Ken Fite

In a way, we are all artists. You don’t have to write, act, or create music to be one. Because whatever it is that you create each and every day, whether it’s the way you raise your kids or how you perform at your job, that is your art, the thing that only you can do in your own unique way.

As an artist, you’re going to meet people who don’t respond to your art the way you think they should. They don’t ‘get’ the book that you wrote or why you wrote it. They don’t offer you the job. They don’t agree with how you parent your kids. The non-artist gets offended. They try to convince others why their book should be read, why they parent the way they do, why they should be hired.

But the artist shrugs his shoulders and simply says, “I’m not for you.”

Our best work won’t appeal to the masses. It can’t. If it does, that means it’s just average. Average might feel safe and it might work for a while. But in the end, average doesn’t really benefit anyone.

Music with mass appeal becomes elevator music over time. It plays in the background and goes unnoticed. It’s tolerable for a while, but it’s soon forgotten. Nobody appreciates elevator music.

Music that doesn’t appeal to the masses is different. It’s fresh and unique and delights the world. It dares greatly. That means that some people won’t get it. That also means that others will love it.

Our job as artists is to find and connect with those who love what we do and what we have to offer the world and then find more of those people to be around. Because the reality is that the only way to create great art worth mentioning is by doing something that will resonate with some, but not all.

If others don’t get you and whatever it is that you have to offer, that’s okay. Don’t change your strategy. Don’t try the opposite approach. Don’t do something different. Don’t reinvent yourself.

Just walk away. Shrug your shoulders and say, “I’m not for you.”

Creating something that doesn’t appeal to the masses and isn’t average takes courage. It might take a while for you to find your tribe, but when you do, your bravery will not go unnoticed.

And they’ll love you for it.

Our parents taught us that anything is possible. And the world says that we should think big if we want to do anything that’s worthwhile.

But I’m no longer convinced that thinking big is the answer if you want to make progress on a goal or see a dream become a reality.

Because when I wanted to write my second novel, I got stuck for a really long time. For weeks, I stared at the blank screen, trying to come up with the next adventure for my fictional hero, Blake Jordan.

What I eventually realized was that thinking big was the problem. I was focusing on the novel, on the end product being in the hands of readers. I thought about how great it would feel to finally be done and accomplish a really big goal.

In other words, I was focused on the wrong thing.

It’s good to plan, to know where you’re going and why you want to get there when you have a dream in your heart. But what we focus on matters. I know people who have been working on their novel for years. That’s just crazy, but I can understand why. They’re thinking too big. They’re focusing on what they want to have done tomorrow instead of what they can actually do today.

I realized that to accomplish something that mattered, I’d need to dream big, but think small.

So I got back to basics. I carefully planned an outline. Then I committed to writing at least one chapter a day. And I have the novel finished and ready to share with the world later this week.

If you’re on my mailing list, be on the lookout this week. I’ll be letting you know when your copy is ready to download free to your Kindle. Tell your friends to join if they read thrillers.

On the morning of August 4th, 1992, Derek Redmond woke up with a feeling that he was about to run the race of his life. The British sprint runner had traveled to Barcelona, Spain, to compete in the 400 meter sprint at the Olympics. Although Redmond had battled injuries before, he felt fine.

He remembers thinking that he felt so great that he just might win the race. As the race began, Derek pushed off the starting blocks, passed a few rivals, and was positioned to take the lead.

But when he got to the back straight, just 250 meters away from the finish line, Derek heard a loud snap. Two strides later, he knew what had happened. Incredible pain began to overtake his body.

His hamstring had torn. Redmond slowed down, came to a stop, and fell on the ground in pain.

For most of us, that’s where the race would have ended.

We would have waited there in pain for someone to come to our side and help us off the track and look at the injury. We would have complained as we watched everyone else finish the race but us.

But it was in that moment that Redmond had a thought. He remembered why he was there. He decided to finish the race. Not because he could win. Because he wanted to finish what he started.

So Redmond got back on his feet and started hobbling down the stretch.

They say that if you’re brave, mighty forces will come to your aid. And as Derek Redmond struggled to make it to the finish line, a mighty force did appear. Derek sensed someone to his left.

It was his father who joined his son as officials tried to get the two off the track. “The race is over,” you can almost hear them saying as you watch the video. But Derek and his dad ignored them.

“Get me back in lane five,” Derek remembers yelling to his father as the two approached the finish line and Derek’s dad told Olympic officials to leave them alone so his son could finish the race. It was only after Derek crossed over the finish line that he noticed the cameras and a crowd of sixty-five thousand standing on their feet cheering him on, with millions more watching across the world.

