• R.D. Kardon

Updated: Jun 16


crack·le

/ˈkrak(ə)l/

verb

make a rapid succession of slight cracking noises

“I could hear the aurora crackle, even when I couldn’t see it.”


I’m all about fulfilling my dreams. And one of them was to witness the Aurora Borealis, the famous Northern Lights, in person.

In January 2016, I flew up to Fairbanks, Alaska. Statistics told me that in January, to have an 80% chance of seeing the Aurora, I had to stay in town for four days. Planning to stay for eight, I was leaving nothing to chance.

On my second night in Fairbanks, I saw them for the first time. They danced in the sky, tickling the tops of trees and shimmying across the horizon. More than enchanting, it was intoxicating.

I needed more. Up near Cleary Summit, atop the fog layer that sometimes hung over the City of Fairbanks, was the Aurora Borealis Lodge. Complete with huge picture windows and an unobstructed view of the sky, I spent four nights and five mornings mesmerized by those lights.

More than see, I heard them. The sky was alive, protons and electrons disturbed by solar wind complaining in the form of undulating bright colors. The faster the wind, the more “excited” the particles, the more complex their shifting shapes.

I am not religious. I believe in something more than what we can see here on earth, but before I went to Fairbanks, that belief was based solely on an intellectual form of faith.

Now I know for sure there is something more, something moving all the time, something that is there whether I can see it or not.

I live in Southern California where there is no chance I’ll ever look up and see those Northern Lights. Still, I sit outside in the middle of the night…and listen.

  • R.D. Kardon


Aspire

as·pire

/əˈspī(ə)r/

verb

direct one's hopes or ambitions toward achieving something

“I aspire to make my second novel better than Flygirl.”


Writing a novel is hard. Writing two novels is ridiculously hard, especially when the first one is successful.


Flygirl was a debut novel from an unknown, first-time author. I had no idea if anyone I didn’t know, or anyone within three degrees of my supporters and contacts, would ever read it.


But read it they did. And they wrote reviews, good ones. I bow my head in gratitude over some of the positive comments readers have made about their experience with my work.


“So,” I said to myself, “make the next one even better.” ‘Cause that’s how I roll—I mean really, if I don’t pressure myself to live up to my own ridiculously high standards, no one else will.


Such was my burden as I wrote my new novel, Angel Flight. I stressed over this book in ways I never did over Flygirl.


Angel Flight takes Tris Miles’s story to places I didn’t even think it could go. With her career back on track, she’s plagued with insecurity over a new relationship she doesn’t completely trust. Tris struggles to navigate her inner world with the help of a therapist she can’t admit to seeing, or else put her flying career in jeopardy. And the man she’s falling in love with has secrets that may ultimately end both of their lives.


Every paragraph, every sentence, every single word of Angel Flight is intended to bring the reader even closer to the sometimes heart-pumping, occasionally wearying, but always fascinating world Tris and her friends, colleagues and passengers inhabit. And just like Flygirl, it might very well take you on a journey to someplace you’ve never been before.


Angel Flight. Coming September 2020.

  • R.D. Kardon





in·spi·ra·tion

/ˌinspəˈrāSH(ə)n/

noun

the process of being mentally stimulated to do or feel something, especially to do something creative.

"You never know where inspiration will come from.”


When I’m writing, anything can inspire me. I’ll be stuck in a scene where my characters are in a restaurant and I'll ask myself: What kind of restaurant? What are they eating?


And then a taco truck will pull next to me at a traffic light. Ah! Mexican! I immediately visualize my characters cutting through a burrito, dipping chips into guacamole—never salsa, don’t ask me why—and pouring from a pitcher of margaritas.


My most stimulating environment, by far, is my backyard. When I’m at my computer, stuck, I can walk thirty feet east and enter another world. Amid the peaceful swish of tree branches, flowers, and hummingbirds, I can usually cobble together quiet scenes and my characters’ more introspective, tender moments.


For help with action scenes, I weed. Only there, wandering through my own wild kingdom yanking those bad boys out of the ground, do I find true satisfaction. As each interloper rises from the ground, my characters plot, scheme, and argue.


Sometimes I’ll just drop my bounty back on the ground, run inside, and start writing. And then I forget, the nasty growth free to regenerate.


For next time.

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