It’s here: FURRY & FLO 8: BIG BAD DAD Click the link, download it, read it and let me know what you think!

Here’s the part in the blog post where I apologize for this taking so long. It’s been a long journey since FURRY & FLO 1: THE BIG HAIRY SECRET dropped. Like 2014! Isn’t that crazy? My kids were little(r) than they are now. My youngest (12) doesn’t care about reading anything but manga books about pirates and kung-fu guys. My oldest (16) is reading about every musical instrument you can think of. Times have definitely changed.

Anyway, some quick stuff about this book:

Umm…I was afraid to write it! I knew waaay back when I pitched the series to Capstone what I wanted the final book to be titled. Seriously, even that far back. This was when I thought the whole series would be like 12 books. I had a book planned with ghosts in it, one with a witch, another with a “hidden” floor within Corman Towers. But alas…plans change and series sometimes don’t do as well as a publisher would like. Kind of hard to compete with Marvel and Scooby Doo, I guess!

But yeah…the thought of wrapping this all up sort of terrified me. While FURRY & FLO 7: PORTAL BOUNCE was my way of getting our heroes out of the corner I painted them in, this book had to try and tie up all the loose ends and (hopefully) deliver an ending that seems worthy of the wait and build up the previous books set up. And I’m not going to say it’s just like the super popular books and movies where it’s hard to stick the landing for the ending.

But holy cow is it daunting!

I finished the draft earlier this summer and spent some time trying to fine-tune it as best as I could without an editor. I’ll say it now: I’m NO editor and those folks don’t get paid enough to try and wrangle my words into something much more polished than what I delivered. I liked how to book came out. It actually made my eyes water a little bit…or was that seasonal allergies? I sent out a call for illustrators and found an AMAZING artist who lives in Belarus who goes by the name HAPPI_SCMEPPIR. I think she captured the spirit and gave the characters a familiar but unique look that had me excited to put this whole goofy book together…finally.

So, my goal was to get this done by Halloween 2021. It’s been sort of looming over me for a number of years. Other (paying!) book deadlines became the priority along with some life changes, raising boys, surviving a pandemic and hunting ghosts kept putting Furry and Flo’s final adventure on the back burner. Were they excuses? Sure. Some of them were. The thought of this being the last installment is TOTALLY bittersweet. I’m going to miss those crazy kids and their wacky adventures.

And yes…this is it. If you’ve ever wondered how it all comes together, give it a read. Share it with others who may have vague memories about the girl who moved into the cruddy apartment building and lives across the hall from her best friend, a 3rd grade werewolf.

I hope you have a much fun reading it as I did writing it.

Thanks to everyone who reached out, wondering if I was ever going to get off my butt and get it done. You were a huge push in getting my butt into my writing chair and behind the keyboard.

Until then…

Holy socks!

• Thomas
  
  

The post At Long Last…Furry & Flo 8: Big Bad Dad first appeared on Thomas Kingsley Troupe.

So, yeah. It’s been a looong time. As you can tell, I don’t really blog anymore. I mean, I used to, but then Blogging got to be kind of a 2000-ish sort of thing and I just didn’t have the time and when I did it had been so long that I felt the need to catch anyone who still reads my stuff about what’s been going on.

And, yeah. I’m not going to do that.

I just wanted to get on here to let anyone who still might be interested that BIG BAD DAD the final(!) installment in my goofy little book series is coming. I mean it this time. I know in the last few pages of PORTAL BOUNCE that I was hoping for Summer of 2019 (ha ha!) but that obviously didn’t happen. Life got crazy, I ended up working on a bunch of other stuff and time got away from me.

But know this! BIG BAD DAD is written. Like, I put the words THE END at the end of it and everything. I even did a little epilogue like they do in movies and tv shows to let you know that, yep…it’s the last one and here’s what I’m sending off with you.

So, I’m editing the thing now (I actually sat down to do some and felt a pang of guilt for not letting my readers (who are probably old enough to drive now) that it’s gonna happen soon. I’m going to put it together in an eBook like the last one, find a good illustrator and send Furry & Flo off in proper fashion.

Yes, it’ll be free. Yes, I wish it could be a physical copy like the first 6. But I’m excited to be able to wrap up the series, give those crazy kids the ending they deserve and move onto my next (hopefully?) big thing.

Thanks for being patient. It means the world to me that so many of you have reached out, asking when the new book is coming. This is for you, for Furry, Flo and well, me too.

Sit tight, y’all. It shan’t be long!

Your lovin’,

TKT

The post Furry & Flo 8? For Real? first appeared on Thomas Kingsley Troupe.

Good.

Okay, remember when I said back a little while (September of 2016) that Furry & Flo 7 was coming? And you were all like: Yeah, sure. And they’re going to make a sequel to Citizen Kane, too.

By no way am I comparing my work to that of Orson Welles’ masterpiece (which I found boring), I am here to tell you that through a number of obstacles I won’t bother you with, I finally (FINALLY) have Furry & Flo 7: Portal Bounce ready for you to download, read and enjoy.

I understand if some of my (once young) readers have long since forgotten about my little characters as they’re neck deep in college essays by now.  I had grand plans to make it available on Amazon for free so you could download it to your Kindle.  Yeah.  Amazon is weird in that they want to be able to charge people for stuff.  Go figure.

But!  If you want to read it (and if you read FURRY & FLO 6: THE SOLEMN GOLEM, you should!), please have at it!

Here it is: FURRY & FLO 7: PORTAL BOUNCE

Once you open it up, feel free to save the file to your computer.  From there you should be able to shrink it down and read it just like a book!

It took a lot of work and I have to thank my illustrator pals Jonny Thomas and Nathan Malvig for their help along this loooong road to getting this little book put together.  I think it turned out pretty swell and gets ol’ Furry and Flo out of the corner I painted them into years ago.

Anyway…I hope you like it.  I’d love to hear what you think in the comments.

Holy socks,

Thomas

The post Finally…Furry & Flo 7: Portal Bounce (COME GET IT!) first appeared on Thomas Kingsley Troupe.

Let me explain.

When I was a kid, I was pretty lucky.  I didn’t need braces.  I got along (for the most part) with my younger brother.  I had parents that didn’t get divorced.  I had a grandmother and a great grandmother.  Nanny, my great-grandmother, lived in Rochester, MN.  It’s a little big town a little bit further south in the state.  We’d take trips to visit her when we could since my mom and Nanny were really close.  We didn’t always love to go, but it was important to my mom so we’d pile into the big Caprice Classic station wagon and head south.

My mom and Grandma were close too.  At least it seemed that way from what I can remember.  They talked on the phone a lot.  They liked to shop together.  When my brother and I went shopping with them, we’d sit in the backseat of Grandma’s gray car with the red roof.  The two of them would sit up front and smoke cigarettes.  They loved those cigarettes.  I hated them and my brother hated them even more.  He would pretend he was dying from the smoke.  I just decided I’d never smoke when I got older.  And well, I never did.

