Trust me, it’s a cool place to be.

Watch the full conversation here:

Or listen wherever you like (Spotify, Apple Podcasts, etc). You can jam to Springsteen after.

If you’ve been tuned in to the podcast on other channels, you get a gold star. If you haven’t, I’ll be sharing clips with you each week that are sure to grab your interest. This week, I had a conversation with Oscar-winning actor Brendan Fraser. He shared insights into his latest historical drama film, Pressure, where he takes on the challenging role of General Dwight D. Eisenhower during the high stakes lead-up to D-Day. It premieres this weekend. I know I’ll be watching.

Watch or hear the full conversation now on Hungry Dogs, available wherever you get your podcasts. 🎙️🐾

P.S. You’ll be seeing more of me here. I’ve got some special content for you all. Good things to come. 😉

This book tells the story of a force that is everywhere.

Disruption.

Disruption is a force of change.

Some of us, maybe most of us, stubbornly resist change, even when it’s clearly in our best interests. But resisting change can leave us left out, left behind, and left feeling lost, cheated, and angry.

It shouldn’t be that way. And if we’re open to effecting change, it doesn’t have to be that way.

It’s like turning the page in a new book. Like this one. Inside this book is a story — the reader’s story. It will have a beginning, a middle, and an end. It will contain some drama. The story will have a powerful, engaging beginning, signifying a commitment to a certain path in life. It will have a compelling middle, with some surprises and some adjustments. And it should have a satisfying ending, leaving you with the knowledge that you’re prepared for future disruptions.

And there will be future disruptions.

In 2022, I visited Nashville several times while Dolly Parton and I were cowriting a novel, Run, Rose, Run. That February, I visited my old graduate school, Vanderbilt University, to give a guest lecture titled “The Power of Disruptions” to business students in Professor Patrick Leddin’s leadership class.

I began by challenging (disrupting) the students in an unusual way. I asked them if they were living a good life. Or had they been getting on one treadmill after another for most of their lives? Was that treadmill routine satisfying for them? Basically, were they happy? I told the students how several significant disruptions had led to my becoming CEO of the country’s leading advertising agency, J. Walter Thompson. And how I had then disrupted my life in a major way by changing careers and eventually becoming the bestselling writer in the world.

Finally, I confessed to them that, because of disruptions, I’d been in love with two wonderful women — and had married one of them. I reassured the students that I wanted all of them to lead good, satisfying lives and that managing disruptions would be important — more important than they could imagine.

This book came about because of that disruptive lecture.

Today, whenever I give a speech — whether to a corporate group, to college students, or to people at a book event — I ask the audience members whether they are living good lives. And now I’ll ask you the same question: Are you living a good life? Are you passionate about your job? About your employer? About your future? How is your family life? How are your relationships with friends and coworkers? Are you able to balance your work life with your personal life?

I love my job. That’s because I don’t work for a living; I play for a living. The reason for this — 100 percent — has to do with managing disruption.

Equally important, or maybe even more important, has been the effect of disruptions on my home life. I love my wife. I sometimes joke that if Sue ever leaves me, I’m going with her. I love our son, Jack. The three of us have always discussed and negotiated significant changes — disruptions — in our lives.

Here’s a promise: Disrupt Everything will help you deal with the most powerful and misunderstood force in this fast‑changing world — disruption.

Disruption can be scary, but it can also be an agent for positive change. Virtually every company, and virtually every employee from top to bottom, needs to be open to disruption and play a part in positive change. That’s right: Everybody has a part to play.

My successes, as well as my weathering of bad luck and personal tragedy, have arisen from my ability to understand and make use of disruption in positive ways. I became the CEO of J. Walter Thompson North America at thirty‑six. I got there by disrupting the norm, which spurred growth and much higher profits for the firm.

When I was twenty‑four, I was living out of a tiny room in a low‑rent hotel on West 51st Street in New York City. The wallpaper in the room had thousands of pentagons on it, and some former occupant had drawn an X through every single pentagon. I needed to get out of there, fast.

But how? Back then, I didn’t know I needed a disruption, but I did need one. Badly.

To secure an entry‑level job as an advertising copywriter, you were required to present a portfolio of clever ads. I wanted to work at J. Walter Thompson because Thompson was the biggest and most powerful ad agency, but I had never taken an advertising or marketing course.

What I did was disrupt the hiring process. I hand‑delivered a portfolio of ads to Thompson’s New York office. This wasn’t a disruption; it was the status quo. But the next week, I delivered a second portfolio. And the third week, I delivered a third portfolio. I was definitely disrupting the normal process at JWT.

The company hired me in the fourth week.

Years later, when I was promoted to head of the New York office at JWT, the product wasn’t good. We needed better personnel. It was time for another disruption. We ran an ad in the New York Times. The headline was straightforward: “Write If You Want Work.” There were six questions, six problems to solve. I promised to hire writers based on the test and a single interview.

Here is one of the problems applicants had to solve: “The ingredients listed on the tin of baked beans reads: “Beans, Water, Tomatoes, Sugar, Salt, Modified Starch, Vinegar, Spices. Make it sound mouthwatering.”

Over the course of the following years, we hired over forty writers based on that single very disruptive ad.

During this time at Thompson, I was writing novels on the side. Writing was my real passion, my dream job. Next came the biggest disruption of my life. It happened on the New Jersey Turnpike, of all places. One beautiful summer Sunday, I had to leave my house and go back to work in New York City. As I headed north, traffic on the turnpike was bumper‑to‑bumper. But on the other side, the southbound side, there were almost no cars.

Every ten or fifteen seconds, I would hear this sound:

Whoosh. Whoosh.

That was the sound of a car passing in the opposite direction, and that sound — whoosh— led me to the next disruption. A really big one. I realized that my mission was to get on the other side of the highway. My whole life was going in the wrong direction.

I didn’t need to be in bumper‑to‑bumper traffic heading to a job I no longer really cared about. I needed to be on the other side of the road. I needed to be writing novels full‑time. But to do that, I had to walk away from a powerful, high‑paying job.

So I quit my steady job. It wasn’t an easy decision. My writing partner on Disrupt Everything, Patrick Leddin, also took a leap of faith when he left his prestigious role as a professor at Vanderbilt University to speak to audiences around the world about disruption.

These are examples of big disruptions — the kind you’ll learn to make when they’re needed.

Disrupt Everything will help you harness the power of small and big disruptions and teach you why sometimes, choosing not to disrupt is equally important.

When I started writing full‑time, there was an unspoken rule in the publishing industry that most authors should only publish one book a year. That rule didn’t make sense to me, so I started writing two, then three, then more than half a dozen books a year. At first, my publisher, Little, Brown, resisted — but then the people there saw that disruption working like nothing they had ever seen before.

Next I started collaborating with cowriters. Another big disruption. Then I took up cowriting with famous people and groups — President Bill Clinton, Dolly Parton, Viola Davis, the Albert Einstein estate, and the Michael Crichton estate. More successful disruptions followed.

