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Writer's pictureJohn Clarkson

Who Doesn't Like Babies?


On most days, my wife and I make sure to take a walk in the neighborhood. Every so often we see a baby, say between two and four months old, pass by in a stroller or in a carrier strapped onto mom or dad.

 

I love it when that happens. I think it’s because babies are so completely free of all the concerns and worries that plague us grownups. Babies don’t give a damn about anything. If it isn't right in front of them, it doesn't exist.

 

Another plus -- it seems like the cuties we run into are extraordinarily beautiful. Maybe the universe is investing something in them to counter the not so beautiful surrounding us these days.

 

If we're lucky, the parent will be stationary. Maybe talking to a friend or waiting for a greenlight. That’s when I can stare at those chubbies, make faces at them, smile. First, they give me that blank look. Absolutely clueless. Nuthin’ going on in that little round noggin’. Then, if everything lines up, bang! A beatific smile. If I'm really lucky their tiny feet start kicking or pudgy little arms start pumping. It feels like I've made that baby unbelievably happy.

 

Then, poof, they’re gone, leaving me a bit bereft.

 

So, what does my trying to get a smile out of babies have to do with my promises to keep my readers/subscribers apprised of my writing progress?

 

Actually, there is a connection.

 

I’ve started a new James Beck novel. At the moment titled Beck 5.

 

If you've read a James Beck novel, you know that Beck is the hardest of hard asses. But it turns out in the opening scene of Beck 5, Mr. Beck also runs into a baby. A beautiful blond baby girl. In a stroller being pushed by a beautiful blonde mother. With a four-year old brother hanging onto one arm of the stroller, and mom hanging onto dog leash attached to the family dog. A mutt. Not a something-something doodle.

 

There’s no smiling or mugging from Mr. Beck, but he seems to like the baby. Or, at least, he's inclined to like the little one.

 

Is this a kinder, gentler James Beck? A man transformed by the excruciating TRIBES battle in Upstate New York? A more pensive Beck?  

 

Or is the baby thing just a spillover from author to protagonist?

 

I don’t know. But something is happening with James Beck. And that something can only be discovered as I write the next Beck novel.

 

I’ll keep you posted.








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