Mom and Grandma would argue from time to time, I guess like parents and their kids do.  Sometimes it was a BIG DEAL, other times it was a stupid misunderstanding.  But after a while, cooler heads would prevail, they’d clear the air (before polluting it together again) and Grandma would come back over.  I guess I never thought much of it.  Heck, my brother and I would have LEGENDARY fights, but by the afternoon we were back in the basement building crap out of Legos and playing Atari.  In the long run, you got over the quarrels and just sort of forgot about it.  Staying mad wasn’t worth the energy.  At least I didn’t think so.

That’s something I’ve realized about myself in the 44 (and change) years I’ve been around.  I’m a bit of a peacemaker.  I’d rather just say “sorry” or try to fix things and move on.  I was like that as a kid and I’m still like that as an adult.  Saying sorry isn’t always an admission of guilt or blame.  It’s just dumb to stay mad for so long.  It’s not worth it, life is too short, etc, etc…

Sometime around my early teens (and I’m terrible with dates) Nanny got sick.  Like, really sick.  We helped move her to a care facility closer to home and went to visit her.  We all did.  After a while, we were told that Nanny wasn’t going to get better and that the end was coming soon.  It was extremely hard on my mom and we had a tough time with it, too.

Before long, Nanny passed away.  Our family went down to Rochester to help move all of her stuff from her house to my Grandma’s house in Northeast, Minneapolis.  It was a sad time, going through her empty house that always seemed like it was stuck in the 60’s.  We’d load up the trailer we’d brought with us.  We brought it all to Grandma’s house and helped unload it.  After a long day of packing, driving and moving stuff around, we were finally done.  We all piled into the station wagon to head home.

My grandma came running out of the house, shouting at the car.  “I never want to see you again,” she shouted.  I don’t remember if those were her exact words, but that’s what I heard.  She seemed to be directing her anger at my mom and dad.  My mom burst into tears and my dad drove away.

I was 14 years old and my brother was 12.

Now, I don’t know that it’s worth going through who did what.  I’m not even sure I fully understand why.  I’d heard that Grandma was mad about how Nanny divided up her assets, giving my parents more than she got.  I heard that Grandma thought we’d stolen from her.  My mom was angry with how Grandma treated Nanny.  There was blame and ill will to go around for days.  I didn’t know what to think, honestly.  All I knew was that in a matter of days, I’d lost both my great grandma and my grandma.  We didn’t see her again.

When I graduated high school a few years later, I sent my grandma an invitation to my graduation party.  I didn’t think she’d come since my mom and she never resolved their differences.  I wanted her know I’d finished school.  I honestly didn’t think I’d hear back.  But I did.  She sent me a card with a little note and some money.  But then, nothing.

I knew she still lived a couple miles from our house, but I never thought to go over there and see how she was doing.  I didn’t know if “never want to see you again” meant me, too.  I just figured I’d honor her wishes and stay away.  Plus, I didn’t want things to get weird with my mom, you know?  She didn’t have nice things to say about Grandma after that.  Whenever I’d bring it up, she’d say I could do what I want and have whatever relationship I wanted with my grandma, but I didn’t think I should.

So I didn’t.

I went through most of my life knowing that I still had a living grandparent out there somewhere, but didn’t have any contact with her.  When my kids would ask about my grandparents, it was kind of tricky to explain.  I’d met my maternal grandfather once when I was 5.  He and my grandma had divorced a long time ago and he moved to Arizona.  He and my mom were pretty much estranged, too.  He died and we didn’t even go to the funeral.  My paternal grandparents died when I was younger, so as far as my kids were concerned, I never really had grandparents.

On September 1, 2016 I got a message through LinkedIn from my Aunt Sue in Colorado.  Sue is my mom’s half sister who I haven’t seen for quite a while, either.

She let me know that Grandma was in a nursing home in Columbia Heights, MN, about a half hour from my house.  Sue also let me know that Grandma was more easy going and it might be a good time to see her.

I was one part excited and one part horrified.

I thought about going.  I thought about not going.  I thought about what my mom would think.  I thought about what my Grandma would say if she saw me.

The next day, I responded.  I told Sue I was interested and that I’d have to do it on the down-low.  I didn’t want things to get weird with my mom.  Pathetic, I know.  I guess I just wanted to keep things smooth and not rock the boat.  Plus, I didn’t even know how it’d go.  I went back and forth.  Should I go?  Should I forget it?  What would I be walking into?

I decided to roll the dice a few days later on Labor Day.  My wife and kids came along with me.  We decided early on that I would go in alone.  I had them wait in case I:

a) chickened out
b) was thrown out
c) couldn’t find her
d) changed my mind

I went into the nursing home and looked around.  There were old people rolling around in wheelchairs.  Some were sitting in a group doing exercises.  A guy with only one leg was sitting in a chair in the waiting room.  I signed in and to the left of the sign-in book, I saw badges we were supposed to wear.  One pile were a bunch of stickers with VISITOR written on them.  The other were laminated badges that said FAMILY MEMBER.

I grabbed a FAMILY MEMBER one, hoping that would mean something to my Grandma.  You know, if I found her.

I wandered through the halls of the nursing home.  It was tough to see people in their rooms, just lying there, waiting for a visitor or even the end to come.  I weaved through crowded hallways teeming with the elderly.  Some alert and spritely, others just sitting with their heads hanging, asleep in the middle of the hall.

I spotted a lunchroom filled with people in wheelchairs eating.  I wondered if she was in there and if she’d spot me.  I wondered if I’d even recognize her.  I scanned the crowd.  No one seemed to take much notice of me and instead worked on their lunches.  Potatoes, some stinky beef concoction, peas.

I finally asked if anyone knew where my grandmother was.  I told them her name was Barbara Jean.

The lady (who had a killer Jamaican accent) asked one of her nurse/aide friends.  Who asked another lady.  Finally one of them waved me over and led me down the hall.  In moments, I stood in front of a door with my grandmother’s name on it.

Now, I’m not scared of anything.  I don’t get squeamish.  I investigate haunted houses.  I used to run into burning buildings.  I used to pull injured people out of car accidents.

But right then?  I was scared.  I thought of spinning on my heels, heading out and seeing if my wife and kids were still waiting in the parking lot.  I peeked in.  I could see the room was divided into two.  A TV was on in the further end of the room.

My heart was beating like a galloping horse, but I stepped inside.  The first bed was empty, so I kept going.  I rounded the curtain and saw a woman sitting up in her bed.  She was wearing headphones and watching the TV.  She glanced up at me and I could see she was confused.

“Who are you?” she asked.

I took a deep breath.

“I’m your grandson,” I said.

“Who?”

“I’m Tamara’s son,” I said.  “I’m your grandson…Tommy.”

It took a second, but I could see her face change as realization kicked in.  She smiled a little bit and said, “What’re you doing here?”

I smiled back.  “I came here to see you.”

“Tammy’s son?” she asked as if she still couldn’t believe it.

So we talked.  I pulled up a chair and sat down.  She didn’t look like I remembered.  Grandma was thin and (obviously) quite a bit older.  Her hair was longer, but dark with very little gray in it.  Her hands were almost skeletal.  I quickly discovered she was hard of hearing.  I had to talk really loudly for her to hear.  I discovered that she couldn’t walk anymore.  She’d broken her hip in a fall and was stuck in bed.

