We've all heard the cliches, "Hard work pays off", "You'll get out of it what you put into it", "Hard work never hurt anybody", and on they go. I've always considered myself a hard worker give credit to my parents and the farm I was raised on. I can't say for sure if that "work ethic" we so deeply desire for our children (or perhaps ourselves)  is born in, or worked in. In my case I had no choice on the matter. Full days at school then a fair share of chores on our farm were more than most kids my age would ever do in a day their entire lives. I got my first job away from our farm at age eleven. During summer vacation I worked twelve hour days (an hour off for lunch) Monday to Saturday. On Sunday I cut lawns, a five hour lawn one week, a seven hour lawn the next week. I was getting around three dollars per hour on the lawns and it was easy work compared to the farm where I made only two dollars an hour. For the record minimum wage at the time was four dollars per hour, except on farms where there was (and I believe still is) no minimum wage, or minimum age.

A few years later we moved off the farm and into town. I heard about a local fast food chain hiring some other kids and paying four dollars and fifty cents per hour. Rumor was they were only getting forty hours a week. I figured I'd need the extra pay for it to make sense when I'd been accustomed to working nearly eighty hours a week.  My parents had always insisted that I do a full resume even made me do one for the cabbage picking job. I included the resume with my application and threw my name in the mix for employment that summer. I got a call in early May to come in for an interview. As I recall I road my bike to get there, then waited nervously to speak to the manager. My interview went well, I've always carried myself well in interviews. I was sure I had the job right up till the end. The man who shall remain unnamed told me that as of that day I was still only thirteen years old, I wouldn't be fourteen until August seventeenth nearly the end of the season (the store was seasonal and closed around September first each year). He told me that he couldn't hire me until I was fourteen, and had only given me an interview because he had never met a thirteen year old with two years work experience, and so he was a bit curious. By the end of it all the man and I agreed that I would need to be fourteen as of that day if I wanted the job, and if anyone asked my age I needed to answer fourteen. We both kept our word, and our silence.

So I've given you just a bit of evidence of my hard working history, but selling you on the fact that I'm a hard worker isn't really my purpose here. I want you to consider that in my situation hard work was a necessity not a choice, and if given more choice I might very well have faltered. I see this on a regular basis. People who work because they need to more so than because they have that work ethic in them. When given the choice I see many, in fact most walk away from what they don't need to do. There once was a day when "moral obligation" held us to the task. We always had some who didn't need the money but stayed because others needed the help. It's the things we do when we don't "need " to, or don't "want" to that I believe are the best measurement of people.  

I recently spent a week at the University of Toronto summer writing school. My class was taught by Kelley Armstrong, a very successful writer with by Canadian standards a big name, and likely a very decent pay check. Class was scheduled to run from 9 AM until around 3 PM with a one hour break for lunch, and two smaller breaks through the day. I was first there as I usually am, and only a few others arrived before Kelley who was more than a half hour early. When it came time for first break we needed someone to watch our belongings while we were gone, Kelley Armstrong our teacher volunteered. I was impressed by this, but not so much as by the events that followed that week. Kelley soon told us that she would arrive a half hour early everyday, and would answer any questions we had. She never took either of the short breaks, and asked if we were OK with cutting the lunch from an hour to a half hour because an hour seemed excessive to her. If your not impressed yet let me tell you that Kelley remained in the class during that shortened lunch except for a brief refreshment and taught optional grammar lessons while we all ate lunch.

For all my years I thought I had a monopoly on being the hard worker. When I consider my own rules about what we do when we need to, and what we do when we don't need to I was given a real awakening by Kelley Armstrong. She didn't need the money, didn't need to teach us, she really had no need whatsoever for being in that class at all. She was there because for her own personal reasons she was compelled to be there. With more success and money than the entire class combined are likely to ever have Kelley Armstrong out worked the entire group of us.

When your thinking about why your hard work isn't getting you where you want to be perhaps you've been a bit like me and given too much applause to your own efforts. Perhaps you think what you've done in the past owes you something in the future? I can honestly say when I hear about how someone like Kelley Armstrong got where they are by chance, luck, right place right time, I now smile and chuckle inside. Most people don't even understand hard work, very few will ever have the passion, desire, and perseverance to focus hard work on a goal until they get there.  
    