Olympic officials marked Derek’s performance as “Did Not Finish,” effectively disqualified since his father had helped him get to the finish line. Somebody else won the gold, silver, and bronze. I don’t know any of the names of the athletes who won those medals. You probably don’t, either.

But I know who won that race.

It was Derek and his father, Jim Redmond. And as much as this story is about Derek, it’s also about his father and how as a parent, you help your child achieve their dreams, no matter what.

And Derek was right. It was the race of his life.

‘Promise’ is a big word. It either makes something or it breaks something. There’s no in between.

In the last 18 months, there have been two Saturdays where I haven’t blogged — the day my father passed away, and last week.

Last Saturday when I woke up, I came downstairs, made a cup of coffee, and stared at the keyboard with a decision to make: do I write the blog? Or do I work on finishing the novel?

With hundreds of readers who my weekly posts go out to, I was a little worried about disappointing them. But I was more worried about disappointing myself. So I decided to work on the novel.

I know. First-world problems, right? But here’s why the decision was important…

At the end of May, I made a promise to myself — that I was going to write my second novel in two months and be done writing the book by the end of July. When I sat at the keyboard last Saturday, I was at a crossroads. If I wrote the blog because “that’s what I’ve always done,” I wouldn’t finish the novel on time. If I wrote the novel, I wouldn’t be keeping my promise to you, that I’d write an inspirational weekly post with my thoughts on lessons in life that I learned that week.

What I realized was that the promises that we make to ourselves are usually the first ones we end up breaking. We tend to keep promises to everyone else but are quick to break our own promises.

Here’s the thing: nobody knew about my goal. I didn’t take the advice often given about making your goals public so you’ll keep them. Nobody knew I promised myself to finish the book in July.

But I knew.

Getting out of your routine to do something different, especially in order to keep a promise that you’ve made, is a strange thing. At first, it feels wrong, like a righty trying to write with his left hand. But once you get past the awkwardness of doing something other than what you’ve always done, it gets easier. This past week has been one of my most productive weeks, both in and outside of writing. And it started with that first decision to work on the thing I promised myself I would finish.

Self-confidence matters more than you think. Every time you keep a promise to yourself, it grows.

The novel is done. I finished it this week. It will be called Credible Threat: A Blake Jordan Thriller and I’m in the process of having it edited now and hope to have it released very soon.

Keep the promises that you make to yourself first. It can make all the difference in the world.

I read an article this week about how we can ruin our lives by tolerating them. And it really got me thinking as I reflected on the many ways that I have tolerated my own life over the years…

Because when I was 18 years old, I withdrew from the college that I really wanted to go to because I was homesick and I could tolerate moving back home to enroll in the local university.

When I was 19, I dated a girl far longer than I should have because I could tolerate being with her even though she was wrong for me.

When I was 20, I tolerated working overnight shifts as a DJ at a radio station because I didn’t think I would ever be good enough to be heard by listeners during the daytime.

When I was 22, I tolerated college, graduating with a degree I didn’t really want just because it meant I could be done with school quicker than if I changed my major to business and started over.

When I was 24, I took a job at a call center making $24,000 a year because I could tolerate taking a bad job with irate callers yelling at me because it would pay the bills ‘for a little while.’

When I was 26, I was still in that ‘just for a little while’ job because I could tolerate 8 hours of discomfort when five o’clock was always just a few more hours away.

When we tolerate what life throws at us, we settle for less than what we’re capable of. I think a lot of us think that if life would just stop being so hard, things could get better. But life will always be hard. We will always have to tolerate life. The truth is, we can decide to change and tolerate the discomfort that comes along with that change. That’s not easy. It takes courage. And it takes a different mindset. If you’ve found yourself settling, there’s good news — you can decide to stop tolerating what life throws at you and start tolerating what you change to create an even better life.

Because at 27, I went back to church and met my wife when I decided that if I could tolerate being outside of my comfort zone, good things might happen.

And at 28 I married my wife and just celebrated our 10 year wedding anniversary (because she could tolerate me, I suppose).

And at 29 I got promoted into a better job because I could tolerate putting myself through grueling interviews even though I knew there would be lots of rejections during the process.

And at 30 and 34 we had Kyle and Noah because I could tolerate giving up my wants and needs for two little boys so we could have a family.

And at 31 I went back to my alma mater to get that business degree because I could tolerate two more years of school if getting an MBA might create more career opportunities at work.

And at 33 I landed a better job at another company because I could tolerate the discomfort of leaving a job that was familiar and safe, something I think too many of us are unwilling to do.

And at 36, I started writing books because I could tolerate waking up at five in the morning when the world was still fast asleep if that would give me time to explore what I felt might be my calling.

