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We had a nice response to Tommy Kane's feature a couple of weeks ago. Why not highlight his Etsy store sooner than later? At his store, Tommy welcomes you to his "humble boutique". Take some time to window shop and perhaps pick up a couple of things.

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Are you an artist who brings a sketchbook with you everywhere you go – consistently jotting down almost every place you visit – almost every thought - just about everything you see? Some artists can’t leave the house without a sketchbook – one in the car – one in a backpack – a small one in a pocket. Do you think Tommy Kane is an artist whose constant companion is a sketchbook?





Eat, sleep and breathe design – there are others out there who do – that’s what a professor once told me upon my first day of college. He was a graphic design professor, who unfortunately passed away soon thereafter. I never had the benefit of learning more from him. But his words remained forever engrained in my mind. Of course they didn’t only apply to design. They apply to art in general. Tommy Kane seems to be one of those “others” that eats, sleeps and breathes art. That would explain his intense understanding of art and his ability to create such compelling graphic design and beautiful drawings and paintings. Perhaps he’s discovered the contentment and solace that can be found inside one’s mind recording personal experiences and the world around him inside a sketchbook.


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Here's a little sample chapter from the upcoming book which is released on March 20th.

Hope you enjoy!

Steven







THE PROMISE

The long white hallway on the fourth floor of the Fairchild Medical Center was mostly empty and rather quiet. Occasionally a nurse or a doctor walked by with their head buried in a set of papers on a clipboard, their shoes clicking against the tile floor with every step. It was night, and with visiting hours coming to an end, most everyone, patients and family alike, had either drifted off to sleep or returned home. On an empty bench near the end of the hallway sat ten-year-old Tommy Jarvis. Too short to reach the floor, his legs swung back and forth over the edge of the bench. His hands rested softly on his lap as he twiddled his fingers quietly, trying his hardest to think about anything other than this place. Behind the door to his right are his mother and father.
For almost a year now his mother had become progressively sicker. At first the trips to the doctor were for small things like high fevers or sore throats or pain in her joints. In the last few months, the trips were more frequent. She was admitted to the hospital three weeks ago, and it was here that she remained. Every night like clockwork his father left him and Nicky with Auntie Carol and go to visit her. On the weekends – like today – he would bring them along. Nicky might be too young to really, truly understand every nuance of what was going on, but Tommy believed the young boy understood the basics of the situation. Their mother was sick, and she wasn’t going to get better.
She was dying.
No doubt Nicky couldn’t make total sense out of the concept of death, but he knew that a time would come very soon when he would never see his mother again.
Tommy looked up as the door to his mother’s room opened; his father stepped out with a sleepy-sad Nicky pulled tightly against his chest. He looked in Tommy’s direction. “Hey buddy…how are you feeling?”
Tommy didn’t know quite how to respond. The idea of summing up everything going on in his head seemed like a task more impossible than anything he had encountered in his young life. He saw no point in trying.
Chris Jarvis gently laid the half-awake Nicky down on the bench next to his older brother, softly brushing the hair from the boy’s eyes. When Chris looked down he noticed his hand was shaking. He could feel a torrent of emotions building up inside him, but forced himself to ignore them. He needed to be strong, even if he wanted so very badly to cry and scream, and denounce his faith in God, the universe, and whatever unseen force was putting his family through this. He wanted to yell at the doctors for not doing more, or curse the nurses for their pointless pitying looks, or simply run away and leave all the sadness and the stress behind, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t do any of these things or a number of others. Not in front of his boys, and not now. These were things better left to the nights alone, shrouded in the darkness of his room, spread out across his marital bed with soaking wet eyes. He had to be bigger than that; he had to be better than that, for them – even if it hurt more than he could stand.
After taking a deep breath and wiping away a single tear in the corner of his eye, he knelt down in front of Tommy, gazing into the soft blue eyes of his eldest son. “Hey big man, your mom…your mom wants to see you alone for a minute. Would you like to do that? Are you going to be okay, or do you want your ol’ dad to go with you?”
Tommy noticed the shaking of his father’s hands as well. He spotted the very faint glimmer of wetness, catching the pale glow of the fluorescent lights, in the corner of his eye.
Despite trying so hard, Chris Jarvis could not hide his emotions well.
Tommy wanted badly to see his mother - to hug her and kiss her and hear

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Finished!

Finally!

I have no doubt that if you were in the room with me, you would give me a congratulatory high five, would you not?

Steve!

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As I get closer and closer to finishing up the rough draft of the novel, I decided to put together a little an image/possible cover. I haven't decided it I'm going to do anything else to this piece yet, but I have some ideas.

Steve!

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