Richard Trice's Blog

Every January, I feel like a marathon runner (I wish!) who started out the race this time last year, paced himself into spring, sprinted around the corner into summer, stumbled and lost a couple of positions in the fall, and by the time winter reared its ugly head, was gasping and clawing his way to the finish line (with the obligatory stops to graze festively during Thanksgiving and Christmas).

Oh, the journey began with great intentions to accomplish marvelous goals and stay the course. And as January 1 tolled itself in, I–as many of you–took a moment or two or three, between bowl games, to sink deeper into my easy chair and reflect on what I had to say for myself regarding 2019, and ponder what new “goals” I should make. (I stopped years ago referring to them as “resolutions;” the term sounds suspiciously like an action of Congress, which we have far too many of already) And no, I did not stay awake for the ball to drop, like something magical and unexpected is going to happen at that moment. The last time something like THAT was supposed to happen was when Y2K was supposed to fry all our computers and thrust us all back to the 1930s. After sixty-some odd years on this planet, staying up to watch the talking heads on TV tell me its officially time to practice writing a new year, it seems rather anticlimactic to lose sleep over such a non-event; especially when the East Coast goes ahead and obligingly accommodates my sleep cycle by broadcasting it live at 10:00MST.

But as I contemplated the prior year, I found that I actually had accomplished some things worth patting myself on the back over: I was able to successfully shed 65 lbs., which then had enabled me to go “shopping” in the spare closet where I had thrown all my old clothes years ago with the dubious promise that “I will fit into these again someday;” I subsequently lowered my bad cholesterol and blood sugar numbers below the “red flag” range my doctor had scolded me about the previous year; and I slid to the finish line by finishing the second novel of my planned trilogy of historical novels based in New Mexico.

But really, if the truth be told, I must admit that I don’t consider that I reached these goals completely on my own. In addition to ongoing encouragement from my family and friends, I must first and foremost give thanks and credit to God Almighty for helping me to stay focused on the main stuff–that is, Him–so that “all of this shall be added.”

I am confident that continuing that proper focus will have me looking back this time next year on even more milestones reached in weight loss, yet another novel in the bag, and who knows . . . real Peace on Earth and Good Will toward Men? Well . . . perhaps that starts with me and my attitudes, and the good work He’s already begun within me–and will be faithful to complete.

“Many a soldier was denied their well deserved “welcome home” immediately following their experiences endured before and after the American Vietnam War. I would be so bold to say that the nation still grapples with how to help its veterans of many conflicts efficiently cope with their nightmares and find their new normals. What Mr. Copeland has done in his fine memoir, “My War & Welcome To It,” to set apart his memoir from the countless others that are now out there is to show how a life can, and probably should, eventually come full circle for a man to find maybe a few of those answers himself. Copeland shares his childhood memories and those common things that shaped a lot of us growing up (especially in the southwest U.S.) during those times, and continues through the various anecdotal chuckles and shakes of the head gleaned during his military boot training days, and of course the often horrific and numbing tales of combat in the jungles of Southeast Asia, all with a narrative flair that puts you smack dab into the very smells and emotions of the moment, like any good story teller. But what grabbed me by the throat and the heart were the journal entries of his return trip to modern Vietnam in 2013, to once again walk the ground of the birthplace of so many of his nightmares, to look the beast in the eyes one more time, and finally put the knife in its heart and bury it. I am sure Mr. Copeland would be the first to say that the beast occasionally still opens one red eye at times, but it seems to me that on that fateful and enlightening trip back to Nam, he found a way to put most of the genie back into the bottle. Thanks, Sir, for opening up your heart and memories to walk us all down that dark path . . . and safely back again. Oh–and Welcome Home!”




To order a paperback or Kindle version go to:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1620063298/ref=rdr_ext_tmb

































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REVIEWS FOR “LAND OF MY SOJOURN–A Trent Carter Novel,” by Richard Trice
(BOOK 2 OF THE NEW MEXICO TRILOGY)



The author is not just a good story-teller and historian, he gets into his characters’ emotional lives, often in scenes that many readers can recognize as familiar with their own life stories.


 


“Land of my Sojourn” is a superb look at the darkness and light in ourselves and our fellow humans, and it is the tension between those extremes which build or destroy our towns, businesses, political systems and families.


