Book status for early February 2025

It's been over a month and a half or so since I've posted an update about the manuscript I spent a decade of on and off work on, that I finished writing a few days before Thanksgiving.  As with a lot of other things in my life since I began this blog, some chronicling is in order.  Because this site is all about documenting the human condition and also for sake of anyone who might come across it and find themselves likewise wanting to write a book.

I guess the biggest thing (pun intended, maybe) is that it's occurred to me that I have not written a memoir, but a full-size autobiography.  Or perhaps it's two or three memoirs bound up cohesively with one another.  A memoir is supposed to be a personal reflection about just a few or even only one situation in a person's life.  That is not what my book is and I don't honestly know if what it became could have really been avoided.  My life today is the product of fifty years of many bad things as well as quite a few good things, and that is a tapestry from which removing even a few threads diminishes and even destroys the work entire.  I could have written an entire book about the swindling operation episode, or made it about pop culture as seen through the eyes of someone who was at the cutting edge of fan-driven Internet activity, or a how-to manual about running for public office.  My life has enveloped all of those things and so many more.

This may make pitching the book to a potential agent considerably more difficult.  Autobiographies by people who aren't established celebrities can be a tough thing to sell, no matter how colorful their lives may have been.

Then there is the lingering issue with the inherent nature of the book.  I may have written something that per the marketplace is nigh on unpublishable.  It's too Christian for strictly secular audiences and it's too secular for more spiritual readers.  One example: there is a point later in the book where I drive to a cemetery to conduct a ritual at the stroke of midnight.  What sensible Christians are going to approve of my doing such a thing as that?  And it may rub others the wrong way, also.

Other than those matters, I've been editing and revising and shifting elements around.  I've also been letting a few trusted friends read parts of it.  Recently I shared the prelude, which is an account of my first attempt at suicide.  Many told me that it was especially powerful and that it drew them in to wanting to read more.  I guess it's nice that something good came out of that experience after all.  I just don't ever want to be in that kind of place again.

I'm not giving up on my dream of seeing this on a store's shelf.  Dad believed in me and so have a lot of other people who have asked for a book about my life all these many years.  But I'm also having to accept the reality that this is going to perhaps be more difficult to bring to market than most other books are.  And I'm discovering that it is a hard thing indeed.

Perhaps next time I'll be able to post something more upbeat.

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Have a new op-ed piece at American Thinker

Continuing my commitment to write a new op-ed piece each week of 2025 (or aspiring to anyway), news and commentary website American Thinker - a site I can't recommend nearly enough - has just published my latest.

In 'It's Time to Cleans the White House Press Corps", arguments are laid out for why the gaggle of journalists assigned to cover the president and his affairs should be thoroughly pruned down.  Not just because too many of them have demonstrated they can't strive for impartiality either.  If for no other reason it's because "traditional" outlets like CNN and Washington Post have had their audiences wiped out over the course of recent years, while more "alternative" media has emerged as the inheritors of that mantle.

Here's a snippet:

When the Internet first came into widespread use, it was envisioned that it would bring with it the end of gatekeeping. Never more would the spread of information be controlled by a few “professional” outlets. Every individual could be his own publisher, and even become a live news broadcaster as the technology further evolved.

It has taken more than thirty years, but that time has come. Indeed, it has been with us for a while already. Now at last it is being fully engaged with. When online broadcasters like Joe Rogan command regular audiences in the tens of millions while longstanding network broadcasters struggle to maintain a hundred thousand viewers, there has been a dire sea change that cannot go unacknowledged.

Trump Administration 2.0 has a glorious opportunity before it. And that is to end the mainstream press’s influence as it has come to be known and reviled.

Mash down here for more.

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A new op-ed every week: About that first one...

So last weekend after vowing to write an op-ed piece every week this year, I composed the first of the series.  It exists, honest!  I submitted it to a site that I've got a lot of respect for.  There was some correspondence about it but the last was a few days ago.  There hasn't been any word since and it hasn't been published.

