My new novel, “Dodging a Pearl”, is released ….

dodging-a-pearl-cover-smallerHi, friends and readers:

Today’s a big day for me. Createspace publishing has just released my latest novel, Dodging a Pearl. Here’s the blurb for the book:

“Brad Schroeder is a trial lawyer with a taste for cocaine and prostitutes. An arrest costs Brad his marriage, his job, and his Winter Park address. Now, he’s starting a law practice in working class Cocoa Beach, attending NA meetings, and trying to raise his HIV-positive son. Can Brad beat his addictions and rebuild his life? Can Angela Stabile, a fellow addict and divorce lawyer, help Brad regain his confidence? Facing a devious adversary, will Brad prevail in a lawsuit he has filed on his son’s behalf? Most importantly, can he redeem himself in his doubting son’s eyes?”

This is a large book; it’s five hundred pages in length and unlike anything I have written before. The story takes place in both Orlando and in Brevard County, Florida. It deals with many issues: drug addiction, psychological angst, the HIV epidemic that spread through the U.S. hemophilia community in the 1980s, the benefits of psychotherapy, and the relationships between fathers and their sons.

I’ve very proud of this book. In the 1990s, when I still practiced law, I represented many families of boys with hemophilia who were infected with HIV via factor VIII concentrate, a product used to stop bleeds. And a good portion of this book is devoted to the litigation I pursued against the drug companies who made factor VIII concentrate.

If you are interested in buying Dodging a Pearl, click on the cover in the sidebar to the left and it will take you to the book’s listing on Amazon.

 

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Old friends are treasures. Me and my German pal, Moritz ….

hamburg #2Hi, friends and readers:

This summer I spent time in Hamburg, Germany. I stayed with my friend Moritz and his girlfriend Melli. The photo to the left was taken at an open air beer garden on the Elbe River. I can’t tell you how good it felt to see Moritz again; it had been at  least three years since I saw him in South Beach when he was en route back to Germany from South America.

Back in 1998, Moritz came to live with me for an entire school year, as an exchange student. Of course we didn’t know each other at all when he arrived, but we quickly became to best of friends, and have remained so ever since. Of course Moritz was only sixteen then, but very grown up for his age. He was also an excellent student and soccer player.

I took Moritz to my fishing camp often; he loved it there. I took him to a Florida Gators football game, and also took him surfing on Florida’s East Coast; his first time trying the sport. I took him to the Grand Canyon to ride the mules down Bright Angel Trail. I got to know all his friends from the Florida high school he was attending; they were all good kids. The year went by really fast, and I was so sad to see him return to Germany when summer came.

Old friends like Moritz are a treasure, and it’s terribly important to stay in touch with them. I’m sure glad I went to Hamburg this year.

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Fall is in the air at Pass-a-Grille Beach ….

beach guyHi, friends and readers:

Every morning, around eight, I take a three-mile, barefooted walk on the beach down the street from my house, and afterward, at least during the warm months of the year, I take a nice dip in the Gulf of Mexico. It’s a great way to start my day, and I return home feeling refreshed and ready to do some creative writing, especially after I enjoy a warm shower on our fenced-in patio.

sea oats #2Yesterday when I walked the beach I noticed some changes in my surroundings that portended the approach of fall in central Florida. The seat oats in our sand dunes were in full bloom. A nice breeze blew from the northeast, and the humidity seemed lower. I saw a snook fish cruising along the shoreline, and I watched brown pelicans dive-bomb pods of baitfish about forty yards off shore. If you have lived on Florida’s Gulf coast as long as I have, then you know these are all signs that fall is just around the corner.

I love this time of year in Florida ….

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The joy of hiking in Maine and Nova Scotia ….

Jere MaineHi, friends and readers:

It seems like I’ve been on the road this summer more than I have been at home. Since early July I have traveled to Cuba, Germany, and then to Maine and Nova Scotia. I enjoyed each trip for its own particular features, but I especially enjoyed the Maine/Nova Scotia trip I took with my partner, Greg.

