home…perhaps Adam and his predicament the makings of new short story.

Anxious, mind racing, feeling unfulfilled had turned into an evening of relaxed cheer and celebration, every once and a while that image of Mercedes-Benz guy popping up in my head and the fleeting moment of amity that we had shared.


Then it dawned on me that it doesn’t matter who is using their brain to do what. We are all people who put their clothes on the same way and there’s no better moment in anyone’s day than a shared moment of humanity with a complete stranger and that there is nothing fleeting about that.

Connect with someone today! There may be no better medicine for snapping yourself out of a “mood� or “funk� than old fashion human interaction.

If you found the last two minutes entertaining and perhaps a little reflective, please consider liking this post, leaving a comment or suggesting it to a friend. Also, be be sure to check back and see what Adam decides�

Bumper sticker of the month: Nothing jumped out at me, however has anyone else noticed that states are no longer “stamping� license plates? You either have a stamped plate or you have a 3-D printed version of it. Seems even the inmates have lost jobs in this recession.

Great song I forgot about and fun to sing in the car � Do You Believe in Love, Huey Lewis & The News

Whiskey tasting…Monkey Shoulder. A blended malt scotch whiskey that smells great (like vanilla beans), but finishes like a menthol cigarette (at least for me and I do not smoke). Sorry Monkey.

Born this month in American Literature � Herman Wouk, May 27th, 1915. Well known for his most celebrated novels, The Caine Mutiny and War and Remembrance, Wouk, just this week, will also be known for becoming a centenarian. On May 27th, 2015 he will be 100 years old! He is a decorated World War II veteran who has been translated in twenty seven languages and has been publishing novels well into his nineties. God Bless Herman!

Is there anything better than streaming music? Many years ago, I read a quote from Steve Jobs, “people want to own their own music, not rent it.� It was a quote that stuck with me. At the time I heard it I was still buying from iTunes, which in of itself was arguably still archaic. I say that because I knew many people who had been downloading free music for a decade already, though I never did so myself (as someone who hoped people would find value in my words, downloading music that was ultimately pirated in my mind was wrong).


But when I look back on Steve Jobs quote today I wonder if there wasn’t some truth to his statement. There are a handful of identifiers that exist in our lives that say a little something about who we are, like the kind of car we drive, the shoes we may wear (BTW I could do a whole blog on shoes—I was once a huge shoe guy, but no longer see the importance considering my flip I may be an expert in this field, probably the only one, last tidbit here fellas, women always look at men’s shoes!) and last our music collections! The music you owned said a little about who you were and in some small, but perhaps strange way, you were proud of it.


Who doesn’t remember the CD tower? I think I was gifted a half of dozen in a six year period. Some swiveled, some were small or curved like a snake and were obnoxiously large, acting like a small skyscraper in your six hundred square foot apartment. It was a piece of useless furniture for that matter—a conversation starter at a party or in your dorm room as friends perused it.


What has streaming music done for those who subscribe to it? Well for me it has opened up a world of musical acts that I never knew existed. Add Band of Horses as a new station on your Pandora and get introduced to Damion Jurado, an indie folk/rock solo act from Seattle, Washington. It could be argued that even just five years ago I never would have found Damion Jurado unless I happened to stumble into a basement bar in Seattle which doubled as an underground music scene. And while that level of accessibility that streaming music has provided is a wonderful thing for both the listener and the artist it inherently provides for some sort of detachment. I didn’t discover Damion Jurado, but rather Jurado found me. Before, there was something “claim staking� about tripping over a band (ten years ago) that none of your friends knew about, and if that band makes it big (radio time), you were music genius. An example that comes to mind for me is 1994 in Cancun, Mexico, a buddy of mine Brendan Toner, introduces me to The Dave Matthews Band—enough said. Brendan owned that one. DMB had been recording music for three years already (1991 debut) but in relative mainstream obscurity. You might be asking, who cares? What’s so important about how you find a particular band or even genre? And to that end I think you’re correct, but streaming music is just one more way in which technology has changed who we are and how we do things. Back in the day, going to the record store was an event you thought about all week. You would read about that upcoming release in Rolling Stone or hear about it on the radio and save up your money all week or month to buy that CD (or vinyl for those of you forty-five and older), and you couldn’t wait to get home and play it (fumbling with the ceramic packaging that took forever to get a grip on).


