I wrote the following nearly forty years ago. I’m not sure where I was going with it but like most of my writing from those olden times I must have had a premonition that one day I would look back and wonder. It is what made me look back that interests me.

I wish I could remember what blog I was reading recently that referred to the “new wave” of young indie-authors for I would certainly provide a link. It was one of those writings that, like jalapeno peppers, comes back and bites you long after consumption. I appreciate it when something that someone has created can do that. They plant a little seed in your mind and after sufficient germination the message blossoms and you realize that what was written has become a part of your thoughts. I would however hasten to add the word “current” to the term “new wave” because as far back as I can remember there has always been a new wave of sorts, whether in music, art, or writing. It also applies to science, technology and life in general. What was “cutting edge” a few years ago has long been forgotten, replaced by new ideas and products from new wave thinkers and designers.

Waves are like that. There’s always another one on the way.

The writer of the blog questioned why there seemed to be more of these new creative voices today than ever before. While I was surprised he didn’t provide the simple answer I considered that this might have been his way of making me think about the question. The internet has provided a platform and for good or bad anyone can now publish their message. Everyone has a voice and everyone has something to say.

All you have to do is listen.

I’m pleased to be a part of this community and who knows…one of my books might just be the one to ride it to shore. Like Brian Wilson said…catch a wave and you’re sitting on top of the world.


Within the shadows, without the light, unicorns prance while pan-pipes lay a bed of hushed harmony.  Fragile butterflies flutter between stone turrets resting only briefly amid rich ivy as they flit their way across sunlit castle walls.

Within the light, without the shadows, there is honesty and truth. It is called ‘reality’.

Some say it needs no creative process to survive. Simply put, all that is experienced is all that there is. There are no unicorns.

Between realms there lies a better world. A delicate blend of truth and dreams where fabled creatures, when called upon, may exist. A mixture of warm imagination and cold reality. Sprinkles of hope and guidance spiced with seasoned knowledge and understanding. Gently stirred and mixed yet somehow keeping separate the shadow and the light. This delicate blend of truth and fantasy…of realists and dreamers. Each needs what is unique to the other. Reality requires the elasticity of imagination to stretch boundaries and expand horizons. Creativity needs reality to temper dreams into possibility. Without the other, each suffer.

Where once they sailed the ocean blue, today they sail through darkened space, one daring to dream and one daring to try. Together they have reached the stars.

Reality lasts a lifetime.


Mike Grant is the author of three novels. “White Wolf Moon”, “Barking at Yesterday’s Moon”, and “Fergus”. Visit his Amazon page to find out more.



Pictured above is one of the most interesting pieces in my collection. Londontoy diecasts were produced in, where else, London Ontario between 1940 and 1949. During and immediately after World War Two these toy vehicles were manufactured with pressed paper wheels (due to the rubber shortage). I suspect this pick-up is a later model as it does have rubber wheels. That’s about as brief a history as I can pass along…the point is that this little truck is about as old as I am.

I found it sticking out of a pile of dirt beside a dumpster about fifteen years ago on one of my daily walks. After a quick clean-up (which included brushing out the bed of what appeared to be the same fowl residue we used to have on the floor of our chicken coop back when I lived on a farm) it took an honored space on my shelves. I had considered doing a repaint but there’s something about the wear-and-tear that says “don’t even think about it”. It has character and a story. The well-worn wheels lean and wobble and don’t roll much anymore. In that aspect they’re much like me. There are also what appear to be seven BB dents in the bed and cab but without a ballistics analysis I can’t be 100% certain what caused them.

As far as monetary value goes it isn’t worth much but, as some folks say, it ain’t about the money. In its own way this little beaten-up truck is a part of history. If not the history of a nation certainly the history of the individuals who have owned it since the 1940s.

I look at it and wonder where it has been and who has held it. Was it a cherished Christmas present when it was new and straight from the factory with that glistening bright orange paint? Odds are you only received one or two presents back then so this little truck would have been pretty special. Toys in those days were far more valued than they are today.

Was it handed down to a sibling or given to a friend? How many young lads have played with this truck? Where did they live? Where are they now? Do they ever wonder what happened to the little orange truck they had when they were a kid?

I sometimes wonder what happened to my old toys.

My dad was in the army and we lived in Warminster, England when I was about six or seven. I used to get the Dinky military vehicles for presents and I’d save my pocket money to buy any others that I could. The last time I saw them they were in a sandbox beside the path in our back yard. I’m managing to find some replacements for them now but it isn’t the same. How many pairs of hands have played with those toys since I had them? Did they look after them like I did? I like to think that they ended up on the shelves of an appreciative collector somewhere…much the same as this little orange truck.

ltoy05s.jpgMike Grant is the author of three novels. Visit his Amazon page to find out more.