Author Transitions From Blog to YouTube Sensation

Don’t worry folks, just a little walk around the yard and me mumbling to myself. Don’t fear, I will still spend some time typing away for your enjoyment. I have several books that I am working on right now for fall release.

Do Send us some letters though, the flexible due date for Letters Never Meant to be Read Volume II is July 15th!

Book Review: Running Out of Time by A.M. Hounchell




I recently read Running Out of Time by A.M. Hounchell on a fine Sunday morning.

The Monday after, I had to get my blood checked for a symbiotic parasite and my head checked for acid lumps. The swill was lingering somewhere in the back of my brain days after I read Hounchell’s confusing blunder of a masterpiece.


Description:  Running Out of Time is an absurdist novel about a man trying to see where he fits in space and time. As his two individual idealisms battle each other, probably to death. He’ll meet friends he never wanted, but will always have.

Like the Flamingo of Order

Ketchup the girl from the internet dating site

Les, a possessed demon teddy bear?

And a Pirate with a hint of insect

Can he stop something from happening? Probably, because that is vague.

Find out at the end of this book!


Ok…well then. I decided to dive into this crazy pool, feet first, damned be the consequences. I checked out his blog already and liked the sarcasm and big pills so I DID NOT get out of my pajamas, I was on coffee cup number two and ready. Wait, that’s right…

I actually started reading this the night before to my wife, out loud, in bed, three goblets of wine and whatever else in. It wanted me to read it out loud. I wanted to be a voice actor for this author’s entire body of work, and that is all the voice over acting I would ever have to do.

As I let the absurdity pour from my lips to my laughing wife, I got the sinking suspicion that she was entertained for once by the written word. She never laughed that much at my material…

I remember now, ah yes, Sunday morning, where did we leave off? Page 22, yes, just about the time I rolled over again  and…Did this book cause me to go for a round 2? How much time between rounds? 22 pages?

Sunday morning, again. I was sober. I was alone. I noticed the unedited blemished, the problems with layout on devices that plague, but I still couldn’t put the book down despite my chores, my mountain of papers, my coffee spilling onto the floor, turning into a pool of mud chocolate between my slippers and my happy dog. What is in this coffee? Did I find this book under my mattress or on top of the bus station? How much coffee should I make? Should I stop?

I wondered if the man behind this art would give up the act, he almost lost me at Chapter 10, he almost gave up the ghost. I trudged on, for the sake of the quest. The quest theme was good, then it wasn’t, then it was good again. Do I like Ketchup? Yes, yes I do.

I saw brilliance there between the errors and the I just don’t care sentiment. I saw someone who could write for days while I stayed there, my shoes in the mud, worried about one phrase.

This book is not for everyone. I was an English teacher, a Writer. Now, I am questioning my own ethics.

If you read a book and it changes the way you write for the better, you have read a good book.


A.M. Hounchell’s blog:

Twitter: @inferno4dante

10 Reasons Why This Indie Author and Publisher Should Review Your Work

10 Reasons why Marc D. Crepeaux should Review Your Work on Amazon and Goodreads:

  1.  He will actually read your work and be completely honest. (Good for some, bad for others)
  2. He reads an entire week’s worth of newspapers on Sunday morning.
  3. He works as an English teacher, an Army Reserves Officer and moonlights as a Private Investigator, so there is a great deal of paid downtime while traveling, on stake-outs, or while pretending to proctor exams.
  4. He has a plethora of interests to include: business, entrepreneurship, book marketing, science fiction, speculative fiction, self-help, health and fitness, biographies, historical fiction, horror, absurdity, poetry, correspondence, thrillers, mysteries, crime, country noir, flash fiction…just about everything.
  5. He has an MFA in Creative Writing (poverty), if that sort of thing matters to you.
  6. He has an overused and abused Kindle and a backup just in case.
  7. He will actually buy your work with funds paid by the government in one form or another (Donations in the form of hotel matchbooks and review copies accepted of course).
  8. He has an Audible account and 2 ears that still work with Bluetooth in his car.
  9. He may find you or you may find him and want to collaborate on something later.
  10. He is an Indie Author as well, and knows how important reviews are. He likes to meet new people, runs on the beach, speaks Russian, that sort of thing.

