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Welcome to Empyrelia

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Fancy R

The Book of the Lost Royals is a massive tome of two million words in a realm of nearly as many peoples. Hidden from time in a secret vault that knew no decay, it promises to recount an unknown history from an age of wonders. And now, a meticulous translation has begun.

Starting from the front and reading toward the center, the Book tells of Amethestra Straverian, lost princess of the Kingdom of Evereign. A baby abandoned in the wilds, she was found by the unlikeliest caretaker, the one person in all of Empyrelia who might protect her from those dark forces that sought to destroy the world. Under this mysterious witch’s careful, if unusual tutelage, the girl known as Tildy will discover the world beyond the protective borders of the Garden of Dappledown. The translation of the first part of her story is now complete, captured in the book entitled TILDY SILVERLEAF and the STARFALL OMEN.

Astute observers might find themselves compelled to flip the Book of the Lost Royals over, finding there the tale of Prince Adamantin Straverian, her brother. His story progresses also toward the middle, recounting how he was smuggled to safety under a dead child’s name, by an adoptive mother who would never love him as equally as the child he replaced. The boy renamed Samor has grown up behind the walls of the remote ice fortress Yrrengard, being tutored and trained to recover the crown he is unaware he has lost. The translation of his first story, SAMOR and the WARLOCK OF NEVERMORE is nearly complete.

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So Mike, How Many Books Ya Working On?

Oh, Ok! That’s a good question.

Over the years, I’ve spoken about starting Project Two and Project Three, and sometimes it’s hard to keep track. What are the chances my answer is “more than one”?

A physical proof copy of TILDY SILVERLEAF AND THE STARFALL OMEN just shipped and it’s scheduled to arrive Monday! I can hardly begin to imagine what it will feel like to open that box and hold my book for the first time. This journey started more than ten years ago, and many times I thought the day would never come. To be honest, many other times I considered giving up and destroying the book due to soul-crushing self-doubt. I imagine it will take a few days to fine-tooth-comb the print to verify it’s ready for sale.

I honestly can’t believe I’m finally at this point.

So that’s technically one book. Number two is the ebook version of that. You might think that would be an easy task, considering I already have a finished manuscript, but they require different formatting. Some of that is a real pain in the rear because of the effort I put into the interior design. I also lose control of the font because readers can choose their own. That’s, sigh, not the end of the world, but I used different fonts a few times to create an experience for readers. Fortunately, my favorite example of this, “Thems Trolls” survived due to some creative thinking I’d done when I wrote that verse a few years ago. Once I wrangle the formatting, we’re ready to publish. So, that’s two books I’m working on.

Of course, I’m not stopping there. Oh no. This is a millennia-spanning epic fantasy tale with many stories to tell.

Last week, I started a novella that spawned from some tough choices in Starfall Omen. My original storytelling strategy had a prologue and epilogue for each book that told the tale of a third character: the Mellifluent, the indentured servant of the Dark God, who had its own schemes involving the royal children, who are now known as Tildy and Samor. But, “murder your darlings” they say, and the prologue was a regular source of criticism by Trusted Readers. So it had to go. It was slowing down the opening of the book significantly. As they say in Monty Python:

GIF from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, which shows an impatient army shouting "Get on with it!"

If I cut most of the prologue, then the epilogue wouldn’t work, either. Both had important information to the overall story, but they were a distraction here. These darlings were ruthlessly murdered, culled from the book like dead weight!

Which means I put them in a separate file like a hoarder, hoping to use them again.

One of the people wisely encouraging the prologue overhaul was my wife, Kirsten, a smart and voracious wolf-reader (you’ll see some of her in Tildy). She’s my sounding board, Trusted Reader #1, a full-time encouragement-giver, and if she’s not careful, something of a manager for me. One day, she mentioned how some authors use a novella to bridge the time for readers between books. She thought it might be a good idea for my series, since my novels are pretty long. Suddenly, I had a home for the Mellifluent’s story. I even kept the original prologue’s name, THE DARK GOD’S PATH, for use in this third book. I’m about 20,000 words in now, with a goal of 40,000 – 50,000. These numbers make me giggle because I originally wanted the Starfall Omen to be around 80,000, and I more than doubled that.

