PJ Colando

“PJ Colando’s sprightly novel shines its light on an uncommon slice of contemporary Americana, a Midwest culture most often viewed from flyover range.”

– Art Plotnik,
Author – Spunk & Bite.

Steve was already perturbed with the brother he has when Carl Edwards strides onto the farm. David Breeden, who lives nearby, is not a bastard but always acted like one. Carl, a charismatic Californian, may be a bastard, but doesn’t act like one…Yet Carl rocks the entire small Midwestern farming community, including a lively cast of characters who assault Steve’s calm-against-chaos pattern in this humorous family saga.

Opportunity arrives when their married son loses his job – and home to foreclosure. They become reverse empty nesters, and buy a Winnebago to cut loose and explore America.

Son Brandon, and his ambitiously conniving wife Amy, embody their generation’s prevailing sense of entitlement. Before the older couple departs, Amy embellishes the micro-dairy business by growing and selling marijuana edibles, dragging Jackie into the scheme. As the local bank vice president, Amy secretly increases the amount of the Home Equity Line of Credit that financed the Winnebago.

Oops – adventures and adversities ensue.

I call my short story fiction genre “loose with the truth” because there is always, always, always a kernel of truth in the fiction I flash. My fiction is often more believable than the non-fiction within my tale. As the famed author, Robert Crais, says, “I’m just making sh** up”— and, to some people, it resounds.
I guess that makes me a story-teller, a talent that has evolved. I never fibbed when I was a kid. Did you?
Some stories are powered by a rant or a personal pet peeve or an encounter that perplexed me.
I’ve exorcized demons, retorted in print to people who’ve been unkind, and changed my point of view with writing as an algorithm for life. I’ve gained empathy, deepened my resistance, and resolved problems that will never resolve in real life.
I write to learn what I’m thinking rather than remain locked in my feelings. Sometimes I even write to process feelings. I write to feel less insecure.
I can’t, couldn’t, won’t imagine life without the ability to write. I think I’d go crazy . . . or else suffer emotional death.