 


if you are not hooked by about page 40 and determined to consume it all, I will be stunned.


 


Mr. Trice puts you in the moment, making you feel like you’re right there with the characters.


 


… there’s something for everyone in this well written tale.


 


I wanted to devour the story and at the same time go slow to savor the concise descriptions.


 


The author’s style and skill are as well honed as that of any bestselling author. Truly one of the best novels I’ve read in the past year.


 


The vivid imagery within the pages of this book is nothing short of amazing . . . You will not be disappointed by this book!


 


I’m usually hesitant to read a sequel for fear of it falling flat, but this sequel to Act of Contrition didn’t disappoint!


The writing is very descriptive and is as if I were there or watching the movie. This book has it all: action, mystery, history, romance, etc.


 


The history and intrigue that follows several families over 150 years quickly drew me in, and I devoured this book in 2 1/2 days. These are characters I respected and cheered for, and won’t forget! Looking forward to Mr. Trice’s next book.



[image error] ORDER HERE!

Every January, I feel like a marathon runner (I wish!) who started out the race this time last year, paced himself into spring, sprinted around the corner into summer, stumbled and lost a couple of positions in the fall, and by the time winter reared its ugly head, was gasping and clawing his way to the finish line (with the obligatory stops to graze festively during Thanksgiving and Christmas).

Oh, the journey began with great intentions to accomplish marvelous goals and stay the course. And as January 1 tolled itself in, I–as many of you–took a moment or two or three, between bowl games, to sink deeper into my easy chair and reflect on what I had to say for myself regarding 2019, and ponder what new “goals” I should make. (I stopped years ago referring to them as “resolutions;” the term sounds suspiciously like an action of Congress, which we have far too many of already) And no, I did not stay awake for the ball to drop, like something magical and unexpected is going to happen at that moment. The last time something like THAT was supposed to happen was when Y2K was supposed to fry all our computers and thrust us all back to the 1930s. After sixty-some odd years on this planet, staying up to watch the talking heads on TV tell me its officially time to practice writing a new year, it all seems rather anticlimactic to lose sleep over such a non-event; especially when the East Coast goes ahead and obligingly accommodates my sleep cycle by broadcasting it live at 10:00MST.

But as I contemplated the prior year, I found that I actually had accomplished some things worth patting myself on the back over: I was able to successfully shed 65 lbs., which then had enabled me to go “shopping” in the spare closet where I had thrown all my old clothes years ago with the dubious promise that “I will fit into these again someday;” I subsequently lowered my bad cholesterol and blood sugar numbers below the “red flag” range my doctor had scolded me about the previous year; and I slid to the finish line by finishing the second novel of my planned trilogy of historical novels based in New Mexico.

But really, if the truth be told, I must admit that I don’t consider that I reached these goals completely on my own. In addition to ongoing encouragement from my family and friends, I must first and foremost give thanks and credit to God Almighty for helping me to stay focused on the main stuff–that is, Him–so that “all of this shall be added.”

I am confident that continuing that proper focus will have me looking back this time next year on even more milestones reached in weight loss, yet another novel in the bag, and who knows . . . real Peace on Earth and Good Will toward Men? Well . . . perhaps that starts with me and my attitudes, and the good work He’s already begun within me–and will be faithful to complete.

 

 

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(To Order, click here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1676746927)


The first two historical novels in my “Trent Carter” series, set in Northern New Mexico, are available now, through Amazon.com.





In the introductory novel, ACT OF CONTRITION, Trent Carter is a sixty-something, washed up veteran and retired cop recuperating from injuries physical, mental, and emotional. He blames himself for his wife’s death, drinks and smokes too much, and lives with a mangy orange tomcat while trying to avoid the advances of an attractive local widow.





He finds himself suddenly pulled out of retirement to investigate several seemingly unrelated “cold case” murders, including the discovery of skeletal remains buried under an old theater, escaped German POWs, and a cryptic old journal from WWII that may tie them all together.





As if that isn’t enough, Trent is inexplicably receiving ghostly visits from his deceased wife.