How often have you wanted to do something but been held back by your fear? How often have you been told "just try it" or "once you do it once it will be easier"? I think these experiences are common to most of us. Whether or not each of us were able to push past our fears and realize our rewards will vary greatly for each of us. I have spoken about fear, and overcoming fear in the past. Today I wanted to touch on what lies beyond fear that we likely never expected. I'm not talking about the fear, or the failure. I'm talking about the curse that often comes with success. I call it "The curse of expectations".

A great example of this result of unexpected success is a life experience I observed back in high school. The experience wasn't my own, it was a friends, and much of the experience was told in confidence so I'll keep all involved anonymous. My friend was a great hockey player, and was a leader on our local team. He had speed and skill, and might have gotten close to the big show someday. One day during a game my friend was getting roughed up by a player who was a well known "goon" (fighter) at the time. A tough player my friend wasn't going to be pushed around. He was however shocked, when the other player dropped his gloves and began hitting him. We each deal with fear in different ways. My friend turned his fear into rage and turned it all on this other player. He was in a fight he didn't expect, and even less did he expect he would wins decisively. 

It should have been a relief to my friend to have triumphed in a situation he didn't desire. What happened instead was people saw something, and now they expected to see it again. The fights kept coming, and my friend kept winning. The team was a loser almost every night but each night he stood toe to toe with the others teams best and out did them. Soon he had beaten all in the league. Late in the season a trade was made by another team in the league bringing a player all the way from out of province. This player had the reputation of being a monster, brutal, enormous and unbeatable. The news papers a week before the game posted articles declaring that my friend would defend "The Title" on Saturday night against this imported giant. It was all anyone could think about, it was all anyone could talk about.

I must admit that I was surprised when my friend told me he wasn't looking forward to the game. He was afraid, always was, always had been. It was sheer terror in his heart that had given him the strength to win that first fight. Since that day he had only made it to the third and final period twice all season. People thought he was getting kicked out because he was just to hungry for the violence, they thought he couldn't control it. He confided in me that he never liked it, it was the waiting, the expectation that drove him nuts. This week would kill him more than any other. Expectations, that was the curse he carried.

When the game finally came I was unable to make it as I had to work that night. Still it was all I could think of. How would my friend do? What if anything was going to happen to him that night? If cell phones had been around at that time I surely would have appreciated it. As it was I had to wait several hours before getting the news. My friend started the fight during the pregame skate. The crowed erupted, as my friend again stood victorious. He was kicked out (possibly suspended, I can't remember) before the game even started. Of course our team lost the actual game, but no one cared about the game, only the defense of "The Title". The crowed spoke of how crazy my friend was, how he couldn't wait to rip the other guy apart.  My friend told a slightly different story. Certainly it was true that he couldn't wait. He told me he knew it was coming, but the waiting was what killed him. He could wait any longer, needed to lift the burden from his back and didn't care about the consequence.  

Shortly after that I graduated from high school and we went our separate ways, never kept in touch for long. All these years later I'm glad that I've never been in the situations my friend found himself in. Like him I have to some degree began to feel the burden of expectations. As you are likely aware I recently wrote a novel. I wasn't sure that I would finish and all around me would be please just that I had. As it turns out some were more than pleased that I finished. They told me what I wrote was truly great, they told me they can't wait to see me do the same, or better on my next novel. I feel very confident that I will please the world again very shortly. I do however feel that curse of expectations. If I do it a second time, they will expect a third, and so on. While it is clearly a different arena than that where my friend was cursed with expectations, I wounder inside my own mind if many of the days ahead in my life will be lived to satisfy the curse of expectations?  

Does goodness truly exist? This might seem like an odd question that shouldn't need  many words to answer. The obvious and simplest answer to the question is simply to say yes, goodness exists.  We see it everyday, we feel it, we read about it, most of us do our best to share it. But what is really good, and conversely what is evil? Are they always clear and distinguishable, can we always judge without question? This question is actually what forms the foundation for The Incarnations of Joe Series.

Some things in life are unquestionably acts of either goodness, or unkind at the very least. But before you put every action carried out by any individual into either the "good"  basket, or the "evil" basket, first consider motivation. If you're walking down a street and see a homeless person begging for change and you want to ignore them, but something pulls on your heart and compels you to return and spare some change. Was your action truly for the benefit of the homeless person? Or was your action more about removing the guilt you would have felt if you had not? I have seen the celebrity, or the millionaire business man throw pocket change (thousands of dollars) to charities and have no real impact to their life, except that they often receive the praise  and adornment of others. Does it have to really "hurt" to be generous and good?