But what about Projects Two and Three?

Project Two is Samor’s book. I, uh, still don’t have a last name for him, so I suppose the working title is SAMOR LASTNAME and the WARLOCK of NEVERMORE. I’ve been working on the first draft for a couple years, and have about 150,000 words in the story. The biggest challenge here is the ensemble cast, something I deliberately avoided in Tildy’s book. I didn’t think I’d be able to manage it.

It also contains the first appearance of the dragons, who have existed on paper for 30 years, back to the earliest stories I wrote in this universe. I’ve lost track of how many times they’ve been in and out of this book. As of today, August 1, 2026, I’m putting them back in as a way to streamline the first act and cement their place in the overall story of the Lost Royals. So, that’s a fourth book.

Project Three is the sequel to the Starfall Omen, entitled TILDY SILVERLEAF AND THE DUNGEON OF THE DREADWYRM. The working title is a tribute to one of my favorite childhood stories, THE DUNGEON OF DREAD by Rose Estes, which sits in a place of honor on my bookshelf. It was probably the second in the series I purchased, since I started with number 4, THE RETURN TO BROOKMERE, and my brain needs to get things into the correct sequences. I talk about that book’s influence here.

BTW, if my naming conventions are confusing – Project Two for Samor’s first book, Project Three for Tildy’s second, and now a Mellifluent book, a fourth project that will be the second published tile – yeah, you’re absolutely right! I simply code the titles for myself: T1, T2, etc; S1, S2, etc.; and M1. It is a lot to manage, and I only have so much brain. I’ll probably start doing the same here.

I started writing this book in 2020 when I thought I was done with the Starfall Omen. Silly writer. While I wanted to finish Nevermore first, I knew I’d have to make a choice if Starfall was popular enough to create demand for a sequel. A fella can hope. This one is about 36,000 words with a goal of 100,000 to 150,000.

So that’s a fifth book.

Whew.

Oh, and that doesn’t mean Chew isn’t still rattling around my brain, though that lovable beast is currently docile. I’m reserving that novella for when I need a break from this universe. It’s just shy of 20,000 words with a target of 40,000. I guess that’s a sixth book.

And I’m also working on an album with my music partner. Not a book, obs, but one more project to keep my writer’s hands out of mischief. More info here: Wait…you’re also a lyricist?

Reading back through that post, I’d say I have very ambitious writing plans, though I don’t think most people would use that adjective to describe me. That’s fine, I keep most of this to myself, and I reserve my passion for things that are important and personal to me. Make no mistake, my plans are deliberately ambitious. I have a lot of story to tell.

I share a post like this not to brag or to impress people; rather, I write this for other authors who wonder if their dreams are too big or beyond their reach. I’m here to help you stretch out your arms and embrace the possible.

Good luck with your writing!

Mike

(C) Michael Wallevand, August 2026

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Wait…you’re also a lyricist?

Your friendly neighborhood writer with the Prince symbol on his face.

Like a lot of creative people, I’m curious about varying mediums and challenging myself. Until recently, I hadn’t shared the lyrical side of my repertoire, but yeah, I’ve written a few songs. It has always been about entertaining myself, exploring other kinds of writing, and keeping my skills sharp.

Genres include hip hop in the style of Prince’s 90s NPG era, hardcore punk, and country. All of that is going to be a surprise to people who know me.

Wanting to focus more on my novels, I hadn’t been putting effort into doing more with my lyrics nor have I spent much free time working on them. Writing is a job, after all, and you want to put the most time into the most viable projects. Suddenly, however, maybe I did.

