Today was the kind of day that reminds me why I wrote A Good Day to Live. It started off cloudless with a pink sunrise and a slight south breeze. Perfect t-shirt and shorts weather – 70 degrees and only a hint of humidity. Before breakfast I’d already strolled the white sands of Perdido Key and watched pelicans glide in unison inches above the gulf, barely etching the surface with their wingtips.

We were in the boat by mid-morning heading to Soldier Creek. In all of four leisurely hours we covered enough ground to fill an entire spring break. We explored the narrow upper reaches of the creek, spotted a half dozen turtles sunning on logs, followed a flock of snow white herons, caught some speckled trout, did a gainer from the diving board at The Point, ate cheeseburgers at Pirates Cove (along with a stout Bushwhacker), toured the haunted attic at Witchwood, marveled at the view of Perdido Bay from Red Bluff, tossed the football with some neighbors, raced through woods with my daughters, threw pine cones at Spanish moss draped oak trees, and watched our worn out kids fall sound asleep on the boat ride back home.

As we meandered through the day, memories swirled in my mind like a waterspout. Today’s quick jaunt was as rich as double fudge cake yet was merely a sliver of my childhood summers in a place I’m still fortunate to call home.

I’ve come to realize that growing up around the magical and fertile waters of Perdido Bay was an extreme privilege. And while the past makes me smile, days like today prove that it’s still A (very) Good Day to Live.

I just blew my own mind. I’ve been writing professionally for 33 years. That’s just crazy, considering I’m only 26 years old (times 2). I started out writing about bizarre dorm life in my college newspaper in Southern Oregon in the 1970s. Even out west, I was a Southerner. I wrote my first book in 1985 after a six month binge through Europe. The book title was, of course, The Party Guide to Europe. After that I worked as a magazine editor for 15 years which didn’t give me enough time to pick my nose properly much less write another book.

I escaped the magazine biz in 1999 and wrote my first novel. It was a thriller, called The Cure. It didn’t sell a lot of copies but folks who bought it liked it. So it’s basically ten year later and my second novel, A Good Day to Live, has just been published and it’s getting rave reviews. In its first month, it has sold more copies than Party Guide and The Cure combined. That was no great feat but I’m still proud.

I can feel a ground swell building about this book. Folks relate to it. They smile a lot, laugh out loud often, and remember the good times of old. Maybe I’m onto something. I hope so because I’m writing a sequel. If not, there’s always The Party Guide to LA (that’s Lower Alabama) to consider.

Most people slam their hometown newspaper. Not me. I love mine. The Pensacola News Journal is a bastion of award-winning articles, outstanding photography, and a staff of writers who I believe should be up for multiple Pulitzer Prizes, especially one reporter, Troy Moon.

Troy is the consummate reporter – fair, honest, hard-working, and, oh did I mention that he just wrote a major feature article about little ol’ me? Well, by golly, he did. And the article, headlined: Garth’s love of nature shows in new book  landed on the front page! Above the fold! With a picture of me! In color!

Some may think I’m biased but I’m just here to speak the truth. The PNJ is undoubtedly the best newspaper in the world. Not because they wrote a glowing article about Fred Garth. They are hard-working, super writers, and they should be over compensated like a Wall Street banker.

I’m just saying.

The news sucks. Talking heads and newspapers spout bad news about the economy, the environment, and, of course, the whole Tiger Woods’ thing. Makes you wonder: Isn’t anything good happening in the world? Price of gas is fairly stable. That’s a good thing.

 I started my career as a newspaper sports writer. We viewed the news department as mercenaries, shooting us up with despair. The sport’s department was a happy place, an escape from the doom and gloom. The news guys argued that people wanted to see bad news. That’s what sells, they said. I think they were wrong because, at some point, it all just becomes sickening.

 Thankfully, I have some good news. Money does buy happiness. For only a few bucks you can buy lots and lots of happiness. I’m talking about my new book. It’s like my old sport’s department, an escape from the woes facing us today. It’s about an era before emails and cell phones ruled our lives. There are no murders or car crashes, although there are some dicey boat moments.

If you think this blog is just a shameful attempt to sell my book, you are correct. At the same time, I guarantee you’ll enjoy reading my book. And, if you don’t, you can always go back to the six o’clock news.

Enjoy.

My book has finally arrived and is ready to ship. After several years of waiting, it’s done!!!!!

A dream realized is satisfying whether it is self-fulfilled or achieved with the help of others. In this case, it has been a lot of both. Many wonderful people have helped me get this book out.

Now it’s time to get the word out, hit the streets, and finish writing the next one.

After much anticipation and my valiant but unsuccessful efforts to have my book on the shelves before Christmas, the presses are finally pumping out copies. Expected arrival is no later than the end of January so 2010 is kicking off nicely. Of course, let’s hope the first printing sells faster than fried mullet at a fish fry. That would make 2010 start and end well. Stay tuned!

Got a call the other day and the first print run should be here very soon!!

Fred G