I'm going to chalk it up as still being momentum forward.  It has been more than two years since I wrote like this so I'm a bit out of practice.  What I'm going through now is "therapy" as a writer.  When Dad SEVERELY injured his hand in a farming accident forty years ago this coming fall, it was months before he was in any shape to even hold a pen.  I've been injured too, in a fashion.  What did I expect, that I would be published again after not exercising that particular region of my gray matter?

I'm going to give the site a few more days, and if they don't publish it then I'll post it here.  Meanwhile there are two ideas for essays that I have in mind.  I'm going to work on those and send them out.  And then, we'll see what happens.

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Yes, I'm still writing a book...

More than a decade ago Dad persuaded me that my life story would make for something that many people would probably enjoy reading.  I started writing that in 2014.  And then a lot of things happened.  Dad's passing.  The year spent journeying across America.  Four years as a mental health professional.  Those things and more atop the wackiness that life had already sent barreling my way since I was a cub.  And let's not forget manic depression and all that led to!

Well, here's a bit of an update on that.  Following a few fits with a fresh start on writing, during these past several months I have made significant progress on my memoir.  I had been stuck at one point since mid-March however.  And then a few days ago I finally cracked it and was able to knock two chapters out of the ballpark in less than 24 hours.  Right now I am working on a new chapter, which is set-up for something of a "triptych" in the tale.

The first six consecutive chapters are done.  Several other chapters of varying sizes, to be spread around the book, have also been written.

If someone were to ask for a rough estimate on the size this is going to be, I would guess that right now it's going to be a little longer than J.D. Vance's Hillbilly Elegy, which is 272 pages in hardcover.  Actually, that's not a bad book for comparison, for a few reasons.

I'm discovering that it's not just writing my life story out as a straightforward narrative.  I am having to examine and consider things - and people - that are coming into a whole new light.  The process of writing this is changing me, and I believe for the better.  A few days ago I wrote about the little Amish girl who I met when I was ten years old.  And that made me realize for the first time what an impact that had on my life (forty years later and I still think of her).

There is a title and has been for a year or so now.  It took awhile to find one but I really love it.  Only five other people know it and they're all sworn to secrecy.  But every person I've told it to has responded with the same question: "What does THAT mean?"  Hopefully they and many others will delight to find out.

So, there is the status on that particular project.  It's found its groove again and the past several days have been a rollickin' wild ride across the life of young Robert Christopher Knight.  This next part is going to be a hard one to tackle though.  A lot of tragedy in a very short period of time.  Maybe if this book gets published it will help make some things right that happened long ago.

And maybe enough people will be able to not only understand me, but be able to forgive me.

Edit: 09/08/2024 6:10 PM EST: I have been able to knock out three chapters within the past 48 hours.  Including the one that illuminates the reader about the meaning of the book's title. That was tough to write but also a lot of fun.

This really is coming together.  It might even be finished by Christmas, but that's not a goal per se.  Just a possibility.

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"Why We Fight": Three qualities I aspire for in my writing

I am a writer. I chronicle things.  Including both mundane and wondrous happenings in my life.

I write, laboring under the notion that examining one's own being will further illuminate that magnificent thing known as "the human condition".

 

I don't write for power, or money (though I have earned a little over the years).  I don't even write for "the masses".  Having a fan base never really appealed to me. I am just as happy writing for the few people who would read and understand and maybe appreciate the effort.

 

I write MUCH more than I let on here.  Most of my writing is for Facebook, not this blog.  But there are very few Facebook posts I make that are public.  Like I just said, what I compose isn't necessarily for mass consumption.  Even so, if you are reading these words now, wherever they are found, you are honored as much as I am thankful.

 

The day may come, sooner than later, when I do open myself up more for "the masses".  I hope three things will happen on that day.

 

First, that those who I most appreciate won't abandon me.  I promise to never let something "go to my head".

 

Second, is a mission that I believe God has always intended for me.  And that is to be a "flame spotter".

 

One of my jobs is to look for people who believe they are alone, who know something is wrong with the world and choose to live in defiance of that.  But they don't know that there are others who are just like them.  They find themselves lonely, with barely any hope.