As I’ve written recently in Collaboration like peanut butter and chocolate, Sharing is caring…and inspiring, and Writing Exercise – An unexpected prompt, I’ve unexpectedly found myself as one half of a songwriting duo.

So I started writing more songs. A lot more. In the last six weeks, I’ve started 25, completing 10. My partner has written new music for at least four songs, though honestly, his feels like the more difficult and time-consuming part of the deal.

Already, we have 2 songs that I’m absolutely thrilled with, even if we’ve got some work to do. The musical arrangement took lyrics I was happy with and turned them into songs I think are really special: the sad, haunting Let Me Down Easy and the powerful love song Did You Run?

Here are the other eight I’ve submitted to him:

  • YOU’RE OTHER – hardcore punk song yelling at the bigots
  • The Coyotes Roam But They Ignore The Bones – folk song about 2 murdered girls hidden at a New Mexico ranch
  • Together and Apart – two people who stayed together longer than they should have
  • A Day Survived Is Yesterday – sometimes you just need to get through that dark day
  • I’m Leaving You Behind – a person leaves the love who’s using them
  • Unrequited – an infatuated person slowly comes to terms with their one-sided love
  • Black Dog, Cry – a take on the Beatles’ Black bird (yeah, I know) about a sleeping dog who wakes at the sound of an intruder and alerts her family to danger
  • The Garden Bloom – a person is emerging from the darkness of a breakup

Are all of them viable? Who can say! The wonderful thing about collaboration is sparking ideas in each other. As an example, the first music pass at Did You Run? transformed it from a song about a person lamenting a one-night stand to a duet about two people wishing they hadn’t gone their separate ways after meeting on their vacations. Creation is about possibilities, not about sticking to a destination before you know where you really need to go.

Even if all these songs end up falling short of our high standards, we’re on a journey of discovery and learning. And we’ve got plenty of other viable material to work with. Most importantly, we’re having fun collaborating and filling our spare time with something that delights our souls.

Good luck with your own creative endeavors!

–Mike

PS: I’ve added the lyrics work to my Progress Tracker, a calendar that captures changes I’m making to my various creative projects.

(C) Michael Wallevand, June 2026

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Writing Exercise – An unexpected prompt

“Mike, try to think of one of the most insane things that could happen…” the text conversation began.

Turns out, that’s EXACTLY the kind of writing prompt I LOVE. And even better, he didn’t want to share the experience until our next call.

“You should write a three paragraph story of what you think happened.”

It’s like someone gave him a manual for hacking my writer’s brain.

Front page of the Roswell Daily Record, reporting a UFO crash in 1947.

I replied that writing was the easy part, but expected I wouldn’t be anywhere near the mark for what actually happened. In much of my writing, I tend to drift into fantastical situations or absurdity, and I’m usually not interested in reining myself in.

I was waiting for the school bus, so I started telling myself a story similar to the 1947 Roswell UFO crash, but in his neighboring state instead of New Mexico. However, it immediately became clear that he was bursting to share, even if he was keeping the full story secret until we could talk.

“It involves death, prison, and six hours at the animal care center.”

WOW. OK, no aliens. For now.

I’ve had conversations like this before, if not with details as intriguing as this, and I’ve found that including some personal info is a great way to draw the person into the brief story I’m crafting for them. It’s same reason I first considered a regional event like Roswell. I set the aliens idea aside and let those three details form a kind of movie for my mind’s eye.

Fifteen minutes later, I had this.

A Day of Troubles

Saturday. Bright. Warm but not too hot. One of the best kinds of days to say goodbye. Little did we know, God had more than one kind of farewell on the agenda.

Scratch that. There’s no way we could have had even the smallest inkling, but I get ahead of myself.

The day of my mother-in-law’s funeral had finally arrived. I say ‘finally’ because the disease had taken a long, tortuous route toward the final conclusion. But as I stated above, it was a good day – the kind she would have liked. One where we might have had lunch as a family in the park, or perhaps spent some time hiking in the desert foothills.