Advertising books on television — a first for my publisher. Writing in many different genres — suspense, love stories, kids’ books, graphic novels, narrative nonfiction, memoir. I created BookShots — novellas that can be read in around the time it takes to watch a movie.

As I write these pages, I’m the bestselling writer in the world.

At least that’s what my publisher tells me.

Of course, the other side of the coin is that unfortunately, we all have to deal with disruptions in life that involve setbacks and personal tragedies — the kind of disruptions capable of sinking any of us without a trace.

In fact, as I write, our world has never felt more chaotic than right now.

But we can be better prepared. For economic disruptions like the ones in 2008 and 2020. For worldwide disruptions like COVID. Even for personal medical emergencies that can break our hearts.

When I was in my thirties, I was in love with a very special woman named Jane Hall Blanchard. Suddenly, out of nowhere, we found out that Jane had an inoperable brain tumor. But we never let the fact that she was dying control us. Jane lived each day as well and as bravely as she could. Through her illness, I learned to deal with death — that cruel, unforgiving, inevitable disrupter.

And you know what? Unpredictable disruptions are going to keep coming at us like speeding meteors. They always do.

The purpose of Disrupt Everything is to make disruption a positive force, helping you change your life for the better.

Our mission is to help ordinary people — people like you, like Patrick, and like me — deal effectively with unexpected disruptions. We want to help people lead better lives by managing — and even profiting from — disruption rather than letting disruption manage us.

Where do you want to go?

In business, and in life, there really isn’t a ceiling. The best way to demonstrate that is to take some chances. Enthusiasm and hunger are trademarks of people who succeed. Those are familiar qualities, right? What you’re doing is not easy, but you’ve learned a lot of lessons along the way. Now is the time to start practicing them. And I mean really practice. When you practice, you perform a task repeatedly until you get better and better at it. Practice is another way of making change — disrupting your daily reality to produce a better result.

So how do you get there?

My own daily goal is to get back to doing what I want to do. Nowadays, that’s less about being the number one novelist than it is about having a balanced life. If I were to create a blueprint, or a mission statement, it might look something like this:

There’s a story for everybody.
Don’t get in the way of the story.
Tap into something in the psyche.
Get interested in the people in the middle.
Provide cathartic emotional experiences.

Now you try it.

Say you’re an employee moving up the ranks in the company where you work. Say you have a talent for logistics. Your mission statement might look something like this:

Streamline the process.
Figure out what’s not working and why.
Figure out what is working — and amplify the company’s strengths through your actions.

Or say there’s a product that’s been lighting up your imagination. You’ve created it and become an entrepreneur. You’ve founded a company and a brand to market that product.

At its simplest, a brand is just a symbol of the trust established between a group of people and what you’re offering them — just trust. If you pick up product X, you won’t be able to stop using it. That’s it: Go ahead and make your company indispensable.

Make your product the one that stands out.
Take the mystery out of the business.
Reach more people — and different kinds of people — by listening to their feedback.

Here’s a mission statement for us all, no matter what our professional roles are.

Get your business life in sync with your personal life.
Your loved ones want the best for you.
Give them your best.

The heart and mind can help you to get serious about a job, about changing careers, about starting a car wash, about following a leader’s vision at work, about improving someone else’s vision through your own ideas. It’s the heart and mind working together that help you select a path moving forward and commit to it. That’s definitely what happened to me as a writer. I also think it’s what happened to Patrick when he saw an opportunity.

Large or small, all companies and institutions have mission statements. For these to be best put into practice, every employee needs to buy in — but these same employees also need to be willing to change how they do their jobs in small and large ways. They need to be able to disrupt. Employees who want to advance, at any level, have to be seen as positive disrupters.

Entrepreneurs — anyone who wants to start their own businesses — absolutely have to understand how to make disruption work positively for them.

Disrupt Everything recognizes and supports the essential connection between the business life and the personal life of everyone, using positive disruption to improve lives.

That’s the bottom line: leading a better life.

So let’s start. It’s time for your first disruption. We’ll make this easy, even fun, and it will help you live a better life.

— James Patterson

PRE-ORDER NOW

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The Idaho Four began with a single photograph: a happy image of youthful promise horribly at odds with the breaking news that the four smiling college students in the picture had been, just hours later, fatally stabbed in their beds.

When I spoke with investigative reporter Vicky Ward about the case, it turned out that she’d had the very same feeling about the photograph of the victims. About the unspeakable loss of these four young people and the deeper meaning it carried for their families, their friends, their neighbours, and for all of us.

Bryan Kohberger, the man accused of their murders, is a former PhD student in criminology. His motive for committing these crimes has been a difficult one to pin down. It’s a question that’s explored in this book—and one that might also have come out at the trial that was scheduled for August 2025. But now that Kohberger has suddenly agreed to plead guilty to all counts, it’s unlikely that there will ever be a trial.

Watch the first part of my two-part conversation with Vicky. You’ll learn about the incredible, on-the-ground reporting and the news from the more than 300 original interviews and the ongoing conversations we’ve had victims’ families and friends, right up through the past few days. You may think you know what happened in this case, but you don’t—and won’t—until you read The Idaho Four.

Learn more about the book here.

But instead of buying it, you smash the display case, grab it, and run off.

That’s theft. Plain and simple. I think we can all agree.

Now imagine a Hollywood producer walks into a pitch meeting—and hears a brilliant original idea. He loves it. He has to have it.

But instead of buying it, he shrugs. “Thanks for coming in,” he says to the writer. “But your project’s not for us. Good luck to you.”

Then he turns around and makes a movie that’s almost identical.

Is that theft?

Apparently, it’s not.

It’s just called “show biz.”

For an industry built on telling great stories, storytellers don’t get much respect.

We get strung along. Gaslighted. Ignored. Lied to.

And that’s on a good day.

On a bad one, we’re outright stolen from.

And I speak from experience.

Idea theft in the entertainment industry is a tricky thing to prove. Mostly because, usually when it happens, it’s unintentional.

Usually.

In any given week, thousands of producers hear thousands of writers’ pitches. They take thousands of meetings. Read thousands of scripts.

With that many ideas floating around, there are bound to be some repeats—and plenty of innocent, creative “co-mingling.” A scene from a movie pitch heard on a Monday might stick in an executive’s mind, then unconsciously find its way into a TV development call on Friday.

I get that. That’s how the artistic process works. (I’m using that phrase loosely here.)

Similarities between projects aren’t just inevitable. Sometimes, they make it all the way to the screen.

The “twin film” phenomenon happens all the time. Look at Deep Impact and Armageddon, two big-budget asteroid flicks both released in 1998. Or Olympus Has Fallen and White House Down, two action movies about attacks on 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue that each hit theaters in 2013. Or the pair of Pinocchio movies—one directed by Robert Zemeckis, the other by Guillermo del Toro—released in 2022. Or the biopics Elvis, also released that year, and Priscilla, which came out the next.

