By Hal Walter
March finally arrived in April, and the wind had been howling the entire afternoon as I left for an evening speaking engagement at the Greenhorn Valley Library in Colorado City. The Sangre de Cristo Range was barely an outline in the ghastly gray dust blowing over from the San Luis Valley, and an occasional gust tossed my car sideways.
The quickest route from my home near Westcliffe is the Greenhorn Highway through San Isabel and Rye. It’s a curvy and hilly, but scenic, drive with very little traffic. As I rounded one curve on this winding highway, I found a tree that the wind had dropped from the uphill side of the road. It had fallen perpendicular to the pavement and broken at the trunk. The impact from the tree breaking had literally tossed the fairly sizable treetop uphill quite a distance, leaving it angled across both lanes amid debris of bark and broken branches. I stopped the car and got out to inspect the scene and take a photo. Then I got back in and eased slowly past the tree trunk, continuing on my way and calling to notify the authorities when I arrived at the library.
This time last spring I was putting the finishing touches on my manuscript for Full Tilt Boogie – A journey into autism, fatherhood, and an epic test of man and beast. Since publishing the book I’ve been on a bit of a poor-man’s book tour, with people asking me to speak at bookstores, libraries, book club meetings, senior centers and even organizational luncheons and dinners. In this day and age of short attention spans and lots of competition for readers, the biggest job for any writer is getting word out.
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I’m not the most natural or comfortable public speaker, but I have found I enjoy getting out and talking to folks about living with autism and parenting, burros and pack-burro racing. I keep these discussions low-key and informal, and seem to settle into a comfort zone by the time we get to the question-and-answer period. I’m finding the autism phenomenon has grown beyond the “something that happens to other people” stage, and many people have friends and relatives who are dealing with this issue.
These talks have included the Dies Librorum at The Book Haven in Salida, where I was stunned to realize many people in the audience had already read the book. Others have included the aforementioned talk at the Greenhorn Valley Library, a book club group at the Pueblo West Library, two talks with school kids in Westcliffe, and a fairly large audience at the Scottish Rites Foundation Dinner in Pueblo.
What was really cool about talking with the Masons was the opportunity to thank the members firsthand for assistance they provide children who might not otherwise receive speech therapy through The Children’s Hospital Therapies. My son Harrison received two of these speech scholarships at a time when it was critical in his development, and when we could not have afforded those services.
Over and over as I give these talks I find the question-and-answer session vibrant. People are curious and have questions. I typically have already told the audience about an MIT researcher’s prediction that by 2015 half of all children will be autistic. I always ask the audience, “What if she’s only half right? … And only 25 percent of kids have autism?”
It’s a sobering thought. Increasingly I’m encouraged to find people are not only aware of this problem, but they also are developing a sense of understanding and compassion for those who have autism and for those who are parents and caregivers.
When I was presenting my manuscript of Full Tilt Boogie to publishers, one of the most disappointing things I had to deal with was the reaction from acquisitions editors. They liked the story and the writing, but their biggest determination in turning it down was purely from a marketing standpoint. They were more focused on potential sales than on my words. And the autism angle wasn’t a big enough hook.
At some point I decided to publish Full Tilt Boogie under my own label. The book is not likely to be a best-seller, but in this tradeoff I have unwittingly cultivated a deeper relationship with my readers that few writers will ever experience. People who meet me for the first time often say they feel like they already know me. Because I am not shielded by a publisher, I receive cards in the mail, emails and even phone calls from readers. I’ve come to believe that making an impression on 500 people might be better than selling 10,000 copies in a culture where the majority of books sold are never even read.
At Colorado City I found a very small gathering of people. I gave my little talk, going from my background and history to my experiences on the pack-burro racing circuit to my challenges as the parent of an autistic child. I typically play a short slideshow to give folks some visual images before opening up for questions and answers.
With only a handful of people in the audience, I guessed I would field a couple questions and be on my way. Instead, it turned into a much larger discussion. They listened intently and compassionately as I answered all their questions with tales of irrational outbursts and bizarre behaviors, untold brilliance, suspensions from school, and the apprehension of what the future holds for someone who may not be able to care for himself.
On my return trip the Greenhorn Highway seemed even more forlorn on this very dark night. I kept my eye out for any more windblown obstacles, looking particularly for the spot where I’d encountered the tree earlier. As I drove slowly I thought about why I started doing these talks – it was originally about promoting and selling my book. When I got to the spot where the tree had been, I slowed way down. It was gone, all the debris swept away, only a small amount of sawdust remaining to mark that anything had even happened. At that moment I realized this wasn’t about selling books anymore. Even writing the book in the first place wasn’t about selling books.
It was about something else entirely.
Hal Walter writes and speaks out from his home in the Wet Mountains. To arrange a visit on the Full Tilt Boogie book tour, send him an email at jackassontherun@gmail.com.