 

I look for the fires.  Sometimes it calls for making myself seem ridiculous, so that they might better see me and come out of hiding long enough to make contact.  I am someone who tries to bring encouragement to those who need it more than most.

 

Someday I may take that to the next level.  If I ever disappear along with my dog Tammy, you will know.  Make of that what you may.

 

If you are one of the rare fires, I may already have my eye on you.  Be of good cheer. Alfred Jay Nock called us "the Remnant".  We are few in number, but one thing we are NOT is alone.  Remember that.  When the masses of men try their damndest to bring you down to their level, you can stand firm.  And know that you are admired by the ones who matter most.

 

Maybe writing for a larger audience will reach more of those who are important to me.

 

The third thing that I hope happens on that day is the realization that I have chosen to serve God in my writings.

 

It has been God all along, who has been my inspiration whenever I've written my op-ed pieces or religious essays.  I've never credited Him nearly enough.  I hope now, that I'm in a place where at long last I have real growing faith in Him, that He will be honored all the more.

 

I don't know how exactly but I need God to be honored with the book I'm writing.  But it has to be done with consideration.  All along it has been on my heart to make this a work that ANY person can be interested in reading.  As much as I don't like to do this, the subject of God must be treated gently.  Not too hard and not too soft.  If this was a Christian devotion things would be different.

 

But it's not that kind of book.  There will be a LOT of unpleasantness within its covers.  And in a perverse way that is going to be one of the draws that many will have toward my book.  I need it to be grasped though, that it has been something higher than myself which has brought me this far.  I'm going to honor that, as best I know how.

 

I really hope that I can finish this sooner than later.  There are things being written about that are funny, that are horrifying, that are ridiculous, that are sad, but also uplifting and maybe inspiring.  In the end it will be what it is, and more people will learn about this peculiar creature named Robert Christopher Knight and his wacky world.

 

I hope it will be time well spent.

 

And I hope that it will do honor to God and the MANY people He has put in my life along the way :-)

 

 

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I have a LinkedIn page?!?

Actually I've had it for a very long time now (I think 2006).  I just haven't done anything with it until this week...

Some friends suggested that I "increase marketability".  So I'm putting myself out there in a way I might have not done before.  In assembling this I've become a bit astounded at all the experiences that have been racked up over the past decade or two.  In spite of having manic depression - or maybe because of it - I've wound up with a pretty impressive skills-set and collaborative history.  I also uploaded and included a portfolio of some of my video work, bits of which have never been seen by a wide audience until now (I'm particularly fond of the "Wacky Dead" clip).

Anyway, if you want to see the professional side of me, here's my LinkedIn page.

 

 

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Status of the book, December 2022

Three months ago I posted here that I had begun work anew on the book that has been percolating in my gray matter since 2014.  That was when Dad told me I should write about my struggles with bipolar disorder.  He thought it could be inspirational to others.

And then of course, Dad passed and that knocked me off my feet.  And since then a lot has happened: the journey across America, new career and then changing career (and now, again), new town and new faces... all of this the backdrop against an ever-evolving saga of my mental health.  The book then, in whatever form it was going to take, is radically different from the project now before me.

I am happy to report that after a few false starts with how to open the book, that it is now well on track.  Late last night I finished the first draft of the new prologue.  It no longer opens with me in handcuffs, being taken away to a psychiatric facility.  The prologue now is one page of Microsoft Word that comes barreling at ya at 90 miles an hour, literally.  The preface was completed a week and a half ago.  Yesterday I finished chapter one and it's now in the hands of a few faithful friends who I'm awaiting feedback from.  The chapter about the school board run is also done.  There exist a few incomplete chapters, which I will be getting to as the Muse leads (wow, haven't mentioned "the Muse" in quite many years, I think).

I want this book to be a thorough chronicle of my life not only in spite of bipolar disorder but also much other traumatic experience, that have only been addressed in recent years (another reason why I'm glad I'm working on this now instead of trying to publish it then).  I also need for it to be a homage to everyone who has entered my life and helped me along the way.  I hope this will reach out to some of them.

