Past Events
Columbus Book Festival, July 13 & 14, 2024
www.columbusbookfestival.org//
www.columbusbookfestival.org//
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Yellow Springs Library Mystery Club, November 2023
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Yellow Springs Library Tea, April 2023
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Epic Book Shop reading, September 2022
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FAQ
What are you writing now?
A thriller set in Orcas Island and the Pacific Northwest.
Here is a taste of the beginning:
Nils Garner dangled by his fingers from a steel I-beam on the upper deck of a Washington State ferry. The beam supported above it a small observation area that was empty of viewers on a blustery and chill June day. Beneath it, the beam supported Nils.
Nils wanted to be alone. The upper deck of the ferry, devoid of passengers, provided him solitude. The beam provided him opportunity for lift. Nils wanted to get in some muscle work. From his feet hung the backpack he’d carried with him these last ten days—days spent alone and wandering in something of an existential crunch. It wasn’t his first grappling with who he was or what he thought he might become, but it was by far his toughest. Alone time had helped.
Nils pulled. His muscles responded and lifted his chin toward the edge of the beam where his fingers clung. Now that his eyes came even with the steel, it looked and felt as much like an H on its side as it did an I. The pack provided extra weight, and the burn in his arms and back felt good as he descended from the pull-up.
His eyes scanned the deck. Still empty.
He extended his arms slowly and let his body drop, twisting his feet tighter into the straps of the pack to secure it. Then he lifted again, controlling the rise to dampen any sway and keep the muscles isolated. It had been a long ten days, and workouts had been improvised and hard to come by. This felt good. He lifted again and again, focused only on the lift, control, the burn. Being alone.
Beyond the ship’s rail in front of Nils the hull dropped into the cold waters of the interregnum, the waters between waters. Behind them to the East lay the Rosaria Strait. To the North lay the Strait of Georgia. South, the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Here lay only the San Juan Islands.
The ferry tunneled between Shaw and Orcas Island, cutting a path toward the bottom of West Sound. Soon, the horns would blare to announce the ferry’s arrival at the port of Orcas. Nils lowered himself fully, released his left hand, and did two quick one-arm pull-ups with the right. Without allowing himself time to think, he reversed the grip and did two with the left. The burn in his muscles increased.
The ferry slowed. Water churned beneath the hull. Nils rested for one second, two, three, then raised himself and the pack at his feet with both hands. When his chin reached the level of the bottom of the beam, he thrust himself upwards, released both hands into the air, flung his arms around the beam, and caught a slim purchase with his fingers on the far side of the I. He inched his fingers in for a better hold, then descended to switch from pull-ups to chin-ups and work his chest and biceps.
The slope of the land rising from the water appeared in the view between his forearms as he lifted and fell. Soon he and the other passengers would be called down to disembark, and Nils would have to intermingle again with the population of the ship.
The wind cut across the bow and the starboard hull and raised the hairs on Nils’ forearms. He welcomed the sensation. He liked the chill and the cold and the dark and being alone. Had always felt on his own. Dark skies and drizzle closed the world around him and made him feel whole and alive and thrumming.
He shuttered through another chin-up, the weight of his body and the pack pushing his biceps toward fatigue and failure. That familiar place where performance ended and growth began.
He stopped. Listened.
A sound. Footsteps. The snick of a door.
A person. Or people.
The spell was broken. Nils lowered himself one last time to the ferry’s deck and disencumbered his legs and feet from the backpack. But why would someone come up to the top deck now, when the ferry was about to dock?
From behind him he heard the voice. “Mister.”
He wanted not to turn. To remain alone. To stay in that place of inner solitude. To forget what he had come here to forget.
“Mister, can you help us?”
How do you deal with writer’s block?
I don't get writer's block. The things that keep me from writing, and enjoying it, are life responsibilities. If I can break free from the distractions of work and everyday living, the writing happens. And it’s always fun.
Is Yellow Springs really that cool?