Coincidences like these are going to keep happening as long as films and TV series keep being made. Often, creative minds really do think alike.

But once in a while, creative minds can get lazy.

And thievish.

Here’s my proof.

Not long ago, my agents sent a thriller I’d written to a well-known producer to consider adapting into a movie.

He politely declined.

A few months later, they asked if I’d read an original screenplay he was developing to consider adapting it into a novel. It was an unusual request, and the logline sounded similar, but I agreed to take a look.

I hadn’t finished the first page when the déjà vu set in.

The opening scene felt eerily familiar. So did a chase sequence a few pages later. So did a major first act cliffhanger.

I kept reading. Maybe I was imagining things.

Then the script introduced some new characters.

With the exact same names as the ones in my novel.

Really.

I stopped reading. And called my agents.

Was this some kind of joke? Was it an honest mistake?

Or was it theft?

Did the producer really think I wouldn’t notice? Did he really think I’d want to turn this script into a novel—that I’d already published?

This was an extreme case. A rare one. A flagrant one.

I still don’t know exactly how it happened.

But I do know this kind of thing goes on. Too often. Especially to writers with less clout and success. Writers so desperate to land their big break, they keep their mouths shut—even when they’re getting ripped off.

Here’s my plea to all the producers and studio executives out there.

Hollywood is hard enough already. The least you can do is be ethical.

There are plenty of great ideas in the world. Go find your own.

And when you do?

Don’t poach them.

Pay for them.

Like what you just read? Share it, post it.

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President Wright Administration
Year Three: September

1

Brentwood, New Hampshire

Cole Wright is sitting in the rear seat of a black up-armored Chevy Suburban, one of three in a convoy speeding its way down Route 125 in the Seacoast Region of New Hampshire.

Two dark green state police cruisers, lights flashing, are leading this no-frills motorcade, scaled down for the occasion. The presidential limousine — the Beast — is back at the airport, along with the Secret Service counterassault team, support personnel, news media vans, and a fully equipped ambulance.

Three years after the election, Cole still gets pumped from seeing traffic part like magic, even though he’s well aware that it’s for the convenience and safety of the woman sitting beside him — his wife, Madeline Parson Wright, the president of the United States.

He’s just the First Gentleman.

A light drizzle spatters against the bulletproof windows. The agent accelerates to seventy along the two-lane highway.

“Two minutes out,” says Burton Pearce, the president’s chief of staff. Pearce perches in a rear-facing jump seat across from the First Couple. He’s pale and serious, wearing one of his many identical gray suits. “The Gray Ghost,” staffers call him. The president nods without looking up.

Cole glances over to see the confidential stamps on the pages Maddy is reading as the convoy hums along. He knows those pages represent the biggest political gamble of her administration — of any administration. She should be in the Oval Office working the phones and twisting arms, but instead she’s here with him. A powerful personal show of support.

Maddy puts her briefing packet aside. Cole takes her hand and squeezes it.

She squeezes back. “Don’t worry,” she says. “After all we’ve been through together, we can get through this too.”

The Suburban slows down to make a hard turn behind the police escort. Now the convoy is moving at just forty miles per hour. On both sides of the route, locals hold up crude hand-painted placards.

WE BELIEVE IN YOU, COLE!
STAY STRONG, COLE!
KEEP MOVING, COLE!

He looks out through the tinted side window. Almost game time. He can feel his muscles twitching, his focus narrowing, just like in his days as a tight end for New England — before the blown knee forced him out. He remembers how the tension in the Patriots locker room would build and build almost to the breaking point until the team ran out into the light, and when the cheers of the crowd washed over him, he’d think, Yeah, we’re okay. We’ve got this.

But today?

Today he’s not so sure.

The redbrick facade of the Rockingham County courthouse comes into view. The road is lined with police barricades holding back hundreds — maybe thousands— of onlookers. Up here, some of the signs have a different tone.

SCUM!
MONSTER!
JUSTICE FOR SUZANNE!

“Don’t worry about these people,” says Maddy. “They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“I don’t care about the people on the road,” says Cole. “I’m worried about the twelve people waiting for me inside.”

As the Suburban slows to a crawl, two women jump out in front and unspool a long banner.

CONVICT COLE WRIGHT! SEND HIM STRAIGHT TO HELL!

Thanks for the kind wishes, Cole thinks.

•••

2

A thousand demonstrators, media people, and curious locals are crowded into the rain-slick parking lot. The convoy is passing through the tall evergreens flanking the pavement leading up to the courthouse when I realize I left my umbrella in my car. Too late.

Rockingham County has never drawn security like this. Uniforms representing every law enforcement department in New Hampshire — from local cops to Fish and Game — are patrolling the courthouse steps. On the roof there’s a detail of men and women in tactical gear and black baseball caps carrying sniper rifles. They’re not even trying to hide. That’s the job of their colleagues, posted in places nobody can see.

I hear someone calling my name: “Brea Cooke? That you?”

I look at the crowd. Mostly white. No surprise; the Granite State is around 89 percent Caucasian. It’s a situation I got used to as a Black student at Dartmouth, about two hours north. Let’s just say it’s not unusual for me to stand out around here.

I turn around. “Ron Reynolds!”

Ron is a friendly face from the old days when he and my partner, Garrett Wilson, both reported for the Boston Globe. He’s wearing his standard outfit — tan overcoat, khaki pants, and a tweed cap. His big press pass is dangling around his neck.

I give him a quick hug. “Guess we both forgot our umbrellas.”

A guy in a thick camo jacket jostles by us and flicks a finger at Ron’s press pass. “Fake news!” the guy shouts. Ron ignores him.

“So why are you here?” I ask. “You could be in one of those gyms right now, dry and toasty. Probably getting a better view than this.”

“I get paid to get wet,” says Ron. “Even if nothing happens.”

But something is happening. I’ve been waiting for this day a long time. I see flashing lights coming up the drive. Two state police cars and three big black SUVs.

“It’s them!”

The lights are getting closer. I’m in the middle of the crowd, but suddenly I feel as alone as I’ve ever felt in my life.

I close my eyes for a second. My mind whispers, Garrett.

I blink hard. Not now! I need to focus. Capture this scene for my book. Our book. The one Garrett and I were working on together. Until he . . .

Ron points to the courthouse steps. “See the podium and the camera stands up there?”

I nod. “What about them?”

“All for show. No way the Secret Service allows the president and First Gent to go through the front entrance.”

“The crowd won’t appreciate being tricked like that.”

“You’re right,” says Ron. “They came to witness history.” So did I.

The first time in history that a president’s spouse is going on trial for murder.

•••

3

The convoy crawls toward the entrance as cops push the crowds back. Inside the six-ton Suburban in the middle, Cole rubs his hands together nervously. Pearce leans forward in his jump seat and says, “The county sheriffs, state troopers, and Secret Service have carved out a path so we can go around to the rear of the courthouse. By the time the crowd and the press catch on, we’ll be inside and out of sight.”

