It started with Invaders from Mars and Other Tales of Youthful Angst, followed by Ice Cream Headache, When a Hard Rain Falls (due out later this year) and now for my latest book in progress, Going Long, I am traveling once again back in time, back to the 1960s and back to Oglesby and the Illinois Valley.
This time, with Going Long, I am going back to my roots, though. Back to what got me interested in writing in the first place, but more importantly, back to the kind of books I liked to read as a child. Back to the kind of books I would order from Scholastic Book Services when I was a student at Washington Grade School and then wait anxiously for those books to arrive.
One of the first stories I wrote was a sports story about a young boy who is “drafted” by his favorite Little League team. Although this modest heartwarming attempt was more wishful thinking on my part because I really wanted to play Little League baseball and get to wear a real baseball uniform than a story per se (I never got around to finishing it as far as I remember) it was the kind of story that a young boy would probably want to read.
And that is where I am going with Going Long. It’s one of those stories that all writers feel they have to write for themselves and in my case, a story I want to write for my sons. What I have always wanted from the first time I picked up a pen and started to write was to write the kind of stories that I would like to read. Now I would like to write some stories that my sons would like to read.
But it’s all about telling a story and being a good storyteller. At the end of the day, that’s what matters most.
That is why I write.