Thanks to granddaughter Caitlin, the old dog’s showing off his new trick. She’s brought out my novel Light The Hidden Things on real paper and ink.

If the truth be told, however, she’s the one who put the show on the road. Of course I’m proud of my work. That’s not the issue. I’ve been pecking away at this writing thing a long time. She simply stepped up a while back and said we should start publishing my stuff electronically. No grandpa should ever tell a granddaughter she’s wildcat crazy, so I didn’t. On the other hand, I’ve known her longer than she cares for me to yammer about, so I know she’s as smart as she is good-looking. If I told her she was loony I’d end up eating the words. I was also quite aware she knew as much about independent publishing as she knew about underwater welding. So she turned the Moondark Saga into ebooks that keep growing in popularity. Then she moved Light The Hidden Things into the game, got good reviews, pushed it hard. Now the paperback version. Sure, I hope it sells well enough for her to feel all her hard work and self-education and determination is validated. But if it doesn’t – if it’s a dead flop – all of us who’ve watched her will feel her effort’s more than validated. It’s prideful work. And the rest of us are proud.

I should also note that I’m particularly pleased that Light The Hidden Things is her choice for a first foray into print publishing. It’s the most purposeful thing I’ve ever written and it’s aimed at women. Specifically, the women who guide the men who’ve been taken down by Post Traumatic Stress. My experience of the affliction is limited and anecdotal, but one thing I’m sure of is this:
A professional can work marvels for any of those men, but the ones who have a wife, a lover, what-have-you beside them are the ones who are going to experience the fastest, most complete recovery. It’s something interior that women have in abundance and men don’t even really comprehend. (If that’s chauvanistic, call a cop.) Just as PTSD wounds a man’s self – a place far deeper than any weapon can penetrate – so the healing power of a woman’s love can reach that place. So, of course, it’s a love story. I hope it’s more. I hope it opens eyes. I hope it brings renewal. I hope it creates and buttresses resolve. I hope it lights the hidden things.