Hidden away, Cole thinks. “No,” he says quietly. “That’s not going to happen.”

Pearce blinks. “Excuse me?”

“I said no. Going in through the rear of the courthouse signals that I’m guilty, that I have something to hide. Screw that. I’m going to run the ball straight through the line of scrimmage.”

The Suburban moves toward the driveway turnoff. Pearce is getting testy. “Cole, plans have been in place for days. Best to arrive via the rear from both a safety and PR viewpoint.”

But Cole is firm. “We go through the front door. That’s final.”

He turns to his wife. “Maddy, will you say a few words on the courthouse steps?”

It’s a big ask. Maddy doesn’t need to tell him the source of the tension in her eyes. The conflict between being his loving partner while serving as POTUS, leader of the free world, is etched on her face.

Maddy looks at her chief of staff. “Cole is right, Burton. We go through the front entrance, heads held high.”

“But, ma’am, we’re just about there. Arrangements have been made.”

Cole sees Maddy shift into commander-in-chief mode. Cool. Crisp. Decisive. “You’ve got a phone,” she says. “Make new arrangements.”

•••

4

They’re getting out!” Ron grabs my sleeve.

Sure enough, I hear the slamming of heavy car doors and see movement at the front of the courthouse steps. The Secret Service is scrambling to clear a path to the podium.

“That takes some brass ones!” Ron calls to me above the rising noise.

A ring of dark suits surrounds President Wright and her broad-shouldered husband.

The president walks up the wide steps and pivots to the podium. The crowd surges forward. Cops push back. Secret Service agents watch the sea of faces. And hands. Especially the hands. Looking for weapons.

President Wright squeezes her husband’s arm just before she leans into the microphones. “Ladies and gentlemen, my dear friends, I will make this short and to the point.”

I hear her voice echo across the parking lot. She pauses after each phrase to let the words sink in.

“I have full faith and confidence in my husband’s innocence, and I trust that the good citizens of New Hampshire, who have stood by my side over the years, will also support my husband during this time of crisis.”

The president turns and kisses her husband’s cheek, making sure the cameras have a good angle. Then, as if it’s an afterthought, she steps up to the mics again and says, “I believe in our legal system, and I’m confident justice will be done here.”

She takes her husband’s hand. The Secret Service team surrounds them. As a unit, they walk up the steps to the courthouse doors.

“Quite a performance,” says Reynolds.

“It was a performance all right. Pure theater. They’re not a couple — they’re a damn criminal enterprise.”

My outburst must surprise Ron. A second later, he heads off to gather quotes.

Once again, I’m alone. I scan the masses. Almost every man, woman, and child is looking toward the courthouse, trying to get one last glimpse of the First Couple.

On the far side of the parking lot, I spot the lone exceptions: a man and a woman, looking straight at me.

I’ve seen these two before. My watchers.

Damn. Not again.

The crowd shifts, and they disappear.

All around me, people are chattering and yelling, but their words are a blanket of white noise. Again my mind whispers, Garrett. I hold out my hand, half expecting to see him reaching for me.

I fight back the tears as reality hits home.

The love of my life, Garrett Wilson, is dead. And I believe the man inside that courthouse is responsible for his death.

The First Gentleman.

He might even have pulled the trigger.

•••

Chapter 1

Manhattan, The Previous January

In a wide corner office belonging to one of Nottingham Publishing’s senior editors, Marcia Dillion, I’m smiling as I watch my man, Garrett Wilson, do what he does best: Sell a project.

And himself.

Tall and muscular with short, dark brown hair, he’s dressed today in a green oxford shirt, khaki slacks, and brown shoes. As he paces in front of Marcia’s desk, which is stacked high with manuscripts, his blue eyes twinkle.

Garrett was born with that special something that commands instant attention. He definitely gets Marcia’s when he says, “This book — it’s going to change politics forever.”

He pauses for effect, then continues. “Think of all the great political stories — Hamilton versus Burr, Kennedy versus Nixon, Carter versus Reagan. But this one, Marcia, this one won’t be just a bestseller, it’ll be a history-maker. Nothing like it has ever been published, ever!”

“Garrett, please, hold on.” Marcia raises one hand to the silver hair framing her pleasant face. “You know I love you. But politics?”

“Not just politics,” says Garrett. “A political bombshell.” He walks over to a bookcase and plucks two hardcovers from the middle shelf. His two bestsellers, Integrity Gone and Stolen Honor. “Way better than these.”

I know both of those books by heart. I researched every page. “What you need, Marcia,” says Garrett, “is an international

hit that will sell millions of copies and put Nottingham back into the black.”

“Garrett, stop. Take a breath,” says Marcia, impatience creeping into her voice.

My turn. Time to shift the tone. One of my lawyer tricks. “Marcia, you know Garrett. When he gets spun up like this,

he thinks he’s Bob Woodward, Robert Caro, and Ron Chernow all rolled into one.”

“That’s impressive company, Brea,” says Marcia. She turns back to Garrett. “Look, your first two books earned their way onto the bestseller lists with positive reviews and strong word of mouth. But this topic . . .” Her voice trails off. She’s dismissive. We’re losing her.

Garrett’s smile never drops. I can see him rising to the challenge. He once told me, “An editor is like a thousand-pound tuna, and all I’ve got is a hundred-pound line. And it’s fraying.”

Garrett puts his hands on Marcia’s desk and leans in. “Marcia, pretend you’re an outsider looking at our political system and the corrupt acts — from dark money to contributions in kind and worse — public figures get away with. Nobody can really explain how a congressperson earning a hundred and seventy-four grand a year ends up rich at the end of their term. Do you know how many millionaires there are in the so-called People’s House?”

Time for me to tag-team again. “Fifty percent of them are millionaires. Not counting members who hide their money behind their spouses and kids.”

Marcia shoots me a little smile. “You’re his researcher again, I presume?”

“I am. And this time, I’m a coauthor too.”

“Right,” says Marcia. She turns back to Garrett. “Books on politics are a hard sell, and books on political corruption are an even harder sell. Your first story was about a mole in the CIA. Very sexy. Your second was about an American hero being screwed over by her superior officers and not getting the Medal of Honor she deserved. Even better. But an exposé about payoffs and dirty public officials? No one interested in those topics needs to read about them in a book. They can switch on MSNBC or Fox any night of the week.”

My turn again. “You’re absolutely right, Marcia. But this story is a lot deeper and darker than that.”

Marcia’s smile is tighter now. “Aren’t you supposed to be teaching criminal law at Yale?”

“I’m taking a sabbatical. For a story this big, it’s worth it.” Marcia sighs. “Okay, Garrett. I’m all yours. Bowl me over.”

Garrett glances at me. I know exactly what he’s going to say next. And I’m pretty sure it’ll put the deal in the bag.

“Marcia,” he says, “our book will prove that Cole Wright, the First Gentleman of the United States, is a stone-cold murderer.”

