Of course the book will be late

I had a cup of coffee with a friend the other day and told him I was writing a book called Refuse to Be Afraid. By the startled look in his eyes, I could tell that just the title strikes a chord.

These are timely times for such a message. The whole purpose of this drama we call a "presidential election" is to strike fear in the darkest depths of our souls, and offer one of these two champions as the solution. There are dark whisperings the price of gasoline and food will never go back down, and the economy will collapse within weeks. The news brings word daily of new deaths abroad, new murders on our urban streets, new layoffs in our businesses and industries, new sources of cancer in everyday foods and even in the air and water.

It's almost as if, perish the thought, our rulers had gathered in a room and decided that the little people needed a few lessons to remind them "why - they - need - us!" Well, we don't need them, and the source of their fear is that we will figure that out, take charge of our own lives and lead a peaceful life based not on their tyranny and fear but on, oh I don't know, "My freedom has no limit except so far as I don't infringe on your freedom" or "Do unto others as you would have them do to you."

So of course a book called Refuse to Be Afraid could be like a hand grenade tossed into a crowded room — no, strike that, your honor — a book called Refuse to Be Afraid could be a lighted candle carried gently into a room that has been sealed off from the daylight for far too long. The reaction could be as, um, electric as my friend's.

And of course, then, the book will not be ready by July 15, my deadline. I am, after all, the fellow who wrote The Imaginary Bomb in 1988 and first published it this past winter. My collaborator is the guy who wrote The Adventures of Myke Phoenix in the early '90s and Wildflower Man in April 1996. Only this year are they all out there. How could we possibly publish a new book on time?

I do expect to complete it soon. This has been the dominant theme of this blog and may be perhaps the most important advice I can pass along in these times, and I do want to say these things and have them be heard as soon as possible. It will, however, be late. I hope and pray it won't be too late — I'd say I'm "afraid" it may be too late, but that would be a bit ironic, don't you think? The fearful little man holding a candle in the dark, hands shaking and saying, "I'm afraid I'm too late, but we all need to refuse to be afraid"?

While you're waiting, feel free to stare at the seven words at the bottom of my banner until they sink in a bit: Refuse to be afraid. Free yourself. Dream. That's the whole book anyway.