Welcome to Glass House Press

No super powers. I’m Batman.   

Hopefully with close family and friends reminiscing about the good times and sharing a joke or two. Probably listen to good music and eat some junk food, because why not? Maybe throw a couple of games of Pac Man in there somewhere. But I have it on good authority, that’s not going to happen any time soon. Remember, I’m Batman.  

I’d just like to spread good vibes and be as positive an influence on the world as I possibly can. I think that’s about the best any of us can hope for. You hear a lot of negative things nowadays, but I think that most people are just trying to do well in their own way. I say, just try to do right and help out whenever you can. The more of that we have, the better the world will be.  

I ask myself, where am I? How’d I get here? Then I suddenly realize that I was somehow magically transported to Arrakis, the setting for Frank Herbert’s classic, Dune. Just then, the ground begins to quake under my feet. I know exactly what this is, but before I can react, a giant sand worm bursts out of the sandy crust, its grotesque mouth agape. I turn and run as the massive beast bears down on me. I make it just a few feet when I find that I’m being swallowed whole. I think to myself, I’m a goner, as my body tumbles deeper down the worm’s slimy gullet. Then I remember; I brought something with me. I reach to my side and grab my handy lightsaber. The glowing green blade whooshes to life, illuminating the creature’s tight innards. As its burning stomach acids start to drip on me, I know that I only have one chance, and I thrust the blade deep into the worm’s jello-like flesh. The creature arches up and howls as I cut a wide swath through the wiggling softness. Soon, the beast lumbers and falls to the desert floor with a mighty crash. It shudders slightly before falling silent and motionless for good. A moment later, I emerge from the lightsaber slit, battered and gooey but victorious!  

My wife, Gail. She takes good care of me, which any writer will tell you is a huge thing. I handle most of the writing work, but this is really a team effort in a lot of ways. She keeps me on track and lets me know when something isn’t working. She’s my first reader, my cheering squad, and my best friend.  And her homemade cake pops are to die for!

That’s a rarity for me. I’m usually pretty obsessed with the time. If I walk out the door without my watch, I feel weird all day. Honestly, I can’t remember a moment when time got so far away from me that I was ever shocked by the hour I found myself in. Not the most fun answer, I know, but there it is.  

Source: Goodreads

Boy’s Life by Robert McCammon. I read it when I was seventeen and the memory of it is still as fresh and as vivid as if I’d read it yesterday. It’s about a year in the life of a boy growing up in a small town in Alabama in the 1960’s. It blends mystery, fantasy, and a touch of the macabre in a way that I’ve never seen before or sense. McCammon’s prose is extremely rich and lyrical. It’s a joy to read. And don’t let the title fool you. You don’t have to be boy to enjoy it. I’ve known young girls and grown women who have read this and loved it.  

I wouldn’t want the job. Too much responsibly. Too much stress. Who needs it? I’d rather let the big shots have their rule (and all the ulcers that go along with it) while I head home, kick up my feet, and watch the latest episode of The Flash.  

Wow factor. Let’s see… Okay. When I was thirteen, my folks took me on a trip to Atlantic City. When we got to our hotel, there were a bunch of people milling around the lobby. While my dad was checking us in, we asked one of them what was going on. They said that the New Kids on the Block (late 80s boy band for you youngsters) was staying on the top floor and they were waiting around hoping to get a peek. After my dad got our keys, we left the crowd and took the elevator up to our room. Once we got settled in, my folks decided that we should head out and see the sights. We went back to the elevator and took it down to the lobby. When the door opened, I stepped out first to the sound of stunned gasps and clicking cameras. A second later, the crowd realized that the kid they were looking at wasn’t Donnie, Joey, Jordan, Jonathan, or Danny and let out a collective, disappointed awwww. Wasn’t exactly my fifteen minutes of fame, but at least in the eyes of that crowd, I was an honorary New Kid on the Block for one second.