And I mean stuck.  She couldn’t tolerate a wheelchair, so she sat in bed all day.  Round the clock, watching shows through some old headphones connected to the TV.

We talked for an hour and a half.  I let her know a little about my parents.  I told her she had 4 great-grand kids from my side of the family.  Two boys (mine) and two girls (my bro’s).  I told her I write kid’s books.  She told me about my grandpa and her life.

I also found out that no one was coming to see her.  My aunt Sue in Colorado came when she could over holidays, but really no one else.  My uncle Charlie (who lives 5 minutes away) had stopped coming to see her.  My brother lives in Florida.  My uncle Richard lives in Arizona.  My mom wasn’t going to visit her.

Locally? I was it.

“I want to come see you again, Grandma,” I said.

“Okay,” she said.

So I did.  From Labor Day on, I came to visit her every Sunday.  Her hearing got rapidly worse, so I got smart and brought my iPad so I could type out messages to her.  I brought her a copy of my LEGEND OF THE WEREWOLF book.  She thought the pictures were creepy and I explained that I didn’t draw them, I just came up with the words.  When I came back the following Sunday, she’d ordered a copy of my VIKING SHIP book.  I brought her a framed picture of my family and pointed out my wife and kids.  She thought it was just about the best thing ever.  She insisted on having it near her bed where she could see it.

“Do you want to meet your great grand-kids sometime?” I asked.

“Oh, they won’t want to see a dying old lady,” she said.

“Never mind that,” I said.  “They’d like to meet their great-grandma.”

She agreed and the following week I brought the family in for a few minutes.  Her face lit up and she was so sweet to my little guys.  She would ask about them every time I went to visit.

I found out my great-grandpa (her dad) wasn’t around long.  He left Nanny to join the carnival and became a fighter.  I heard about her trials and tribulations at work in downtown Minneapolis.  She told me about how my uncle would sneak the car out of the garage every night.  When the election came, she had me fill out her ballot for her.

“You can vote for a dog for all I care,” she said.  “Just don’t vote for that idiot, Donald Trump.”

I filled out her absentee ballot and she nodded.  When we found out the results later on, she wasn’t happy.

“Well,” she said.  “Maybe we’ll get lucky and someone will assassinate him.”

Around Christmas time, I couldn’t come to see her on Sunday, but I told her I’d come the next day, on Monday.  I asked if she wanted anything for Christmas.  She asked for a better comb.

When I showed up on Monday, she said: “Is it really you?”

I nodded.  She always liked to start talking before I could get my iPad out of my bag.

“It’s me, Grandma,” I said and held her hand.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t be here yesterday.”

I showed her the comb I’d found.  I mean, it was nothing special.  Just something with wider teeth that I found at Walgreen’s.  The look on her face was priceless.  It was like the announcer on The Price Is Right telling a contestant they could win a brand new car!  She immediately began combing her hair.

“You couldn’t ask for a better comb,” she said.

I bought her some warmer shirts.  I brought her candy that she had me stuff into an empty Kleenex box and I refilled it every week.

“I give these to the people here,” she said.  “I get better service that way.”

Somewhere during this time, I came clean and told my parents that I was visiting Grandma.  I didn’t know what to expect.  I didn’t want my mom to be angry with me.  I don’t know.  It’s dumb.  I’m 44 years old and I was worried that it might upset her or seem like a betrayal of some sort.  She appreciated me telling her, but was quick to remind me that she wouldn’t visit Grandma for a “million dollars.”

Which was fine.  I don’t have that kind of cash lying around.

The last couple of months were a little more tricky.  I’d show up and she seemed kind of out of it.   She’d inform me: “I’m very sick.”

Or a few weeks ago: “I thought you’d given up on me.”  She’d forgotten that I’d been by the week before.  I reminded her that I was there every Sunday and she just shook her head.  “I don’t know where my mind goes.  How can I be so stupid?”

I told her she was being too hard on herself.  She just smiled and told me how glad she was to see me.

“My little Tommy.”  She said that to me a lot in a the last few months.  Not a lot of people can get away with calling me “Tommy.”  My grandma can.

The last few weeks, things changed.  When I got there and would type a message out to her, she’d read a little and then close her eyes, like she was falling asleep.  She’d open them again and wouldn’t respond.  I found out that they were giving her pain medication that made her very sleepy.  Her meals on the bedside tray were mostly untouched.  The nurses asked me to try and get her to eat since she wasn’t listening to them.

“When you’re 81 years old, you don’t have much of an appetite,” she said.

“You’re 87, Grandma,” I reminded her.

“That’s right.”

My visits were shorter.  I’d sit with her for as long as I could, but I felt like I was keeping her awake.  I’d kiss her head and tell her I loved her and I’d be back next week.

One time she asked to see the pictures again.  I showed her pictures of my family on my “info box” (phone) and she smiled.  “Isn’t that something,” she’d say.  “Little Travis and Jake.”

When I went to see her this past Sunday, she wasn’t herself.  She told me she was sick.  I asked her if she wanted me to stay and she nodded.

“There’s something I was going to tell you,” she said.  I waited, wondering what it was.  “But I can’t remember.”

She didn’t say much after that.  I sat with her and held her hand while the TV showed it’s usual line-up of awful daytime Sunday shows.  After a while, I packed up my stuff and headed home.

I got to work yesterday morning and got a text from my Aunt Sue.  She said she’d gotten a call from the home and that Grandma was “actively dying.”  I left work right away and headed over there.  I didn’t want her to be alone.  I got to the home around 9:30am and saw her.  She was gulping air by the mouthful and it reminded me of a fish out of water.  Grandma looked completely different than she had even 24 hours earlier.

I grabbed her hand.  She opened her eyes.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi Grandma,” I said.  “I’m here.”

“I love you,” she said.  “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I reminded her.  “I’m going to stay with you.”

And I did.  I sat with my Grandma for a long time.  Anyone who knows me even a little bit knows how tough it is for me to sit still for any period of time.  But I did.  I just held her hand so she knew I was there.

My wife Laura came and brought me food and sat with me.  I was afraid to leave, even though I was sweating in the sauna-esqe room.  We left for 20 minutes to go buy a t-shirt to replace the sweater I was wearing.  All I could find was a Super Mario Bros. t-shirt.  Naturally.  I got back to the home as soon as I could.

I wanted to be there until my aunt flew in from Colorado.  A chaplain came in and read her last rites and talked to me about his talks with my grandma.  He said she was pretty resistant to the idea of prayer and stuff and I told him I could understand that, not being a religious guy myself.  A lady with a dog came in and put the dog (Dinah) on her lap.  Grandma sort of stirred a bit as Dinah licked her hands and arms.

My wife went to go get the kids and I sat with my grandma, occasionally smoothing out her hair and kissing her forehead.  Anytime I let go of her hand, she reached for it.  She didn’t want me to let go…and I didn’t want to let go, either.  I let her know that Sue was coming.

My aunt got there around 6pm and I gave her a huge hug.  Sue was worried she wasn’t going to make it back to Minnesota in time.  Her original plan was to come the next day around noon.  She changed her flight to get there earlier.  I’m glad she did.

