The life of an author may not be a pulse racing thriller but it is never dull, or at least at times there are small successes that make you feel like you are on top of the world. Last week, I received an offer for contract on a third book, pretty amazing, at least I thought so. It is a good feeling to know that being published is going to happen before you start on a project. Writing on speculation takes a lot of courage, and luck! I have a friend who says that "To be a writer, you have to be an absolute optimist, with very thick skin." I think I know what she means.
We are still tracking on the production process for Burnt Yellow and Red, my second novel which will be released in the spring of 2012. What is that you say? You have not ordered your signed and numbered prerelease copy yet? Well, there is time, but you had better hurry and get a low sequence number quick. I’ll reserve it for you! Just order it now!
The Night Eagles Soared is still doing well. I’ve had six book signings in the last four weeks and I've been working on learning the art of screen writing. It isn't easy...but not impossible and that is my focus over the next two weeks. Well, that and my birthday is coming up! Half way to 100 and still going strong!
Thanks everybody!
Steve
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
GBU!
Our lives portend a journey that begins at birth and carries on through a tangled web of experiences from which we learn and grow as human beings. It is these experiences that create the map of our lives. The map on which we build the legacy we leave to those we love and care about the most.
A few weeks ago, I had the honor of participating in the 2011, Space and Missile Defense Conference; which was held at the Von Braun Complex in Huntsville Alabama. You can imagine my surprise to be included in a line up of authors that in my opinion was headlined by Colonel (Retired) Leo Thorsness; Congressional Medal of Honor Recipient, President of the CMH Association and now fellow Author!
At first I was a little intimidated, but the Colonel quickly put me at ease with the way he treated not only me but everybody else that came across our paths. He had a knack for making the incredible honor of meeting him all about the person who he was talking to. He would ask profound questions and demonstrate an interest in the other person in a way that was absolutely genuine and humbling.
I watched as person after person told the Colonel about their lives and where they were from and who they were and how many kids they had and about their marriages, their grandchildren and then… He would sign a copy of his book to them in a personal way that showed how much he had enjoyed meeting each and every one of his readers. Every time I wanted to look over his shoulder to see what he had written and then suddenly, he showed me!
“In each book, I always find a way to write the letters GBU, sometimes I use the POW Tap Code to do it…the Tap Code is in the book you know!” So I asked. “What does GBU stand for?” He just laughed, and said, “God Bless You, that is how we would sign off at night before going to sleep when I was a prisoner in Vietnam.” By tapping the letters, GBU? I asked. He nodded and turned to help another reader! He asked that person, “So who signs your paychecks? That is, where do you work?” and then he was selling another three copies of his book, one for each adult member of that person’s family!
Suddenly I found a gentlemen standing in front of my side of the table, he was using a cane to walk and I could see the age in his eyes. My first thought was that he must be about 90 years old. So I asked him a few questions and listened as he talked about how he was the Sr. Vice President of the Marine Corps League Detachment there in Huntsville. The thought crossed my mind, “Once again surrounded by Giants,” as he told me about all the different aspects of his charge. Long story short, he purchased a copy of “The Night Eagles Soared” and went about the business of the day.
Yesterday, I received a package in the mail. It was plainly wrapped and didn’t draw any special attention. I set it down on the table and then my wife asked, “What is that?” I replied, "I’m not sure what it is” and she said, “Open it” so I did and to my surprise guess what was inside?
Inside the envelope there was a red box with the Marine Corp emblem on it. I opened the box and what did it have inside? My friend from the Marine Corp League Detachment had included a copy of his business card but there was a gift inside as well. The gift is a corked vile filled with “Sands of Iwo Jima” March, 2010.
I almost fell over and so now, I am sitting here telling you all about my humbling experiences as a writer that day and everyday. The honor for me to have had that opportunity in my life is indescribable. I guess the journey I am on is unique and I think that perhaps, just maybe the experiences over those few days have helped me to learn and grow as a human being. In the end, I may not be able to leave a monetary legacy for those I love and care about the most, but through my writing, perhaps I can build a legacy of hope in the future for them. And that my friend is what keeps me moving forward. GBU!