We were both drained and energized in a way that only funerals make a person feel. You reconnect with so many people and share so many wonderful stories. You also laugh more than you anticipate. And yet, you have to be on the whole day. It’s like you’ve adopted a persona that people expect to see: someone strong and well-adjusted. They don’t want to see behind the mask you wear, even though they wouldn’t be surprised because they’ve worn that mask, too.

Afterwards, we enjoyed the weather like she would have wanted us to: my wife, myself, and our dog, Trouble. He’s quite empathetic for a dog, and he seemed to be behaving out of respect for us. Until he wasn’t.

On our way home from the park, he caught me off-guard as he chased a rodent or something under a car. Before I could blink, I lost the leash, he scurried under the car, and disappeared on the other side.

We searched for hours, considering ourselves fortunate that we could follow the occasional bark or curse words that chased him as he scampered through people’s yards.

Dusk approached, heralding more than the night. Ahead lay the state prison, and it was lit up like a city under siege. We’d later learn that Trouble had discovered a hidden tunnel under the fences, and that three inmates had discovered Trouble.

What happens next? I have no idea. It’s an unedited draft of an idea that simply flowed from brain to page. It might never be fleshed out. Despite that, conscious writing decisions were made.

The story begins with a mix of emotions and proceeds at a slow pace, which was deliberate so I could ramp up the action or whatever absurdity my writer brain could conjure. I’m building toward something, even if I don’t know that is.

This brings me to another decision: while there’s nothing particularly profound about these 350 words, I’ve left myself an intriguing mystery to help spark inspiration, should I ever go back to it. It’s a writing technique I developed to help me on those days when my creative tank is running low. To learn more, check out Set Yourself Mysteries.

Cover of a Mad Libs book

It reminds me of another creative exercise I did in college after I changed my major from computer programming to writing. I’d tell someone to give me three details, usually something like a name, a place, and an event, and then I’d spend ten or fifteen minutes telling a story I was making up on the spot. Call it “reverse Mad Libs”. In hindsight, I was teaching myself a way to organize my thoughts around a few key details.

I share these techniques as examples of the tools in my writer’s toolbox. Even when I’m enjoying a simple writing exercise, I’m using these tools without having to think about them. It means the creativity flows better and the effort of writing is more joy than work.

Good luck with your writing!

–Mike

(C) Michael Wallevand, June 2026

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Sharing is caring…and inspiring

In my last post, Collaboration like peanut butter and chocolate, I described a serendipitous connection with a coworker that seemed to be leading toward a musical partnership.

In hindsight, we were kinda dancing around the topic of collaboration, feeling each other out to determine whether we could work together. Instead of the direct approach – just saying it aloud – this oblique route felt more organic as it developed. Unforced.

As we talked, the conversation was effortless and meaningful. We shared our passions and several creative projects. One that I shared was a novella I started….ooof, twenty years ago. The manuscript still waits patiently in the mezzanine of my brain: I’m not actively working on it, but I haven’t yet relegated it to the dusty attic purgatory where abandoned ideas are stored until the Muse drags them back into the daylight.

Well, that metaphor was certainly well-mixed.

Goo Goo Dolls meet and greet at Best Buy

The novella Healed tells the story of an outcast who has the ability to heal others and take away their pain, but in exchange, those ills manifest in him. He is cursed to bear the physical and emotional scars of each person he saves. Disfigured and burdened beyond what a person can carry, he wishes for nothing but to die. Except he can’t. The inspiration for the story was a lyric from Iris by Goo Goo Dolls, and we enjoyed a laugh as I recounted the disastrous story where I shared that with the band: My Writing Freaked Out a Rock Star.

As I described the protagonist’s torment, generosity, and selflessness, my colleague was enthralled in that way storytellers hope their audiences will be. He pulled more detail from me, asked probing questions, and was otherwise highly engaged. The experience was rewarding in a way that makes you feel better about your creative projects.