We flew into Bangor, where we rented a car and then drove to a friend’s lakefront cottage near Greenville, ME, where we spent four nights. Most days we hiked the area’s rugged terrain. We dined on fresh lobster, haddock, and salmon, a real treat. And maybe we drank a little beer also …. The people of Maine are unfailingly friendly and helpful; it’s always a joy spending time there. After four nights at the lake we drove to the city of St. John in New Brunswick, Canada, where we stayed in a lovely inn built in the 1890’s. The next morning we caught a car ferry to Digby, Nova Scotia, and then drove to Bear River, where my sister and her husband are renting a farmhouse for three months

Jere Maine #2I had never been to Nova Scotia. It’s a vast province with mountains, forests, lakes and rivers. It is sparsely populated. It offers wonderful hiking opportunities. Our first day we hiked on Brier Island, reached by two separate ferries. We visited vineyards and a winery, and we dined on more fresh seafood, including the local specialty: sea scallops that are four times as large as Florida scallops and very tasty. After two nights at Bear River, we drove to northern Nova Scotia to visit a spectacular area known as Cape Breton National Park, where we spent two full days hiking through a variety of terrains. It’s an amazing place with many cliff side views. I could easily spend a week there.

As I’ve said before, friends, I think travel to new places enriches us more than any other activity. It allows us to meet people who live differently than we do. And we see geography unlike any we’ve seen before. I’m so glad we made the Maine-Nova Scotia trip. If you ever get the chance to visit these places, be sure you do. You won’t be disappointed.

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My summer visit to Germany ….

spiekeroogHi, friends and readers:

On June 10, 2016, I flew from Tampa to Frankfurt, Germany, to spend 16 days visiting friends all over Germany. Besides Frankfurt, I visited Hannover, Berlin, Bremen, and Hamburg. And friends also took me to a very special island on the North Sea called Spiekeroog, where the beach is wide and the dunes soar. No vehicles are allowed on the island so it’s very quiet and peaceful. We spent time hiking and exploring. The food was great and the weather was nearly perfect during our stay. The photos I have posted here today will give you some idea of what Spiekeroog looks like.

spiekeroog #2It had been five years since I’d last visited Germany, but it hasn’t changed too much. My friends over there are former exchange students who lived with me and their families and friends. It was so good to see them all, and the time just flew by.

Now I am back in Florida, but not for long. Tomorrow my partner and I will fly up to Maine, where we’ll stay at a friend’s lakefront cottage in central Maine, not too far from Moosehead Lake. Then we’ll take a ferry to Nova Scotia, where we will stay with my sister and her husband in a farmhouse. We’ll also do some hiking in the Cape Breton national park at the northern end of Nova Scotia. I always enjoy visiting places I have not been before, so I am stoked.

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I’m back from Cuba ….

Hi, friends and readers:

Cuba balconyTwo good friends joined me for a trip to Cuba, leaving last Saturday (7/2/16) and returning today (7/9/16). I came home with a nasty case of diarrhea and a boatload of memories, some amazing, some sobering.

We spent three days in Havana, where the architecture defies description. The beautiful colonial buildings, both commercial and residential, keep coming at you every time you turn a corner. But most every structure is in disrepair and badly in need of paint. For every one in good shape there are nine that are not. And the unemployment in Havana is depressing.

Cuba schoolWe spent four days in Playa Larga, on Cuba’s southern coast, about 2-1/2 hours’ drive from Havana. One of our most gratifying experiences was our visit to a small village outside of Playa Larga, where we distributed gifts to the residents. We brought baseball equipment, soccer equipment, and a Ping-Pong set that the whole village will share. We also brought  school supplies, stuffed animals, toothbrushes and toothpaste, and other small items for the kids. We distributed soap, toothpaste, shaving razors, herbs, and spices to the adults. The people in the village seemed so grateful for the things we brought them. The town’s unofficial mayor showed us a water purification system the Catholic church had bought the village, which they are very proud of.

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A beautiful Tucson sunset ….

TucsonHi, friends and readers:

About seven years ago I traveled by plane to Tucson, AZ, to visit someone I’d met over the Internet. I wanted to see if we might be compatible.

We weren’t. 🙁

I spent five days out there–it was my first visit to the city–and afterward I wrote a short story about my visit there and how sometimes two people just aren’t meant to be in a relationship. I also described Tucson like this:

“Ever visited Tucson in late June? It’s like a dry sauna, from sun-up to sundown. The town sits in a valley surrounded by brown mountains with jagged peaks. Most commercial structures are one or two stories and nondescript. Homes in town are squatty, either brick or mission style, and none have grass. Yards are simply dirt the color of bran flakes, dotted here and there with thirsty-looking shrubs. Most trees are stunted. The only tall ones are Italian pines, Washingtonia palms and the occasional eucalyptus. Commercial streets are lined with small businesses: take-away, Tex-Mex, tattoo parlors, tire stores, motels and fast food chains.

tucson #2“Few people roamed the sidewalks; the day was simply too hot to be outdoors.

“Arizona University, where (name redacted) matriculated, was the town’s most impressive institution. The buildings were contemporary, mostly red brick and glass. A football stadium existed for the Wildcats, who play in the Pac Ten Conference. But even on campus there was not much grass, save for one treeless plaza; it sat unused and out of place, amidst all the brownness.

“The foothills were different.

“Like I said, (name redacted) lived in Ventana Canyon, where several country clubs were located. The courses there were green, but barely, with yellow patches here and there. The homes in the area were two-story; many were boxy, adobe-style structures. Vegetation was more lush than in town. No grass grew, but many trees did—mesquite mainly—they grew to fifteen feet or more. I saw pines and aspens as well. And everywhere in the foothills, saguaro cacti grew, those multi-branched monsters you see in cowboy movies. Many were twelve feet tall or higher, and some were eight hundred years old.”

I am writing a new novel about two college-age boys who are traveling on I-10 from Florida to California in a panel van. Right now I am writing about their time spent in New Mexico, and so I pulled out my old Tucson story to refresh my memory of what I saw there. Boy am I glad I wrote that story ….

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How Americans see the world ….

World mapHi, friends and readers:

I’ve done a lot of traveling during my life, all over Europe, South America and Mexico, the Bahamas, Australia, Canada, and so on. I’m always amazed by how marrow-minded Americans can be when it comes to travel. One summer, when I told my friends I would spend three months living in Berlin, they asked me questions like, “Do they have electricity over there?” Or, “What if you need a doctor?”

Look I love my country, but there are also many other amazing places to live, and different ways to live. I think we, as Americans, would be wise to spend a little more time in cultures different from ours.

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My new novel, “The House on Fremont Drive”, is released ….

The House on Fremont Drive final cover smallerHi, friends and readers:

Today is a big day for me as an author. My latest novel, titled The House on Fremont Drive, was released this morning by Dark Hollows Press. Here’s a blurb for the book:

“Eighteen year-old Nate Ziegler has problems. A dead boy’s ghost dwells in the crawl space above Nate’s walk-in closet; the ghost won’t leave Nate alone. Nate’s cross-country teammate is a neo-Nazi astrology freak; he wants to recruit Nate as his disciple. Nate’s new boyfriend is an emotional mess; he’s a victim of physical and psychological abuse. And Nate’s parents don’t even know Nate is gay. How will he deal with it all?”

This is a large book, over 300 pages, and it took me nearly seven months to write it. I had to do a lot of research on astrology, cross-country running, and Nazi mysticism. It’s unlike anything I have written previously, and I have no idea how it will be received by reviewers and readers, but we’ll see. Here’s a buy link to the Dark Hollows website:

http://www.darkhollowspress.com/#!the-house-on-fremont-dr/cwki

And here’s a brief excerpt from the book where the main character, Nate Ziegler, has his first encounter with the undead:

****

Copyright Jere’ M. Fishback, 2016

I woke to a sound that made my eyelids flutter. I glanced at the alarm clock on my nightstand. The time was around two A.M. A metallic, tinkling noise came from someplace close by, somewhere inside my room. My limbs stiffened when I heard the sound again, and then I heard something else as well: the sound of human breathing.

I crinkled my forehead, already feeling a little scared. What was going on?

Many hours had passed since I’d smoked the Kush at Riley’s house, but I still felt the weed’s effect. My brain seemed fuzzy and my mouth tasted like I’d stuffed a woolen sock inside it. I had jerked off hours before, when memories of Peter and Riley filled my mind’s eye. Then, afterward, I lay in a weird sort of netherworld—half-asleep and half-awake—until about midnight, when I finally dozed off.

