It occurs to me that I might have erred in choosing the title of this post. 😉 Given that my last post touched on health issues and my increased awareness of my own mortality, a post entitled The End of the Road might set off alarm bells. But context is all, and I intend no doom or gloom by the use of that phrase. I’m talking about two journeys I completed last week.

The first was a road trip back to Beaver County, Pennsylvania, where I was born and raised. The trip was notable for several reasons. First, I managed to drive on I-80 from exit 310 at the Delaware River all the way to exit 15 in Mercer (just fifteen miles from the Ohio state line) without encountering one single construction project or other slowdown. In thirty-plus years of making this drive, this was a first. I saw it as a minor miracle, and took it as a good omen.

I like traveling back roads instead of interstate highways, but I was pressed for time, so I drove for speed instead of pleasure. Interstates induce road hypnosis in me, and PA’s endlessly rolling hills sometimes left me unsure whether I was going up or down.Sometimes the only way to tell was by checking the tractor trailers in the rear-view mirror. If they were gaining on me, I knew I was going downhill.

Pennsylvania has the dubious distinction of of being the state with the most deer strikes in the country. Even after the carcasses have been removed, you can count an impressively large number of old, red “deer smears” coloring the pavement. Probably not the state’s favorite claim to fame.

Eventually, I left the highway and followed Route 19 down to Route 68 in Zelienople, and Route 68 West into Fairport. An entire chapter of my forthcoming novel takes place there, and I wanted to get one more look around to see if I got the feel of the place right. I also wanted to do a little promotion to local bookstores and the county newspaper.

Readers from that area might reasonably object that they’ve never heard of a town called Fairport anywhere in the county. That’s because they know it by another name. The first European settlers named it East Bridgewater in 1799. East Bridgewater was renamed Fairport, then Beaver Point. Finally, in 1834, it became Rochester, and we’ve called it that ever since. When I decided to feature the town in Kindred Spirits, I chose to call it Fairport.

I spent a couple of days this past week driving around and noting the conditions in and around Rochester. Not surprisingly, I saw a lot of empty storefronts and abandoned buildings. Over on Ohio Avenue, I came across a restaurant called The Fairport. I smiled knowing someone else had an appreciation for the town’s pre-Civil War history. According to Google, The Fairport is permanently closed. As a business owner myself, I always feel a little sympathy when I see that somebody’s dream has reached the end of the road.

Speaking of the end of the road, the second of the two journeys I mentioned ends on a happier note. Kindred Spirits has gone from nascent idea to rough draft, through multiple revisions, to edited copy, and now through two rounds of professional proofreading. In other words, I’ve crossed the finish line. The book is ready to go to print. Ready to go on sale. Ready to find its audience. I hope it gets people thinking and talking.

I plan to pick a December date for the launch. Maybe the fourth. Or maybe the 11th; I’ll keep you posted. I’ll announce the launch on Facebook and maybe have a live event on Zoom. You’ll be able to buy both the softcover or the eBook directly from me, as well as from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and all the usual suspects.

Of course, marketing is a major project, as big an effort as the writing itself. So it’s the end of one road, and the start of the next. I’m excited about this new journey. For more on the novel and on my road trip, check out my Facebook page here: https://www.facebook.com/jharrisonwrites