•••

Chapter 2

Marcia is stunned into silence. I listen to the traffic moving along Sixth Avenue until the editor says, “Garrett, excuse me, but I’m getting along in years. Please repeat what you said, slowly and clearly.”

Garrett enunciates every word: “Cole Wright, the First Gentleman, is a murderer.”

I can see Garrett warming up for the next stage of the pitch. “Marcia, like you said, people have gotten used to payoffs and political corruption. But we’re going to show that those at the highest levels of power in DC have literally gotten away with murder.”

I’m reading Marcia’s expression and body language. She’s getting excited and trying not to show it. “All right,” she says. “I’m listening. Who’s your source?”

“An employee at Dartmouth College,” says Garrett. “Where you and Brea went to school. Am I right?”

“Correct,” says Garrett. “As did President Wright and her husband. They graduated before we started. Cole was a star on the Dartmouth football team.”

“So who’s this employee?” asks Marcia. “A professor? A coach?

Someone in security?”

“A custodian.” Garrett plunges ahead. “Think about it, Marcia. Who knows everyone’s dirty secrets? Janitors and other low-level employees — like Frank Wills, the night watchman who foiled the Watergate break-in — they’re the ones who see everything, hear everything. And nobody pays them any mind.”

Marcia likes the fact that I have a law degree. I can see that I need to play that professional card now. “Judd Peyton is the custodian,” I say. “He’s legit, Marcia. He’s been working on campus for more than thirty years. Straight shooter.”

“And you first met Mr. Peyton at Dartmouth and stayed in touch with him all these years?” asks Marcia.

“No. We met Peyton at the campus signing for Stolen Honor,” I tell her. “He’d actually read the book.”

“He cornered me afterward,” says Garrett. “And we started talking about secrets. Like the ones I’d written about. Then he told me that he had a secret he’d been keeping for years.”

Marcia leans forward. “And that secret is?”

“The secret,” says Garrett, “is that Cole Wright allegedly sexually assaulted a girl while he was an undergrad at Dartmouth.”

Marcia winces. “That’s horrible if it’s true.” She pauses. “But it’s not murder.”

“Stay with me,” says Garrett. I picture that fishing line getting pulled tighter and tighter. “Peyton was a big football fan. Followed Cole Wright’s career after he was drafted by the Patriots.” My turn. “Peyton had a cousin who worked as a landscaper at Gillette Stadium. The cousin told him that Cole was dating one of the Patriots cheerleaders. A twenty-two-year-old named Suzanne Bonanno.”

“Which is against team and NFL rules,” says Garrett.

“Sounds like a good rule,” says Marcia.

“They tried to keep their relationship secret, but it looked like some teammates were about to leak it to the press.”

“Which could have tanked his career,” I add. “And cost him his pension.”

“What then?” Marcia asks. Her desk phone rings. She ignores it. “Seventeen years ago,” says Garrett, “Suzanne Bonanno told her family that she was going to meet up with Cole Wright. She was never seen again. A missing person report was filed, but nothing ever came of it. A few days later, Cole Wright flew to

California to have a knee injury treated.”

Marcia’s phone stops ringing. “There has to be more on what happened to the cheerleader,” she says.

“You’d think,” said Garrett. “I’ve kept my contacts from when I was reporting for the Boston Globe, and the paperwork on Suzanne Bonanno’s case seems to be missing. I think it was swept, Marcia.”

I lean in. “By someone working to help Cole Wright.”

“Dear God,” Marcia says. She taps her fingers against her desktop. “Still, going after the president’s husband? You’ll be called saboteurs, traitors to the country, operatives for the other political party, and if you’ve ever had even a sip of Stoli, they’ll say you’re Russian agents. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

Garrett says, “I’m ready.”

“What about you, Brea?” asks Marcia. “You’re not scared by this?”

“My activist granddad had his head cracked open in Selma. I’ve got his DNA in me. I’m more scared that the truth will never come out.”

The room is quiet again.

“All right,” Marcia says. “Any other editor here would toss you out on your asses. It’s a huge risk. If you’re wrong on this, it’ll sink you both, and me along with you. Maybe the whole company.”

“We’re not wrong,” says Garrett, eyes blazing.

He has the look of a man who’s just landed a very big fish.

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Hey, dad. (Or soon-to-be dad.) I get it.

You’re busy as a beaver in flood times. Busy as popcorn in a skillet.

You’re distracted.

You’re under pressures people don’t always understand.

You don’t have time for…well, lots of things you’d like to have time for.

You’re frustrated at times.

Just the other day, you couldn’t find the car keys, or your wallet, or the TV remote.

Or all of the above.

Occasionally, you can be a knucklehead. That’s okay.

This batshit crazy world isn’t making things any easier.

It’s like the title of that old show from Broadway:

Stop the World—I Want to Get off.

You can’t get off this not-so-merry-go-round, though.

But you do love your kids (or kid) more than anything.

You want them to have really good lives. You’re doing the best you can.

But you know what? You can do better.

Yeah, you can.

These pages can help.

It’ll be quick…and mostly painless. And it will make you a better dad.

Even if just two, or three, or five of these ideas work for you.

You’ll be a better dad. Maybe a whole lot better.

And that’ll be a good thing for everybody you care about.

Especially your kids.

I did the homework, so you don’t have to do as much. I talked to lots of experts, and lots of dads, and lots of experts who are also dads. I read everything I could. Then I wrote and rewrote this book.

The pro-football coach Bill Parcells once said, “You are what your record says you are.”

Your kids are your record. So, turn the page, dad.

You’re in.

You just made a big commitment. One hour.

Here’s to New Dads — and Old Vets

Maybe you’re a newbie. Or maybe you’re becoming a dad again. Whatever kind of dad you are, congrats! You’re part of a sacred brotherhood. And a fatherhood. A very long line of dads. At times, that can be very comforting.

You’re not alone.

First, you need to know this: After the baby is born, everybody will be mostly fussing over mom and the baby, not you. That’s natural. It’s totally fair.

Pregnancy is an unbelievably tough gig. You have no idea. Me neither.

And babies have their own adorable ways of demanding attention.

But what about the dad?

After the baby comes, dads need some hugs too.

Dads need the occasional “attaboy.”

Because pregnancy is hard for the dad too. There, I said it. Out loud.

Mom, if you’re reading this, go ahead and throw this very nice book (that you probably bought) at the nearest wall.

But show dad some compassion. He’s not as smart as you.

And everything just changed for him too.

“Like so much between fathers and sons, playing catch was tender and tense at the same time.” —Donald Hall, Poet; One Daughter, One Son

Read more here…

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Read more

PART ONE (stay tuned for more)!

Click here for all things Michael Connelly.

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Hey, dad. (Or soon-to-be dad.) I get it.

You’re busy as a beaver in flood times. Busy as popcorn in a skillet.

You’re distracted.

You’re under pressures people don’t always understand.

You don’t have time for…well, lots of things you’d like to have time for.