There is something to be said for the loss of excitement in our lives as technology continues to burgeon. For kids today I guess it’s the anticipation of that new x-box game they are waiting on. It may be the excitement their feeling in the car on the way to Target or waiting by the front door for the mailman to deliver that Amazon package. But isn’t something lost with it being a video game and not a record album or CD cover? Growing up, specifically my teenage years, my music collection rarely varied. Scrub my CD tower (any one of them) and you’d find a steady collection of Rock with some old school Heavy Metal.


I think Steve Jobs comment may have been a product of his age and generation. For someone as technologically savvy and cutting edge as he was, could it be perhaps, his music collection was in part a statement about who he was as a person? Was that trip to the music store an event he never forgot? Tough to say without asking him, but I would guess at some point Mr. Jobs (like many of us) held tightly onto a record album waiting in line to buy it eagerly thinking about hearing that first cut or replaying his favorite song a dozen times before someone in the house screamed “enough already.�


For me, music has always been a driving force of my writing. It’s no secret (for anyone that has read Fantastik) that I’m a huge Springsteen fan and wrote most of the book while listening to many of his classics. But beyond the loss of nostalgia that an old record album or CD cover can bring out in us, I am thankful for streaming music if for no other reason than reconnecting me with some part of my childhood that I had forgotten about.


I would not categorize my parents as music heads by any stretch. They were both born in 1939 and were a product of the 50’s…even Elvis and the Beatles were a touch after their time. Further, if I had to categorize their music tastes I would say it was classical, jazz and big band (Lawrence Welk was on every Friday night), however both of them had a unique and rather curious fondness for country music and in the 1970’s, which was a part of my childhood years, country music was at its absolute best. In my mind the 70’s was the Golden era of country; acts like Kenny Rogers, Glen Campbell, Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash and John Denver to name a few. There was a box of eight tracks in the built in’s in the family room and every one of those acts, along with a few more, were in that box. I have good memories of hearing John Denver playing on a bright sunny Saturday afternoon in the spring time. A happy, hopeful time…his words said as much.


I reconnected with country several years ago (the country I knew well, 1970 acts) and thanks to streaming music I have been introduced to a slew of other artists I had never listened to before, acts like Waylon Jennings, Hank Williams Jr, Merle Haggard and Charlie Pride.


Streaming /digital music, for all it has changed (or taken away) from the way I perceive music, it has put back in an immeasurable way. I can be in my office writing, listening to the John Denver station on Pandora and instantly be taken back to any number of Saturday afternoon’s thirty years ago and recall the moment, Sunshine on my Shoulders filling the house as we did our chores, read a book or just sat around.


It was my parent’s music collection, not mine, and while my music tastes still vary and seems to expand with every year that passes, I often find myself listening to that golden era of country more than any other genre of music. Hard to say whether I ever would have downloaded/bought that John Denver album from iTunes a few years back, let alone Waylon Jennings, but my guess is no.


Bumper sticker of the month: Wag More, Bark Less…thanks maroon Prius, wise words!


Great song I forgot about and fun to sing in the car—Dance the Night Way, Van Halen


Whiskey tasting…I couldn’t write my first one without choosing Jack Daniels Old No. 7. My first introduction to Jack Daniels was as a teenager when we’d raid my parents liquor cabinet, careful only to drink whatever wasn’t drank. By and large I’ve always drank vodka, however I would tend to switch it up from time to time with bourbon—at some point I fell from bourbon to whiskey, particularly JD.


Much like its iconic bottle; square jug with black and white label, its origins are distinctively American. The stories of young Jasper Newton Daniel and the beginnings of his whiskey empire vary, even the home website provides little background, however I tend to lean towards the one that reads like a Mark Twain novel—young teenager orphaned by the death of his father in the Civil War, meets up with a lay preacher named Dan Call who distills whiskey out the back of his general store. Call decides to pick up a rifle and fight in the Civil War, leaving young Jack and a slave named Nearest Green to tend to the whiskey. Jack learns the art of whiskey making from Nearest Green, an old slave hand of Dan Call…are you kidding me? What a story and as far as it’s taste? Sorry, I know my limits and a whiskey sommelier I am not, but I do know it tastes better the more you drink it! In three words…toasty, spicy and sweet.


