Archive for the ‘Author Expeditions’ Category

“The Son of the Streets” is available on kindle or iBook today!

I walked a few blocks today. It was inspiring. I live where there is still snow piles in the corners of the city, very small patches of ice, mixed with old dried up leaves blowing ever so. The birds chirp for warmth, the sun beams; but, dully. The sky holds promise of warmer days close to coming. “What a story” I ask the trees. There leaves distinct to there piece of Mother Nature; this puzzle of leaves, and trees, and grass, and dirt: can come to life just like a gig saw. I could write of the timeless story of squirrels chasing nuts, the ground hog that finally wants to show up when it’s too late. The history and facts that these streets are fairly new, for thousand years with out them and the couple hundred or so they have been here. Now I jumped on a bus, and not because I was heading anywhere, but because it was there. At this time on this day this bus wants to take me places I can not take my story alone. I am a writer a means of transportation for my words. This is my duty to chase my story. The Darwin Theory. Search deeper then any other writer, change history with the power of words. Who cares who is listening, each one a small piece of my gig saw, my story, and I can tell it how ever I want to. I am not asking for discovery or to be respected for my opinion. I write the things I know. I write the unknown. I create! I write! Oh I ended up at a bar. What a drunk of a writer!

Terrence Baker


I lately have been in search of that next great story, and the further I try to go into a successful good life, with characters that make a living doing what the love, or went to school to learn, I find my self with a story going nowhere. As a writer we are obligated to the story and as readers we want normality. So I parked my benz, put my visa in a safe, and I ride the bus. Since started riding the bus stories are everywhere. The people are real, and patient. They are not racing around running from the stories, they live them. I missed my connecting bus because I was to busy typing away at my iPhone, but owe well another hr writing great will not hurt me. They have a stale coffee maker, only .75 might I ad, and security that looks like they would tackle a bear or wrestle the beer out of the drunk bastards hand that tries to hide it, everyday same drunk same security guard. They love each other, they live to cross paths . That’s a story worth telling! Not the same one of cocktail dresses and champagne, Lamborghini’s and Mansions. This is normal, I wonder who else here is looking for normality? Or is there another writer here looking for a story? Either way! Find your story even if you have to take the bus. I just found mines…






Live with Point West

Posted: March 8, 2014 in Author Expeditions



I love the south