We sat with Grandma for a while and after a bit, Laura was back to pick me up and take me home.  My kids were out in the hallway and my youngest, Jake, wanted to see her again.  I went out there and told him it wasn’t a good idea.  That Grandma was really sick and that she wasn’t the same as she was before.  I reminded him that she was so happy to have met them and that she loved them and the family picture we gave her very much.  He started to cry.  I hugged both of my little dudes.

“I’m going to seem like a big jerk,” Jake said.  “I came out here and I didn’t even see her.”

I told him that she knew he and Travis loved her and that it was hard for all of us.

I went back in the room to tell Sue I was going to go and if she needed anything or if anything changed, to call me.  I gave her a hug, grabbed my stuff and started to leave.  About halfway out of the room, I stopped.   I turned around, went to the other side of Grandma’s bed and kissed her forehead again.

“Goodbye, Grandma,” I said.  “I love you.”

I held her hand again and then let go.  It was time to go home.

I kept the phone by my bed last night and it didn’t ring.  I went into work, expecting to go back to the home when I was done.   I checked in with Sue and got the news.

My grandmother passed away around 9:30am today.

It’s strange.  I haven’t had anyone close to me die.  I mean, I’ve had a few classmates pass away and my other grandparents when I was younger, but nothing like this.  But in truth, it made me realize something: I screwed up.  I should’ve reconnected with my grandmother decades ago.  I could’ve had a much longer relationship with her.  I could’ve talked to her about what it was like growing up when she did.  I could’ve asked her about ice-skating, and about doing cartwheels.  I remember her doing them when we were kids.  No one else had a grandma that could do that.

But when it really comes down to it?  The last 5 months or so were a gift.  I know a lot of people close to me think I gave her a gift by going to visit her when no one else could/would, but I think the opposite is true.  Getting to reconnect with my grandma was probably one of the best things I’ve done for myself in a long time.  She made me laugh.  She filled in some blanks about my family.  She didn’t hold a grudge.  She ultimately didn’t care about all the crap from the past.  She moved on before she moved on.

It’s sad, but I’m glad she’s at peace now.  She told me she was tired of lying around (now I know where I get it from!) and that she was ready.

When I picked up Jake from school today, I told him the news.

“Hey buddy,” I said.  “Just wanted to let you know, Great-Grandma passed away this morning.”

He was quiet and looked down at his lap.  Even though he’s a bit of a handful, he’s a sensitive little guy.

“Grandma was ready to go,” I said.  “It was driving her nuts having to be in that place and in pain and everything.”

“Yeah,” Jake said.  “It’s sad though.  Well, at least now I can see her when I look up at the stars.”

It took everything I had to hold it together.  When we got home today, we had a little bit of snow to shovel on the driveway.  Travis, Jake and I picked up our shovels and got to work.  As we pushed the wet, sloppy snow from the driveway, the sun peeked out through the clouds.  It’d been gray and dreary here for weeks.

“Hey,” I said.  “We do still have a sun.”

“You have two sons, Dad,” Jake said.

“Three, actually,” Travis said, pointing to the sun.

“Maybe it’s a sign,” I said, looking up at the patches of blue, burning through the clouds.

“Yeah,” Travis said.  “Great Grandma can look down on us now.”

I nodded.  Even though I’m not a religious guy, I thought that sounded pretty good.

The post Barbara Jean first appeared on Thomas Kingsley Troupe.

Hi. Thanks for coming by. I’ll make this short n’ sweet.

• If you’ve stumbled onto my blog having just (or at some point) finished reading FURRY & FLO: THE SOLEMN GOLEM (Book 6) and are wondering how it’s all going to end, you’ve come to the right place.
• If you’re one of the few people who actually reads this hardly-updated blog out of habit, welcome back.
• If you’re my parents (who I should call a lot more than I do), I’ll call you soon.

Here’s what I can tell you:

FURRY & FLO: PORTAL BOUNCE  (Book 7) is written. It’s being tweaked a little to make sure it’s as nice n’ edited as I can manage (without an editor!) and I’m just putting the final bits of polish on it. But…by and large, it’s done. It turned out acres and miles better than I’d hoped, considering I’d REALLY painted my self in a corner by:

a) Having the ending end where it did.

b) Learning my publisher wasn’t going to publish any more Furry & Flo adventures past #6.

c) Not getting the original illustrator to help me out.

But, I’m happy to report that BOOK 7 will be coming as soon as possible. I wanted to make sure we did it RIGHT and not just pull the old LET’S JUST GET IT DONE routine.

To do that, I’m working with the uber-talented artist Nathan Malvig to get this latest tale illustrated right. Just check the little teaser graphic, eh? Together we’re going to get FF7 up and into the world the the way it deserves.

The best part?  It’s gonna be free and available on e-readers.  So sit tight, friends.

It’s COMING SOON.

(P.S. Oh, and hey…if you haven’t read Furry & Flo 1-6?  Now’s the time.)

The post Furry & Flo 7(It’s coming…) first appeared on Thomas Kingsley Troupe.

We see it at home, too.  He needs to be asked multiple times to do things, puts up a fight when even the most simple request is asked of him and he digs his heels in.  HARD.

I’ve struggled with how to correct his behavior.  I immediately go to sarcasm and taking things away from him, letting him know that failure to comply with what we’re asking will have him lose privileges, go to bed earlier, miss out on stuff we have planned, etc.

His response is usually a shrug of the shoulders and: “So?”

It’s hard not to feel like a failure as a dad when I see him constantly take the hard way.

This past Saturday he and I were home alone.  I thought it might be a chance for us to do something together and sort of bond.  I’ve been struggling with what to do.  We’ve gone on a few bike rides with mixed results and we sometimes spend time reading together (the dude is CRAZY about books), but I wanted to do something different.

And I had NO IDEA what to do.

He immediately decided he wanted to go over to his friend’s house across the street, leaving me on my own.

I should back up a bit and mention that this kid loves animals.  I mean, he LOVES them.  He’s constantly asking for a dog, he loves pictures and videos of cats doing dumb things, etc.  Recently, we’ve had a crazy little finch fly at our front window, flapping his wings at the glass.  He’ll then land and peck at the window like he’s trying to get in.  Jake is fascinated by this little finch and decided to call him Little Jimmy.

What’s funny is, Jimmy didn’t figure out that the bird he was seeing in his reflection was just that…a reflection.  He keeps coming back, flying at the window and making a fool out of himself.  Jake will drop whatever he’s doing to watch this crazy little bird.

This has been happening for a couple weeks.  As I was sitting there, sort of keeping my eye on the kid while he was playing with the neighbor, Little Jimmy came back.  Did his little dance at the window, looked around and after maybe 5 minutes he flew off.

That’s when inspiration struck.

When Jake came back to get an arsenal of Nerf guns, I told him we should go get some lunch and work on a secret project.  Immediately he was interested.  Not sure if the prospect of getting a roast beef sandwich and some mozzarella sticks were the trigger, but I took it.

“What’s this secret project, Dad?” he asked, his face buried in whatever book he decided to bring along.

“I was thinking we could maybe get a birdhouse for Little Jimmy.”

“Are.  You.  Serious?” His head was up above the book and his blue eyes were wide with interest.

“Yeah,” I said.  “I don’t know how it works with those birds.  Maybe he already has a nest set up, but it’s worth a try.”