Born this month (in American Literature) Edgar Allen Poe, January 19th, 1809. His significance not only in American literature but literature’s galaxy? He is credited with writing the first detective story as now known to the free reading world. Wow! Think about that. And the stories title? The Murders in the Rue Morgue. Not only did Poe write the first detective story, he nailed the title!

One of my earliest childhood memories is driving to the Jersey shore with my mom and brother when I was 5 years old.

Mom had a Country Squire station wagon that was already a decade old, wood paneling and roof rack included...that car was a tank! So much so, that one summer evening when I was home "sick" (Lakers/Celtics Game 4, 1987 finals) while the rest of the family was at my sister's dance recital, I climbed into the wagon, turned the ignition, put it in reverse and hit the gas...I uprooted a seven foot flowering cherry tree in our front yard. That tree (sorry mom) was never the same, with nothing but an ever slight dent on the wagon's back chrome bumper.

Matter of fact, if it weren't for the tree's roots, and trunk being four feet in the air, I would have escaped scot-free. But back to the shore...it was on that drive that I blurted out to my mom and brother that I was going to "grow up one day and write a book." I had never said anything like it before, nor can I recall ever having a similar thought before that day. I was looking out the backseat window and it just came to me...and came to me with an overwhelming sense of certainty.

I vividly recall that moment and always will. Whatever it was I had that day, a random thought in my head or a vision in my mind's eye, I can say it finally came true 3 months ago with the release of Fantastik. This book is/was/always will be so much a part of me that I now realize why it took me so long to let go of it...that and a few edits.

Life has so many roads and it's hard to say exactly what leads us down the path we are all on. For sure, the decisions we make; daily, weekly, monthly have a direct correlation to our very being, our happiness, our despairs, the situations (good or bad) we find ourselves in. But I also tend to believe there's something else in play.

I don't claim to be clairvoyant or psychic or anything else in between, however much like Charlie Boone in Fantastik I saw something happening to me many years before it was realized. Whether that was destiny, dogged determination or a vision of the future I'll never know, but in my heart I think it was a little of all three.

Whatever it is or was I am thankful to have seen the day and forever grateful to anyone that reads it. To any reader I hope it brings you a little..."warmness in your heart and calm on your mind." -Jake Mott,Fantastik

Fantastik

First and foremost a big thanks to all the members of the goodreads community and to all of you who may read Fantastik. What a great forum this is for authors and readers. I am a first time author, however feel like I've been writing a lifetime and in one way or another I have...I guess we all have.

The choice to finally put words to paper and make something of the thoughts or characters in your head is an exhilarating moment...it's just you and your work of art! To then show that piece of art to family, friends, editors, anyone who's willing to look, is an absolutely daunting task, but it's at that moment that you take the first step to realizing your dream. For those of you who love to read, bless you! For those of you who love to read and write, be sure to write a little more each day, then ask someone to look it over, at some point you may find yourself at another exhilarating moment...a published author.

Fantastik is a very special novel to me for many reasons. Number one, I wrote the first words of the novel some sixteen years ago in 1998. At that time I was living in Chicago and traveling across much of the mid-west and western United States. I had a lot of free time on my hands and writing was something I always felt a connection with. Second the characters of Charlie Boone and Jake Mott and the themes they represent; hope and redemption, are ones that I feel very strongly about. Most people (i think) can relate to the hope for a better tomorrow and/or a second chance at something...in this case life!

At its peak, Fantastik was 718 pages long and Jake Mott was not introduced to until page 150. I was then given a very good piece of advice...Less is more! The second best piece of advice, Don't spoon feed your readers. Those are two pearls of wisdom that anyone trying to become a better writer can grab and run with.

Thanks for reading and stay tuned!