The next day, I got this message from him.

I couldn’t stop thinking about your characters, especially the guy who cuts himself. Well it definitely inspired me. I wrote something to capture how I feel, the image of him cutting himself over and over, falling over and over, until he falls for the final time, only to finally be lifted up. So last night I wrote The Law of Gravity.

Seriously, THE NEXT DAY I received a song based on a short discussion about a story I wrote. It was one of the most meaningful gestures of my life, and it told me everything I needed to know about his creative process.

As you can probably imagine, it sparked my writing brain and I knew I had to return the favor. As I listened to 8 tracks from an album he was finishing, I wrote lyrics that I think captured the mood and style of his music. I’ll share them in the next post!

Good luck with your creative projects!

Mike

(C) Michael Wallevand, June 2026

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Collaboration like peanut butter and chocolate

gif of a famous 1970s-1980s era Reese's commercial in which a young man accidentally dunks his chocolate bar into a woman's peanut butter. And the rest was advertising history.

Recently a colleague and I connected over lunch about our creative passions. To my surprise, his are music composition and arrangement. To his delight, writing is mine.

It wasn’t quite as legendary as this seminal Gen-X moment in advertising, but maybe it’s close.

There’s something freeing about sharing your creative passions with others, especially those who have their own. The conversation evolves and builds momentum in a way that doesn’t happen when only one person is sharing.

And let’s be honest: most people enjoy the back-and-forth dialogue. They don’t want to feel like a talk show host who’s there to keep a guest talking. Or worse still, simply be an audience for someone who loves to hear themselves talk.

We shared our projects and the things that fired our creativity. We delighted in finding someone who was mutually respectful, energized by the creative process, and with whom the conversation was never forced. We discussed the craft, each from our own experience and through the language of our chosen medium.

We had two creative passions moving in parallel directions, and while we didn’t know where we headed, we knew there would be an intersection. Personally, I love this approach because it prevents us from putting up artificial guardrails that stifle creativity. We were just talking about the ways words and music could come together.

It was simple, casual, spontaneous.

Freeing.

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Writing Exercise – The An-Teak Desk

A writer never knows when inspiration will arrive or from where. Because algorithm, I stumbled upon the podcast of a friend’s wife. It was a clip in which she discussed junk drawers with her friend. They laughed in delight at the idea of the drawer opening up like the wardrobe to Narnia.

An hour later, I had 1,700 words.

Jammie, so nicknamed for her love of footie pajamas, followed her brother Matt up the dim creaking stairs, her eyes fixed on the close-cropped black hair that had earned the slender boy a moniker of his own. “Gramma missed a spot, Matchstick,” she teased, pointing at the tuft on his head.

He reached back and felt for the place, his lips hissing a derisive sound when he found it. “That’s my lucky spot. She says if you find one of those, you’ll be lucky ‘til your next haircut.”

“I think that’s one of those things grown-ups say to hide their mistakes,” she retorted.

He looked over his shoulder as they neared the top of the stairs. “With all that reading you do, I can’t believe you’ve never heard of that.”

“You read as much as I do and I bet you’ve never heard of it, either.”

The dark shape of the heavy oak door emerged from the shadows before them, a dull brass doorknob reflecting the oil lamp at the bottom of the stairs. Instead of reaching for the knob, he turned and looked down at her. “You read way more than I do.”

“Yeah, but you read en-cy-clo-pedias,” she replied, drawing out the enunciation as a sign of reverence. She’d always wanted to enjoy them – knowledge was important, her daddy advised – but she just didn’t have the head for it, her grandma said.

“I didn’t have a choice, you know.”

“But you like them now, right?”

He stared at his sister, her face aglow with wonder and curiosity. Her eyes could drink in all the details of the world, and still her inquisitiveness would not be sated. “I guess. They’re now like reading an old story you know by heart.”

“I know all about that. My books never showed me that symbol you found, though. My stories are all made up, and writers are liars.”

