We have the cover done, and the interior design is mostly complete. It's still looking to be on track for a June release, so hopefully you'll have your books in the next few weeks. (Something to take to the beach?) Nothing definitive yet, but it's looking like I should have some solid news soon. Just wanted to keep you all updated.

Also, thanks to everyone who has responded and told me they like these little updates. I can't really respond to everyone individually through the platform, but thank you. It makes me hopeful that you'll all enjoy the book and truly makes my day to hear from so many great people.

This snippet is from a chapter I really loved about working on an independent film called "Adopt a Sailor," written and directed by my professor Chuck Evered after I graduated from UC-Riverside.  We filmed at a super upscale home in Palm Desert in July and August of 2007. Unfortunately, only one story from this chapter remains in the actual work. But here are a few of the good ones that got cut.

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At one point I was shifting the producer’s furniture around to clear space in the foyer when Chuck turned and saw that I was holding a small, moon shaped thing that was a cross between a seat and a gold-plated egg.

“Kevin,” he said, putting his hand up. “Uh…be careful with that. I was told that’s a twelve-thousand dollar chair.”

I glanced down at it. It looked less comfortable than a speed bump. “You kidding me? That’s what I paid for my car.”

“Don’t look at me,” he said. “I’m out of my element here too.”

It took me five minutes to tiptoe that fucker into the next room. As filming progressed, we’d warn the new production assistants every time they got near it. And the chair went up in value every time.

“Hey careful, that’s an eighteen-thousand dollar seat you’re leaning on.”

“Whoa, whoa, move slow with that - it’s worth twenty-nine thousand dollars.”

“Don’t sit down! That’s a sixty-thousand dollar chair!”

By the end of the shoot that chair was worth more than the Miami Dolphins. 

Anyway, for the first few weeks, there was a skeleton crew prepping the set and getting ready for the sixteen-day blitz that was to come. We were based in a conference room at UCR’s satellite campus in Palm Desert. It was there that I’d get to meet the motley collection of very rich Palm Springs debutantes and financiers who’d essentially paid to have their name in the credits. One of the producers was the type of woman you assumed spent most nights at random seances trying to contact Katherine Hepburn. Other than writing a check and letting some people stay in her pool house, her main task seemed to be assembling gift bags for the stars of the film when they arrived. Those stars were Bebe Neuwirth (Cheers, Jumanji, Madame Secretary) who reprised her role as Patricia from the stage play, Peter Coyote (E.T., Bitter Moon) who played her husband Richard, and Ethan Peck (Star Trek Discovery) who took over the role as the mysterious sailor. These were well known actors used to a certain level of sophistication. So when the wacky executive producer whirled into the production room with the gift bags and dropped them off, I was tasked with checking them to make sure the items inside were appropriately welcoming. I will now list the items in question. A hundred points to anyone who doesn’t cringe.

1)    One multicolored Palm Springs, California T-shirt – the type tourists might buy at a truck stop off I-10 if they just realized they forgot their suitcase back in Flagstaff.

2)    One Palm Springs, California shot glass.

3)    A single, potted cactus wrapped in crepe paper. More on this in a minute.

4)    A copy of the producer’s self-published murder mystery.

5)    And specially for Bebe Neuwirth – what every Tony Award winning Broadway star desires – a thong with a snarling tiger leaping from the crotch signifying that you’re a woman ready to pounce. Classy!

“Uuuuuh, hey Chuck…” I said, snickering nervously.

He turned from his computer. “Oh no, what’s in them?”

I reached into the bag and pulled out the thong, stretching it out so the tiger practically jumped into the room. “I’m no style expert, but uh…”

Seeing it, producer Kim bolted across the office with a look as if she’d just discovered human remains. “There’s no way that was in the bag.”

“Peter and Ethan didn’t get one,” I laughed. “You want, I could head to Wal-Mart and buy some tighty-whities - draw an elk or a Komodo dragon or something on them – fold ‘em up nice. I don’t want the guys feeling left out.”

Kim, still horrified, grabbed one of the bags. “Kevin, it’s not funny.”

“I disagree. This is hilarious. Also, just a warning- don’t just blindly reach inside the bag.”

“Oh god, why?”

“The thing wrapped in crepe paper so you can’t tell what it is? Turns out it’s a cactus.” I said, squeezing a tiny drop of blood out of my index finger. “Fun little fact you learn when you go to pick it up.”

“Oh no. It jabbed you? Do you need some antiseptic wipes or…”

“Eh, I’m fine,” I chuckled. “Weirdly this isn’t the first time I’ve been jabbed by a cactus on a film shoot.”

Not surprisingly, they scrapped the gift bags altogether and Kim welcomed the stars with expensive chocolates and bottles of high-end Chardonnay from local wineries among other things. But just in case that wasn’t their style, the next day one of the production assistants and I presented Chuck and Kim with a backup.

“Ok, just in case something happens to the new bags, we figured we should have something in reserve,” I said, rummaging through the greasy bag our lunch had been delivered in. “All right, we got the cap from an old Bic pen, oooh, the last fourth of Tony’s sandwich, some cool looking gravel we picked up outside…”

Kim rolled her eyes. “Not funny. Well…not…that funny.”

At his computer, Chuck laughed. “Kevin, I’m going to level with you. I wanted you around because I knew you’d remind us not to take this all too seriously. Keep it up.”

Because of my unique role as the occasionally funny guy who could lift stuff, I felt like I was actually an important member of the crew. Though none of the magazine reporters or Palm Springs millionaires who wandered into the house knew or cared that I existed, I understood that I truly mattered to Chuck and Kim, which meant I’d do pretty much anything for the production no matter how tiring or brutal.