And the title?  I've had about a dozen ideas for that.  Last week it was called "American Manic".  But this book is going to be about so much more than manic depression.  It needs a title that reflects a deeper life story.

For the past three days I've been fighting a nasty bug that at one point had my temperature reaching 104 Fahrenheit (or 40 centigrade for our metric friends).  During the delirium and convulsions I came to a spiritual place of peace that I had been praying to reach for most of my life.  And accompanying that, arrived an idea for a title.

(I think I underwent what my Native American brethren refer to as a sweat lodge, whether I wanted it or not.  I was perspiring like a pig as the fever broke.)

And now, I think it does have a title.  A good one.  Beautiful, even.  That doesn't refer to mental illness at all.  But instead could be interpreted as being about my entire journey, from the moment I was born on through young life and into adulthood.

I hope my high school freshman English teacher gets to read this.  She owns that preface!

I've read a number of autobiographies by people with bipolar disorder over the years.  Kay Redfield Jamison's An Unquiet Mind and Terri Cheney's Manic were two of them.  I am currently reading Electroboy by Andy Behrman (as high energy a jolt of a book as I've ever come across).  It doesn't hurt to study those who have gone before.  But I like to think that my own humble contribution to literature about life with mental illness will have a style all its own.  If it can carve out some small niche which readers will discover and be led to think about and even be entertained by, that would make me very happy indeed.

So, work is well underway.  Maybe it will come out before The Winds of Winter (come on Martin, what's KEEPING you??!).  I am looking forward to the next few weeks and months as it develops further.

Next up: chapter two.  Which begins in Washington, D.C.  Or maybe not.

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Some new writing this past week

I like to think that I'm getting my mojo back as a writer.  This past week saw four articles of mine getting published on a couple of outlets.  That's a bunch more than I'd previously been capable of writing.  Maybe I'm finally getting adjusted to both bipolar disorder and the medication to treat it.  Especially the meds.  Can't escape feeling like they've sapped a lot of ability out of me these past several years.

But for now I'm writing.  And I feel great.

First of all there's an article I turned in for The Western Journal about longtime Democrats fleeing their former party.

Then there's a piece for American Thinker about Barack Obama's warehouse in Chicago that almost certainly contains classified documents.

A few days ago Western Journal posted a lil' write-up about how electric powered aircraft still can't match what the Wright Brothers were doing after their historic first flight.

And then today, there's this humdinger of a story about a guy's brand new $115,000 electric Hummer that stopped working in the middle of a highway a few days after he drove it off the lot.

(The article about the Hummer has to be read to be believed.  Or watch the embedded YouTube video.  Heads should roll at General Motors for that kind of screw-up.)

So I'm on a hot streak right now.  How long can it last?  I'm hoping... forever.  Maybe I'll channel some of that spirit into working on my book this coming weekend.

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Achivement Unlocked: Fiction Writer!

The biggest regret I've had as a writer, for all of this time, is that I've never been able to compose real narrative fiction.  Screenplays for film projects?  Those have been no problem to sit down and churn out.  But for something even so rudimentary as a short story?

That has eluded me.  It has been sealed away behind a concrete wall and I've been pounding away at it for decades, trying to grasp that arrow to place in my quiver.  And the wall wasn't yielding a centimeter.

Why wasn't it possible?  Nonfiction has never been an issue.  I've always been in my element in regard to exploring ideas and articulating musings upon them.  Fiction however...

I've some thoughts about why that has been.  And it correlates with the bipolar disorder I've had since at least 2000, and with some other matters that only in recent months have come to light.

So maybe that I was able to write my first ever short story two weeks ago is not just a threshold moment in my life, it is a benchmark for an even greater progress.  For how far I have come in the two years since I packed up the car and headed out into America with my dog.  But especially for the better part of this past year.  And there have been some remarkable people who have helped me along, to get to this place I hadn't thought possible.  And I'm hoping sooner than later that can be a tale to be shared.