A few weeks ago, I had the honor of participating in the 2011, Space and Missile Defense Conference; which was held at the Von Braun Complex in Huntsville Alabama. You can imagine my surprise to be included in a line up of authors that in my opinion was headlined by Colonel (Retired) Leo Thorsness; Congressional Medal of Honor Recipient, President of the CMH Association and now fellow Author!
At first I was a little intimidated, but the Colonel quickly put me at ease with the way he treated not only me but everybody else that came across our paths. He had a knack for making the incredible honor of meeting him all about the person who he was talking to. He would ask profound questions and demonstrate an interest in the other person in a way that was absolutely genuine and humbling.
I watched as person after person told the Colonel about their lives and where they were from and who they were and how many kids they had and about their marriages, their grandchildren and then… He would sign a copy of his book to them in a personal way that showed how much he had enjoyed meeting each and every one of his readers. Every time I wanted to look over his shoulder to see what he had written and then suddenly, he showed me!
“In each book, I always find a way to write the letters GBU, sometimes I use the POW Tap Code to do it…the Tap Code is in the book you know!” So I asked. “What does GBU stand for?” He just laughed, and said, “God Bless You, that is how we would sign off at night before going to sleep when I was a prisoner in Vietnam.” By tapping the letters, GBU? I asked. He nodded and turned to help another reader! He asked that person, “So who signs your paychecks? That is, where do you work?” and then he was selling another three copies of his book, one for each adult member of that person’s family!
Suddenly I found a gentlemen standing in front of my side of the table, he was using a cane to walk and I could see the age in his eyes. My first thought was that he must be about 90 years old. So I asked him a few questions and listened as he talked about how he was the Sr. Vice President of the Marine Corps League Detachment there in Huntsville. The thought crossed my mind, “Once again surrounded by Giants,” as he told me about all the different aspects of his charge. Long story short, he purchased a copy of “The Night Eagles Soared” and went about the business of the day.
Yesterday, I received a package in the mail. It was plainly wrapped and didn’t draw any special attention. I set it down on the table and then my wife asked, “What is that?” I replied, "I’m not sure what it is” and she said, “Open it” so I did and to my surprise guess what was inside?
Inside the envelope there was a red box with the Marine Corp emblem on it. I opened the box and what did it have inside? My friend from the Marine Corp League Detachment had included a copy of his business card but there was a gift inside as well. The gift is a corked vile filled with “Sands of Iwo Jima” March, 2010.
I almost fell over and so now, I am sitting here telling you all about my humbling experiences as a writer that day and everyday. The honor for me to have had that opportunity in my life is indescribable. I guess the journey I am on is unique and I think that perhaps, just maybe the experiences over those few days have helped me to learn and grow as a human being. In the end, I may not be able to leave a monetary legacy for those I love and care about the most, but through my writing, perhaps I can build a legacy of hope in the future for them. And that my friend is what keeps me moving forward. GBU!
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
En Excerpt from “Burnt Yellow and Red”
In this scene, Kyle and his family have just arrived to their new house located on the grounds of their new school in rural Oklahoma.
In front of the house was a large moving van, and men were unloading the furniture that the family had shipped from their California home. Father drove around the school one time, exiting on the southern end and turned right returning to the intersection over the dirt road and then turned right back onto the pavement. Continuing slowly, checking out his new charge, he turned right again, back into the entrance, then left through the open chain link gate and the driveway leading up to the house. The kids piled out of the car, Kyle and his brother headed straight to the play ground.
The grass on the play ground was dry, thick and ankle deep making it difficult for Kyle to run. His brother tackled him as they cleared the rusty steel pipe and Kyle rolled over the grass and onto the red dirt, his lungs burned from the dry heat. The smell of the grass made him sneeze twice so he sat there for a minute, trying to catch his breath as his brother ran in circles taunting him.
Soon Kyle caught his breath and headed for the swing set. It was the tallest one he had ever seen. The chains were rusty and the seats were made of leather so it made an odd creaking noise as he set the apparatus into motion. Higher and higher he went until his brother grabbed his feet on the back side of the swing and spun Kyle around, twisting the chains. Kyle held on for dear life, his knuckles lost what color they had turning completely white as he spun out of control forward into the air.