Now I sat up in my bed. My sheets rustled and the bedsprings squeaked. The palest glow from a fingernail moon entered my room through the windows, casting a faint rhombus of light onto the room’s oak floor.

“Mom, Dad,” I whispered, “is that you?”

No answer. Then I heard the tinkling sound again—I heard the breathing noise too—and my scalp prickled. Who was in my room and what did they want?

After I’d turned thirteen, back in Seattle, my folks sometimes left me at home by myself while they attended parties or enjoyed their twice-monthly “date night.” I didn’t mind, but I felt uneasy about falling asleep whenever I was alone. Break-ins in our neighborhood happened occasionally and what would I do if an intruder entered our house? What if he attacked me? So without my folks’ knowledge I always kept a wooden baseball bat under my bed—it gave me a sense of security—and now, in my Fremont Drive bedroom, I reached beneath my bed frame to retrieve a 32-inch Louisville Slugger™.

Clutching the bat, I rose to my feet while trying to stay as quiet as possible. The noises continued; they seemed to come from the corner where my closet door was located. I wore only boxer shorts and my bare feet didn’t make any noise when I took a step toward the closet. Already, sweat trickled down my ribs from my armpits. My fingers flexed against the tape on the bat’s handle. Again, I heard a metallic tinkle and the sound of breathing; the noises grew louder and more distinct as I approached the closet. No light shone from beneath the closet door’s lower edge. I took two more steps, and then I heard something else: a moan and a whimper—it was a guy’s voice for certain—but whose was it?

I reached for the closet doorknob; I turned it as quietly as I could. Then I flung the door open. I switched on the closet’s overhead light while raising the bat over my shoulder. I was ready to deliver a nasty blow to my intruder’s head, but…

No one was there.

The only sound I heard was my own breathing. My forehead crinkled while I swung my gaze here and there. Nothing seemed out of place—everything looked normal to me—until I saw the belt. It hung from a hook on the backside of the closet door, just to one side of the mirror, about four feet from the floor. The belt was made of leather, about two inches wide. I hadn’t worn it in a year or more; I stored it with my other belts in a box on the closet shelf. Someone had passed the belt’s strap through the buckle to form a sort of noose. They also enlarged one of the prong holes on the strap so the hole could fit over the hook on the closet door, and this allowed the noose to hang freely.

A shudder ran through me while I studied the belt and tried to make sense of what had just happened. Was it possible I’d imagined the noises I heard? Who knew what people saw or thought while high on Kush? I’d come home from Riley’s feeling light-headed and spaced. I barely spoke to my parents at the dinner table, and then I bolted for my room right after I’d finished my meal. Maybe I had messed around with the belt while I was high. But why would I make a noose?

My mom’s voice sounded in the hallway, startling me.

“Nate?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

“It’s late. Why are you up?”

I flexed my fingers against the baseball bat, feeling confused as shit. Was I going nuts? Had the Kush fucked up my head so badly that I’d lost contact with reality? Honestly, I’d never felt as creepy or bewildered as I did at that moment.

“I’m okay,” I said. “I woke up ’cause I needed to pee.”

A few seconds passed before Mom spoke, and when she did a hint of skepticism laced her voice. “All right, honey,” she said. “I’ll…see you in the morning.”

****

Wish me luck with this one, friends.

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I’m off to kayak the Colorado River ….

colorado riverHi, friends and readers:

If you follow this website then you know I am a huge devotee of travel, especially when I am going someplace I have never been before. I’m also big on the outdoors, when it comes to vacations; I always feel rejuvenated by nature and its beauty. I like all kinds of environments: jungle, beaches, the mountains of Maine and the California coast. And, of course, I love Florida’s natural beauty, from the Georgia border to the Florida Keys.

Tomorrow I will jump on an airliner that will take me to Southern California. Several friends and I will travel the Colorado River in Nevada with our kayaks, our camping equipment, and plenty of food and alcohol. We will kayak the river for three days while camping on its banks.

I have never been on the Colorado River; I’ve only seen it from the rim of the Grand Canyon, so I am stoked. Wish me luck, friends.

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