You’re frustrated at times.

Just the other day, you couldn’t find the car keys, or your wallet, or the TV remote.

Or all of the above.

Occasionally, you can be a knucklehead. That’s okay.

This batshit crazy world isn’t making things any easier.

It’s like the title of that old show from Broadway:

Stop the World—I Want to Get off.

You can’t get off this not-so-merry-go-round, though.

But you do love your kids (or kid) more than anything.

You want them to have really good lives. You’re doing the best you can.

But you know what? You can do better.

Yeah, you can.

These pages can help.

It’ll be quick…and mostly painless. And it will make you a better dad.

Even if just two, or three, or five of these ideas work for you.

You’ll be a better dad. Maybe a whole lot better.

And that’ll be a good thing for everybody you care about.

Especially your kids.

I did the homework, so you don’t have to do as much. I talked to lots of experts, and lots of dads, and lots of experts who are also dads. I read everything I could. Then I wrote and rewrote this book.

The pro-football coach Bill Parcells once said, “You are what your record says you are.”

Your kids are your record. So, turn the page, dad.

You’re in.

You just made a big commitment. One hour.

Here’s to New Dads — and Old Vets

Maybe you’re a newbie. Or maybe you’re becoming a dad again. Whatever kind of dad you are, congrats! You’re part of a sacred brotherhood. And a fatherhood. A very long line of dads. At times, that can be very comforting.

You’re not alone.

First, you need to know this: After the baby is born, everybody will be mostly fussing over mom and the baby, not you. That’s natural. It’s totally fair.

Pregnancy is an unbelievably tough gig. You have no idea. Me neither.

And babies have their own adorable ways of demanding attention.

But what about the dad?

After the baby comes, dads need some hugs too.

Dads need the occasional “attaboy.”

Because pregnancy is hard for the dad too. There, I said it. Out loud.

Mom, if you’re reading this, go ahead and throw this very nice book (that you probably bought) at the nearest wall.

But show dad some compassion. He’s not as smart as you.

And everything just changed for him too.

“Like so much between fathers and sons, playing catch was tender and tense at the same time.” —Donald Hall, Poet; One Daughter, One Son

Read more here…

Did you know I shared one of my outlines? I’ve NEVER done that before. Check it out here.

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PART TWO:

J: We seem to always be looking for change every election cycle…which brings me to the notion of…do you see any viable Democratic candidates out there now? People where you go, like, yeah. I mean, that this person might be able to really help things?

B: You can't see at this point. It’s a trough for the Democratic Party.

J: Remember, they spotted Obama very early. There was no particular, I mean, he hadn't done that much yet, but people just went, he has whatever it it takes, somehow.

B: Yes, but that was a different time. So, Karl Rove, who was one of the presidential aides…I remember talking to him about the Iraq War, and he said, it all depends on the outcome. Outcomes. Do we win? Do we lose? Is it perceived that we win or lose? And there's a lot of truth to that in politics and other things.

J: Do you feel any physical Jeopardy, any kind of jeopardy right now? I mean, given your the books you've done on Trump and I don't want to get into the lawsuits, obviously, but any physical jeopardy, any sense of nervousness on your part?

B: Just to be careful. And, yeah, I mean, that's all you can do, I think.

J: Yeah. And it's a weird world. Just a little bit of a shift - in terms of news organizations, and in the current climate, young people are getting their news on TikTok and online, or whatever you want to call that word. I don't know if it's news anymore. And what's your perception of news organizations, the CNNs and MSNBCs and New York Times? And not to lump them all together, obviously, but Washington Post, Wall Street Journal, etc.

B: There's a lot of good work, no question about that. But I think the bell needs to be rung a little louder. I think what's going on with Trump and this is not partisan. This is just the impact on the economy and the uncertainty and the way, again, I take this theme of Trump doesn't think, “Oh, you do A and the consequence will be C or D or E”... he just does it and…I think it is a significantly perilous time for the country.

J: Now, are you still reading papers?

B: Yes.

J: What paper papers do you read?

J: The Washington Post, where I still work and have a title, and The New York Times, Wall Street Journal…the internet. I mean, one of the things on the internet you see is somebody's advertising a story or something you want to read, and then you click on it and they say, all you have to do is subscribe for a year, that's only $1, or we want you to do the following. I think, in the marketing world, people are making a mistake. I think they need to say, okay, we've got this product. Let's rise or fall on it and put it out there. Make it accessible to people, and then they can test it. But, I mean, does that ever happen to you on the internet?

J: Which?

B: Where you want to read something and they say you have to subscribe?

J: All the time. Yes, of course.

B: Oh, if I may ask you one thing, in reading your memoir, you said that at night, it's very important to children or your partner to hug and say, I love you.

J: Yeah.

B: Now, how did you learn that? I totally agree.

J: That's a big part of this book about how to be a better dad. And it's, you know, hugging. I'll do half a page on hugging. It's very rapid fire. It just moves and moves and has the same voices as the memoir. But with hugging. My only memory of my hugging my father was on his deathbed, and, you know. And there it is.

B: That’s so sad, isn't it?

J: Yeah, yeah. But, but the lesson…a couple things in terms of the lesson. One, was that I hug Jack every time I see him. And when he was a kid, every night, he got a hug. Every night, every single night, if we dropped off at school, he got a hug and he was comfortable with it. It was fine. It was okay. The other little thing that helped me, in addition to the experience with my father and not wanting to be that kind of dad. And he wasn't a bad person, my father, but that's just the way he was. He grew up, you know, as you know, from the book in the Newburgh poorhouse. But a good friend of mine, we ate dinner at - and he’s a teacher - and we ate dinner at his house one night, and his two boys were both football players, and after dinner, they started out the door. They're gonna go out - it was Saturday night or whatever the hell. And he says, where the hell are you two going? And they go, we're going out. I said, not, come here. And he called them over, and he gave them a hug before they went out. And I said, that was really cool. I like that. That's a great lesson for me. And between that and my own father, so hugs became a big part of my life. And then I love you. I saw a lot of men have trouble saying I love you, and so I try to encourage them in the book to say I love you. I love you, Bob. Ha.

B: Also in your book, there's a lot of confidence, but also there's a lot of humility. And I was struck by that. And I think humility is an important quality. And you, if it doesn't come naturally, you need to beat it into yourself.

J: Well, it got beaten into me through Catholic schools. Yeah, no, to me, it's just, it's all logical and sane. Honestly. I mean, you just look at this stuff and you go like, you know, I write a lot of books, so what? It's not a big thing. And I think that's another thing we try to do with Jack. And interestingly, he grew up in Palm Beach, with a lot of rich people here. He went to good schools. He met the sons and daughters of a lot of famous people, but for the most part, all of them are pretty modest about it. They just Yeah, my dad did, or my mom did this or that or whatever, but that's not- I didn't do anything, which I think is very healthy, and that's a good way to be.

