John’s Blog
After I Heard the Words, “It’s Cancer”
As the author of After You Hear It’s Cancer: A Guide to Surviving the Difficult Journey Ahead, I thought I understood the magnitude of the impact of a cancer diagnosis on patients. After all, I had written about it at length – describing that instant when one hears...
The Medusa
It was known in our house as the giggles hour – sixty magical minutes spent sitting in front of the television transfixed by Howdy Doody and a cast of lovable characters. It was a sacred time when nothing distracted me – not even ice-cream! Nothing, that is, but a...
The Gorilla and the Headmistress
The day of retribution had finally arrived for Barbara Bigas, the humorless headmistress of Sunset Hill – an all girl’s preparatory school and bastion of elitism whose stated mission was to raise fine young...
The Intruders
The Hanging Tree marked the eastern edge of our property – 120 acres of pasture, woodlands, and ponds perched precariously close to the encroaching suburbs. For a while, it would remain country – rough and rugged with a beauty that only a native Kansan could fully...
My Season with The Kansas City Royals
My rookie year with the Kansas City Royals began in April 1972, when I was fifteen. I know what you’re thinking – how can that be possible – but hear me out. I was not a ball player. Far from it. Born with no depth perception, swinging at a ball traveling in excess of...
John Leifer reads an excerpt from 8 Seconds to Midnight.
https://youtu.be/yHXEtD0FoSQ
Tolerance, New Mexico
Tolerance was not on any maps. According to rumor, it was little more than a speck of a town located in a narrow valley southwest of Acoma. “Urban lore,” townsfolk were quick to say when asked if Tolerance was real. It didn’t matter what people said, though. No words...
Masochism or Meditation: It Depends on the Writer’s Point of View
The writing life may seem idyllic to some, but not to those who toil for hours on end probing the depths of their imagination in hopes of capturing the attention of readers. Lost in their craft, time passes like slow-moving clouds as they hunt for the right word…or...
The Writer’s Journey
I left my last job with a sigh of relief and a quick spin of my tires as I pulled away from the parking lot, never to return. A surge of exhilaration welled up from my gut, and a smile burst out on my face as I realized that I no longer had to conform to a culture...