And at 38, I’m still writing because I’ve learned that if I can tolerate the tough times all writers experience, I can create something that is beautiful and maybe stir the hearts of those who read it.

Life has a way of self-correcting. That undergraduate degree that I wasn’t proud of is what pushed me to get an advanced degree that now hangs on my office wall. That relationship in my twenties pushed me to marry the right person for me. And that job I so dreaded going into every day pushed me along the path to figuring out what I really love doing and might just be my life’s work.

I’ve realized that we all have to tolerate something in life. But that doesn’t mean that we have to settle for what life throws at us. It’s never too late to change. It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it.

Bill stood in his kitchen and looked at the honey-do list that his wife had left him before going out to run a few errands around town. At the top of the list was Go through boxes in the garage.

He sighed, grabbed a cold drink from the fridge, and got to work.

After rummaging through a box and throwing out a few things he no longer wanted, Bill found one of his old journals from ten years earlier. A writing habit to capture his thoughts before bed.

Bill went into the kitchen, sat down, and flipped through the pages. He smiled as he read and was reminded about his life back when he still worked and his son was still little. He came across an entry he had made one Saturday night after Matthew, who was eight at the time, had gone to bed.

Earlier that day, the two had gone fishing.

It was Bill’s idea. He had talked it up the entire week, telling his little boy after he got home from work every day how much fun they were going to have out on the lake, catching fish that Matthew’s mom promised she would cook when they got home. As he read the entry, memories flooded back from that day — Bill had become frustrated with the outcome of the trip with Matthew.

“Didn’t catch a thing; a whole day wasted,” he had written.

Bill set the journal aside and closed his eyes. He could remember everything from that trip with Matthew. How disappointed he had been and wished he and Matthew hadn’t even left the house.

Then he thought of something; Matthew, who was now eighteen and had just left for college — wanting to be like his dad, he had also started keeping a journal around that same time.

Bill stood, walked upstairs, and entered his son’s old room. When he got to Matthew’s bookshelf, he crouched and started looking through the many journals that his son had kept over the years.

A few minutes later, Bill finally found what he was looking for.

He wiped the dust off the ten-year-old journal before removing the elastic string that held it closed. The letters were large and hard-pressed into the page by a little kid wanting to spell every single word correctly. Bill cautiously flipped through the pages to see if his son had written an entry on the date of the fishing trip.

He found it.

Bill expected to read about how disappointed Matthew had been with the trip. How it had been a total waste. Bill set a finger on the page and dragged it underneath his son’s entry as he read it.

“Spent the whole day with my Dad; greatest day of my life.”

How we see the world isn’t how our kids see the world.

And our children’s memories can be far different — and much better — than our own.

Dads, don’t worry too much about how you spend time with your kids. Just spend time with them.

Because time spent with a child is never wasted.

If you google ‘how to be happy,’ you’ll find 165 million results. That’s 165 million opinions. 165 million ideas to try. 165 million things that you can do right now to try to become a happier person.

You’ll read advice like you should exercise at least 7 minutes a day (a good thing — I’m not sure I could do more than that), get more sleep, go for a walk. Volunteer, smile, practice gratitude, pray.

All good advice.

All things we should try to do. But what if we could boil all of the advice down to just three things? I happened to come across an article that said that if we want to be happy, we need 3 ingredients:

1. Something to do
2. Someone to love
3. Something to look forward to

After a few minutes of thought, I came up with my 3 things:

1. I’m halfway done writing the next Blake Jordan thriller and working hard to finish it this month.
2. I’ve loved being able to spend more time with my boys during the summer break.
3. My family and I will be spending the weekend with friends, an annual 4th of July tradition.

When I first read about the three ingredients to happiness earlier this week, I thought about telling them to you so you could make sure you had all three in your life. But then I realized that most of us probably already do have all three — we just haven’t given them much thought or realized that we’ve been blessed with having these ingredients already…

I can’t say I love writing all of the time. Blog posts are hard. Writing a novel is really hard. But I love finishing a project and accomplishing a goal that many, MANY writers try but often never complete.

I can’t say I love being a parent all of the time. I could do without the temper tantrums and the endless requests for apple juice. But I love having my boys in my life and the gift of being their dad.

I can’t say I love having plans every single weekend. As a writer, I’d prefer to just stay holed up in my home office all weekend, writing. But I love having friends that want to spend time with me.

Now it’s your turn. What are your 3 things?

1. Something to do:
2. Someone to love:
3. Something to look forward to:

My wife Missy has many positive qualities. She’s smart. She’s beautiful. But if there’s one thing that’s always stood out, it’s her superhuman hearing. It’s good. Really good. Freakishly good.

