J. M. Ford is now on

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Yeah, I'm finally caught up with the world.  Oh wait, it moved again!

https://www.facebook.com/pages/J-M-Ford/804090486372220?ref=hl

Red White and Black

Is racism alive today?  How far have we come in 50 years?  You'd think progress would have been made since the 1960's, but I wonder.  Don't you?  Red, White and Black paints a vivid picture of Sammy Morris and Markus Williams, two men confronting, fighting and  hating each other because of the color of their skin.  Can they overcome those differences and realize it's whats on the inside that really counts?  Can we?

This is a story set in 1967 but the message resounds yet today.  Step back with me and take a look at where we've been so we can move past where we are.

This is a work in progress you can follow.  Another chapter or two have been added as well as a new cover!  Check it out at:

http://www.wattpad.com/story/42531758-red-white-and-black

Stop by and let me know you've been there and what you think.

Has Literature Gone Silent?

To read or watch the news these days can be a depressing activity (if it hasn't been that way forever) and it seems to be getting worse.  Divisiveness rules the airwaves and our society has become increasingly fragmented with each of those fragments clamoring to be recognized, heard, and acknowledged as superior to all others. 

So prevalent is the cacophony of competing voices, it becomes tempting to shut it all out, crawl into a comfortable cocoon, and wait until things blow over and calm down.  One significant drawback to that approach is that I doubt any of these issues currently rearing their ugly heads are going to fade away without a fight .

Historically, literature has responded with ferocity to address social ills and issues.  Think of Les Miserables, The Grapes of Wrath, To Kill a Mockingbird, and others.  They took the problems of their respective eras head on and didn't hold back.  Where would we be today without the voices of Victor Hugo, Harper Lee, John Steinbeck, Alexander Dumas and many others before and since?

Well, for one thing, we would be lacking some of the classic and foundational literature we have come to cherish and respect.  For another, the issues addressed in those works would have been left to languish without a voice.

While racial injustice and bigotry have smoldered under the surface for decades, only recently have they gained enough air to flare to life in the national spotlight.  Think about it.  We've all known there have been racists living among us forever, but until Ferguson and Charleston and Baltimore and NYC and others, the country has largely swept these things under the rug.  It has taken heinous acts of violence to bring racial tensions and violence to the forefront.  To make it all worse, each group is trying to drown out the views they oppose by shouting louder and with more viciousness while pushing their agenda to the front of the line and top of the heap. 

Yet it seems to me literature has remained somewhat mute on the topic of race.  The question of who is right and who is wrong is not the point of this article and one far too complex to tackle here, but the fact that authors seem to be ignoring it is and should be troubling.  Humans are incredibly complex beings and we will never, ever agree on everything.  But a good author can put into words a story that captures the essence of the issues and cause readers to stop and think.

And sometimes, stopping and thinking may lead to the answers we seek.

General Angst. I knew him when he was Major Angst.

 Do you love to write but feel pigeonholed into a particular genre?  And do you get a good case of angst  when others label you as that "science fiction" writer or "YA" writer and thereby assume you can do nothing else?


Me too.

The famous author John Grisham has written countless novels about lawyers, criminals, the judicial system, etc.  He has sold millions of these books and became well known and filthy rich for writing legal thrillers.  Good for him.

But then... he wrote a book called A Painted House.  Remember it?  I picked it up on a whim but wondered after examining the cover how on earth lawyers could ever fit into this book.  Well, they didn't and the book was a true pleasure to read.  Of course, it helped that I could relate in a tangible way to the story.  Like the Arkansas family in the tale who picked cotton by hand for a living, my roots extend back to Tennessee where my forefathers likewise picked cotton to survive--by hand.

A Painted House really resonated with me.  But it had nothing to do with lawyers.

You could really apply the same standard to Stephen King, right?  All those horror novels and short stories, then he pops out a gem like Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption.  Nary a ghost or paranormal activity to be found.

So when I examine my work, I dislike the notion of being categorized into one particular genre.  I have written science fiction (http://www.wattpad.com/story/43021473-derelict), as well as literary or general fiction (http://www.wattpad.com/story/42531758-red-white-and-black) and don't really care what the world says.  Of course, marketing myself as an author becomes more difficult.

Ah, the price one must pay for art.

Romance Novels? Never again!

I lived in the boondocks as a kid and thus "enjoyed" an unusually long ride in the bus to get to school.  Of course, I filled most of that time with reading.  Well, let me clarify--my reading was interspersed with pathetic attempts at gaining the attentions of various fair maidens who were likewise trapped with me.  Okay, allow me to provide even more clarification:  reading, fair maidens, and much goofing around (but that's another story).

There was one fine young lass who shared my interest in the printed word.  She was devoted to romance novels while I read nothing other than Louis L'Amour, Max Brand, and Zane Grey westerns.  She was all girly-girl and I was a self-proclaimed rugged outdoorsman.  We began to gently josh each other about our genre choice which eventually led to a good friendship and then to my first and only foray into romance novels.  I still shudder at the thought!

While the origins of our agreement have been lost in the mists of time, we managed to come to an interesting bargain:  she would read one of the westerns of my choosing, and I would read one of her romance novels.  My involvement in this dubious endeavor was duplicitous, I must confess.  I really had no desire of broadening my reading horizons.  No.  I was only trying to impress this lovely young creature in hopes of wooing her with my newly found sensitivity and romantic tendencies.

Miserable failure.  I remember nothing of the book she foisted on me other than my reaction which involved much faux gagging and pseudo-sickness.  She was gracious enough to appreciate the Zane Grey novel I had chosen for her but any chance I had with her was stymied by my decidedly uncouth reaction.  It didn't help matters that I believed I had to hide it from family and friends while I read lest my aforementioned ruggedness take it on the chin.

I graduated and lost track of her since yet still retain fond memories of those days.  But I can't yet bring myself to read romance.  Yeah, I'm a Neanderthal.  I can live with that.