It took several swings before he came to a stop. Crying he tried to catch his brother who out ran him, taunting him with laughter which made Kyle madder than hell! So Kyle found a piece of old cement that was shaped just like a foot ball next to the cinderblock trash point and prepared to heave it at his brother who was now running away.
It was as if his brother were running in slow motion. Kyle hurled the man made projectile in a perfect spiral as it arched its way towards his older brother. With a loud thud, it knocked the air out of his brother’s lungs when it impacted perfectly between the shoulder blades bringing his brother to the ground in a series of summersaults through a patch of sand burrs.
Kyle leaped in the air laughing, as his brother shrieked in pain, the sand burrs digging into his skin through his cotton t-shirt. It was game on after that and their parents just ignored them, letting the two of them fight it out until they were both exhausted and called a truce.
Their chests heaving heavily, out of breath they sat on the old rusty pipe, hands on their knees, faces down, they were covered in dirt. Taking notice, mother called them over to the house and had them stand there while she hosed them down with a water hose she had retrieved from the truck.
The two of them stood there, the cool water and breeze felt great in the hot dry heat on their first day in Oklahoma. It didn’t take long for them to dry off but it would soon be dark so they stayed close to the house and watched the only Television channel they could receive. They turned it on to see Walter Cronkite signing off, “And that’s the way it is, this 18th day of June, 1968.”
In front of the house was a large moving van, and men were unloading the furniture that the family had shipped from their California home. Father drove around the school one time, exiting on the southern end and turned right returning to the intersection over the dirt road and then turned right back onto the pavement. Continuing slowly, checking out his new charge, he turned right again, back into the entrance, then left through the open chain link gate and the driveway leading up to the house. The kids piled out of the car, Kyle and his brother headed straight to the play ground.
The grass on the play ground was dry, thick and ankle deep making it difficult for Kyle to run. His brother tackled him as they cleared the rusty steel pipe and Kyle rolled over the grass and onto the red dirt, his lungs burned from the dry heat. The smell of the grass made him sneeze twice so he sat there for a minute, trying to catch his breath as his brother ran in circles taunting him.
Soon Kyle caught his breath and headed for the swing set. It was the tallest one he had ever seen. The chains were rusty and the seats were made of leather so it made an odd creaking noise as he set the apparatus into motion. Higher and higher he went until his brother grabbed his feet on the back side of the swing and spun Kyle around, twisting the chains. Kyle held on for dear life, his knuckles lost what color they had turning completely white as he spun out of control forward into the air.
It took several swings before he came to a stop. Crying he tried to catch his brother who out ran him, taunting him with laughter which made Kyle madder than hell! So Kyle found a piece of old cement that was shaped just like a foot ball next to the cinderblock trash point and prepared to heave it at his brother who was now running away.
It was as if his brother were running in slow motion. Kyle hurled the man made projectile in a perfect spiral as it arched its way towards his older brother. With a loud thud, it knocked the air out of his brother’s lungs when it impacted perfectly between the shoulder blades bringing his brother to the ground in a series of summersaults through a patch of sand burrs.
Kyle leaped in the air laughing, as his brother shrieked in pain, the sand burrs digging into his skin through his cotton t-shirt. It was game on after that and their parents just ignored them, letting the two of them fight it out until they were both exhausted and called a truce.
Their chests heaving heavily, out of breath they sat on the old rusty pipe, hands on their knees, faces down, they were covered in dirt. Taking notice, mother called them over to the house and had them stand there while she hosed them down with a water hose she had retrieved from the truck.
The two of them stood there, the cool water and breeze felt great in the hot dry heat on their first day in Oklahoma. It didn’t take long for them to dry off but it would soon be dark so they stayed close to the house and watched the only Television channel they could receive. They turned it on to see Walter Cronkite signing off, “And that’s the way it is, this 18th day of June, 1968.”
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Review and Endorsement by my Team Leader! :)
CWO3 Tom Merrill, Special Forces (Retired)
I remember the day S.B. (Steve) Newman came to Special Forces Operational Detachment A-724. He was a wide-eyed, red-haired, red-faced kid who was ready to take on the world. He left in the afternoon the same way he came in every morning - with a smile on his face. He was one of the guys who volunteered for everything he could get his hands on. Like a kid in a candy store, he was exactly where he wanted to be: on an A-team that was trained in high altitude free fall parachute infiltrations.