Lets take a different approach. Speeding in your car, bad right? How about to rush someone to a hospital? Well then it's likely acceptable. How about hitting someone, obviously bad, unless they are mugging an old lady, then it would be considered good, by some at least. Even the act of killing someone can be twisted by circumstance, or "perspective". In a war killing is considered a necessity, and acceptable as long as you follow the rules of course. And if your house is broken into, then in self defense,  as long as your force is "reasonable" and "necessary" society will usually cut you some slack.

Now lets take a third angle when looking at this question. What if the action stays the same, but we change our perspective of how we see that action. Think of any war in history. We always have at least two sides. Both sides always feel they are right, or at least justified, and they always feel the other side has done more "evil" than our own. If you talk to one side they will tell you the evil atrocities, the lack of compassion,  and the ruthlessness of the enemy. They will tell you how they have suffered, and how they have shown restraint. I have no doubt you'll be willing to join the cause against the evil enemy they face. What if you paused for a moment, and spoke to the other side. I'm sure you'd hear countless tails of evil and wrongdoing committed against them, by the very people you were about to join arms with.  As the lyric from the Buffalo Springfield song  says "nobodies right if every bodies wrong".  Have you ever considered how many of histories great moments would sound if told by the other side? The problem with history is that the victor is usually the one who writes it. As a Canadian I have been told since birth about the great Canadian men from WW1 and WW2, and how they fought an evil across the ocean. Canadians fought with dignity and courage greater than any other. My own ancestors fought these wars, and I have considered how uncomfortable it might make me to watch a movie, or read a book written from the other side of those conflicts, that portrays Canadians as anything less than what I have been taught.    

Many, in fact most people who have read book one The Key from the Incarnations of Joe series at some point begin to believe the book is beginning to reverse what we believe to be good and evil. As the author I can say that I understand, and to some degree intended for readers to have this experience, but I have in no way even within the fiction of the story changed good and evil. What is different about The Incarnations of Joe, book one The Key is nothing more than the perspective of some of the characters. Nothing is more universally good and evil, than God and the Devil. Not even within a fictitious world do I intend to change this. I did however consider what it would be like to hear words spoken from the other side, a different set of facts, a different view on events. Much of the dialog in The Key comes from a character who is the devils daughter in the flesh. Her views and her agenda are her own, and they tend to make us  uncomfortable, in the same way hearing anything that suggested our side in the great wars  was anything less than history has written.

We can take our thoughts, and our philosophy to so many places. Fortunately as we live our lives each day we can keep life simple. Good and evil, right and wrong don't have to be complicated, but that doesn't make them universally easy to follow either.  

 The Incarnations of Joe series has many sub themes. Among them is the question of what is the most powerful of emotions? In the story some characters believe people are controlled by hope, by shame, by love, and some believe that fear trumps all other feelings. Fear isn't just about dark rooms, the forest, an old house or other places. Fear comes in truly limitless forms. The doctor, heights, public speaking, it's a very personal list for us all. To understand fear we need to look beyond our list of things we are afraid of, we need look at how fear controls our daily lives.  

Forget about the big things, the crazy, and the silly things. Forget the monster under the bed, and falling off a cliff, or any other obscure and unlikely event. How does fear control your daily decisions, and impact your life? People who know me see me as someone without much fear. I've been into many of the more dangerous sports, I do public speaking, and I'm generally willing to go first when a situation calls for a volunteer. The truth is I have just as many, possibly more fears than most. I'm afraid of bees, failure, and judgment. Often my actions while they seem fearless, are driven by the greater fear of inaction. How will I be judged if I don't, how will I feel if I can't? We tend to allow ourselves to be controlled by staying away from things that give us fear. Fear isn't always something that sends you into a shivering mess. Anxiety is perhaps the worst effect of fear. Anxiety just pulls on your heart making it struggle to beat, it closes your lungs making it harder to breath, and it takes away your will to move forward. Maybe you don't like how you look in a swim suit, so you deny yourself the beach. Perhaps you don't like heights, so you never learn to ski. A fear of snakes might keep you from enjoying the sights and smells of nature. Fear shapes us in more ways than we recognize. 

