Writing & Publishing

Studying and writing about the paranormal as I do often leads me into some very interesting experiences. Often, those experiences are “coincidental” in nature but so far above the possibility of randomness that they make me stand back in wonder. It’s at those times I realize what I’m observing is something emanating from a source that demonstrates the unity of all things. Carl Jung used the term synchronicity to describe such happenings. In his work, Jung validated the world of the paranormal and classified synchronous events as part of that world. If it’s good enough for Jung, it’s good enough for me.

Back in March, I got a startling taste of Jung’s synchronicity through a very unexpected source. During that entire month, as a promotional effort, I offered  to give away a limited number of book copies on Goodreads, a website catering to over 7 million readers. One of those books was An Explosion of Being, the true-life story my wife Barb and I wrote about paranormal explorations.

Photo courtesy of Florida Memory Photographic Collection, Florida Department of State, Division of Library and Information Services

The first edition of Explosion came out many years ago and in it, Barb and I did some psychic probing of a major Florida tragedy that occurred in those days called, The Skyway Bridge Disaster. In a nasty storm, a ship struck this bridge down south of St. Petersburg, destroying parts of it and and sending 35 people to their deaths in the waters below. I say that glibly now but at the time, I felt anything but matter-of-fact.  In addition to the sadness I felt at such horrible loss of life, my family and I had traveled on that bridge more than once. It could have been us.

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Warning! If you know a writer, be careful how you acknowledge that person’s efforts in the publishing  world. Case in point.

My wife, Barb happened to be home one day when I was out running errands. When I got back, she eyed me with raised eyebrows and pursed lips. Finally she said, “And, ah who might be sending you flowers?” Flowers? I had no idea what she was talking about and said so. “Uh huh,” she replied with an even more intense stare while pointing to a long fancy box sitting on the kitchen counter.

“For me?” I asked, truly surprised. No one but Barb and my mother had ever sent me flowers before.  “You’re name’s on it, not mine,” Barb said. Slowly, the suspicious look on her face began to make sense. Oh Jeez, I wondered, who did send those things to me?

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