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What do you enjoy about being an author?
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What do you enjoy about being an author?

Well, that’s easy to answer.

Until someone actually asks the question.

For me, and I suspect many writers like me, it’s something we just know. Perhaps it’s similar to loving milk chocolate melted over marshmallows and graham crackers, Irish whisky splashing into an iced glass, or shaggy dogs who cuddle in your lap. You just know.

As writers, one of our primary jobs is to articulate those concepts that are difficult to put into words. To evoke meaning and emotion from words made of letters made of lines and curves that dance across a page. It’s hard, it’s easy, it’s simply impossible at times. Yet we trudge on because that’s the job.

And so, when I was recently given a survey as part of the publishing process, I paused and took some time to think about things that brought me joy and those that drained my energy. I already knew the answers. I just didn’t know which words I needed to express myself.

Mike fancies himself a Drake meme. This is something he doesn't like.

Please list up to 3 things you enjoy the least as an author related to writing, publishing and selling your books.

  • Book formatting. I wish I’d done more research about manuscript formatting. It’s caused a lot of rework.
  • Marketing myself. Ironically, my day job is marketing.
  • I love the learning process for all of this, though I wish it didn’t take so much time. It’s also very easy to distract yourself with rabbit holes when you’re struggling with the creative process.
Mike fancies himself a Drake meme. This is something he likes.

Please list up to 3 things you enjoy the most as an author related to writing, publishing and selling your books.

  • The pure act of creation energizes me like nothing else.
  • I am compelled to find ways to entertain and comfort people in all aspects of my life.
  • I believe my skills should be used to advocate for human beings who are under-represented, under-privileged, or otherwise face prejudices.

Being able to articulate things like this can be a helpful guide in your writing. If you know what will energize you, tap into that as you sit at the keyboard. If you know what drains you, meet that head on and consider ways to change that chore into something you adore.

Focus and time management are critical aspects of writing that I don’t think get enough attention. An exercise like this can help.

Good luck with your writing in 2026!

–Mike

(C) Michael Wallevand, December 2025

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Writing Exercise: Use Your College Knowledge

This website is dedicated to my novels and the writing process, as well as advocacy for human rights.

A college buddy recently re-entered my life on Facebook, mocking my alarm at the emboldened fascism of the new U.S. administration.

I didn’t know the Jews r worried Elon and Trump are vicious Nazis who will gas chamber them and other inferior minorities? Man will the hispanics and the blacks be pissed because they sure voted a lot for Trump. Wouldn’t that be ironic?

He probably doesn’t know that I studied so much history during our college days, with a focus on the rise of fascism in the 20th Century, that I accidently got a second major for my bachelor’s degree. I’ve walked through concentration camps. I’ve stood in the gas chambers. Something awful still lingers there, as does a tragedy for which Humankind has no words. So instead of responding with equal sarcasm, and ignoring how he unconsciously described minorities as “inferior”, I put my degree to use.

The quarantine yard at Mauthausen, one of the most sickeningly brutal concentration camps.

It doesn’t start with gas chambers. We all know this.

Like all successful bullies, the Authoritarian is more cunning than intelligent, recognizing that threats, bombast, and lies will be more effective than reason. In this way, he camouflages his weakness and impotence as a strength that people truly believe.

And to be perceived as strong, the bully picks on the weak. They are but the backs that must be trodden on the climb to power. The Undesirables must be identified. The Other. They are named Enemies to give the people something to rally around. It is better to be one of Us than one of Them. And the People buy into it because they respect and fear and covet the Power. More often than not, they are the regular people and the downtrodden, not those marching with torches or hanging nooses from trees. Over and again, they have been told they are powerless – these Enemies have taken their power, their jobs, their money, and the lives of their fellow citizens. The People used to be great, but no longer. Convinced, they actually relinquish power and critical thinking for pretty promises that their lives will improve. Promises without a plan, though like all great salespeople, he’s manufactured a need in people for the thing he’s selling.