​Just as fear consumes, and cripples some people, others are addicted to it. It's very easy to just discard these people as "having a death wish", or as "crazy", or "no regard for their personal well being". I've known enough of these people that seem to live without fear to gain some understanding, and I think we might all improve our lives if we understand them a bit better. The first thing is we all have different fears. Some things that scare us, just don't bother others. Second skill and experience can give people a sense of confidence that removes fear. I think about people I know who are into bike racing, or snowboarding. Sure if you hit that jump on your first day you'd be terrified, but with time, knowledge and skill; fear is dulled almost like medicine acting against a headache. When I try to really get to the root of things, to understand it in a way that is productive, I am reminded of a story I heard many years ago. 

I went to school and hung out a bit with an amazing person named Kale Stephens. Kale went on to become a pro snowboarder, and is now referred to as a "snowboarding legend". I was not present for the events, so can't confirm the details, but the story really made me think a little differently about why some people seem to have no fear, and others seem bound by it. As the story was told to me Kale had returned home to visit some friends, and was drinking red wine while the group talked. Kale somehow spilled some wine on what appeared to be a new white shirt. The jaws of those around dropped, and everyone but Kale thought "Oh darn, you just ruined your new shirt with a stain". Kale looked for just a second or two, then proceeded to dump wine over his entire shirt. Most people questioned what was Kale thinking? But a few understood, and the reason explains the difference between those who suffer from fear, and those who do not. Kale never looks back. He took a brief moment to reflect on the time he and his white shirt had together, then he moved on by making a new (wine stain colored) shirt. He didn't think about the money, what he was going to change into, how he could get the stain out, where he could get another. He just accepted that what was done, was done, and he moved on without regret, or remorse. 

Everything that has happened to you up until this moment is stored in your mind. Sometimes those memories of bad experiences tell you to stop. Fear is like an evil little voice telling us only the negative things that might happen to us. People like Kale Stephens are not "crazy" or "reckless". They are people with the knowledge that no matter the consequence they will be able to move on. They don't believe their actions will always bring the desired result, but they have a willingness to find out the result, and accept either the price, or the reward. The past should not determine our future. What we have experienced should teach us, and shape us, but not control us. If you want to defeat your fear you need to have the ability to accept what has happened, and move on without regret. When you can do this, not only will you be free from your negative past, you will be free to explore an entirely new future. 

I've been spending a lot of time dreaming lately. Not the dreams you have when your eyes are closed, and something in your subconscious takes you places you never wanted to go.  I'm not thinking about those middle of the night fantasy dreams, or the scary ones, or the ones you really would like to know what could have possibly brought such oddities into your mind. The dreams I'm thinking about are the ones we dream when the sun shines bright, and our eyes and mind are fully opened to the reality of the day.

I don't remember when I first started to dream, or imagine doing things in my life. Real things, things with substance and value. I do remember at a very young age imagining being a space traveler, and living on a space ship. I do remember pretending to be a super hero, actually I remember being many super hero's. This was an age when we believed we could be anything we wanted, and we put no restrictions or our imagination. In many ways I think my childhood dreams might have been more real than I gave them credit at the time. The exhilaration driven by my imagination, and the feelings of joy and pride created through fantasy were real feelings. They raised the hair on my arms, and pushed my heart to beat faster, they made me feel special, strong, and important.

My mother did a great job of keeping a book with items, and diary entries from my early  years. I've seen where with scribbled barley legible letters I documented dreams of being an astronaut, a fire fighter, a police man, a jet pilot and many other things. What I've never really thought about was why both those fantasies of my really early years, and those dreams of my youth somehow got left behind. I've done many things in my life, I can't be unhappy with my life in general. But I haven't done those things that set my young mind on fire with desire. I suspect I'm not alone, in fact I feel very comfortable in saying I'm likely the norm. Money, smarts, opportunity, time, how many more reasons, or excuses could you help me throw on the pile of causes for broken dreams? Oh, and of course the best of all the universally applied reasons for allowing dreams to slip away, "it's too late now".  Too late, at twenty, and thirty, but then for some reason we reach a day when we refuse ourselves the luxury of accepting any cause but our own self as the reason for dreams left undone.

I've reached that point. It would have been better had I started sooner, I would have been more skilled then, and had more time as well. But here I am, and now is the best time I have available. I'm no longer going to tell myself the reasons why I'm not going to succeed. I'm going to ask myself why not? And I'm going to allow there to be no answer. I've taken a shine to writing, I'm happy with some of what I've done, and so are a few others. I've read the work of many of our worlds best, and only a few times have I been intimidated by their skill. Most times I feel like I myself could have been a famous writer. I however made the one mistake that brings sure death to dreams. I let my dreams sleep when I should have been dancing with them. I turned my back on things I was afraid of, and I walked past things that were difficult. Today I'm a bit past my probable mid way point in life, and many things continue to frighten me. Dreaming in the daylight, and following what my heart tells me to do are no longer among those things that frighten me. When you can wake up beside your fears, then smile and leave those things behind, you'll find that child inside you will wake again, and walk beside you as you find what you've been dreaming of.   

We like to separate writing into many genres, and sub genres, and mixed genres etc. It all gets really complicated, and frankly for me exhausting. So it might feel a little refreshing that all literature can be broken down in another much simpler manner by referring to the work as either fact, or fiction. Now some of you might be raising your hand in protest, or screaming inside your mind about possible exceptions , or hybrids, or some other valid points of contention to my statement. If you'd really like to debate the subject further by all means send me a message, but for now ask yourself has there ever truly been a novel written that is 100% truly fact, or fiction?

Even facts can be subjective, confused, mistaken, misunderstood, or in the course of time dis proven. All things considered non fiction as a genre at least has good intentions when it comes to relaying truths, but how good in some cases are the intentions of fiction writers when it comes to avoiding truths? I think that very few works of fiction are written without subtle truths intentionally hidden inside the writing for either the amusement of the author, or for the keen eye of the reader to discover.

The Incarnations of Joe series is fiction, and that is a fact that gives me comfort. The opinions, and the agendas of fictitious characters within the story are as fictitious as pink penguins, and say nothing about the authors personal beliefs or wishes (this I know because I am the author). Is there however even an ounce of  fact in the inspiration of the story? This question with a smile I must answer with a nod, and a yes.

While searching for a location, and a time period for this story to take place I came across several intriguing pieces of both fact, and folklore. Among these were the legends of the Nahanni Valley, or more specifically the Two Hundred Mile Gorge, also called The Valley of Headless Men. I was so intrigued by these stories that I decided to set my own story within this same region, and possibly allow for a fictitious explanation to existing legends. Have a look at this blog from Tales of the Weird which does a great job of summing things up.  
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It was from the most unlikely of sources that I ultimately found much of my inspiration for the story. It was this National Film Board of Canada film titled Nahanni which follows real world Canadian Albert Faille a gold prospector who spent many years searching for the lost McLeod mine that really inspired the setting for book one THE KEY. This 1962 short film takes place in the real world shortly after the fictitious story in book one THE KEY. The McLeod name can be found inside The Incarnations of Joe as a tribute of sorts to the legend, even though no direct connection is intended.    
So much of our movies, our books, and our media in general are dominated by American culture, and geography. If anyone ever thought that Canada does not have a culture, landscape, or legend worthy of both paper, and film then they should look a little further at the links in this post, or if you haven't already then perhaps read The Incarnations of Joe, Book One The Key with an eye for Canadian fact inside this great work of fiction. If you look hard enough, perhaps a few more secret truths can be found?

 When I first "started writing", and I'm not sure at what moment in time that officially was, I also wasn't sure why I was doing it at all? I think the very first notion I had as to why I began to write was likely just a personal challenge to myself to see if I could do it. We often ask people who do things that we consider odd, dangerous, or extreme in terms of effort and perseverance why they do the things they do? Most will reply with something cryptic, like when the mountain climber proclaims "because it was there".

For myself I'm a very curious person. I like to know what my limitations are, and I like to imagine myself doing things that most would not consider doing. I can sometimes find myself in a bit of trouble as my appetite for pushing my personal growth seems to never be satisfied. At one point I felt good just because I had begun. Then I felt better when I reach the word count for a full length novel, even though only I had read it. Eventually I finished the book, and began to share it with hopes of nothing more than having someone other than myself enjoy it. As it turns out more than a few people have enjoyed it, and I hope over time the number will grow substantially.