“We should get one of those birdhouses that has the one-way mirror in the back,” Jake suggested.  “You know so we can see what Little Jimmy is doing.”

I hadn’t thought of that, but suddenly I was just as excited about getting this dumb bird a house as he was.

We stopped and got our food.  Oddly enough, they messed up our order, but sort of to our benefit.  We each ended up with a sandwich one step bigger than we had planned.  When he saw his “mid-sized” roast beef sandwich he said: “This thing is SICK.”

Afterwards, we stopped at a store to see a guy about a birdhouse.  We were told “if we have ’em, they’re over by the bird seed.”

We looked through the shelves but didn’t see what we were looking for.  Instead, I saw a picture of a bird on a long tube of tiny black seeds that looked EXACTLY like Little Jimmy.  Not wanting to go home empty-handed, I offered up a suggestion.

“Hey, how about we give Little Jimmy some food?  We could totally set him up for the whole summer.”

Jake was a little wary, but I pressed on.  I told him that a bird house might be kind of hit and miss.  You never know if a bird is going to trust some birdhouse and if he’s already got one built up, he might not want to pack up his crap and move.

We settled on a suction cup holder and a tube that had little posts for the birds to land on and eat to their heart’s content.  We went home, I pulled out the ladder and put the feeder up on the window where he liked to attack his reflection.  It was worth a shot.

After putting the stuff away, we waited.  Nothing.  The wind made the little feeder sway a bit, but  other than that it was a bust.  Almost all of Saturday the bird stayed away.  Sometime around dinner, we noticed Little Jimmy sitting on top of the feeder.

“There’s food below you, little guy,” Jake said, careful not to get too close to the window.

We watched as he flew down BELOW the feeder and did his pecking-at-the-window thing for a bit before flying off.

This happened a bunch of times.  He’d cool out on top of the dumb feeder and then head for zee hills.

And then…on Sunday evening…magic.

Travis (my oldest) and I were in the basement playing video games and Jake went upstairs for a second.  I heard him yell.  “He’s on the feeder!”

I figured he was just doing the same thing, when I heard my littlest guy shout: “DAD!  HE’S EATING THE SEEDS!  LITTLE JIMMY IS REALLY EATING ‘EM!”

Travis and I ran upstairs and all of us watched from a safe distance behind the couch as Little Jimmy went to TOWN on those seeds.  He’d grab some, look at himself in the window, grab some more, look around for predators, and then chowed down for even longer.  He was probably there a good 5-7 minutes before he took off.

We were ecstatic.

I know this probably doesn’t seem like a huge deal, but it was the end to a mostly perfect weekend at the House o’ Troupe.  The bickering between brothers was minimal, there was more listening than usual, Jake held my hand more in the space of two days than he probably has in a year.  Life was good.

When I tucked him into bed last night, I gave him a hug and a kiss goodnight.

“We did it, buddy,” I said.

“Yeah,” Jake said.  “We did.”

The post Little Jimmy first appeared on Thomas Kingsley Troupe.

You know, it always feels like I’m going into a confessional like back when I was a Catholic boy anytime I RARELY post on this site.  I feel like a bad friend for not blogging more and telling you what’s been happening in my world.

Seriously, though…I mean…it’s not like anyone is actually READING this thing anymore, are they?

Well, if so.  Hi.  This is the blog I’ve been dreading for some time, but I need to grab the edge of the super sticky Band-Aid and give it a good yank.  Sure, there might be momentary pain and a couple of random hairs that come off with it, but it needs to be done.

Okay, here goes…

Remember that little series of books I wrote?  Furry & Flo?  The one about the 4th grade girl who moves into an apartment across the hall from a 3rd grade werewolf?  I had plans to write like 10 books in the series and people seemed to love them and their wacky adventures?  Those ones?

Yeah, well…sometime last year, I was told that Book 6 (The Solemn Golem) was going to be the last Furry & Flo book Capstone was going to publish.  To say I was devastated was a real understatement.

But why, Thomas?  Why would they stop publishing those books?

Well, it’s like this: Publishing is a business.  If people don’t buy the books, there’s no incentive to keep publishing them.  Simple.

Why didn’t YOU publicize them, man?  Jeez…

I did all I could.  I went to school visits where kids bought a bunch of ’em.  I did a couple of readings at bookstores.  I trumpeted how much I loved the books (shamelessly) from the mountaintops…or the really big hills we have here in Minnesota.  But at the end of the day, they didn’t catch on as well as we would’ve liked.

Okay, I get that.  But I’ve read all 6 books.  The Solemn Golem ends on a cliffhanger!  Are you just going to leave them _____________ ??? (spoilers omitted)

No!  That’s the big thing and maybe the tiny silver lining to all of this.  I’m going to write 2 more books and make them available FOR FREE as eBooks.  I can’t, in good faith, leave the handful of people who have read the books (and care about F&F) hanging.  Maybe people will snap up the eBooks and finish the arc, maybe not.  I guess I don’t want to be the guy that said: Sorry folks.  Nothing more to see here!

I thought you were going to do 10 books, Troupe.  10!!!

I did too, Fake-Question-Asking-Voice-From-the-Internet.  I did, too.  I had big plans for a few more books in there, but ultimately, I know I can nicely close the gap and give F&F a proper ending in 2 books.

So…that’s my plan.  I’m almost done with Book 7 and I’m working out some details to have illustrator/genius/all-around great guy Stephen Gilpin do some illustrations for them.  I’m also hoping (fingers crossed) that I can make them look like the original 6 books, so that if you’ve got ’em on your Kindle (or whatever), they look like they go together.

Does that mean you’re done writing other stuff?

Oh, gosh, no.  I’ve got an insane writing schedule already this year (hence the lack of blog posts!) but I’m going to crowbar time in to give Furry & Flo the ending they deserve.

When?  When are we going to be able to get our mitts on F&F 7?  And what about #8?

If all goes well, I plan to have Furry & Flo 7: Portal Bounce ready to rock sometime in Spring.  Furry & Flo 8: Big Bad Dad will drop sometime in the fall.

So, that’s the story!  Whew.  That wasn’t so bad.  I mean, it still hurts little and my ego is still kinda bruised. I’ve got that weird oval, Band-Aid shaped red mark on my arm, but the cut is finally staring to heal.

We got this.

The post *sigh* The Future of Furry & Flo *double sigh* first appeared on Thomas Kingsley Troupe.

So, I’m not going to do it.  Nope.

But let me tell you what I’ve been up to, okay?

Books

Weird, right?  An author guy has books to talk about.  Who would’ve thunk it?  Well, it’s true.  Not only have a big ol’ pile of books come out since I last rapped at ya…

(go ahead and have a look, I can wait)

…but I’m working on (brace yourself) NINETEEN BOOKS between now and August.  NINE.  TEEN.  That smashes any previous records I had for things to work on.  It’s truly kind of insane.  I thought it was nuts-deluxe when I was working on EIGHT non-fiction titles last summer.  Nope.  This takes the cake!  It’s gotten so that I had to actually turn down a request for me to write 3 longer non-fiction titles.  I never turn down book deals and a few weeks ago it happened for the first time.