J: So, I hear there's a sequel to All the President's Men coming and it’s All the President's Trolls? So who should play you? Now, remember Redford is like 88 now, so I don't know if you want an old guy like that playing you.

B: So, my wife Elsa and I saw him recently, and, yeah, he was in great shape.

J: Yeah, he’s irritating.

B: No trouble in terms of thinking and remembering. And it was a great reunion.

J: Quite frankly, I spent half an hour with him one night at the Bel-Air outside. And it was interesting to me. He's pretty small, right?

B: No, well…

J: No, he's normal? Okay, but it was weird because he was sitting on his legs at dinner. And I thought that's kind of interesting. You know, I had the sense that he was maybe smaller than he is, but that was our one level half hour. Was very charming and nice.

J: You know, another thing that’s said about you, is this notion of, you know, that you keep the government honest, or you're one of the people that keeps the government honest. So, what's next? If you're not comfortable talking about the next book, or whatever, it's fine.

B: Well, it's not that I'm not comfortable. It's that I'm not sure. Obviously I'm gathering string on lots of things, talking, trying to make an assessment. And is it possible to find out and get new material? And I think it is, but I think at this time, it's particularly hard. People in the inner circle of various political figures and so forth, that it's, it's very closed, it always has been closed. And you have to find a way to win the trust of people, you know to tell me what's going on?

J: And, yeah, well, it's certainly neat. I mean, once again, getting back to this notion of helping people to understand a little more than they do. Because obviously, an awful lot of people on the left and the right don't really understand, but they think they do. You're talking about arrogance. Oh my god, or whatever the heck it is. You know, people just aren't digging very deep. And as people move away from reading in books, they dig even more shallow graves for all of us.

B: Well, what I'm doing now is writing a memoir of my reporting.

J: Oh, okay!

B: So really not so personal, obviously a little personal, but stories about how I reported various matters.

J: That sounds incredibly fascinating to me, because you've met so many people, you've heard so many stories. You know, the thing about my memoir, it's kind of miraculous in a way, because I haven't done shit. You know, you've really met a lot of people, you've experienced things, you know, I sit in my room and write books and eat a little bit, and you know, whatever. But what you've done and the people you've spoken to and the stories you've heard and the things you've experienced, it's incredibly rich. So I really look forward to that. Very great.

B: Well, thank you. You've got to really dig into it, though. It’s you know what that one of the interesting questions is, how far do you take and go down the road of self examination,

and have somebody read, I mean, in reading your memoir, I said, oh, this, this guy kind of gets who he is and has reached a point of of comfort about who he is, and that obviously is

the goal, isn't it?

J: I'm not very goal-oriented, yeah. But that's exactly what I was trying in so far as I could, to accomplish. I don't, I don't think about goals. I don't know why. I guess I do in the sense that every project that I take on, I want it to be the best thing I can do. There's a line, I’ve used this a couple times lately. I don't know where it comes from, but, but it's been driving me, and I think it's more valuable actually, for people in their 20s than it is for me, but the language is “my time here is short…what can I do most beautifully?” And it probably relates to what your next book is going to be, too. And it's why, I mean, I just about a year ago, I started writing a novel with Viola Davis, and I'm really glad that I'm doing it. It's a good story. I love working with her, because she's, wired in a good way, she's really intense in a good way, and that pushes us to do a better book. So I'm glad that I thought that we could do a beautiful thing.

B: Well, you believe in collaboration, which is, I mean, you don't do anything alone.

J: Well, I do, but, not a lot, but I do. But you know, if you start thinking, The Sistine Chapel, I mean here are these X number of really good painters up there, and they're doing, you know, it was a collaboration. Yeah, I've said this many times before. I mean, if the world is going to get saved, and I hope it will, it's going to be because we learn to collaborate.

B: And so, do you know Trump at all?

J: Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know him. I know some of the family, I'll tell you. I mean, this is where I'm at in terms of trying to get an understanding. And obviously, I know President Clinton very well. We're going to do our third book in June, I think it comes out, and he and Hillary. And there's little things. The first time Sue and I went out with with President Clinton and Hillary,

we were out for three or four hours having dinner, and during the meal, three or four times during the meal, they were holding hands under the table, and people don't think of them that way. Obviously, it's a complicated, they're both very smart, things have happened. But you suddenly begin to understand a little better.

J: In terms of the Trump family. We know Eric and Lara a little bit. And their little boy had lost his sock puppet, and Sue and I were driving home, and she said, I know where to get the sock puppets and that particular one, and they couldn't find it, so she ordered it, and two days later, we just knocked on the door and Lara came down, and we gave her the sock puppet. And we're not, we're not, you know, it's not a political thing. We're not Republicans, but it was just that, you know, it's a people thing. Here's a sock puppet for the little boy. I hope it helps, and I'm sure it did. And it's just, you know, going way back, it used to be, you know, at the end of a congressional session, or whatever, guys would go out and have a steak together, Democrats and Republicans and okay, this is better. This is a better way to do things, a more human way. And we've gotten away from that. Unfortunately, I don't know that we'll ever get back. We probably won't, yeah.

B: One of the things you said in your memoir, a moment can change a life. And was there a moment that changed your life? If you take, took it all, and you said, what I want to locate, this was the pivot point, or this was the change.

J: There are points, there are things. I mean, you mentioned, you know, going in that Sunday or Saturday for the Watergate thing that clearly, I mean, you probably would have, you're such a good writer, you probably would have figured out other stories. But that clearly changed you, that catapulted you onto another level at a very young age. For me, it's the luck of having a couple of people along the way who believed in me, because, you know, I was, I didn't have a lot of confidence, I was relatively shy, and to have people. So my grandmother was a big one. I had a professor at Vanderbilt, who, he just said, you got it. You can really write. So that was big.

So it's things like that that stick out to me. I don't know that there was one particular,

B: I mean, I love your books. I love that I read you've had 67 number one bestsellers.

J: I have no idea.

B: That is absolutely astonishing.

J: My thing is, always, I'm just hoping the next book will be as good or better than, you know. I was happy with the memoir. It was during COVID that I wrote it, and I didn't want it to suck.

But, I became a better writer after that, which is interesting at my age. Paid more attention to the sentences, you know.

B: Let me ask you this, if I may, and this is intrusive intention.

J: Who the hell's the interview is this anyway?! So I see how this happens, how this spill their gut thing? You've spilled nothing. A little bit about your wife. I'm sorry. Go ahead.

B: So what do you do with your money?