Being a former radio operator, I watched him as he made contacts back to the states from our deployed location. At that time, the number of radio contacts made by a team could make or break a mission in the eyes of the chain of command. I asked him if I could help out with the contacts. He got a big smile on his face and handed me the Morse code key and said "It's all yours, sir! Between the two of us we made more contacts than anyone else. But once he got to military free fall school, there was no holding him back.
Through the time we served together, he honed his skills as a communicator as well as a leader. The next time I saw him was when he got transferred to Panama, just previous to the invasion. He also served in combat in other places that, under the rules of the time, weren't acknowledged as combat. But by the time it was his turn to take charge as an operations sergeant, he was ready.
When I read his first novel, "The Night Eagles Soared" I saw a great deal of the same Steve Newman I knew twenty-five years ago, but with a wiser edge to him. He had taken the lessons he learned from A-724 and built on them with a bent of his own. The guys you read about in that novel weren't A-724 or A-781 or any other. It was a melding of all of the guys on all of the teams he served with.
Steve Newman's latest novel, "Burnt Yellow and Red," is a real break through in stories about the U.S. Army Special Forces (SF), The Green Berets. He shows who they are and how they work through the eyes of a Air Force Special Operations Command airman who understands the mission but has to gain an understanding of the SF operational detachment. This distinctive point of view shows a side of SF that is seldom seen – the view of the outsider. Newman crafts a tale, based on his own SF career as a Green Beret. This unique novel shows Special Forces soldiers and Special Operations airmen for who they really are: the guys who grew up next door and went on to become something extraordinary. I recommend this book to the long-time veteran, the guy who is looking to go to Special Forces School, or any American who wants to understand the greatest soldiers who ever walked the face of the earth.
CWO3 Tom Merrill, Special Forces (Retired)
I remember the day S.B. (Steve) Newman came to Special Forces Operational Detachment A-724. He was a wide-eyed, red-haired, red-faced kid who was ready to take on the world. He left in the afternoon the same way he came in every morning - with a smile on his face. He was one of the guys who volunteered for everything he could get his hands on. Like a kid in a candy store, he was exactly where he wanted to be: on an A-team that was trained in high altitude free fall parachute infiltrations.
Being a former radio operator, I watched him as he made contacts back to the states from our deployed location. At that time, the number of radio contacts made by a team could make or break a mission in the eyes of the chain of command. I asked him if I could help out with the contacts. He got a big smile on his face and handed me the Morse code key and said "It's all yours, sir! Between the two of us we made more contacts than anyone else. But once he got to military free fall school, there was no holding him back.
Through the time we served together, he honed his skills as a communicator as well as a leader. The next time I saw him was when he got transferred to Panama, just previous to the invasion. He also served in combat in other places that, under the rules of the time, weren't acknowledged as combat. But by the time it was his turn to take charge as an operations sergeant, he was ready.
When I read his first novel, "The Night Eagles Soared" I saw a great deal of the same Steve Newman I knew twenty-five years ago, but with a wiser edge to him. He had taken the lessons he learned from A-724 and built on them with a bent of his own. The guys you read about in that novel weren't A-724 or A-781 or any other. It was a melding of all of the guys on all of the teams he served with.
Steve Newman's latest novel, "Burnt Yellow and Red," is a real break through in stories about the U.S. Army Special Forces (SF), The Green Berets. He shows who they are and how they work through the eyes of a Air Force Special Operations Command airman who understands the mission but has to gain an understanding of the SF operational detachment. This distinctive point of view shows a side of SF that is seldom seen – the view of the outsider. Newman crafts a tale, based on his own SF career as a Green Beret. This unique novel shows Special Forces soldiers and Special Operations airmen for who they really are: the guys who grew up next door and went on to become something extraordinary. I recommend this book to the long-time veteran, the guy who is looking to go to Special Forces School, or any American who wants to understand the greatest soldiers who ever walked the face of the earth.
CWO3 Tom Merrill, Special Forces (Retired)
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