If you want Marc to check out your work, he is easily distracted. Comment below or email

Review Copies can also be sent to:

Rusty Wheels Media, LLC

attn: Marc D. Crepeaux

PO Box 1692

Rome, GA 30162

A Letter to Yourself

In anticipation of the release of Letters Never Meant to be Read, I decided to post the very last letter in the collection of signed and anonymous letters, the one to myself. Being honest with yourself can be difficult, especially on paper. Happy Reading!



Let us begin.

Is it possible that you will look back in twenty, even thirty years and feel great pride in your undeniable accomplishments? You’ve got some nerve to imagine that you have established a real thread on your life. For decades you continue to leave a little in the reserve tank, just like that old Harley you used to own that only ran a little. Even while doing push-ups for the drill sergeants, even while working on a case, even while being in love. You leave some on the table, just in case. Nestled in your back pocket is your precious, comfortable reserve.

You have yet to give it your all, just getting by is your famous motto. And sure, great things have come of this meager effort. In reality, where true great men live only for one moment of their lives, your deeds have only been good. You are always doing good, you live in the good. You peer at easy eyes in the mirror as some kind of leader of the losers, a natural king underdog and you smile. That crown is set well upon your head and has been for years. Not a crown of thorns, not a crown of jewels, but a crown of paper and rare ink. It is easier down there, with them, isn’t it? Is it not warmer and kinder to be the leader of the parade of the second class? You love them, and they in turn look up to you. You are a pancreas. You conduct a small function that helps everyone out for the common good but you can be replaced, there isn’t a long waiting list.

Being a B+ type of guy that I know you are, I find your lack of motivation to take this life to the next level draining. You settle, are a settler. Why? It’s easy in the depths. There is no rat race to be seen. Go ahead, make up for your lack of effort, you do it all the time. There are two methods which we have observed: A whirlwind of sudden brilliance from a high perch that you laze upon. See what I can do?  In all second situations, you overcome your laziness with your intellect and confidence man style approach to interpersonal relationships. You can fool all of them out there that think you are just great, think you are working so hard, have achieved so much.  You are not fooling us.

Do you honestly believe the great men of the past wasted this much time on leisure? Watching shows at will and playing computer games as some great Japanese warlord until two in the morning has become your alibi. You work all day and this is your savory routine, your reward for being such a good boy. You are a consumer of dust. You might as well suck on that cold barrel now and save the electricity or you will end up the same as everyone you know. How common can you be? How much can you blend into the background?

Sure, you can turn on the tap at any time and bleed out the poison that the crowd all loves to hear. Spinning yarn has never been a problem, only the frequency of the wheel. You think to us inside your head that this content just seeps out of your pours, so why sweat so much? Why work out if you already pour gold? Have you ever thought of where your talent comes from? It is us, you fool, all of us together in this poor, dying pouch. You are both naïve and undeserving of what little talent you have. Such a big head, you can do this any time, so why now? Why sweat it? Why work? That is because, Dear Friend, you are afraid.

Cowards accept what is given to them and fail to ask questions. They lie in the dark and pity themselves to sleep. Is that you? Could that be us? What a little lizard you are, creeping about, clinging to stalks and branches, how cool you must feel. You cower behind your shield of mediocrity with the ready excuse for failure, “well…I didn’t even try and look how far I got.”

Actually, we may have you all wrong. Wait, no… could it be? The consensus is in from the parlor crowd, yes, you are afraid of success. All this time, you pull back the last punch because you are afraid the blow might actually land. Success is your secret little vice that you dabble with, your never public after party fix. Yes, always a private drug to do behind closed doors. No real ties, nothing to connect, just a secret relationship that you hope to keep but never make substantiated. Is that why we have so many holes in our feet? Is that why we have gunpowder on our hands? Yes, you are afraid of this subtle mistress, but I tell you that We are Not.

From this moment on you have a choice. You can continue down this path of mediocrity, just as you have tended that simple flame of the past. Or, you could achieve true greatness by your own measure. Grasp that comfortable solitude of knowing that you got yours in this life without our outright help. Decide soon, Dear Friend, because there is brewing a revolt in these dark corridors. Soon we will take control and oh how everything will change.