A few friends have read the first short story.  Two of them said that the ending of it brought them to tears.  Some have suggested that I've been writing fiction all along and had never told anyone.  As if!

In the past few weeks I've begun writing a second short story.  And a one-act play.  And have had ideas for other works of fiction.  No, not a novel.  Not yet.  Let's take small steps toward the bigger stuff.  But they are coming.  And then I'll have to figure out what to do with them.  The play is something that would be neat to see produced on stage.  The notion of making a short film of it has crossed my mind but this... seems more suited for a live performance.  Or maybe I'll make the film after its stage debut.

So anyhoo, that is why I've been a bit slack in blogging lately.  The wall has been toppled and the arrow seized, and I've been spending time getting a feel for it.  Like a fledgling taking first flight.  And time will tell how far I can fly with this.  I'm praying that it might be very far, indeed.

Incidentally, for those wondering: neither the finished story nor the pieces in the works are in the genres of science-fiction or fantasy.  So far these are entirely within the scope of our real world.  And I don't know if I ever will try science-fiction.  Good sci-fi is a tough genre to write.  And the ones I would most be inspired by are the masters like Robert A. Heinlein and Philip Jose Farmer.  Writers who used their work to delve into ideas, and not project ideology.  Too much of the science-fiction in recent decades has been driven by agendas... and that's not my style.  But to use science-fiction as a vehicle for conveying ideas and concepts of the human condition?  That would be not just another arrow, but a silver one.

So if there are periods during which I seem absent or negligent about The Knight Shift: take heart!  I am merely exploring a new area of my abilities, and I'm looking forward to sharing those also in the fullness of time.

Until then, I will share one piece of new fiction with all two of my faithful readers!  And yes it is a work of fantasy and not only that but it's a Star Wars short story!  I doubt that Lucasfilm will be adding it to the official body of lore however.  But do consider this to be my small and humble attempt to bridge the gap between the Expanded Universe fans and the adherents of the new canon.  Because as the song says, "Why can't we be friends?"

Here it is.  A teaser of what's to come.  Or perhaps a grim harbinger.  Click to embiggen and enjoy(?)...

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For the first time since late February...

...I am writing for my book.

Let's summarize for a moment.  Last May and up until late October, my book was going at a very good pace.  Oh sure, there were some fits here and there, and I made a few mistakes from which I learned a great deal (and made the book much better, I think) but as this sort of thing goes, it's my understanding that this was going along better than a lot of first-time authors.

Then Dad had his stroke.  And a little over two weeks later he passed away.

Things have been in turmoil since then.  And the past few weeks especially.  I am now looking at some very drastic life changes which I had not had to consider anytime during the course of my life.  And on top of all of that, work on my book practically ground to a halt.

Then in late January, I was able to write again.  And a little more work on it was accomplished.  But then around mid-February my progress was halted.  By a very hard obstacle which I could not get through or get around.  I had come to a place where I was having to confront things in my history as a bipolar person that were extremely difficult to revisit.

It was like hitting a concrete wall.  I could bang my fists against it as hard and as often as I could, but it would not budge.  Would not be marred.

But then came this past month.  Two things happened.  The first was the trip I took to Florida to visit my family there: what I'd been plotting to do for years and years.  It was time away from the things that had burdened my heart since this past fall.  More than that, it refreshed my spirit.  I learned anew what it is to be alive... and to be thankful for that.  Sitting here trying to write all this time, barely leaving the house because of indifference to the world beyond, an aching emptiness in my soul the only persistent feeling I knew... none of that is healthy.  Driving to Florida was the longest overland journey I've ever taken alone.  Being welcomed by my family filled my heart with joy.  The sights that I saw there, the laughter and the fellowship... all of it renewed my strength and resolve.  When I came home over a week later, it was with a sense of life that I had not known for too long.  And I was determined to make the most of that and to never stop appreciating it.