J: The one thing we do, which I think is I'm really happy about and I really give credit to my mother and my grandmother. We give away a lot. We've given away about 170 million so far, and about half of everything that we have is going. The latest thing, which I really like, because it's the kind of thing I like to - they'll never be a building. I don't do buildings with our names on it. It does not appeal to me at all. But we have now, I think it's 27 historically black universities and colleges, and we have scholarships at them. I'm going to add another 10 soon. And the thing about those schools is they have no money. And so when you do scholarships, they don't have - they have very little money for scholarships. So a lot of kids are going to leave there with the debt, or they can't even go when they get accepted because they don't have the money to pay the tuition or whatever the hell it is. So I really like that one. It's very clean. There's no middle, there's no bureaucracy, the money just goes to scholarships. Boom. And I don't like it when, you know, and the school goes, oh, we want to put the money into our big fund, and we're going to take out 5% a year, and I'm going, no, I'm not going into your slush fund. Why? Because I don't think you're very wise about how you spend your money anyway. That's what I see. I just watch. I go, this is so sloppy. You know, no, we're not doing that. But scholarships where the kid there is, and there's the kid, and in those schools, it's a big deal. They get a scholarship man and the family wants to call you, and it's so I like that a lot. I think it's a good thing to do. We'll try to do more of it. Now. We're trying to do more. We're adding. We're doing a thing. I went to Manhattan College, catholic college, undergrad, we're trying to work with them now to to propel them forward. So let me see how that works out.

B: Okay, well, but that's very important. Now, you know, you ask where you said you've given away about 170 million. I read a lot about you and never saw that now…

J: The only reason I start bringing up stuff like that is just to encourage other people

to and with the historically black colleges, what I'll do is I want to talk to the president or chancellor for 10 minutes and I say, here's the thing, just pay attention to the kids. If you lose a kid, you lose the scholarship. So be careful who you put in there. And then at the end of the year, have them send me two, three, four pages on something that hit them during the year that they can take out into the world. And that's kind of it. That's how you get a year. And no middle all of them.

B: Do you read them all?

J: Yes. Fortunately, they don't all come on the same day. But, yeah, I try to keep it simple, I don't have a lot of people working for me.. It doesn't have to operate that way. I don't like middlemen. Middlemen are in the way of everything. Medicine.

B: You know that's really important, because middlemen or middlepersons always take a share. My wife, Elsa, and I have a small foundation, and we give away money. And

it's, I like your theory of it. I learned something. Make it very simple.

J: Well, the other thing that we try to do is it's pretty much everything is bookstores, libraries and education. So, when people come for other things, we go, we kind of don't go there. It makes it a little easier to simplify things. And I love scholarships, yeah. And not full scholarships. Yeah, because I like the kids to have some skin in the game. Somebody just came to us, one of the schools. Some of these schools are so nuts, and they come to us with this thing, 4.5 million for eight kids to go, whatever later and eventually into medical school. It's half a million dollars a kid. I'm like, what are you kidding? Wer’e not going to do half a million dollars a kid. That's crazy. I'd much rather do 400 kids. And you know, it's what? Who are these people? I just thought, It's astonishing to me.

B: And what they're doing is looking out for the institution rather than the people…you've taught me something really important, and that is, I mean, we've, with our foundation, give it locally, where you can actually see, but your idea of a scholarship, and you can go to any school, high school, college.

J: We've got, we have Howard. We have, I think, 20 at Howard in Washington DC, and I'll tell you what. I visited there and I don't want to get into exactly, just because it varies from school to school. It's a fair amount. But once again, it's, you know, but the thing of it is, no matter what it is, and it's a reasonable amount of money, but it's like, it's money that wasn't there yesterday. But I did go up there, and I met about half the kids, and it was great. It was great. They're so appreciative. And they're very bright, bright kids, very motivated. Tragically, most of them want to be writers, which is a tough gig. We are also the biggest contributors out at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, and that's another tough one. We were out there this summer, and they're all good writers. And you just want to say, you know, you're going to have to figure out a way to make money, otherwise you're going to be this great writer, and you, you know, every two years you publish a story in The New Yorker, and then you're working as a barista. You don't want to tell these kids to think about that, but, I mean, it's like, yeah, you're gonna have to kind of figure stuff out here, because you're such a good writer. And I'm not sure what to tell you, but you might want to think about how you can make some money with your writing, in addition to the stuff that's sparing your soul.

B: One of the other things that you and I share is Bob Barnett.

J: Oh, him!

B: Yes, Williams & Connolly. And, I've known Bob for decades, and he's, and it's an amazing law firm, and he's an amazing man who knows how to look out for clients.

J: Yes. He's a total straight shooter. Very smart and good friend, a very good friend. We enjoy and Rita a ton.

B: Yeah, same here, same here. Elsa and I the same.

J: I heard you guys went out to dinner the other night.

B: Yes!

J: This is great fun for me. And thank you so much.

B: Thank you. Look at, you know, the lesson of how to give scholarships is really an important one. And I thank you.

J: Well, I think once again, part of it is, I mean, what fits you, what fits you and your wife? This fits us. And the thing I love about it is there's nothing in the middle. There's no nobody's taking their piece and it's just there it is.. One of the areas we're doing a thing with is the University of Florida now, we've been working on this for a while. The percentage of kids reading at grade level in the country is like 43% and that's going down with COVID, which is a disgrace. The University of Florida has a program, not my program. They have a program they can get it up into the low 80s. That will save thousands and thousands of lives. We have helped them to get it into, I don't know, 13 or 14 counties in Florida. Florida is now partly helping them. They're number one in black kids reading at grade level, and number one, I think, or number one or number two in Latino kids. Yeah, this thing works. I was, we're doing a little documentary movie, and last week, I went out to one of the schools. It's stunning. I sat in on the kindergarten and in the second grade class. These kids are so tuned into this. It's unbelievable. They love it. They're sitting, they're doing the you know, it just warms your heart. I think the documentary would be really cool. And yeah. So I'm just hoping we can get this thing going. The thing is, we have the vaccine. We just have to get states to use it now.

B: Where does your personal discipline come from? When you sit down to write.

J: I wake up in the morning with stuff buzzing in my brain, and I can't wait to get into the office. Although my bride and I, we will go out a lot in the mornings and play like nine holes. First thing. We do it. We're not running around. We do it for like an hour. And yeah, we enjoy each other. I mean, part of the secret, I guess, is to marry a best friend. It doesn't have to be your best friend, but a best friend, yeah? So Sue. I mean, I think Sue is my best friend.

B: Yeah, Elsa is mine, and it's a daily learning experience, if you pay attention.

J: But, yeah, no, automatic pilot is not - that’s boring anyway, so we keep it interesting. And she's just finished her second novel. So first one did well, it's a good book too. Things I Wish I Told My Mother. Good title and a good mother- daughter kind of story. So, you know? She's impressive, and she keeps growing, which is nice.

B: I've gravitated toward one word titles.

J: Okay, yeah, I saw that. It looks good. I can, you know, look right in the back there it is, War. Boom. Gotcha. Yeah, I'm for that. I'm for that. I haven't done it very often. I'd have to think about it.

B: But yeah, okay, well, you've been very kind.

J: Oh no, no, no. This is a treat for me. Okay. Well, good luck with your memoir and you know, whatever charities you want to that makes sense for you and Elsa.

B: And good luck with the things buzzing in your head in the morning.

J: Okay, bye, bye.

B: Thank you. Bye.

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