I'm very likely (almost assuredly) never going to get rich off this. I'm probably never going to make a full time living off it either. In fact as of this very moment from a financial view point if you (or my fairy godmother) told me I'd break even, I'd be pleasantly surprised.  So there needs to be something more to it. Something to keep me pushing through all the hours I've devoted to a "hobby", and the hours I've worked at my real job to finance the hobby. 

Fortunately I found out what this is very early on.  It's J.B. Lexington  (pen name) who I've know since the fifth grade but lost touch with until recently. It's L.K Elliot, a fellow FriesenPress author, it's about Kelly Armstrong the well known author, and  JJ Sherwood, who I had no idea existed only a few weeks ago. Basically it's about the people, the places, and the life experiences.

J.B. Lexington is someone from my past who is now a published author (Forever Eve). She has gone to great lengths to help me with my dreams, as she chases her own. L.K Elliot is someone with enthusiasm and passion I've never seen anywhere else in my life. She radiates such positive energy that the rest of us can charge our own batteries just by following her journey. Kelly Armstrong is the first really big name author I've met. I met her in a very small Canadian town while she spoke to a small group of her fans. This experience reminded me that there are still people in this world who never forget the rest of us no matter how much personal success they find. And then there's JJ Sherwood. A total stranger who while trying to manage a huge fundraising event of her own stopped, and took the time to explain to me what exactly was going on. 

That's what I love about this writing thing. It's the little things you don't expect, it's the people you never knew you'd meet, and the places you never imagined you'd find yourself.

 Everyone who has ever read or written, and I don't mean as a profession, I mean at any level for any purpose has likely had a dream of finding their way out of the mundane life they currently live. For that matter it's really not even about writing.  For some it's art, for others music or acting, and for many it's some great invention that will change the world. I think our dreams aren't always about wealth and power (though theses things are often included in our dreams). It goes back to basic survival, that feeling we have deep inside us to know that things are going to be OK. 

The problem is when things are "OK" we run dangerously close to being "not OK". Our dreams of grandeur, and glory might really not be such self centered aspirations as they appear even to ourselves. They might in fact be nothing more than the desire to know that OK will always be, OK.  The big trick of course is in figuring out how to make these glorious dreams become reality, even in some lesser version of themselves. The people who really have it figured out are the ones born with surnames like Gates, or Trump, or perhaps Hilton, although some with these names have managed to somehow create their own struggles where there need not be any.

I recently looked to someone who has had great success in my chosen arena of dreams Mr Steven King. A man who I'm not sure where you've been the last thirty years if you haven't heard of him even if you've never picked up a book. I thought why not use Mr King as a role model?  He certainly has found the formula and all I need to do is whip up a fresh batch of the same for myself. I picked up his book "Steven King on Writing" based on the advice of my friend James from FriesenPress. What I found odd at first, although now it makes perfect sense was that in his book on how to write, Mr King spent little of the first third of the book saying anything about writing. 

The book instead focused on his own life story. His is a story filled with very ordinary and humble beginnings, hard work, passion, a bit of luck, and no shortage of demons. His story was really very similar in many ways to so many others that have found success. First he enjoyed the process of doing what he loved (writing), and would have done so without and fame or fortune. He was willing to take chances, and make mistakes, he admits to a great number of them. Above all Steven King is someone with great work ethic and perseverance. His work ethic goes beyond writing. It includes doing whatever he needed to do to pay the bills. His perseverance goes beyond the many rejections he received for his writing, and includes his personal battles with drugs and alcohol. He did have a bit of luck here and there, but I'm a believer in making your own luck, and I think Mr King certainly made most of his own. I think Mr King would agree that luck is not out there looking for you, so you better be on your feet and out there looking for it.

This my friends is why I headed out several weeks ago on foot with a back pack over my shoulder filled with books, and bookmarks. I had a single water bottle and was loaded up for a long walk on a hot day among people who didn't know me, or likely have any interest in my personal dreams. As it turns out by days end some did show some interest, one bought a book right then and there, and another seemed to genuinely feel like she had met someone who had done something special. I wasn't out making millions (around $3 was the real actual total before expenses), I wasn't getting famous that's for certain. I was out there getting dirty, getting some sweat on my brow, and my back. I was out there enjoying the process and trying to be in the right place and time for a little luck  to find me, or for me to find it.