Every once in a while, moments before I’m just about to fall asleep, Missy will roll over and ask me, “Do you hear that dog?”

“I do now,” I’ll grumble, immediately hearing a dog barking two neighborhoods away, which then keeps me from falling asleep. If it’s not a dog, it’s a squeaky garbage truck. Or an unidentifiable rattling somewhere in the back of her car. Or water slowly dripping on a tin roof after a downpour (which I now realize may be why we moved). Sometimes I think she can even hear my thoughts.

That’s the picture I had in my mind when I first heard the story about Walter and Gracie Lantz.

The couple married in 1940 and honeymooned at a lake, renting a cabin to enjoy the peace and quiet of the woods, away from the noisy hustle and bustle of Hollywood.

But there was a problem — every night before bed, a woodpecker would land on their roof and peck incessantly, keeping the couple up late into the night. The woodpecker visited every night.

One evening, there was a heavy rain and somehow, the pecking became even louder. That’s when Walter discovered that the woodpecker had bored a hole in the cabin’s roof. Walter insisted that he was going to shoot the thing (if it had been Missy and me, I’d like to think she would have gladly loaded the shotgun for me), but Gracie instead suggested that her husband use it as inspiration.

The woodpecker’s contemptuous laugh made Walter think that maybe Gracie was onto something.

What I haven’t told you yet is that Walter Lantz was a cartoonist. He had created a number of characters, including Baby-Face Mouse and Snuffy Skunk, which you’ve probably never heard of.

At the time that Walter married Gracie, he desperately needed a new character. And using his wife’s suggestion, Walter created Woody Woodpecker. Gracie even went on to voice the character.

For 40 years and 200 episodes, Gracie voiced Woody. When she and Walter were interviewed on their 50th wedding anniversary, Gracie said, “It was the best thing that ever happened to us.”

What could have been a terrible start of a marriage, especially if Walter had shot the thing, ended up being what made them both successful and brought the couple closer during in the process.

Makes me think we should be more deliberate in looking for the opportunities in our struggles.

“Finding out that you’re a father, or going to be a father…is like an explosion of awesomeness.”

That’s what James’s dad said in the video that I happened to come across this morning.

I wanted to write a blog post for Father’s Day about how to become a Superdad and thought a little research might help me not only with my article, but also personally, to become a better father.

Play with your kids. Throw Frisbees, footballs, kick soccer balls. Wrestle with your boys. Have tea with your girls. Let them paint your toenails. Give piggyback rides. Read stories. Just be there.

It wasn’t an exhaustive list, there’s too many other things that may be even more important, like setting a good example, teaching manners, talking about God, the difference from right and wrong.

But being active in their lives, regardless of what a father focuses on, is the common theme.

So I wrote the article about how to become a Superdad, doing all of the things listed above. But before I clicked publish, I happened to come across a video that changed my entire perspective.

I don’t know the father’s name, he never gave it. So I’ll just call him James’s dad. He’s been unable to do a lot of the things that most fathers are able to do. Like kick a ball or play sports with his son.

But he showed me that anyone, regardless of their circumstances, can be super.

What I realized is that I take a lot of things for granted. And I learned that if James’s father can be a Superdad, you and I can become one, too. Because the reality is that we already have what it takes to be super. Being super is a choice, one I hope that you and I will decide to make today.

My grandfather passed away this week, just a few months shy of his 100th birthday.

He lived in Miami, not that far away from my mom who lives a little over half an hour away from me here in Orlando. The trip to south Florida and back was about eight hours and to get there, we had to traverse some pretty bad storms with lots of rain, making it very hard to see the road at times.

I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t think about turning around. The storm would have been a good excuse to have missed the funeral. Others had good excuses and made the decision to not attend.

But my mom wanted to honor her dad by being there and I wanted to honor my mom by taking her.

We often hear that we should “be there” for others. But that’s easier said than done, isn’t it?

That’s because being there is inconvenient. We all have our own lives to live, people to take care of, jobs to go to, and good excuses if we look hard enough. Some of the people who mattered the most to my grandfather were unable to attend his funeral, and that’s okay. We almost didn’t, either.

My grandfather was always very good to me. Every Christmas as far back as I can remember, he’d send me a firetruck. I was in my late twenties when he realized I was a little too old for firetrucks.

But sending those firetrucks every year was his way of being there. Of telling me that I mattered. That he was thinking of me. He wasn’t always in his family’s lives, but when it mattered, he was.

Doing the right thing is never the wrong thing. Being a friend, son, daughter, mom or dad, grandson or granddaughter – just being there for someone is inconvenient. Maybe that’s the point.