And I don’t have to worry about getting a discount for this bundle. It’s been free all along. Self-publish, self-write, self-edit…well, you name it.
In my case, there is no money to be made in any of the endeavors mentioned above. If you don’t believe me, I can show you some recent royalty checks to clear up any doubts.
This old man has always flown by the seat of his pants. There was a time, about thirty years ago, when I was a struggling reporter working for a newspaper. Every couple of weeks, I’d deposit a check, pay the rent, buy some groceries, fill up the jalopy with gas…and continue to peck away at the typewriter. I think it was a typewriter. I’m not sure; my memory is beginning to fade.
Let’s back up a second. My memory remains intact and is not fading. I have a curse. I remember everything, and suddenly, I want to get it all out and into print before the final bell sounds.
I do not sleep. I'm in my own little world. It's just me and this rusty laptop of mine. I suddenly realize I must get my affairs in order. And I mean the legal paperwork-type of affairs, for those of you who might have a notion that I meant something else.
I’m still a staff of one, and chances are I’ll live the rest of my life the same way: as a staff of one. I will become an octogenarian on July 2nd -- just a few days after I post this little gem. Chances are, I'll soon be entering my final decade.
I have always said that besides chasing down characters to write about, my constant, never-ending love for baseball has kept me on the field of play.
I still have a goal to be the oldest active baseball player to cross the chalk line and take a position on the baseball diamond and await those beautiful words: Play ball!
If I can reach triple digits...and I mean in age, not those awful summertime Arizona temperatures, I'm certainly ready to do so. I would love to hear those words echoed by some young fan in the stands: 'There goes the oldest baseball player that ever lived.'
Until that final curtain falls, I know what I'm supposed to do in the meantime. If it's on the ball field, it's to get a hit and continue making the plays. If I'm at home in my office with the old laptop in front of me, it's to continue writing, despite the annoying arthritis in my fingers.
There are still characters out there I must meet, stories I must write, and things I want to do. So, now that I've taken a deep breath, I'll get on with it.
I know no other way. To my followers, out there. You are still stuck with me.
Note: I'm doing things a bit differently in the summer of 2025.
Below, you will see one of my middle-grade fiction books from the past. It's actually a sequel to Billy's Victory, my first book, which I published back in 2008.
The book below, entitled "The Return of Johnny Dugan," is printed here on my blog in episodes, from Chapter 1 through 7, concluding with the Epilogue. You'll have to read from the bottom up, much like my life has been.
Enjoy!
As an added note, I have done the same in recent weeks with my other fiction books, The Loner, The Dancer, The Legend of Bucket Smith, and Billy, of course. I can never forget Billy's Victory. You can find all those books mixed in with my other stories and ramblings at my author page...I thank you all for your support, check out: www.facebook.com/danpricetucsonauthor
One more note (You knew I'd have one). I'm attempting one more book. It is also on this blog. The book is entitled "Where Eagles Fly." And would you believe it, with all that is going on, I'm already into this latest endeavor, with two chapters in the books and already alive and well, for free, for all to read — just like the rest of the above books.
For the fun of it. See if you can guess the character that is most like me in each book.
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