A lot of people think so. It often shows up on lists like "best Ohio small towns." There are shops, buskers, artists, musicians, nature, coffee, food, food trucks, a brewery, bench buddhas, local celebrities, murals, skateboards, bicycles, and a relaxed vibe. Google it. You'll find more.
Are any things in the books based on real life?
The village of Yellow Springs and the places and businesses in it are real.
I’ve got a good friend who is very strong and likes to do crazy difficult physical things. Photo below of us running up the devil’s backbone.
Locations in Dayton and other areas are also real. There are a few imaginary or generally defined places.
Here are some highlights from the Jackson Flint books (with a few photos below). If I’ve missed some things or there are others that appear in the books you think should be listed here, let me know.
Afro-American Museum (Wilberforce)
Antioch College
Cedarville (Beans-N-Cream, Indian Mound Reserve)
Clifton Gorge
Corner Cone
covered bridges (Stevenson Rd., Charleston Mill)
Current Cuisine
Dark Star Books*
Dayton Dragons (baseball)*
Devil’s backbone*
Dino’s Cappuccinos
Egyptian Breeze (belly dancers)*
Emporium*
Ghostlight Coffee (Dayton)*
Glen Helen Nature Preserve*
Great Miami River
Greene County Courthouse (clock tower)
Grinnell Mill
Ha Ha Pizza
John Bryan State Park
Kieth’s Alley (murals)
King’s Yard
Little Art Theatre
Massies Creek
Miguel’s Tacos
Mrs. Jenkins*
Oldtown (Tecumseh, Daniel Boone, Simon Kenton’s gauntlet)
Peach’s Grill
Raptor Center
Rip Rap Roadhouse
Riverscape Park (Dayton)
Second Street Market (Dayton)
Sinclair College
Smales Pretzels*
Sunrise Cafe*
Tom’s Market
Village Artisans*
Wind’s Cafe
WYSO
Ye Olde Trail Tavern
Yellow Springs Brewery
Young’s Dairy
Photos: Wheat Penny, Dark Star Books, Dayton Dragons, devil’s backbone, Egyptian Breeze, Emporium, Ghostlight Coffee, Glen Helen, our cat, Smales, Sunrise Cafe (Jackson Flint breakfast special), Village Artisans
What are you writing now?
A thriller set in Orcas Island and the Pacific Northwest.
Here is a taste of the beginning:
Nils Garner dangled by his fingers from a steel I-beam on the upper deck of a Washington State ferry. The beam supported above it a small observation area that was empty of viewers on a blustery and chill June day. Beneath it, the beam supported Nils.
Nils wanted to be alone. The upper deck of the ferry, devoid of passengers, provided him solitude. The beam provided him opportunity for lift. Nils wanted to get in some muscle work. From his feet hung the backpack he’d carried with him these last ten days—days spent alone and wandering in something of an existential crunch. It wasn’t his first grappling with who he was or what he thought he might become, but it was by far his toughest. Alone time had helped.
Nils pulled. His muscles responded and lifted his chin toward the edge of the beam where his fingers clung. Now that his eyes came even with the steel, it looked and felt as much like an H on its side as it did an I. The pack provided extra weight, and the burn in his arms and back felt good as he descended from the pull-up.
His eyes scanned the deck. Still empty.
He extended his arms slowly and let his body drop, twisting his feet tighter into the straps of the pack to secure it. Then he lifted again, controlling the rise to dampen any sway and keep the muscles isolated. It had been a long ten days, and workouts had been improvised and hard to come by. This felt good. He lifted again and again, focused only on the lift, control, the burn. Being alone.
Beyond the ship’s rail in front of Nils the hull dropped into the cold waters of the interregnum, the waters between waters. Behind them to the East lay the Rosaria Strait. To the North lay the Strait of Georgia. South, the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Here lay only the San Juan Islands.
The ferry tunneled between Shaw and Orcas Island, cutting a path toward the bottom of West Sound. Soon, the horns would blare to announce the ferry’s arrival at the port of Orcas. Nils lowered himself fully, released his left hand, and did two quick one-arm pull-ups with the right. Without allowing himself time to think, he reversed the grip and did two with the left. The burn in his muscles increased.