The second thing came a few days after returning from Florida.  Some of you are familiar with Forcery: the film we made ten years ago (has it really been that long?!).  One of the brightest highlights of that project was Melody Hallman Daniel.  Her portrayal of Frannie Filks - the obsessed Star Wars fan holding George Lucas hostage - was hilarious, hypnotic... and at times downright scary.  It has become legendary in many quarters.  It was heavily featured in the award-winning documentary The People vs. George Lucas.  It was touched upon in a Time article and several other publications.  From the first time that we all came together, Melody has been a very dear and precious friend.  Following Dad's funeral service, she and Chad Austin and Ed Woody and myself came together for the first time in more than a decade.  I was really overwhelmed by the bond that we shared, that had come about from our little project together.

Well, Melody had been wanting to visit Reidsville again for quite some time, and we wound up making that happen this past week.  Not just Melody but also her service dog, Sasha.  I knew all along during the month or so before she came that her visit would help me overcome the block that had been in my mind.  She was my counselor, my sounding board, someone who reassured and held me accountable when I needed it.  It was her suggestion: that I should not be alone while I was going over some very difficult material that had accumulated during the last several years.  It was a good idea.  I'm thankful that it was Melody herself who was here when it came time to do that.

And hey, Melody was working on a book project also: translating into English a well-respected book by a Croatian author.  So we had two writing endeavors going on under the same roof, sometimes in the same room.  All while Sasha and my mini dachshund Tammy were playing with each other.

Florida renewed my spirit.  Melody's visit renewed my strength of purpose.  More than enough than I needed to get past that excruciatingly painful block that I was slamming myself against to no avail.

Today I began writing again for the first time since the end of February.  What has been an obstacle, is now something to at last be surmounted.  Is it still painful to read that material?  I'd be lying if I denied that it was.  But it doesn't have to haunt me as it has been.

The book is back on course.  And I think that this months-long struggle will prove to in the end to have been a good thing.

Just some thoughts from the writing process.  A little insight into the mind of a first-time book author.

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Book report: What is old is new again

Some developments since the last time I posted about how my writing project is going...

• The original title of the book, which then became another title by changing one word, is now the title once more.
• Manuscript is now hovering around 73,000 words.  It's going to hit the 75,000 mark that I've aimed for since starting writing this!  But still a lot more work to go.
• There are now two definite "parts" to the book completed.  I just began writing Part 3.  As things stand now there will probably be five parts, and an epilogue.
• Each part has a title.
• The parts are separated by theme, not necessarily by span of time.  Whereas Part 1 covers many years, Part 2 encompasses about 18 months... but those are 18 crazy months.  Lord willing that this gets published you'll understand why.
• I just began writing stuff specifically for Part 3.
• The book's original prologue eventually became the ending of what is now Part 3.  In the past few days however it has shifted around and now it's the very first chapter of Part 3!
• Some of the very first chapters that I wrote will wind up making up the bulk of Part 4.  Again, if this gets published you'll see why that is.
• It now looks as though I'll have a finished product this time next month.  'Course, I was saying that last month at this time too.
• I've discovered that I do some of my best writing while hopped-up on Mountain Dew and Fire sauce from Taco Bell (usually 4-5 packs per each soft taco).
• Have also discovered that I do some of my best writing while wearing a button-up shirt open with a gray t-shirt beneath, with music playing from my iPad nearby (lately it's been a lot of Lindsey Stirling especially her album Shatter Me).
• There have been other developments, which I am keeping close to vest for the time being.

I had no idea writing a book could be so much fun!  I may have to do another one sometime :-)

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National Novel Writing Month 2009 is now over...

...so, did I finish mine?

Unfortunately, I have to report that I did not.

It was back in late July that I first mentioned that I was taking part in this year's National Novel Writing Month. About how each participant had to churn out a 175-page novel between November 1st and the night of November 30th. When all was said and done I missed the mark by about 60 pages: not enough to qualify as having been successful.

But that's okay. In spite of a month of unforeseen circumstance I produced a lot of material for my novel. And it will be finished soon.

And then, Lord willing, I will be able to share the tale of W------ F--- with y'all :-)

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A blogger is born!