It wasn’t easy.  (I’m sorry editor person!)

So, I’m extremely grateful and maybe just a little crazy to be behind the wheel of a very aggressive schedule of deadlines.  If it seems like I dropped off of the face of the planet, well…that’s why.

Books, y’all.

(shameless plug in 3…2…1…)

Oh…and can I just say how much I’d love it if you snapped up the new Furry & Flo books?  They’re called THE VOICELESS VAMPIRE and THE SOLEMN GOLEM and I really love these little titles.  They’re fun, the illustrations (done by the uber-talented Stephen Gilpin) are spot-on and they’re close to my heart.  I REALLY wanna be able to finish up the story arc, so having more than a couple people scoop them up will help make this happen.

Please?  I’ll totally buy you a taco the next time I see you.  Plus, your kids will dig ’em.  Believe that.

Facebook

Remember that time when I used to be on Facebook?  Where I’d sometimes write a thing or two that occasionally was kinda worth reading?  Maybe?

Well, I’ve quit Facebook…cold turkey.

Take a seat.  Let me tell you why:

I had this process every evening when I’d sit down to write.  I’d say goodnight to the wife n’ kids and head downstairs to my office.  I’d fire up the computer and open up my Word document in one window and Facebook in another.  I’d scroll through the news feed, read some stuff, make some smart-alec comments on a few things and then flip back to my work in progress.  A minute or two later, FB would make a noise and I’d flip over to see what’s going on.

Oh, someone liked my dumb comment.  I should say something else!  Oooh.  Somone’s dog is sick.  That sucks!  Whoa.  Is that a picture of someone’s meal?  Nice!

Then I’d get sucked into the black hole that is Amercia’s favorite social media outlet for 30 minutes or more.  I’d blink and an hour would go by.  I’d look at how far I’d gotten in my work and see barely any progress had been made.  This would happen over and over and over again.

I have a saying (especially lately): THESE BOOKS AIN’T GONNA WRITE THEMSELVES!

I’m no math guy, but I’d say I’d dumped more hours than I’m comfortable admitting into Facebook.  And for what?  To read about how much people love coffee?  The ads?  The inspirational quotes text-boxed over a scenic picture of some dumb waterfall?

Even when I wasn’t writing, I found myself reaching for my phone like some sort of crutch, scrolling through stuff I could easily get through my day not knowing.  My kids would be sitting around watching TV and I had my dumb face pressed against my iPhone.  They’re not going to be little forever and squandering away their time so I can read about someone complaining about their job?  Naaaaah.

So, I quit.  Done.  I’m out.

And no, I didn’t even bother to make that corny announcement:  Attention everybody.  I just wanted everyone to know I’m leaving Facebook.  I just need to focus on my writing/family/toenail clipping/break-dancing career.  No offense, but I need to cut the cord.

Doesn’t that always seem like a desperate last-ditch attempt for attention?  It’s right up there with people that like to announce that they’re trimming their friends list.

Here, let me save you the time.  UNFRIEND.

Nope.  I just pulled the plug.  I’m sure the world of social media is doing just fine without me and the junk I threw up on my wall.  I suspect a few people assumed I “unfriended” them.  But I didn’t.  I just stepped off the book of faces.  And you know what???

I honestly don’t miss it.  Not even a little bit.  It’s coming up on 2 months and while I’ve heard plenty of “you’ll be backs” and “who do you think you ares,” I’ve heard plenty of people say: Man…I need to do that, too.

You can do it, America.  Mark Zuckerberg has plenty of cash already.  He’s gonna be okay. I’m sure of it.

So, I guess what I’m trying to say is this: If you want to contact me, please do.  I haven’t dropped off of earth’s left buttcheek.  I’m still here.  Shoot me an e-mail, a text, drop a comment or a note through my dusty ol’ website.  It’s like, whatever man.

Busy?  Maybe a little, but I’ve always got time for you.

Your lovin’,

TKT

The post Randomitis (Books, Faces) first appeared on Thomas Kingsley Troupe.

So, today I did what I’m guessing is likely my last author visit of the 2013-2014 school year.  I went out to a school in Mahtomedi, Minnesota (a cool 20 minutes from home) and talked to close to 300 kids.  It was a fantastic time (like pretty much all of the visits I’ve done) but I gotta admit it was a little bittersweet.

I mean…seriously?  The school year’s just about over?  I won’t be able to do this again until fall?

Here’s the thing about author visits:  They’re easily one of my favorite things to do.  I get a huge smile on my big, dumb face when I get an e-mail from a teacher or a media center supervisor or even a friend who wants me to come out to their kid’s school.  I’m not sure it’ll be easy to explain, but I’m going to try.

First Visit – Woodbury Library

(Okay…first off?  Don’t worry.  I’m not going to go into detail about EVERY SINGLE visit I’ve ever done.  I just think it’s kind of interesting to think of how far things have progressed with these quirky little events.)

My first official visit was at the Woodbury Library.  My second book (and first non-fiction title) MOUNT RUSHMORE had just been published and I was pretty darn excited.  Sure, I was excited enough when PATRICK’S SUPER SOCKS came out the year before, but now…I had TWO.  It felt like I was bona-fide!!!  Somehow I ended up talking with the head librarian and we figured out a time for me to come out into the little amphitheater they had outside the library.  I could read a little bit, talk about where the ideas came from, etc.  It was even in the local paper that I was coming.  I told my friends and family, too.  I’ve never been really nervous talking in front of people, but this made me a little jittery.  I brought extra copies of my books in case some people wanted to buy ’em.  It was going to be awesome.

I even thought I’d pull off the old suit jacket with jeans move that I figured authors did.  The problem was, the sleeves were too long, so I folded them in and stapled them so they looked better.  High class all the way, kids.

I was ready and I figured the children’s book reading public was ready for me.

Not my best face.

Well…sort of.  There was some sort of mis-communication in the paper that showed the wrong date.  They tried to correct it, but it was too late.  When I got there, I saw a bunch of my friends and family had shown up (thanks, guys!) but there wasn’t anyone there I didn’t know.  I did my thing anyway to a group of around 20+ familiar folks who probably felt kind of sorry for me.  Sure, I had some books published (one about an alligator who wears socks and the other about 4 crazy stone faces in a mountain), but man…NO ONE else showed up.  While I was (and still am!) extremely grateful to have the support of those who did come by, it sort of left a bad taste in my mouth.  I couldn’t help thinking: What happens when you throw a party and no one (else) shows up?  Is that what this is going to be like???

Shoot.  If people from the town where I live can’t be bothered to come, what does that say?

Ugh.  I’m sure I sound bratty, but it was a bit humbling.

Classroom Visits

It was quite a while (and twenty-something published books later) before I started getting requests from friends who were teachers.  Yes, I thought.  A captive audience!

Students would have not choice but to sit and listen to me talk about books and writing and stuff.  I would come in, introduce myself, read IF I WERE THE PRESIDENT or whatever else seemed right to a handful of kids and answer questions.  Twenty minutes.  BAM.  It was perfect.  And truth be told?  It was…  One of my favorite things about the visits is the questions at the end.  They change, naturally, depending on the age of the students I’m visiting with, but man…  Some of the earlier questions I would get were:

How old are you?
What’s your favorite book?
What’s your favorite food?
Do you draw all the pictures?

