COUNTING BACK TO NOW

Counting Back to Now and Other Stories is a collection that offers a journey through the 1950s and the following six decades. Along the way, you’ll travel with characters struggling to escape their pasts, trying to reclaim lost dreams or find new meanings in their lives. You will meet personalities as diverse as a young boy helping commit a murder, an abducted twelve-year-old protecting her father, a down-and-out bull rider trying to get back on his feet, and a young anesthesiologist judging his patient. And, in the final story, you will sit beside an Iraqi War vet doing all he can to find his way home—to get back to now.

Certain kernels, though quite dark at the time, were nothing short of authorial gifts. Despite it seeming improbable a man would die in an automatic car wash, an actual incident was the impetus for writing the fourth story. In “You Don’t Know,” was the father racing to the Colchuk River to look for a missing son, doing everything I could not to vomit. And in “Back to Now,” it was I who picked up a woman I believed was about to jump into the Columbia River, only to be pulled over—and interrogated—by a very cordial Washington State patrolman.

I think significant life choices are like bridges—once crossed, we can’t go back. I’d like to think that many of my characters stand before such bridges. Incidentally, the motivation for writing “Overlook” was fueled by my wondering, after stopping at the scene where a truck had just plunged into the Knik River near Anchorage, how the driver could have accomplished such a feat (if intentional)—and who the woman was that had been rolling up her window after screaming she couldn’t swim.

I felt extremely lucky with “Counting,” especially since I don’t read mysteries, much less try to write them. Ten years later, however, after constantly trying to re-invent the writers’ wheel, I realized that spinning wheel was gaining very little traction. In response to acclaimed author and faculty member Claire Davis’s prodding, I gave Pacific’s MFA program a try, and found my home, stretching a two-year program into nearly eight.

As most authors will confess, writing is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Yet, while creating fiction, imagining or inhabiting the lives of others is priceless. As such, I never miss the chance to ask physicians, first responders, hairdressers and plumbers, What’s the most unusual thing you’ve ever experienced? because we all know truth is often stranger than fiction.

Thumbing and Humming in the Seventies

Hitch-hiking has always been a gamble, but in the 1970s it was ubiquitous—as long as the soundtrack had a groove. Read Fred’s 2025 work of creative non-fiction published in Talon Review’s Uprooted, volume 3, number 5.

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Why Would Anybody Do This?

Check out Fred’s feature profile of a Viking guide in Argentina, published in The Flyfish Journal, issue 16.2 (December 2024).

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