What If…

Do you know anyone who seems to be living a “what if” life? What if this horrible thing happens–or something even worse? How can he or she ever deal with it?

That doesn’t sound like a desirable way to live, does it?

A certain amount of “what if-ing” is probably normal, however. Maybe even desirable.

If we don’t say, “What if I come down with a serious illness?” we might not make sure we have medical insurance, get regular checkups, eat healthy foods, and get the right amount of sleep and exercise.

If we don’t say, “What if I lose my job–or some major expense comes up?” we might fail to set aside money to build an adequate emergency fund.

If we don’t say, “What if the cat knocks the lighted candle over while I’m out and burns the house down,” we might not bother to blow out the flame before we leave.

“What if-ing” that leads us to do smart things makes sense. The same goes for avoiding things that might be dangerous or harmful.

But what about folks who’re burdened by phobias of different kinds? Aren’t they victims of a different kind of “what if”?

If fear of flying makes a person travel an unnecessarily long distance by car or train when a fairly short flight would be more practical, isn’t he a “what if” victim?

And what about victims of agoraphobia–a fear of being in a public place? Their “what ifs” keep them from going out and enjoying much of life.

During early childhood, I apparently had a frightening experience while taking swimming lessons. I’ve suppressed that memory for more than sixty years–so deeply I have no idea what happened. My “what if” about being in the water made me put off being baptized for a number of years because I was so terrified of “what if.”

Those “what ifs”–and dozens of similar ones–seem pretty irrational, don’t they? But they’re real to the sufferer. And, ironically, living in fear of the “what if” may actually make someone more miserable than anything that might happen as the result of doing what the sufferer is so frightened of.

Too often, people don’t take the important “what ifs” of life seriously enough. If they did, no one would drink and drive. No one would die of a tobacco-related disease. No one would commit crime to support a drug habit–or die of an overdose. Accidents that aren’t really accidental would decrease.

No one would ever “need” to have an abortion.

And people who reject Christianity would give it a serious second thought.

Your comments are welcome.

I’ll be back again next Sunday. If you’d like to receive my posts by email, go to “Follow Blog via Email” at the upper right.

Best regards,

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Before You Self-Publish…

After writing my first novel, my wife and I carefully considered the alternatives. We thought it was pretty good. And, after all, I’d been an honors award-winning English major in college and had taught English for six-plus years.

So I knew good grammar. I knew how to vary the structure of my sentences. I knew a lot more, or so I thought.

And we knew that finding a publisher was a long, taxing proposition. No matter how good my novel.

Furthermore, we knew that the trip from signed contract to fresh, newly published book normally takes at least at least a year. I was going on sixty at the time. Could we afford to waste all that time when  self-publishing opportunities abounded?

I don’t have any training in graphic design, but I thought I was pretty imaginative when it came to a cover design. And between my wife and me, we had editing covered.

So why not self-publish? (They didn’t yet refer to it as “independent publishing” or “indie publishing.”) Sure, it would cost something, but not an extravagant amount. We weren’t going to go hungry or miss a car payment in bypassing the traditional book publishing route and doing it ourselves.

We found a company that looked good and seemed legitimate. We were entirely satisfied with those folks and with the quality of my book–at least the part they took care of.

But readers even then looked askance at self-published books, and–when I started reading numerous writing books and attending Christian writing conferences–I learned two horrible facts.

I’d planned to spend all of my time as an author just writing the next book and the book after that, but my books weren’t going to market themselves. Also, the nature of contemporary novels had changed drastically since my days of lovingly lazing through a thousand pages or more of James Michener’s works, which still take up far too much space on my bookshelves.

I started working hard to improve my writing–to conform to the way modern novels must be if they are to attract modern readers–and committed myself to a lifetime of working to improving my writing. I would never be as good as I wanted to be, but I could always make the next book better.

I learned the rules. The really important ones and the ones that are safer to break–or at least bend. I came to accept the fact that NO book will meet every reader’s expectations any more than it will meet every publisher’s needs.

I learned a lot more, including things I have yet to succeed at putting into practice. But at least I have three novels in print through traditional publishers. I no longer count the self-published one; it was a good learning experience, but well worth forgetting otherwise.

If you have a copy, please hold on to it. Should I ever become well-known, your copy may be worth fifty or sixty cents more than it is now. A strange collector’s item, to be sure.


I called this post “Before You Self-Publish Your Book…” But I’ve talked only about my own writing journey.

Let me explain. An author I’d never heard of before–we were “friends” on one of the social media–asked if I’d read and write a review of his novel. Since I’ve been looking for more reviewers for The Devil and Pastor Gus, I proposed a swap. I’d read and review his book if he read and reviewed mine.

I read the first couple of chapters and then checked to see who his publisher was. Yep, sure enough. Self-published.

I won’t go into detail about the things that gave him away other than the fact that he had what promised to be a great beginning and then deviated from it.  And the fact that his paragraphs were quite long; modern readers (and publishers) like to see lots of white space.

I kept reading, though, and the story was really good. I felt justified in giving it four stars–an average of five for the story and the writing in general and three for the editing problems.

Now let me get to the point. I completely understand how someone who’s written a book wants to get it into print without the hassle of finding an agent and a traditional publisher. I can relate.

But even after paying my dues–years of conferences and study and struggling to make each book better than the previous one–I couldn’t self-publish without professional editing and cover design. I wouldn’t want my readers to be able to tell it was self-published because of flaws traditionally published books are less apt to suffer from. (Yes, I’ve seen some poorly edited books from those publishers, too.)

Not every book deserves to be published–at least from a publisher’s point of view and probably from the reader’s point of view as well. But a book that looks amateurish isn’t apt to do well and may not even recoup the investment the self-publisher has made.

All of that to say, please keep my advice in mind and take it for whatever it’s worth.

Have you self-published–or even thought about doing so? Would you share a comment, please?


I’ll be back again on Wednesday. If you’d like to receive my posts by email, go to “Follow Blog via Email” at the upper right.

“On Aging Gracelessly” is only one of my two blogs. I post lyrics of the Christian songs I’ve written over the last fifty years on  “As I Come Singing.” Check it out HERE if you’re interested.  Free lead sheets (tune, words, and chords) are available for many of them. View the list HERE.

If you enjoy my writing, you’ll find a number of things to read on my website.  Also music to listen to and music-related videos to watch.

My newest novel, The Devil and Pastor Gus, is available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Family Christian Stores. Go HERE for links to those places.

Best regards,


The Thin Line

The older I get, the less certain I am where to draw the line—the line between caution and hypochondria.

 I never used to think of myself as even a potential hypochondriac. In fact, to avoid becoming one, I was apt to avoid going to the doctor when I experienced symptoms I’d heard other people talk about because I didn’t want my doctor to consider me a copy cat.

That changed one week about fifteen years ago.

I’d been experiencing some chest discomfort in the early morning for several days. It always went away within a matter of hours, and it wasn’t that severe to start with.

But that day when I got to work, it got worse. Not drastically worse, but bad enough to make me feel I wasn’t up to coping with the day. I went down to the reception area and zonked out on a sofa. I would have felt embarrassed about having people staring at me as they came and went, but I didn’t feel well enough to care.

I finally gave up. No way would I be able to drive myself to the doctor, so I asked the receptionist to call the Rescue Squad. The EMT’s comments in the ambulance convinced me that I’d had a heart attack.

Three days in the hospital proved them wrong. Finally.

I came home with prescriptions for anxiety and acid reflux. No heart problems then or since. I still take omeprozole, but I no longer have a prescription for the anxiety medicine. I’m doing a better job of letting God handle that.

Even though my problem turned out not to be life threatening, it still needed to be diagnosed and dealt with.

After living though that little adventure, it was only natural that I would start paying more attention to anything my body tried to tell me. But before going to the doctor, I take advantage of the Internet to look up my symptoms and—more often than not—discover that they apply to lesser problems as well as to ones that are more serious.

One problem with my anti-hypochondriac efforts is that age seems to bring on certain symptoms that apply more to the aging process itself than to specific conditions.

With the increase in healthcare costs brought on by the implementation of Obamacare, my family doctor co-pay has risen from $10 to $30. And not even the cheapest of my medicines is free now.

So I can no longer afford to become a hypochondriac.

Please feel free to leave a comment about this post. I’ll be back again on Sunday. If you’d like to receive my posts by email, just go to the top right of this page where it says, “Follow Blog by Email.”

By the way, “On Aging Gracelessly” isn’t my only blog. I use “As I Come Singing” to post lyrics of the Christian songs I’ve written over the last fifty years. Free lead sheets (tune, words, and chords) are available for many of them. Because I’ve used up all of my songs, I repost a previous post each Wednesday. If you’re interested, please check that blog out here.

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Best regards,