In the newly published LAND OF MY SOJOURN, Carter is back; this time Trent is swept into a convoluted mystery involving political assassination, a secret paramilitary organization, a missing helicopter, two missing girls, and the inexplicable presence of a ghostly Ute Indian warrior who may help bring Trent face to face with his own family’s troubled past.





LAND OF MY SOJOURN spans 150 years, from the Civil War through the infamous Colfax County War to the present; from the Goodnight-Loving cattle drives to the gold fields of Elizabethtown; and from colonial Santa Fe to present day Amsterdam. Along the way, we meet some of Trent’s earliest ancestors, along with the larger-than-life historic characters who helped to forge the history of New Mexico during some of its wildest and bloodiest days.





(Available at https://www.amazon.com/dp/1676746927 in paperback, Kindle ebook, and Kindle Unlimited)

Write hard and clear about what hurts — Ernest Hemingway

Ernest Hemingway will always be at the top of my list of favorite writers for many reasons, not least of which is his ability to tell it like it is. One of his best pieces of advice was for would-be writers to “write hard and clear about what hurts.”

Uh-oh. You mean, actually talk about my emotional life? Why in the world would I ever expose myself like that?

In absorbing that nugget of wisdom I was reminded of a bit of dialogue I once had with the Creator of the Universe, God, when I was asked suddenly to “fill in” at church for the pastor, who had just come down with the flu. A scant thirty minutes prior to the teaching time, I was still completely clueless as to what I would present to the congregation. I had no choice but to finally acknowledge said cluelessness, get out my chair, and go to my knees to ask God if He had any clue as to what I should talk about.

(Brief sidebar here: Lesson #2 learned that day was to NOT wait until zero hour to finally ask God’s opinion on matters. Rather, prayer should probably be one of the first things done.)



Now, I know that few people claim to have ever heard the audible voice of Our Father, Who art in heaven, and it may disappoint you to learn that I, too, did not hear His voice that day–per se. But what I did sense in my heart, mind, spirit (whatever you may deem to call it) was the distinct impression that He did answer my question this way: “Talk about what I have been trying to teach you lately.”



Suffice it to say you could’ve heard the proverbial pin drop (or pen, since I was trying to take notes–Hey. I was trying to have a chat with God, here!)



“Are you crazy?” I answered, jumping up from my knees–that is, creeping up slowly as my body popped and made various other middle-aged noises–and forgetting for the moment that one probably shouldn’t confer doubtful sanity upon the Almighty. “I can’t possibly talk to people about THOSE things, Lord. They’re way too personal and embarrassing!”

Fine then, He answered (again, somewhere in my troubled spirit). You want to bore them with the usual milky drivel? Or do you want to give them some relevant meat? It’s really up to you. I’m just trying to help you out here, like you asked.



To make a long story longer, I took God’s advice and shared something appropriately true and embarrassing from my own life with the folks that day, and although I can’t remember precisely what I shared, I was rather surprised to see most of them actually paying attention. A few of them even commented afterwards on how it touched them personally.

Which brings me full circle back to Hemingway. In writing my last two novels, I initially struggled with realistic dialogue, until I was reminded of both Ernest’s brief quote and Our Father’s pointed sermon advice. In other words, BE REAL, EVEN IF IT HURTS.

So, that all being said, what follows is an excerpt from my newest novel (to be published soon) Land of My Sojourn. The scene is at a funeral for a dear friend and the dialogue is between a father and his grown daughter, both of whom have been through some horrific losses in their lives. The dialogue is based on a very real conversation I had once with my brother while attending a funeral for a distant relative, while we were both attempting to still come to grips over the recent loss of our father.

(WARNING: Spoiler alert, if you are a reader of my Trent Carter series.):

Trent felt a warm arm slide in under his and turned to see his daughter Sophie’s beautiful but sad face smiling up at him. “You okay, Daddy?” she asked. “I’m worried about you.”

Trent looked back at the casket and sighed. “Does God consider it a sin to be mourning the loss of a completely different person at someone else’s funeral?”

Sophie was silent for a moment. “It’s probably a sin not to,” she finally said, looking at the flower-strewn casket. “To not mourn means you’re numb inside; something festering there. Loss always finds its way in, but it’s up to us to let it out again, before that happens. Either way, it’s always going to become ingrained into the fabric of your heart—imbedded into your very life and spirit. You can choose to shove it down deeper, where it will eventually turn to poison, or you can allow yourself to be reminded of those losses—of any kind, for anyone—even beyond this particular one, and let it out in grief. That, at least, means you’re alive and healing; still hurting, maybe, but moving on.”

