In September 2003, I launched Nestucca Spit Press to publish books about Oregon. A decade later, I never would have dreamed of releasing 13 books, including ten of my own. Moreover, I published roughly 60 other writers in three anthologies, won the 2009 Holbrook Literary Legacy Award, gigged close to 550 times, put 450,000 miles on three trucks, and sold 15,000 books exclusively through Oregon independent bookstores, at live events, and out of the back of my trucks. I also stashed 100 books in various bars, taverns, prisons, Laundromats, churches, and cafes and that strategy turned out to be one of the better marketing ploys I used to promote the work. I always met the most interesting non-reading readers that way. Oh, and I once sent a copy of Grasping Wastrels to every member of the Oregon Legislature... » Click here to read more
From Of Walking in Rain:
I want to be the Tom Petty, Henry Miller, Harriet Tubman, Steve Prefontaine, Gale Sayers and Daniel of the lion’s den of Oregon rain. Rain plays chess and solitaire with you at the same time. Rain sets up spontaneous stages for unrehearsed performances. Rain brings mountains down to the sea. All my great notions manifest in rain. Threat of rain culls the weaklings. Rain strops those who walk into it. I have divined many of life’s most important intentions in rain. Using an umbrella is like turning off the light before sex. What would happen to our country if we elected a President from the Oregon Coast who knew rain and loved it? I love the smell of wet dogs in the morning—it smells like victory. I’d rather fall in love with a woman of rain, not the sun or moon, but of course, rain isn’t for everyone as I have discovered. Rain portends nothing. It means everything.