And one that really stumped me:
What’s your favorite book that you haven’t written yet?

Middleton Elementary – Talking about Furry Flo!

Wait.  What???

I did these smaller visits for a while.  Maybe a couple class rooms worth of students, eat lunch with them (school lunches are a little better these days!) and I was done.

Dollar Dollar Bill, Y’all

I should point out  that I don’t charge schools to have me come out (though I’ve been told I should) and I take time off from work to do it.

I don’t know, man.  I just have a hard time saying no if a school reaches out to me to come and talk with kids about books and stuff.  I could probably drone on for hours (if they let me!) about where ideas come from, answering their questions, and letting them know about the stuff I’m working on.  It’s like Hulkamania, you know?

I’m no pro-wrestling fan, but remember how The Hulkster would get his butt kicked around a bit, but when he needed a “boost” he’d do this ridiculous thing where he would listen to the crowd?  They would cheer for him and after a while, the dude was so pumped up, he’d tear his shirt off and hit the other sweaty dude in the face with a chair.

That’s probably not the best analogy since I don’t hit anyone with chairs or have 1/3 of the muscles, but I think you get what I mean.  When I talk to students about projects I have in the hopper and hear them go “SWEET!” or “OH, WOW” or something, I get a little amped up to get back behind the keyboard and get working.  That’s sort of all the “pay” I need.  Plus, schools have lousy budgets.  At this point, I have a hard time justifying asking for any sort of money for me to show up there.

(Full Disclosure: A school I used to go to waaaay back asked me to come and asked what I charged.  I threw out a number that was below what any other author would ask and they said: Yeah, I guess we can’t make that work.  Haven’t done that since.)

Malone Elementary – The Game Changer

So, I was pretty comfortable doing little classroom visits here and there and I figured that’s how it would be.  Every year I’d kick out a handful of new books and schools would let me know if they wanted me to come and talk to their classes.  Some even had me back multiple times.  (that means it’s working)

Through this trusty website, I ended up getting a message from a teacher from Malone Elementary in Prescott Wisconsin.  He was running an after-school reading program for a group of boys who were kind of reluctant readers.  They discovered the truth about the sports books written by Jake Maddox (it’s a fake author name that a handful of writers write under, including me!) and found my website.  They asked if I wanted to come and hang with them, read some books, talk about author-ly stuff, the works.  I did!  They gave me an orange Popsicle (my favorite) and it was sooo cool to see a group of young readers get into some of the stuff I’d written.  They were asking questions about some of the other titles I’d done and I was just blown away.  I left feeling as close to a celebrity as I likely ever will.

Around a year later, Malone wanted me to come back, but on a larger scale.  I got a message from their media center head honcho and was asked if I’d be interested in talking to the entire school.  Never one to shy away from a chance to talk about books (and especially my books), I said sure.  I figured I’d be doing multiple classroom visits throughout the day.  OH NO.  This was the entire school, broken into 3 sections.  All told, it would end up being around 800+ students.

Ehhh…come again???

It wouldn’t be good enough to read a book and answer a few questions.  This time, I was going to be up in front of everyone talking about how I got started, the process I follow, tips for aspiring authors, etc…  And I needed to make it interesting to hold the attention of all kinds of age ranges.  It couldn’t be too complicated and risk losing the attention of the Kindergartners and I couldn’t make it too cutesy and risk having the 5th graders throw rotten vegetables at me.  I put together a thing where I covered it all, AND included a place for me to read PATRICK’S SUPER SOCKS.  I was worried that the older kids would hate it, but amazingly enough, they were probably more excited to hear about the lil’ alligator than the small fries were.

So…over the course of a few years, I went from a kind of  little, low-impact visit at my city’s library to bigger schools and a lot more people.  I was hooked and I literally got to the point where I was running out of vacation days from my real job to make it happen.  I have yet to turn any requests down and I’ve had to get creative with my time, but so far it’s worked!

Still, I think some of the best things about the school visits is the excitement I can feel from the questions I get.  I have a tendency to run out of time before I can get to everyone and I love that when it’s over, I get a swarm of students bum-rushing me to get their questions in before they get an angry teacher looking for them.

One kid in particular at an elementary school in Cottage Grove stuck out.

Cottage Grove Kid

After my third presentation, a young guy in 4th grade came up as the rest of his class was filing out.  He asked me if he could talk to me about his story.  Of course, I said: “Yeah, lay it on me, sir.”

He told me about this big book he was working on and how he didn’t feel confident enough to finish it.  It was about a guy who had a magic backpack that could produce whatever he needed in a given situation.  If he was going into battle, he could get armor and a sword instantly.  He seemed nervous talking about it and sort of spoke in hushed tones as if he were worried others would hear him.  I immediately felt a connection.  I WAS THAT KID when I was his age.  I had more ideas than I had the confidence to write out and I struggled with feeling like a bit of an outcast considering I wasn’t really all that into sports or anything else and just wanted to write and create stuff.  As he was explaining the story to me, we walked, heading to the lunchroom.  At one point he said: “I don’t know.  I’m afraid people will think it sucks.”

I immediately told him, “That shouldn’t matter.  Write what YOU think is cool and just get your story down.  Finish it.  Don’t over think it, just power through without worrying about the details.  When you get to the end, you can give yourself a high-five for getting it done.  Print it.  Hold it in your hands.  Feel the weight and know that your mind created something that has WEIGHT to it.”

“But what if it doesn’t turn out right?” he asked.

“Make it turn out right,” I replied.  “When you’re done, work on it until you’re happy with it.  If you’ve written the story you want to tell, it’s right.  Plus, I think it sounds like a killer idea.  Dude, I want to read it.”

Now, I know this sounds like a Hallmark Channel Movie of the Week moment, but seeing the kid nod and then eventually smile (and this guy was stoic as all get-out) totally made my day and visit worthwhile.  He shook my hand, thanked me for the advice and help and joined his class.

Most Memorable Quote

“Mr. Troupe, are you part elf?  Because you wrote a book about elves and your ears look kind of elf-like.”

Old Elf Ears signing books.

Dang.  I didn’t mean for this post to get soooo long.  If you made it this far, thanks for humoring me.  I guess in the end, I’m so grateful that I’m given the opportunity to do this.  I’m grateful to the teachers, coordinators and students that invite me into their schools to (hopefully) ignite some imaginations.  I love knowing that, in some ways, I’m helping to motivate young readers and writers to get creative.  I love hearing back a month or two later or even in the REALLY INCREDIBLE thank you notes from students that they’re working on something and that I helped inspire them.  I never had an author come to my school when I was growing up and I did sort of feel like I was alone in what I wanted to do.  I think every young writer should feel like their stories should be finished and they should be heard.  I, for one, am anxious to hear them!

So, while I might not ever get my name in lights or get a star on the Hollywood walk of fame or even end up on a best-seller list of some sort, this…

I smiled like a giant dork when I saw this.

…is good enough for me.

The post So These Author Visits… first appeared on Thomas Kingsley Troupe.

