Blog Archives
Open Water
Open Water is a heartfelt, raw, and deeply personal memoir by Alex Dean that chronicles his upbringing in a fractured family, his early love for academics, and the onset of a mysterious medical condition that would alter the course of his life. The story begins in a psychiatric hospital and then rewinds to Alex’s childhood in Kansas, toggling between two very different homes, one calm and loving, the other chaotic and emotionally volatile. With a voice that’s at once humorous, honest, and emotionally naked, Dean invites readers to walk through his struggles with mental health, physical illness, family conflict, identity, and perseverance.
Dean’s writing is beautifully conversational. It flows like a journal. The honesty is almost jarring at times, but that’s what makes it so powerful. He doesn’t over-polish his memories or wrap everything up in neat little lessons. His childhood was messy, his thoughts often contradictory, and his pain palpable, but he tells his story with such clarity that you trust every word. And somehow, despite the darkness he describes, he never lets the book become bleak. There’s this through-line of hope, humor, and love, especially for his family, that never goes away, even when things get really hard.
What struck me most was how relatable this story is. I wasn’t reading about someone extraordinary doing superhero things. I was reading about a smart, anxious, lovable kid doing his best to navigate a really confusing life. The family dynamics alone are enough to break your heart. The way Dean talks about his parents, especially his deep bond with his dad, and his complicated, painful relationship with his mom, felt so familiar and real. And then there’s the body that keeps failing him and the mind that won’t stop fighting him. He never pretends to have all the answers. He just keeps swinging, his favorite metaphor, and you end up rooting for him with everything you’ve got.
Open Water is a lifeline for anyone who’s ever felt overwhelmed by their own mind, their body, or their family. I would absolutely recommend it to young adults, therapists, teachers, parents, and anyone trying to understand the messiness of growing up with both invisible and visible struggles. If you want real and moving and strangely funny in the most painful places, you’ll find something here that sticks with you.
Pages: 200 | ASIN : B0CS4SYP23
Barely Visible: Mothering a Son Through His Misunderstood Autism
Kathleen Somers’ Barely Visible is a raw and often gut-wrenching memoir that tells the story of her journey as a mother navigating the heartbreaking loss of a daughter and the challenging road of raising a son with autism. The book begins with a detailed account of the late-term abortion she and her husband chose after discovering a severe chromosomal disorder in their unborn child. What follows is the story of their second chance at parenthood, a son, Jack, whose development is anything but typical, and whose autism remains invisible to many who interact with him. With honesty and grit, Somers invites readers into the daily struggles, small wins, crushing doubts, and fierce love that shape her life as a mother.
The writing is plainspoken and real, never dressing up the pain or dressing down the joy. Somers doesn’t flinch when describing her darkest moments and emotions like grief, rage, and guilt, but she also doesn’t wallow. Her voice is steady and direct. What I liked was her description of being caught in a kind of no-man’s-land with Jack: not disabled “enough” for sympathy, not neurotypical enough to be understood. That tension runs through the whole book, and it’s heartbreaking. She captures the loneliness of parenting a child who doesn’t fit the mold and the silent battles she fights in parking lots, classrooms, and her own mind.
What I appreciated most was that this isn’t a story wrapped up with a bow. Somers doesn’t pretend to have all the answers. She admits to losing her temper, to doubting her decisions, to questioning herself constantly. But she also shows up for her son, over and over again, even when it’s hard, even when it’s thankless. There’s a quiet bravery in that. And her reflections on how people perceive disability, how a child’s challenges are judged based on how visible they are, stayed with me. She writes with a dry wit at times that cuts through the heaviness, which I found refreshing and relatable.
I would recommend Barely Visible to any parent, especially those who feel like they’re walking a path they didn’t expect. If you’ve ever struggled to make sense of a diagnosis, to advocate for a child who’s misunderstood, or to stay afloat when life doesn’t look the way you thought it would, this book will speak to you. It’s not just about autism or motherhood or grief. It’s about resilience and love and the messy, beautiful, brutal work of showing up.
Pages: 312 | ISBN : 978-1647428822
History Often Forgets
Mrs. Orcutt’s Driveway tells the story of Margaret “Bonnie” Orcutt, a brilliant yet defiant woman who built a life and then defended it in the Mojave Desert against a government that sought to take her land and have her quietly disappear. What inspired you to tell her story?
I was drawn to Bonnie Orcutt’s story because it embodied everything I admire in a person – and everything I find frustrating about bureaucracy. Here was a woman living in one of the harshest landscapes in America, building a life with her own hands, and then being told by the government she had no right to exist there. It wasn’t just a driveway; it was a stand-in for every little fight that goes unnoticed.
What struck me most is how much Mrs. Orcutt reminded me of my maternal grandmother – same spirit, same stubborn fire, same sense of dignity. As a child growing up in Los Angeles, my mother and grandmother would drive us across the desert routes to visit family in Arizona. I remember spending hours staring out the window, mesmerized by that vast, unforgiving landscape. Desert culture always intrigued me – it’s sparse but rich, quiet but full of meaning.
I first came across Margaret’s story on the internet several years ago. It wasn’t a major headline – just a passing mention – but it stuck with me. I tucked it away in my mind, but it kept calling to me, quietly but persistently. Honestly, it felt like Margaret chose me to write it. That may sound strange, but I think stories sometimes pick their authors. And when one won’t let you go, you owe it to the truth to listen.
So, I told her story not just to honor her memory, but to spotlight how history often forgets the people who resist with quiet dignity. Bonnie didn’t kick down doors or make speeches—she just stood her ground, literally, on a patch of desert she loved. That, to me, is heroic
Bonnie was not your typical widow and retiree; instead, she built her homestead and stood up to those who wanted to erase all her hard work. Did you find anything in your research of this book that surprised you?
Absolutely. I expected to find an eccentric woman with a strong will—which I did—but what surprised me was how deeply principled and methodical she was beneath the surface. This wasn’t some impulsive desert dweller throwing sand in the face of authority. Bonnie was sharp, articulate, and relentless. She read the regulations. She filed appeals. She wrote letters to senators. She didn’t just resist—she researched.
At first, I thought this was just a story about a woman fighting the government and the legend she became for writing the White House. But as I dug deeper, I realized her backstory—her earlier life, the love and loss of her husband, the years of quiet determination before the conflict even began—was just as compelling as the rest. Her story wasn’t born from a single act of defiance. It was the culmination of a full, fiercely lived life.
What also caught me off guard was how her fight wasn’t just against land seizure – it was against erasure. The government wasn’t just trying to move her; they were trying to pretend she was never there. That kind of quiet wiping away of a life felt chilling, and it gave the story even more weight.
Lastly, I was struck by the contrast between how physically isolated she was and how visible her resistance became. Out there in the desert, surrounded by silence and sagebrush, she created a legacy that reached far beyond the boundaries of her land. That paradox – the lonely road that somehow leads to a public stand—still gives me chills.
What were some ideas that were important for you to share in this book about her battle or her personality?
One of the core ideas I wanted to share was that strength doesn’t always look loud. Bonnie wasn’t waving banners or giving press conferences -she was alone in the desert, armed with paperwork, stubbornness, and a deep sense of what was right. I think we often overlook people like that. But her quiet resistance, her unwillingness to be erased, speaks volumes about the kind of courage that doesn’t seek attention – it simply endures.
I also wanted to capture the emotional cost of these battles. It’s easy to turn someone like Bonnie into a symbol, but she was a woman who had lost her husband, who built her home from nothing, and who was being told by powerful institutions that none of it mattered. That kind of dismissal hits deep. So I wanted to preserve her humanity, not just her defiance. She wasn’t just standing up to the government— – was standing up for her right to exist with dignity.
And on a broader level, I hoped readers would see the story as a mirror of a larger theme: how ordinary people get caught in the gears of institutions. This wasn’t just about a driveway – it was about identity, belonging, legacy, and the fragile boundary between public power and personal sovereignty.
Lastly, I wanted to make sure readers felt the weight of the landscape. The Mojave isn’t just scenery in this story—it’s a character. It shaped her solitude, her resolve, her daily life. You don’t live out there unless you’re willing to be tested. And Bonnie Orcutt passed every test they threw at her.
What is the next book you’re working on, and when can we expect it to be available?
The next book is called The Chinese Room, and it’s a very different kind of story – though it still carries my obsession with people pushed to the edge by systems larger than themselves. This one leans more into the philosophical thriller genre. It explores what happens when artificial intelligence crosses the line between mimicry and meaning, and whether a machine that sounds human can ever be human.
It follows a disillusioned tech journalist, a reclusive professor, and a mysterious AI program that seems to know more than it should. It’s fast-paced, layered, and questions everything from identity to consciousness to control.
The official release date is September 1, and the audiobook is currently in production. If Mrs. Orcutt’s Driveway was a battle for a patch of land, The Chinese Room is a battle for the soul of what makes us human.
Unlike Orcutt, which is a true historical narrative, The Chinese Room is an AI thriller—but with a profound twist. It uses classic thought problems as the foundation, not just for the plot, but for the entire philosophical structure. It’s also the first installment in a proposed 10-book collection called The Paradox Series, where each book explores a different thought experiment brought to life.
I also recently finished Searching for Bowlby, a return to the historical narrative form. It explores the life of John Bowlby – the father of attachment theory—and is scheduled for release this October. It’s the first book of its kind to look at his life not only as a biography but also as a cinematic narrative, written with the flow and imagery of a screenplay. It’s personal, philosophical, and scenic—designed to bring his legacy to life in a fresh, accessible way.
Author Links: GoodReads | X (Twitter) | Facebook | Instagram | Website | Amazon
When bulldozers came to carve a highway through her property, one woman refused to move. Margaret “Bonnie” Orcutt wasn’t just protecting her home—she was standing her ground against the unstoppable weight of progress all the way to the White House.
Set against the sun-scorched backdrop of Newberry Springs, California, Mrs. Orcutt’s Driveway tells the true and stirring story of a retired widow, a long-forgotten patch of Route 66, and the power of quiet defiance. With goats, tortoises, and an island in her handmade lake, Bonnie’s life was anything but ordinary—and her resistance made headlines across America.
A historical narrative, this book is part biography, part roadside legend, and all heart.
A true-life David vs. Goliath tale that has become a legend.
Readers who enjoy the grit and emotional depth of Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand, the candid resilience of The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls, the environmental insight of Refuge by Terry Tempest Williams, the Americana charm of Blue Highways by William Least Heat-Moon, the folk spirit of The Milagro Beanfield War by John Nichols, or the investigative power of Killers of the Flower Moon by David Grann will find something to admire here.
Perfect for lovers of the 1960s, Route 66 history, desert mysteries, or tales of everyday grit, this is not just a story you’ll read. It’s one you’ll carry with you.
Travel the road.
Meet the woman.
Preserve the memory.
Download now, and decide for yourself: Are you as tough as Mrs. Orcutt?
GoodReads:
Stand Up Speak Up: How Survivors Created a Movement to End Sexual Violence
This book is both a painful personal account and an inspiring call to action. Author Tim Lennon begins by recounting his own childhood trauma as a survivor of clergy abuse, a story that unfolds with heartbreaking honesty. From that foundation, he traces the rise of a global movement of survivors who have turned silence into strength and pain into activism. Through detailed chapters, Lennon chronicles the efforts of individuals and organizations that have worked tirelessly to expose abuse, support victims, challenge institutional cover-ups, and push for justice around the world.
What struck me most was the rawness of Lennon’s writing. His emotions come through in every line. Rage, grief, confusion, and ultimately, a fierce determination. He walks us through his journey from a silent, broken child to a relentless advocate and leader. The writing has a rough-edged clarity. It’s not polished like a memoir written for mass market appeal, but that’s exactly why it hits so hard. You feel like he’s speaking directly to you, almost like you’re sitting in a church basement at a support meeting, hearing someone finally say out loud the things no one else will.
The book is packed with stories, statistics, names of organizations, and powerful examples of systemic failure across nearly every major institution like churches, sports teams, the military, Hollywood, schools, and government. It’s an ambitious, wide-reaching work that paints a clear picture of just how deeply rooted the problem is. Lennon doesn’t shy away from the scale or complexity of it all. Instead, he leans in, showing us the full scope so we understand that this isn’t about one bad actor or one broken system. It’s everywhere. And that’s what makes the book so powerful. It’s not meant to make you feel comfortable, it’s meant to wake you up.
I’d recommend Stand Up Speak Up to anyone who cares about social justice, survivor advocacy, or institutional reform. It’s especially powerful for survivors who might be looking for a sense of connection or hope. It’s not always an easy read, but it’s an important one. Lennon’s voice is not only personal, it’s political, unflinching, and urgently needed. This book is a torch passed from one survivor to another. If you’re ready for it, it will light something in you.
Prodigal Song: A Gen X Memoir of Excess and Obsession in Pursuit of the Rock ‘n’ Roll Dream
Prodigal Song is a deeply personal and wildly entertaining memoir chronicling Sean Coons’ journey from a chubby, music-obsessed kid in 1980s Los Angeles to a struggling rock guitarist trying to make it in the heart of Hollywood. The book traces Coons’ obsession with rock stardom, his battles with body image and compulsive eating, and the wild misadventures with his band, Song Unsung. It’s a raw look at the pursuit of artistic dreams, the trappings of self-indulgence, and the eventual pull toward redemption and meaning. Coons mixes humor with brutal honesty, all set against a vivid backdrop of ’80s and ’90s pop culture.
Coons’ writing is funny, sharp, and full of heart. He doesn’t try to make himself look cool or mysterious or tragic. He just tells the truth, warts and all. I loved how he could pivot from describing an embarrassing childhood moment to riffing on Van Halen lyrics or unraveling the twisted ethics of rock culture with surprising insight. I found myself rooting for him, even as he made bad choices or spiraled into food binges and self-doubt. It’s rare to find a memoir that’s this self-aware without being self-important.
What hit me hardest, though, were the moments where the glamor faded, and the raw stuff came through. When Coons realizes he’s eaten himself into obesity while chasing his dream, it’s not played for pity or laughs, it’s just sad and real. The way he weaves in spirituality, guilt, and the need for grace without ever getting preachy or stiff made the book resonate on a deeper level. He never quite gives up on his dream, but he learns that the real victory might not be fame at all. That really stuck with me. It made me think about my own ambitions and the things I’ve let define me, for better or worse.
If you’re someone who grew up loving rock ’n’ roll, or if you’ve ever felt out of place chasing a dream in a world that doesn’t seem to care, Prodigal Song will speak to you. It’s perfect for fans of memoirs like Rob Sheffield’s Love Is a Mix Tape or anyone who likes their nostalgia with a side of truth. You don’t need to be a musician to appreciate this story, you just need to have wanted something badly enough to lose yourself in the process.
Pages: 215 | ASIN : B0FG2PFXNT
Changing Eyes
Changing Eyes is a raw and wrenching memoir written by Leanne Antaya about her family’s harrowing battle with addiction, particularly her son Trey’s descent into drug use and the long, painful road to his recovery. Spanning decades, the book moves from Leanne’s early romance and marriage to Marco, through raising four children, to navigating the chaos of addiction, near-death experiences, strained relationships, and personal trauma. Told through Leanne’s eyes as a mother, it’s an honest account of love, loss, resilience, and the aching hope that somehow, amid all the wreckage, healing is possible.
This book tore me up and stitched me back together, sometimes in the same chapter. Antaya’s writing isn’t polished in a literary sense, but that’s what makes it work. It’s messy, emotional, and real. She doesn’t whitewash the shame, the guilt, or the unbearable powerlessness that addiction brings into a family. Her style jumps between memories and moments with a kind of breathless honesty, as if she’s spilling it all out before she loses her nerve. There were parts where I had to pause and sit with it, where her pain leapt off the page and made me feel like I was in that hospital room or standing at that phone, dreading the worst.
The book is more like a collection of moments and memories than a tightly woven narrative. But maybe that’s the point. Addiction isn’t tidy. Grief doesn’t follow a three-act structure. What stands out most to me is Leanne’s sheer determination to hold her family together. Her voice carries this sharp mix of exhaustion and fire that made me root for her, even when things kept falling apart. And Trey’s story is both heartbreaking and infuriating, but Antaya never lets you forget that he’s human, even when he’s at his lowest.
I’d recommend Changing Eyes to anyone who wants to understand what addiction does to families, not in theory, but in the day-to-day heartbreak. This is for the parents who are living in quiet fear, for the friends who don’t know what to say, and for anyone who thinks addiction is just a personal failing. It’s not a light read, and it doesn’t offer easy answers. But it’s full of gut-level truth, and in the end, it clings to hope.
Pages: 356 | ASIN : B0B6QDP6C4
Unconverted: Memoir of a Marriage
Polly Ingraham’s Unconverted is a moving, often funny, and beautifully written memoir chronicling her unexpected marriage to an Episcopal priest and the even more surprising journey that followed. The book tells the story of a secular woman navigating life, love, and identity inside the deep tradition of the Episcopal Church, not as a convert, but as a skeptic and sometimes reluctant participant. Through candid reflection, Ingraham explores what it means to love someone whose beliefs are fundamentally different from your own and how a marriage can flourish without shared faith, provided there’s shared respect, curiosity, and deep affection.
Ingraham’s writing is sharp and unpretentious, often funny and achingly honest. She manages to be both thoughtful and down-to-earth as she walks us through moments of discomfort, discovery, and the quiet ache of being the odd one out in a world of ritual and belief. Her prose doesn’t waste words. She brings you in close, never asking for sympathy, only understanding. I especially appreciated her refusal to fake devotion just to fit in. That kind of integrity made me root for her all the way through. Her love for Rob is never in doubt, but she doesn’t sugarcoat the strain of being partnered with someone whose life is woven into a faith you don’t share.
There’s also something deeply comforting about her insistence on staying herself, even when the pressure to change would’ve made it easier. I felt her unease during the high church services, her resistance to the wafer and wine, her side-eye at the church politics, and clunky old houses with drafty corners. It felt real. And yet, what held this book together wasn’t doubt or division, it was tenderness. Her marriage, though often challenged by theological distance, is grounded in mutual admiration and a kind of quiet, dogged love that I found deeply moving. There’s no dramatic conversion here, no tidy resolution, but there is growth. And a kind of grace that doesn’t require belief to feel.
I’d recommend Unconverted to anyone who’s ever felt like a bit of an outsider in their own life or who’s struggled to be true to themselves while loving someone very different. It’s especially poignant for secular readers navigating religious families, marriages, or communities. This book doesn’t offer easy answers, but it offers something better: honesty, humor, and hope that two people can build a beautiful life without having to believe all the same things. That feels pretty miraculous to me.
Pages: 284 | ISBN : 978-1578694006
LITERARY TITAN 