And lo, their salvation is at hand.

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Writing Exercise – Say Meaningful Things
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Writing Exercise – Say Meaningful Things

On May 25, 2020, a police officer murdered George Floyd, a suspect in his custody. As a reminder to Americans, we are all innocent until proven guilty in a court of law.

On May 26, peaceful protests began.

On May 27, peaceful protests continued. Eventually, rioters and outside agitators burned a Minneapolis neighborhood.

On May 28, I wrote this piece. Then I put it aside, unwilling to work further on such a heavy topic.

On November 20, 2024, I rediscovered it. I’m now sharing as part of my month of gratitude and my greater commitment to writing meaningful things.

Sometimes, there are no words.

You want there to be, but they fail.

You hope that you can say that genuine thing to alleviate someone’s pain.

Put an end to suffering.

Quell the madness.

Turns minds away from bigotry.

But there are no words

Tonight as Minneapolis burns.

The writer prides himself on turns of phrase

On vocabulary

On finding the perfect way to state a thing

But the practice, the tools, the tricks

They fail because there are no words.

A word typed

A thought, aloud.

These things are too small for a situation too large.

They are noise.

They are nothing.

Worthless thoughts shouted into the face of the heedless storm.

One day again

The words will come. But today, there are no words

Many of us are grateful that events like this are not part of our world, though we are too ashamed to say it aloud. We need to find our voices. The world becomes a better place when the meaningful things drown out the oppressors’ noise. Please take this encouragement to contribute your own meaningful things.

Thank you for reading. Hug your loved ones this holiday weekend.

–Mike

(C) Michael Wallevand, November 2024

How Do You Honor a Life #3 – Ace
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How Do You Honor a Life #3 – Ace

A few years ago, I was invited to join a bunch of dice-rolling, whiskey-swilling hooligans at an annual tabletop gaming retreat called Whiskey Weekend.

Bunch of guys around a large table playing games.
Hooligans, amiright?

I was amazed how quickly I fit in and bonded with the group. With my neurodiversity, I don’t make friends easily or often, nor am I comfortable in social situations. One of the people I connected with quickly was Ace. I suspect this was a combination of our similar senses of humor and my willingness to play any game he rolled out. On a future weekend, I gave him some 3D-printed token holders for Everdell, one of his favorite games. His gratitude became delight when I revealed I’d bought my own copy of Everdell because of him.

About two years ago, he shared some rough news with us. Cancer. In the time leading up to our 2024 weekend, he told us he had chemo scheduled the first Saturday of our retreat. He was going to come up briefly and then jump into the treatments. He was in good spirits, and I could tell he enjoyed even that brief time with us. He offered us silicone bracelets as part of his journey – mine disappeared after Benji snagged it for his stuffies to wear – but I believe it conveyed Ace’s philosophy of staying strong and seizing the day.

Knowing how much he loved the event, I wanted to do something special. I wanted to help him feel like he could still experience some of the weekend, even from a distance. So I did two things.

The first was for the group. I 3D printed tabletop minis for everyone to paint and wrote little stories so people could mix and match. More info here. I gave Ace first pick and he was able to make his selection before he had to leave. I later heard he painted it right away and had a fun time. I wish I could have seen the results.

The second was for Ace himself. The whiskey part of Whiskey Weekend involves a double-elimination tournament where we do a blind taste test every hour. I brought little empty bottles for each entry so Ace could sample the same selection he would have gotten with us. It was perhaps a small comfort, considering Ace looked forward to the weekend more than anyone, but he seemed truly touched. I hope he was able to enjoy the drinks and think fondly of Weekends past. I didn’t know that would be the last time I saw him. I never got a chance to ask.

Friendship is wonderful, strange, magical thing. I think I’d been together with Ace less than 10 times, and yet, I quickly, easily considered him a good friend. I don’t think I knew his actual name for two years.

And so, I found myself at my first Jewish funeral today.

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