As I got to the bottom of the list, I discovered something that made me get a lil’ bit melancholy:

PATRICK’S SUPER SOCKS is no longer listed.

Immediately I thought: Oh, wait.  There’s gotta be some mistake!  Maybe I spelled PATRICK wrong.  Maybe it’s under something else.  Surely it isn’t what I think it is…is it?

I tried just SUPER SOCKS.  I tried PATRICK.  I even typed my name in and scrolled through the list of stuff I’ve been lucky enough to write over the last 6 years.

Nope.  PSS was no where to be found.  I’m guessing it’s been retired to that big ol’ Out Of Print Shelf in the sky, sitting next to other titles that had a good run but needed to make room for some other books. 

I get it.  I really do, but considering Patrick’s Super Socks was my first published book and is what I use as the  “how I got started” portion during my author visits to schools, it’s got me feeling a little nostalgic.

Here’s what’s funny about PSS.  It was originally a short story I entered into a contest for a book store called BookSmart.  I don’t even know if the place is around anymore of it they became Half Price Books or WHAT happened.  All I know is they had a contest for writers to enter in a 300 word short piece about going to bed.  They wanted the stories to be something they could pile together into a volume of it’s-bedtime-so-get-yer-butt-to-bed stories for kids.

300 words?  No problem, I thought. 
Writers can enter up to 3 different pieces?  Perfect!

So I did just that.  I wrote 3 little stories that I thought were kind of fun. 

– One was called JASPER’S JOB and it was about a dog who sleeps all day and is up all night protecting his family.  Kind of a cute little story that shows how valuable a “lazy” dog can be to a family, yadda yadda.

– Another was called MOLLY’S NIGHT LIGHT.  This one was about a little girl who doesn’t want to give up her favorite night light, but when she hears her baby sister crying all night, pulls it out of the socket and plugs it in near her lil’ sister’s crib.  The crying stops and Molly (and heck, all of us) grow up just a little bit.

– The last one was (you guessed it) PATRICK’S SUPER SOCKS, which was about a little boy with red hair who didn’t like sleep without the socks his grandma made for him.  He dubbed them his SUPER SOCKS.

I entered all three into the contest after polishing the heck out of them and getting them in right on or just under the word count.  I thought they sparkled and were going to make it into this book.  I sincerely thought it might be my first real chance to be a published author-type guy. 

3 chances to get in?  It wasn’t going to be: Which one will they choose?  It’ll be: Thomas, can we have all 3?

Sure thing, you greedy so-and-sos.  Help yourself.

Turns out, NONE of them were picked.

I was no stranger to rejection, so it wasn’t completely soul-crushing.  I put those stories in a folder somewhere and kind of forgot about them.  But dang…

Then, a year or two later, the opportunity came for me to submit some samples of my work to a little imprint called Picture Window Books.  I decided to give them little tastes of some of my best (and as-of-then-and-still) unpublished work.  They got a little bit of TRAVIS & THE MAGIC SANDBOX, a little bit of THE SHORT BUS JOURNAL and some other stuff I don’t quite remember.  I had it all packaged up nice and at the last minute, I thought:  You know what?  I’m going to send PATRICK’S SUPER SOCKS too.

I sent it all off.  I waited.  In  time I got a letter (or was it an e-mail?  I think it was a letter) from editor/writer supreme, Jill Kalz.  She thanked me for submitting my stuff.  Before finishing it, I immediately figured it was a thanks-but-no-thanks letter.

Remember, I was no stranger to getting a big ol’ REJECTION.

Turns out I was wrong.  Jill let me know that they were interested in PATRICK’S SUPER SOCKS and that if I worked on it a bit, they’d like to publish it.

Friends, I was through the roof with excitement.

I worked on the book and with Jill’s help, got it to where it needed to be.

I think it never really hit me that it was actually happening.  As a first time author, I felt like it was taking forever and I was waiting for Jill (or anyone at Picture Window Books) to say: “Ha ha.  Just kidding, Thomas.  Your story is garbage.  We’re not making it into a book.”

That didn’t happen.  Sure it got delayed a little bit which made the usual year-or-so turnaround even more excruciating.  But…reality set in when Jill sent me an e-mail with a PDF attached.  (I still have it)  She let me know that while the book was taking forever, it was in sketches.  She also mentioned that they changed my main character’s species.  Patrick was no longer  a little boy with red hair.  He was now  an alligator.  Did I have a problem with that?

Nnnnnope.

I was beyond excited as I opened the PDF and saw the initial sketches that would bring my goofy little story to life.

It was seriously almost as cool as watching the birth of my sons.  But you, know, with a lot less screaming.

(okay, so I screamed a little bit)

And from that point, I knew that I had finally (FINALLY) gotten something published.  Was it my action-adventure middle grade novel that clocked in at over 300 pages and already had a sequel written?  Nope.  Was it the book about the “normal” kid who had to endure bullies for riding the Short Bus with the handicapped kids?  Nope.  It was a little story I wrote on a whim to try and get published in some stinky little collection.

(I’m sure the book didn’t stink.  My attitude did when I wasn’t accepted.  Rejection is HARD, kids.)

I felt like I’d made it.  And when PATRICK’S SUPER SOCKS came out and I was able to hold it in my hand, I did the thing I always do: I felt the weight of it my hands.

THIS CAME OUT OF MY HEAD.  IT HAS WEIGHT TO IT.  IT DIDN’T EXIST BEFORE AND NOW IT’S GOT MASS.  THIS CAME OUT OF MY HEAD!!!

(I know, I know. Weird.)

I checked out the spine.  TROUPE.  I opened it up.  The illustrations were colorful and cute.  They spelled my whole name out on the cover.  It showed the illustrator’s name.  I was certain she and I would be best friends.  My book had a bar code on it.

A bar code.  I had made it!

I told everyone in the world about it.  I was finally a published author!  Sure you couldn’t find it in stores, but if you went to the counter of Borders (RIP, old friend) you could ask them to order it for you.  They would totally do it, too.  Or, you know…you could save yourself the trip and order it yourself.

I started planning sequels where Patrick the alligator got himself into other little predicaments.  I made big plans.

I had friends from across the country telling me that they saw my book in their libraries.  A firefighter I worked with told me he hated Patrick and his stupid socks because his kids made him read it to them EVERY night.  Another let me know that the book was read so much they had to duct tape the cover back on. 

It was a cool time.

But one of the best parts?  After I showed Picture Windows Books that I was pretty dang easy to work with, they asked me if I wanted to write another book for them.  A non-fiction book about MOUNT RUSHMORE.  Sure!  I’d never been there (at the time) but why not?  And thus began my beautiful, continued relationship with Picture Windows (writing non-fictions) and later Stone Arch Books (writing fiction).

So yeah…finding out today that my “first born” was no longer in print was sort of a strange and unavoidable milestone.  Heck, I didn’t expect Warner Bros. to swoop in, buy the rights and make it into a 6 minute movie or anything, but it’s still a little sad.

2008 doesn’t seem like THAT long ago.  You know?

Anyway, thanks for indulging me.  And thanks Patrick, for opening doors for me and for giving me what is easily the best part-time/night job a fella could ever ask for.

I hope wherever you are, your little book toes are safe from the creepies.

Love, TKT

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