Trent looked at his daughter. “Who made you so wise, Darlin’?”

Sophie paused, squeezed his hand tightly, leaned her head against his shoulder, and took a soft, trembling breath. “You remember when Bobby died?”

Trent squeezed her hand back. “Of course I remember.” Bobby, a soldier in the U.S. Army, had been Sophie’s fiancé a few years ago—an entire world ago. She had just graduated from the University of New Mexico and was putting her journalism degree to good use when the news had arrived that Bobby had been killed in action in Afghanistan. It was a year following Trent’s mother’s—Sophie’s grandmother’s—death from cancer, and a little over a year before her own mother, Victoria, was murdered. It was a triple blow few people should have to endure.

Sophie blew her nose softly. “For me, and I think for you too, all losses are more than just cumulative; the sum of them are much greater than their parts; Grandma, Bobby, Mom . . . and now Ben. But if a person is incapable of mourning their losses—all of them—then they will stagnate and soon become incapable of making room in their heart for any new love.”

Trent turned, took Sophie by the shoulders, and looked admiringly into his daughter’s eyes for a very long time. “Why do I always get the feeling when I’m around you that you’re the real parent here, not me?”

Sophie stood on tiptoe, kissed her father’s cheek, and beamed up at him. “Because I have too

much of Mom in me . . . and she never let you get away with crap, either!”

(Excerpt from the forthcoming novel, LAND OF MY SOJOURN, A Trent Carter Novel. ©2019 by Richard C. Trice. Used by permission. No copying permitted, except by express written permission from the author.)

My first book of this series, ACT OF CONTRITION–A Trent Carter Novel, is now available at Amazon.com in paperback or Kindle versions. Order here to catch up prior to the new release:  

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1985319330

 

Thanks for joining me!  If you’re here, we must have some common interests, or on similar journeys. I am hopeful we can explore this common ground a little more together.

As implied by the heading under my site title, I have lived what for most folks would be 2/3 of an expected lifespan on this earth. I have recently retired (for a second time…perhaps more on that later), and am adjusting to what business my Creator would have me be about in this the final phase of things.

For now, that appears to be continuing to pursue more creative writing, having just self-published a first novel and having begun writing the second, and having poured out during the last five years a torrent of poetry that I am not sure what to do with. This last endeavor has, admittedly, been more therapeutic than discipline (again–more on this at another time), but a smattering of the work may be worthy of publication. I envision a poetry book illustrated by some of my own photography. Other looming projects include an audio version of my novels, and perhaps a couple of non-fiction travel guides, based on my past and future travel experiences.

Last, but certainly not least, I hope to occasionally share some bits and pieces of sermons and devotionals I have written over the last couple of decades, in offering up a few spiritual musings that might promote some meaningful dialogue.

Anyways, I invite you to stay tuned and connected. Who knows? It might actually be fun!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton

Thanks for joining me!  If you’re here, we must have some common interests, or on similar journeys. I am hopeful we can explore this common ground a little more together.

As implied by the heading under my site title, I have lived what for most folks would be 2/3 of an expected lifespan on this earth. I have recently retired (for a second time…perhaps more on that later), and am adjusting to what business my Creator would have me be about in this the final phase of things.

For now, that appears to be continuing to pursue more creative writing, having just self-published a first novel and having begun writing the second, and having poured out during the last five years a torrent of poetry that I am not sure what to do with. This last endeavor has, admittedly, been more therapeutic than discipline (again–more on this at another time), but a smattering of the work may be worthy of publication. I envision a poetry book illustrated by some of my own photography. Other looming projects include an audio version of my novels, and perhaps a couple of non-fiction travel guides, based on my past and future travel experiences.

Last, but certainly not least, I hope to occasionally share some bits and pieces of sermons and devotionals I have written over the last couple of decades, in offering up a few spiritual musings that might promote some meaningful dialogue.

Anyways, I invite you to stay tuned and connected. Who knows? It might actually be fun!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton