Strange Times


This installment of Life in the Philippines should be less depressing than the last, where I lamented over a tedious travel schedule and housing confusion. I want to now highlight some differences (cultural or otherwise) between living in the US and living over here. Some of these are funnier from a distance, but should nevertheless prove insightful (or entertaining) to my readers.

Modes of Transportation

Back in the states, I got around only by car. We drove everywhere, including the epic 0.5-mile journey to Publix for groceries. Here in Boracay, the mode of transportation is located at the end of your lower legs. Walking is how we get around. We walk several miles a day just to get groceries or buy household items like toilet paper or toothpaste. We have to be careful how much we buy at any given time because we’ll be carrying our bags all the way back home. This is especially arduous when buying big jugs of water, which happens every 3 days or so.

There is one other mode of transportation here, which we use mainly when the weather turns sour: the motorized trike. This is basically a motorcycle (dirt bike, more properly) with a metal sidecar attached. The sidecar seats up to four people and is enclosed, which is useful during a sudden rain shower, and often they mount subwoofers underneath the carriage to supply thumping renditions of “Call Me Maybe” and other top-40 tracks during the wet commute to Budget Mart.

Doing so much walking has proved beneficial (and healthful, if one avoids the congested and polluted main thoroughfare) as I’ve lost buckets of weight without doing any scheduled exercise. Although I haven’t stepped on a scale, I’d estimate a good 15 pounds have been shed in the first 3 weeks. I attribute this to the volume of walking, as well as the next topic.

The Food

One reason we chose Boracay Island is the heavy influx of foreign visitors. Being a popular travel destination for Europeans and Asians means more variety in the type of food offered on the island. There’s Italian food, Filipino, Korean, American, etc. And while I don’t wish to offend anyone, my opinion of the food here is that it’s the worst of all worlds. Most of the population here consists of foreigners but all of the cooks in these restaurants are local Filipinos who have never traveled to those other regions to discern what these foods and dishes should actually taste like. This means everything you order will taste more than a little “off.” That’s not to say I haven’t enjoyed some meals here, it’s just a surprising event when it happens. There’s a place called The Pancake House that serves up good grub, and you get what you expect there. It should be noted that in Boracay, nearly all restaurants are outdoor types and run along the beach. Most have concrete floors covered in sand and have mounted fans on the walls in lieu of air conditioning. The cheapest is Andok’s, where you can get chicken and rice for about $1.50 US. Pretty tasty too.

So that covers the restaurant scene, but what about just buying your own groceries and cooking at home? Well, that’s mainly what we do. There are three small groceries on the island, (Budget Mart, Crafts of Boracay & Price Lite) which are each about the size of a gas station back home. The selection of products in these establishments is quite limited, and even by US standards, severely overpriced. We’ve learned (the hard way) that Boracay is very expensive for a Filipino province. They mark up just about everything due to all the foreigners vacationing here. Once you’re on the island, you’re kind of stuck and are forced to pay whatever is required to get by.

There are two main wet markets (both confusingly called The Talipapa) but by western standards, these are huge letdowns. The meat and fish lay in the open sun without ice and everything is covered with flies. Now I have eaten that meat (once, because we were desperate) and haven’t fallen ill so perhaps God has fortified my intestinal tract against such unsanitary practices. Even still, I wouldn’t wish to press my luck. So what do I eat here? Just about everything so far, but lately I’m sticking to peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and rice with chicken. Melanie and her brother Brian do the cooking, and they do a great job with the limited supplies we have. The food situation should improve greatly in the coming weeks, but that’s going to be another blog post.

Weather

This is a fun topic. I’ve been very surprised by the mild temperatures here in Boracay. It’s generally not very hot most of the time and stays between 75-80 every day. So while that was a nice surprise, the humidity is what some might call “ridiculous.” Even early in the morning, when temperatures are very cool, you can’t walk outside without sweating profusely within minutes. There’s really nothing like it. Back in the US, and especially in Tennessee, we have a specie of humidity, but what I’ve experienced in Boracay is much more difficult to describe to westerners because it simply doesn’t exist back home. I don’t leave home without my “face towel,” which is what locals call a washrag. And by the time I return home (even in cool weather) the towel is completely soaked. At this stage, I think I’d prefer the heat over the humidity, which at times is so thick that it’s hard to breathe (I mean that literally).

Chores

For those who are wondering how Melanie does laundry over here, we use a plastic washing machine and a clothesline out on the balcony. The washing machine is a tiny thing and attaches to the outdoor faucet with a tube running out the other side (you drain it manually, using gravity). It only has one function really and that’s to gently tumble the clothes around after Melanie fills it with water. She then wrings them by hand after rinsing and hangs them up to dry. Pretty old-school setup but it works. Our kitchen is also outdoors, although the sink and fridge are inside. The air conditioner return unit is mounted on the balcony wall so when it’s running, the entire kitchen area is bathed in stifling heat. So the general rule is avoid running the AC when someone is cooking to avoid giving them a heat stroke. Mosquitoes have not been a problem yet, although I’ve killed two giant cockroaches and ants were loitering a bit before we put down some chalk. The main pest is the lizard, because they’re hard to catch and just pop up without warning. I was showering the other day and reached for the soap to find two black eyes staring back at me. The lizard then opened his pink mouth and stuck his tongue out. I think he was mocking me. At least they have a sense of humor over here. The cockroaches are harder to get along with. Everyday chores are a little more difficult (and physical) over here. I have to brush my teeth with bottled water because the tap water is not safe. You have to carry everything as well, but I already covered that one under transportation.

Housing

Apartments are crazy expensive in Boracay, around 3X higher than the other big cities in the Philippines. We stay in a 50 square meter one-bedroom apartment (newly built) that’s $750 US per month, or 30,000 pesos. Our place is a two-minute walk from the beach, which accounts for the higher price. But it’s the only place we could find with a vacancy (we took the last unit they had too). Our unit is called a “basement” apartment because from the street, it’s just a gate. You open the gate and walk down a spiraling staircase to the landing, which opens into the unit. I was worried about the place flooding but after several heavy rains, it hasn’t been a problem.

Some other surprises (to me) about Boracay:

-       The population here is about 90% Korean. Not sure why.
-       If you order a chicken sandwich and ask for fries instead of mashed potatoes, they will tell you “no.” You can’t make substitutions. You can only have the side dish that’s prescribed on the menu.
-       Late night talk shows like Leno, Letterman and Conan are broadcast in the middle of the day.
-       The UFC is really big over here and events are broadcast on regular TV, opposed to expensive pay-per-views back home. The main sports network, on which they are shown, is called “Balls.” So yeah.
-       The main road floods every time it rains and no one cares. They just walk through it. Back home these roads would be considered impassable, but no one bats an eyelash over here and they might even look at you funny for hesitating.
-       Security guards carry firearms. Even the ones walking around grocery stores. We have two security guards for our apartment building and they both carry guns (nice fellas too). Back in the US guards carry walkie-talkies. Over here they’re like secret service agents.

So that’s it for this installment. Hope you enjoyed it.

Getting There


Sometimes you make plans and things go pretty much accordingly. Other times, those plans collapse moments after takeoff and you’re left scratching your head and saying, “What the heck just happened here?” That latter scenario definitely mirrors to our initial move to Boracay Island. I promised early on that I’d chronicle the good, the bad and the ugly. This installment, my friends, is the ugly.
We knew the trip itself would be daunting. 36 hours of connecting flights from Nashville to Chicago to Tokyo to Manila to Kalibo. Then tack on a rugged 2-hour bus ride and a boat trip to get to the Island. Now add lugging around heavy baggage (including a desktop computer) by hand through each leg of this journey. I expected those things to suck, and they did.
However, there were some frustrating surprises right off the bat. When I went to get my boarding pass at Nashville International Airport, I was told that they wouldn’t let me board the plane. The American Airlines rep said that they’d recently been fined for allowing a foreigner into the Philippines on a one-way ticket and due to these stricter regulations, couldn’t honor the ticket I had already bought months prior. This was a tad irritating. Here we haven’t even left Nashville yet and I’m being turned away at the counter? I explained to the airline rep that there’s no return ticket because we’re moving there. I was told they still wouldn’t let me board the plane. The solution was not a pretty one. I decided to plop down $1300 additional (that we didn’t budget for) to buy a refundable return ticket that I’d never use. Incidentally, when we got to Manila, my wife asked the person issuing visas if they’d stopped allowing foreigners entry unless they had a return ticket. The guy said it wasn’t true.
The other surprise awaiting us in Boracay was a heavy monsoon. For those in the west, that’s a big rain and windstorm. The boat ride from Caticlan Port to Boracay Island was very choppy. The waves were strong and the rain unrelenting. The boat docked, not in the port, but on the actual beach by dropping anchor and extending a wooden plank. Hmm. Ok. So we carted off all of our luggage and computers, trying our best to keep them dry. By this point I was going on 2 days without sleep and just needed to get to our cozy apartment and just collapse for a few days of R&R.
That would not happen.
Once we made it up the sandy hill to the main road (there’s only one highway on the island) we hired a small metal truck. We tossed our luggage inside and sat down in the back and rode around in the downpour, looking for the apartment we’d booked months earlier (and for which we’d already paid a deposit). It took a while to find the place, as it was located up a muddy hill, situated between narrow alleys. The place was a dump, unlike the pictures we’d seen. My spirits were crushed as I stood in the rain in front of a rusty gate with a monstrous tangle of cables overhead, hanging low from a haphazardly erected pole. When the driver and me shouted for someone to help us (the woman knew we were coming) it took a good ten minutes for a woman and her angry pack of mud hounds to come out and open the gate.
She asked if I was Jason and then apologized for the misunderstanding. That misunderstanding of which she spoke – she was referring to the issue of her renting our apartment to someone else and not telling us. Wonderful.
I apologized to the poor driver who was getting soaked with us and told him to just take us to a hotel for the night while we sort out our living situation. The first few places we tried were already fully booked, but we managed to find a little hut on the beach with a shower and air conditioning (two big pluses to my mind) for around $70 a night. It was pricey but we could get some sleep and reassess.
The next morning began a weeklong trek (from sunup to sundown) in search of a new place to live. The owner of that initial apartment e-mailed me back and told me what had happened. While he was away in the UK, his wife had returned to drug use (meth, no less) and was letting her druggie friends shack up in our apartment. He was grievously sorry and promised to return our deposit when he gets back.
Long story short, this island is very expensive if you’re staying long term… much more than we’d estimated. We did manage to find a little one-bedroom place but the monthly rent is about double what we’d budgeted. But since it’s so hard to find a longer-term rental here, we went ahead and signed a 6-month lease. If you’re wondering how we’re going to work that out… I’ll let you know when I know.

New Home


God willing, this is where I'll be writing my next few books.
See you in a month, Boracay!



Tebow knows what's up. ;-)



Advertureland


This is a difficult essay to write. I’m a rather shy person and don’t enjoy talking about my personal life in general. There are two reasons for this: it’s embarrassing to showcase one’s screw-ups and on those rare occasions that I get it right, it sounds like bragging to me. So I will preface this article with a disclaimer: I wish to neither embarrass myself, nor to brag. But I feel this topic is important enough to warrant the inclusion of some personal details. So let’s get on with it…
The Real and the Counterfeit

“Freedom” is an interesting word. Those of us not living under dictators and military regimes have the luxury of a certain type of freedom, and a valuable one. But personal autonomy carries with it a notion of freedom which really isn’t. Let me explain.
I have the freedom to live beyond my means, financially. Most middle class people do. I have the freedom to get addicted to a certain standard of living or get hooked on any number of legal vices, ranging from technology to fast food. But for those of us whose happiness depends upon a certain standard of living, are we really free? I’d like to argue that the answer is “no” because one wrong turn of the economy, one layoff, or one desperately sick child or parent can put that lifestyle into serious jeopardy. If such tragedies actually occur, then we fall into anger and depression. If those things don’t occur, then we live in the fear that they might. Either way, we have a tight grip on something we can’t control, like trying to seize water with our bare hands.

Rather, I would argue, freedom is not simply trading in one form of oppression (that of a militant state) for another (the pressures of society). Nor is freedom living in fear that something bad might happen and we’ll lose it all. Freedom, I would posit, is simply being content. Now granted, that’s not a new concept (I stole it from Saint Paul myself) but it’s one that’s rarely practiced.
My wife grew up poor. She lived a simple, contented life in a third world country, working her way through college and earning an accounting degree. And without that accounting degree, we never would have even met each other. So I’m thankful for that. But after ten years of being married to me, she found herself (along with me, of course) completely corrupted by the American lifestyle. We had a house in the burbs, two cars, and good credit. We also had a mountain of debt from a bad business idea (that was mine) and countless unplanned emergencies, some of which were our own making, and often someone else’s. And then that mountain began to crumble and bury us underneath it. We had to earn more and more money, working longer and longer hours to keep up. For a stretch of two years, my wife found herself working two full time jobs, averaging 80 hours a week.

Now I want to point out something here: neither me, nor my wife, have anything resembling extravagant tastes by American standards. But it didn’t matter, because we still clung to our scraps. Did we feel free? Nope. Did we feel happy? Nope.

I remember a defining moment that happened last fall. I was having lunch in the car with my wife on our lunch break during a particularly stressful day for us both. It was one of those days when you can’t even articulate your frustration, you can only groan. I remember turning to Melanie and saying, “Can we just be poor?” I saw a sudden glimmer of hope in her eyes and she said, “Really! Do you really mean it!” Her excited response made me laugh. She acted like I’d just offered her a cruise to the Bahamas.

Of course, I was being a bit tongue-in-cheek. I wasn’t really talking about being poor per se, but the hope of a more simple life. And she knew what I meant. A little backstory here… Melanie and I have been trying to adopt a little boy (her nephew). U.S. adoption law states that unless the foreign child is an orphan, there’s a requirement that the adopting parents must live with the child for two years prior to filing paperwork. I contacted my two state senators to get clarification about this strange rule, but never heard back. Your tax dollars at work, folks!

So we made the radical decision to sell everything we own and leave behind the comfortable and the familiar… for a simple life, and for a kid named Andrew. We have our tickets. We’re leaving in a month.

Now having said all this, there is the possibility that none of it will work out. It’s possible that everything could go terribly wrong while living overseas with a meager, uncertain income and a jumbled adoption process. But I’ll confess something (and Melanie feels the same way)… we’re not the least bit afraid. At all. And it’s not because I’m terribly brave because that’s certainly not the case! We’re not afraid because we’re not clinging to anything. There’s nothing to lose because nothing is certain in life anyway, and knowing that is helpful. And knowing that allows us to be content.
There was a time when we were self-sufficient, and there was a measure of pride in that. Never having to ask for help puffed us up. It made us feel important, and even better than others. Now we will have to humble ourselves and ask for help at times. Probably often. And that’s not a bad thing. It’s actually good for the soul, and dispels the illusion that we don’t need other people. The truth is, we do need them, and they need us. That’s how it works. We Americans are good at so many things, but we’re really bad at this. Community is a word we don’t recognize. When Melanie and I return to the U.S. (whether that’s in 6 months or 6 years) we will be bringing the island back with us.

Islands, Addicts & Lamps


Personal News:

So my wife and I are in the process of selling everything we own before we leave the U.S. and it’s been both fun and challenging. Getting rid of everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, feels strangely liberating. For those who haven’t been informed, we’re moving to a tiny island in the Philippines called Boracay. In a turn of irony, my first novel was about a guy who packs up leaves everything behind to live on his own island in the Philippines.
Some differences here between our lives and what happened in that book… we’re going to live modestly and it’s a heavily trafficked tourist spot. Also, we’re hoping to adopt a child (my wife’s nephew) as her brother is unable to care for him. Things might get tricky or change along the way, but that’s the plan anyway.
We are not planning to live in Boracay forever, although I’m not opposed to the idea either. It’s a decision we can only make after settling in and then deciding if island living is for us. Either way, I will continue writing fulltime whilst in Boracay.

Book News:

First of all, I’d like to thank everyone who continues to read my work. Some of you have contacted me personally and shared your enthusiasm, which is a great motivator. On the horizon, I’m looking at a fall/winter release for “All American Addict,” which is my foray into literary fiction. For those who enjoyed my first two novels, this one WILL NOT disappoint.
Regarding the title, the book is actually not about drug addiction although you’ll understand the title when you read it. It’s about the dysfunctional teenage son of a prominent New York family and how he turns a very unfair situation on its nose.
It’s a story packed with humor, love, tragedy and hope. My fingers are burning… I can’t get this one out fast enough.

I’m also working on drafting the second and third installments of “The Lamp” series.  I’d planned to make The Lamp a trilogy early on, but then opted for it to be a standalone title instead. After finishing the book, I realized that there was so much more story to tell with these characters and that my original idea of making it into a series was the best option.
I plan to launch both the second and third books at the same time, sometime early next year. There will also be an omnibus edition for those who hate purchasing individual books in a series.

Works in Progress / Life in Progress

According to that progress bar on the right, I'm about twenty percent finished with my teenage dramady, All American Addict. I truly love the story but got a little bogged down in the first act, which is always the hardest for me. I ran into the same issues on The Island of Ted. I decided to just plow forward and keep re-writing but frankly got a bit burned out. This is the advantage of having more than one book in progress.

So I switched gears and started working on my other project, which is a novella (that's a short book) called Stuck In A Moment. Right now I'm more excited about working on this story so it's flowing much more easily. And when I get burned out or bogged down on this one, I can flip back and work on All American Addict. I've even thought about bringing a third story into the rotation but that might be too much for me to juggle. We'll see.

On a non-writing note, I'm contemplating the idea of doing video blogs and posting them here, linking back to youtube as well. Although I may talk about writing, that wouldn't be the focus of the video blogs. Some of you may know that I will be experiencing a pretty dramatic life change soon (actually several will converge all at once) and I'd like to document everything, video-journal style because it should prove interesting. I'm not 100% settled on this idea since I hate being in front of the camera, but I'm considering it anyway because doing this might, in some small way, be of benefit to those who read this blog.

Honest moment here... what scares me the most about documenting these life changes is the fact that we've (my wife and I) made some plans, and have told those plans to people, and those people are probably hoping for the best, and.... things never quite go as planned. That means we may have to, at times, show the ugly side of making this decision. Hiding such things, for the sake of just pretending, is not an option. If I'm going to document something, it's going to showcase the good, the bad, and the dull moments in-between. For those of you who are not clued in, we're moving to a new country, without those creature comforts we're used to, and adopting a child (who is now a 4 year-old) and attempting to raise him in said country.

However, a martyr I am not... we'll have internet access and indoor plumbing, with white sand beaches a short walk away. But there will be heat, and mosquitoes, and a language and culture barrier, and the fact that I have no idea how to be a father. BUT! If I decide to document these things, it could actually prove beneficial to others. And for that reason, I'm giving serious thought to it. Stay tuned.


Feedback

Does anyone want to read the first act of my work-in-progress, titled All American Addict? I'm throwing it out there for some initial feedback to find out what people think. E-mail me or post something in the comments section below if you're interested.

Official Book Launch


So my second novel was released for the Kindle today. The $3.99 ebook is exclusive to Amazon but you can read it on any device with the free kindle app. The print version (paperback only) will be widely available in a week or so. It will be under ten bucks. 

Why should you plop down 4 bucks for my book? Although technically a mystery thriller, it's primarily a character drama about three lost souls trying to find their way back from tragedy into a normal life. Unfortunately, this search for normalcy takes place during the tumult and chaos of a major political uprising. 

The Lamp is a quick, fast-paced read without the usual filler and padding you find in some commercial novels within this genre. It will keep you guessing throughout with unexpected twists and turns. But most of all, I think you'll fall in love with these characters. It was a sad experience for me to finish the book because I'd been on this journey with them for so long and I didn't want to let them go. 

Just so you know, if you buy the ebook from Amazon, you can then "gift" a free copy to someone else. It's a great way to share the book with someone else who may not want to spend money on an author they don't know yet.

I want to thank my readers (whether you're reading The Island of Ted or The Lamp) because you are the reason I do this. Lord knows it isn't for the fame and fortune! My goal is to not waste your time. I want to take you on an imaginative ride; especially for those who've lost hope and need a good uplifting tale to carry you through. My books tackle deep emotional and spiritual issues, without the usual patronizing you find in books with a message. I write about the human condition, and through my fiction I offer hope instead of nihilism, which is so common today. 

The goal of my writing is to offer my readers a more positive outlook on life, but I want to do so without side-stepping the pains and tragedies we wade through. We don't live in a utopia that's all rainbows and butterflies, and such stories don't offer anything of value to those who are hurting. We want to read about others who, like ourselves, are faced with tremendous adversity and watch how they deal with it. Fiction can sometimes be more instructive than self-help books for this very reason.

As I forward in the book: May you find strength as we journey through this life together.

The Long and Short of It


Some famous author once said that if you can’t tell a story in 50,000 words then you shouldn’t tell it. While I don’t totally agree with that statement, I do agree with the sentiment it expresses. Two of the books I started recently (won’t mention titles, but one of them is consistently in the top 3 bestsellers on Amazon) were so padded with useless words and descriptions that I couldn’t even finish them. As an author myself, maybe I’m more sensitive to such things. One of them was, after all, a best seller. But that doesn’t mean the reader got their money’s worth.

When a writer starts a new project, the publisher generally gives them a word count goal that’s in line with their genre. If you write sci-fi or fantasy, don’t hand in anything less than 90k words or it will be handed back to you with red ink, stating “TOO SHORT.” This is a problem because sometimes a story only has so much life in it before the pacing begins to fizzle out, and adding more scenes to it will surely come off to the reader as forced. But the publisher doesn’t care, because it’s all about the word count. Epic fantasy needs lots of words (half of which can’t be pronounced) whereas romance and literary fiction can get by with shorter works.

This is where indie writers and traditionally published writers get to creatively part ways. Just as independent filmmakers can get away with producing content directly for their fans, so also indie authors can take advantage of their freedom and write their story without the silly limitations imposed by a marketing group somewhere. There’s no fear of breaching your contract in the independent publishing world, unless you’re signed to a small pub house that’s trying to be a major one.

Personally, I don’t shoot for a lesser page count,  but I’m free to write the story I think my readers will enjoy… without any extra padding. That makes me very happy, and it’s the reason you won’t find any fluff or extraneous scenes within my work. Words should function in an luminary way, lighting up the world you’re creating and moving the events that transpire through a progression until the story culminates and no more can be said on the subject because you’ve exhausted every interesting angle. Of course, for a series, there’s something to be said for leaving some gas in the tank, so to speak. But even the books of a series should be tightly written, so as to not waste the time of the reader.

You’ll notice some word count meters in the side bar of this website. My current work-in-progress “All American Addict” is set to 50,000 words. That is what I consider the minimum amount of words to complete the story I’ve already outlined (and finished, in screenplay form). If the book ends up being 70,000 words, that’s okay by me… so long as every scene and description I write moves the story forward. The Lamp was only going to be 40k words but I kept finding interesting angles to explore and the end result was 15k words over. But I doubt there’s a single wasted word in the whole book (I’ll let you be the judge of that!). Sometimes it’s easy to look at an outline and know instinctively how long the book will be. That’s something that kind of comes with experience. I’m working on only my third novel right now, so sometimes my instincts are off. All part of learning, my friends.

Book Recommendation


Son of Hamas

A few weeks ago I read a terrific non-fiction book titled Son of Hamas. It's the self-told story of Mosab Hassan Yousef, a young Palestinian man who was raised under the Israeli occupation of the West Bank. His father, Sheikh Hassan Yousef, is one of the founders of the terrorist organization, Hamas. Mosab grew up idolizing his father, who was stuck in a cycle of imprisonment and release, for years. Mosab grew up like other Palestinian kids, throwing rocks and causing trouble for the Israeli soldiers out of disdain for the treatment of his people. He learned the politics of his region from a young age and, growing up the son of a famous Sheikh, got to spend time with people like Yasser Arafat and other well-known political figures.

Mosab describes pretty severe treatment (definitely in the realm of torture) after being detained on several occasions by the Israelis. He spent a lot of time in prison and the Israeli Shin Bet took interest in Mosab because of his father's influence within Hamas. They asked Mosab to spy for them and he agreed, but only so he could later kill them for the treatment he'd received. He was working as a double-spy for the Shin Bet organization, spying on his own people while secretly planning to backstab his Shin Bet handlers.

But then things changed.

Mosab describes the tit-for-tat mentality of the Middle East. You strike us, we'll strike you back harder. You kill one of ours, we'll kill five of yours. His own father, who he thought to be a brilliant spiritual and political mind, could not out-think this tit-for-tat scenario himself. He simply went along with it, not knowing of a better way. Mosab also witnessed jealousy, bickering, and a string of despicable lies within the Hamas organization which he'd branded himself to. It seemed to him, after spending a lot of time in the inner circle, that the people working for Hamas were no more noble than the Shin Bet he was working for. At least he'd been preventing massive causalities while spying for them. That's more than anyone else had done to bring peace. The Shin Bet had a code name for Mosab: The Green Prince. He was their most valuable agent, and they showed him tremendous gratitude for working with them. This surprised Mosab, and turned his opinion of them upside down.

It was on a trip to Jerusalem that Mosab fell into a group of people that had been studying the Bible. Mosab was given a Bible, which he began to secretly study alongside the Koran. He describes being shocked at Jesus' command to love our enemies. He'd never heard such an idea before and became convinced, though still a Muslim, that Jesus was teaching the right way and “loving ones enemies” is the only hope for peace. He'd seen all the other alternatives and the blood that had been spilled as a result. He began to love the Israelis the way he loved his own Palestinian brothers and sisters. It would take some time before Mosab finally converted to Christianity, and the decision was a painful one.

By this time, he'd threatened the Shin Bet to let him go to America for a visit, where he planned to stay while applying for asylum. The Shin Bet was reluctant to agree because they couldn't protect him anywhere else, and the entire operation was a secret—even the Israeli special forces didn't know what they were up to, or who was involved. Mosab had grown very close to his main ally at the Shin Bet, an Israeli man named Loai (a code name). Finally, he was allowed to leave the country to visit America.

After spending some time in the States, the US government became aware that a Hamas terrorist was living within their borders—it was Mosab. They went after him and detained him in order to process his deportation back to Palestine. Mosab pleaded for asylum, stating that he was not a terrorist, but had been working with the Shin Bet to stop suicide bombings. They didn't believe him. Then, on June 24, 2010, Mosab's Shin Bet ally, Loai, stepped forward and vouched for the entire story, risking his life in the process. His real name, Gonen Ben-Itzhak, was revealed and Gonen flew to California to testify for Mosab, who he described as a “true friend.” Due to Gonen's testimony, Mosab was allowed to stay in the US. He'd risked his life to save Mosab's.

Shortly after, word got out that Mosab had become a follower of Jesus and his family, including the father he adored and idolized, disowned him. He knew it might happen, but the sting was no less painful. He's currently living in the US as an exile and more than likely will never get to see his home, or family, again.

I found Mosab's story to be thrilling and heartbreaking at the same time. I'm amazing that someone like him could change so dramatically (from a hate-filled Hamas sympathizer to a Christian who believes in loving his enemies) but it's difficult to read what he had to go through in the process. There were too many near-death situations to recount but Mosab tells them with engrossing, visceral prose littered with the kind of incidental details one usually finds in first-person accounts. I give it 5 out of 5 stars.

So my recommendation is to pick up this book and read it with an open mind. It's well worth your time.


The Lamp is Glowing...

This is the final cover for my new novel, designed by Leah S. Frieday. Editor is Tom Safford. Published by Phantom Fiction. Available on Amazon (paperback and Kindle) April 2012. Here's the blurb that will appear on Amazon's page when the book is released:

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THE LAMP is a supernatural urban thriller with elements of action, mystery and heart-wrenching drama.

They called him Levi the Leveler because of his frightening power. A terror in the boxing ring, most of his opponents didn't make it past the first round... and those who did lived to regret it. After a careless decision sends him to prison for seven years, Levi returns to a life in ruins: his fiance has split, his friends -- gone.

While struggling to pick up the pieces, Levi receives an inheritance from the mysterious figure known simply as K.S. He soon learns that the gift -- an antiquated lamp -- might just have bizarre supernatural powers. This inheritance, however, proves costly as a fearsome enemy now hunts him. Levi's boxing days might be behind him, but the most dangerous fight of his life lies ahead.

The Lamp is a 50,000 word novel (around 200 pages in print form). Content Warning: Intended for readers age 16 and up due to mature content. 

I Object! (Learning to Disagree Well)


A few years ago I heard a lecture on Refusing to be Offended (click to listen) which completely changed my mind about something very important. First, I learned that I don’t have to be offended, whether someone is trying to offend me or not. I can simply choose to not take offence. That’s good news to people like me who don’t like feeling offended. Second, I learned that it’s not disagreement that divides people, but offence.

I’m from the south and here it’s not polite to talk about politics or religion (although the former is being brought up more and more) because we’re told that these are contentious issues. I won’t deny that they are contentious issues, but I refuse to believe in the myth that people can’t learn to disagree well. I have very close friends that are on opposite ends of the political spectrum (from hardcore right-wing conservatives to flaming liberals) and we enjoy discussing these things together. The reason is because none of us insist that everyone agree with our opinion. Why should I take offense when someone thinks I’m wrong? It takes a frail ego indeed to insist that everyone agree with them all the time. My friends and I can vigorously debate opposing viewpoints without getting angry or hostile simply because we refuse to take offence with one another. In other words, we’ve learned to disagree well and more and more I’m convinced that this is a trait that should be expected of anyone who considers themselves a mature adult. If we can’t consider possibly being wrong on a given subject, then we have decided that our ego is more precious than truth.

I’m a Christian who has had very pleasant conversations with Muslims and Atheists because we chose not to be offended by the discussion. Yet, I once had a “Christian” brother threaten to physically assault me because I held a different doctrinal opinion than him regarding a very non-essential side issue. I offered to sit down with this brother and explain, in detail, how I’d arrived at my view, but he was unwilling. That was someone who was intent on being offended, no matter what. Instead of considering the fact that he might be wrong about something, he choose to disengage in our relationship. If this individual was firm in his opinion, he could have simply sat down with me and shown me my error. But the ego is a dangerous slave master.

The irony, I’ve found, is that southerners, the ones who insist on being polite, are some of the worst offenders when it comes to unfruitful, hate-filled disagreement. I listen to a lot of talk radio and where I live it’s all conservative. I wonder then, if people who only listen to these shows, are coming away with the inability to actually reason through an issue. Like it says in Proverbs 18:17 --

The first to plead his case seems right, until another comes and examines him.

Now this by no means tells us that the first (or only) idea we hear is necessarily incorrect -- only that it should receive a healthy cross-examination. After being tried, maybe the original case is still the strongest. Sometimes, however, it will fail to stand up under cross-examination and we might actually be forced to change our opinion about something. God forbid that ever happen! Seriously though, I hope that we can all learn to vigorously debate important issues without taking offence and learn to disagree well. And speaking of bitter disagreements, I just finished a book titled Son of Hamas about the son of a terrorist who became an Israeli spy before moving away from Islam and into the arms of Christ. I hope to give a review of this important book soon.

Thanks for reading.


Working Hard

I want to apologize (to my 3 or 4 readers!) for the lack of recent updates to the blog. I've been working hard on three different writing projects. Lately I've been doing all my writing early in the day, usually at the local library, and end up not eating until around 3pm. I would not have suggested writing in a fasted state prior to my experiment with doing it over the past week. I find that writing with no food in my system (and thus no energy being borrowed for digestion) is actually a profitable endeavor. I guess the adage is true: you never know until you try!

I use the notepad on my phone to track my progress from day to day, with the minimum goal being 2,000 words per session.  Using the phone tracking system has worked wonders for keeping me focused. I don't know if any writers follow my blog, but try it. Doing this sort of performance tracking might be useful for other vocations as well. Having a nebulous goal (like writing a book) is next to useless. I've made the most progress by tracking my word count each day and making sure I don't stop until I hit the desired count. Since going into the writing profession fulltime, I treat it like a regular day job. I get up, have my coffee, and head off for the "office." Then I work, taking breaks as needed, until I meet my daily goals. I think the more prolific writers carry that same mindset.