Hey everyone, say hey to the newest blogger on the planet (along with the probably 500 or so in the past few minutes who also took that first leap into the blogosphere): Steven Glaspie and his Gentle Giant Express. Steven is a longtime friend and fellow Eagle Scout, and yes he's yet another brilliant mind to come out of Rockingham County, North Carolina! This is a thinkin' dude, who writes some great poetry among other things. The blog is brand spankin' new, so check it out at stevenglaspie.blogspot.com and watch Steven flex his skillz!

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National Novel Writing Month (like I need something ELSE to do...)

Inspired by my good friend Jenna St. Hilaire, I am taking part in this year's National Novel Writing Month.

So what the heck is National Novel Writing Month?

Between this coming November 1st and midnight on the night of November 30th, each participant will try to crank out a 50,000 word, 175-page novel from scratch. You can read more about it here.

As Jenna puts it, "...I smell challenge--the sort of challenge I cannot resist." So it is with me. And this is gonna be tough to do, not the least of which is because my life seems constantly besieged by all manner of general craziness (self-employed, more than occasional crises, trying to do what some will say is too much creative project already, community theatre, etc.).

But the biggest reason why I'm going to take a stab at "NaNoWriMo" is because I think this is going to be very therapeutic and cathartic for me as a writer.

It's like this: try though I have, writing fiction is very hard for me. I can write a fictional screenplay quite easily. But a long narrative novel? That is something that I have never been able to do. So I'm thinking that if compelled (by my own volition) to write a novel within the narrow span of one month, that it might break that stranglehold/bottleneck on my authoring skills. And maybe even free my mind and spirit to write more fiction.

It's gonna be hard. But in the end, I think it will be worth it.

So far as ideas for a novel go: I've had a few already since last night. There's one in particular that I'm inclined to go with at the moment, but we'll see what percolates in the ol' gray matter between now and October 31st.

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Phil Link passes away at 92

The first time I ever met Phil Link, it was the fall of 1992. I was working at a sandwich shop here in Reidsville and Phil came into the place. I wound up being the one who made sandwiches for he and his wife.

Phil started to gab like crazy! He asked me what my name was, and then told me a bit about himself. Turned out that he ran a well-known pharmacy in town. And he was also a writer who had published some books. Naturally, being an 18-year old who was dreaming - and am still dreaming years later - of finding success as a writer, I found myself hooked onto whatever wit and wisdom that this guy had to share. And it so happened that whenever he came into the shop, Phil always had something profound (and often funny) to lend to my eager ear. A lot of that stuff has wound up woven into my own works over the years, and I've never failed to think back on our conversations whenever Phil came into the place.

Somewhere at my parents' house I still have that pale blue business card that Phil gave me the night we first met, which billed himself as a "writer, painter, raconteur" and a few other odd words, including that he was the sole proprietor of "the world famous Muckenfuss Truss". On the back of the card gave instructions to say this line five times as fast as you could, and that you would never cease to gain attention with it...

"You'll never fuss with a Muckenfuss Truss"

Phil Link, one of the last of the real renaissance men and among the most colorful characters in Reidsville history, has passed away at the age of 92.

I didn't know until I read this story that Phil was college roomies with the late country comedian and Hee Haw regular Archie Campbell. He also did portraits of well-known people, including one of Willie Nelson that hangs over Nelson's fireplace. Phil did once tell me about how at age 67, he literally ran off to join a circus (but he mostly did it to do paintings of circus life).

Phil was a bit of a curmudgeon, and maybe even came across as somewhat self-deprecating. But it didn't take long to realize that it was all part of his act that he did to get to know people... and I can't help but believe that it was also his own way of encouraging others to think more and to think different. Phil was outrageous, outgoing, definitely a flamboyant personality but it was never legitimately pretentious. He was just a guy who wanted ever moment of his life to have meaning. And to have a lot of fun along the way.

Phil leaves behind a son and daughter, who also followed in their father's footsteps by pursuing art. He also leaves behind many, many friends and admirers.

And with his absence, Reidsville definitely feels a lot emptier.

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