One year ago this past week something miraculous occurred. It had taken twelve years to come to fruition, but, man, was it worth the wait. On June 14, 2022, I published my first book, RJ, Farrah, and Me: A Young Man's Gay Odyssey from the Inside Out. I had written the book over the course of ten months in 2010, following the death of Farrah Fawcett the prior summer. Something inside me had whispered, You've a story to tell, so tell it. 


That story became a love letter to my youth. I came of age at a weird time in American history: the late seventies careening into the early-to-mid eighties. And the boy I met, RJ, who came along for the ride, blew up my world, changing forever the way I saw myself.

I met RJ the summer I turned 13, while studying acting at a children's theater in Cleveland, where we grew up. It was the year of the Bicentennial. Jimmy Carter was running for President and would beat the incumbent Gerald Ford that fall. The novel-turned-miniseries Roots was taking the country by storm. And a blonde Texan by the name of Farrah Fawcett would soon turn the nation on its head with a poster of herself outfitted in a one-piece red bathing suit and a role on a hit TV show called Charlie's Angels.

RJ and I discovered we had a "thing" for Farrah and collected every magazine on which she graced the cover. Soon we had accumulated enough "Farrah paraphernalia" to start our own scrapbooks. But beyond that obsession, our friendship provided other avenues for fun and excitement. RJ, a cross-country runner, evolved into a talented disco dancer, and under his tutelage I too began to light up the dance floor. A year later, our friendship grew into something more intimate, which challenged my Catholic upbringing and led to my eventual coming out. And this was the story I told in my first book.

Back to making dreams come true. The small publisher I eventually found to publish my book arranged for a print-on-demand edition with Amazon. Marketing and promoting the book would fall on my shoulders. I had created a business plan that included the various groups and associations with whom I had relationships: my swim team, running group, men's chorus, hiking and skiing group, friends, family, neighbors, churchgoers, birthday party guest lists, and on and on. Most of this friendship network was reachable on Facebook and LISTSERV's I had created over the years. I also began a blog around the time I started writing my book.

I think the most exciting part of getting my book out into the world was taking the initiative to reach out to local booksellers and convince them to take a chance on me. I started with my neighborhood bookstore, Elliott Bay Book Company, and soon I developed a Little Engine That Could mentality. Fuel Coffee, Third Place Books, Barnes & Noble, Nook & Cranny, Pegasus Book Exchange, Madison Books, and University Bookstore all agreed to a consignment arrangement. And for the most part, all the books sold.

More recently I have reached out to booksellers beyond the Seattle market. After the release of the film Are You There God? It's Me Margaret and the renewed focus on children's author Judy Blume, I saw some synchronicity in our themes. I contacted her Key West bookstore and sent several copies of my book for their Pride Month display. In my hometown of Cleveland, two local independent bookstores accepted copies in advance of an alumni author event where I was the virtual guest of honor at my college alma mater.

That alumni author event happened the day after the one-year anniversary of the publication of my book. In a way, I felt as if I had come full circle. Full of nerves, I popped up on a Zoom screen in front of 22 attendees to discuss my book with the facilitator. I read several passages, and then took questions from the chat box. The setup felt artificial, so I asked if we could at least unmute people to hear their voices and have a more engaged discussion, which made the last 20 minutes more personal.

There's a lot of topsy turvy going on in the world right now; as the SGN reported on June 9, the Human Rights Campaign declared that our LGBTQ+ community is living in a "state of emergency." I'm hoping in some small way that by following our dreams and intuitions, telling our stories, and remaining our brave, fierce selves, we will overcome this tide of resistance in some parts of our country and eventually turn a corner as our community has done time and again.

For now, we can batten down the hatches, but let's set that sail and look toward a day when the roiling waters will once again be calm. We've been here before. We can stick together and keep our eyes on the prize. A better tomorrow is on the horizon if we work toward it and re-envision the dream of a country where we can be ourselves and achieve greater equality for all.