The ferry slowed. Water churned beneath the hull. Nils rested for one second, two, three, then raised himself and the pack at his feet with both hands. When his chin reached the level of the bottom of the beam, he thrust himself upwards, released both hands into the air, flung his arms around the beam, and caught a slim purchase with his fingers on the far side of the I. He inched his fingers in for a better hold, then descended to switch from pull-ups to chin-ups and work his chest and biceps.
The slope of the land rising from the water appeared in the view between his forearms as he lifted and fell. Soon he and the other passengers would be called down to disembark, and Nils would have to intermingle again with the population of the ship.
The wind cut across the bow and the starboard hull and raised the hairs on Nils’ forearms. He welcomed the sensation. He liked the chill and the cold and the dark and being alone. Had always felt on his own. Dark skies and drizzle closed the world around him and made him feel whole and alive and thrumming.
He shuttered through another chin-up, the weight of his body and the pack pushing his biceps toward fatigue and failure. That familiar place where performance ended and growth began.
He stopped. Listened.
A sound. Footsteps. The snick of a door.
A person. Or people.
The spell was broken. Nils lowered himself one last time to the ferry’s deck and disencumbered his legs and feet from the backpack. But why would someone come up to the top deck now, when the ferry was about to dock?
From behind him he heard the voice. “Mister.”
He wanted not to turn. To remain alone. To stay in that place of inner solitude. To forget what he had come here to forget.
“Mister, can you help us?”
How do you deal with writer’s block?
I don't get writer's block. The things that keep me from writing, and enjoying it, are life responsibilities. If I can break free from the distractions of work and everyday living, the writing happens. And it’s always fun.
Is Yellow Springs really that cool?
A lot of people think so. It often shows up on lists like "best Ohio small towns." There are shops, buskers, artists, musicians, nature, coffee, food, food trucks, a brewery, bench buddhas, local celebrities, murals, skateboards, bicycles, and a relaxed vibe. Google it. You'll find more.
Are any things in the books based on real life?
The village of Yellow Springs and the places and businesses in it are real.
I’ve got a good friend who is very strong and likes to do crazy difficult physical things. Photo below of us running up the devil’s backbone.
Locations in Dayton and other areas are also real. There are a few imaginary or generally defined places.
Here are some highlights from the Jackson Flint books (with a few photos below). If I’ve missed some things or there are others that appear in the books you think should be listed here, let me know.
Afro-American Museum (Wilberforce)
Antioch College
Cedarville (Beans-N-Cream, Indian Mound Reserve)
Clifton Gorge
Corner Cone
covered bridges (Stevenson Rd., Charleston Mill)
Current Cuisine
Dark Star Books*
Dayton Dragons (baseball)*
Devil’s backbone*
Dino’s Cappuccinos
Egyptian Breeze (belly dancers)*
Emporium*
Ghostlight Coffee (Dayton)*
Glen Helen Nature Preserve*
Great Miami River
Greene County Courthouse (clock tower)
Grinnell Mill
Ha Ha Pizza
John Bryan State Park
Kieth’s Alley (murals)
King’s Yard
Little Art Theatre
Massies Creek
Miguel’s Tacos
Mrs. Jenkins*
Oldtown (Tecumseh, Daniel Boone, Simon Kenton’s gauntlet)
Peach’s Grill
Raptor Center
Rip Rap Roadhouse
Riverscape Park (Dayton)
Second Street Market (Dayton)
Sinclair College
Smales Pretzels*
Sunrise Cafe*
Tom’s Market
Village Artisans*
Wind’s Cafe
WYSO
Ye Olde Trail Tavern
Yellow Springs Brewery
Young’s Dairy
Photos: Wheat Penny, Dark Star Books, Dayton Dragons, devil’s backbone, Egyptian Breeze, Emporium, Ghostlight Coffee, Glen Helen, our cat, Smales, Sunrise Cafe (Jackson Flint breakfast special), Village Artisans
