Steve Bivans

Author, Fear-Less Life & Self-Publishing Coach

Tag: hobbits (page 1 of 3)

My Personal Mordor: Power of Storytelling, pt 6

[This is an excerpt from my book, Be a Hobbit, Save the Earth, and the sequel to yesterday’s article, In the Depths of Moria. My purpose in sharing it now, is to illustrate the power of our own personal, negative stories. Mine was pretty fuckin’ negative in my 20s, and that negativity has returned more than a couple of times since, until I began to rewrite the story of my life, which we will get to, I promise. For now, we return to my personal Mordor]

My Personal Mordor

Much as Frodo and Bilbo’s stories, my story has a beginning: a happy childhood and peace at home, not unlike the Hobbits in their idyllic Shire.

Then, in the middle, like the fateful night when Gandalf tossed the Ring into Frodo’s fireplace—sweeping him off on his dark adventure—the fabric of my life came apart in a flash: crisis, disillusionment, despair, and struggle. And the end? Well, I’m not dead yet, so the end is still in question, or at least the means to the end is. But the end for our purposes is the very words you’re reading right now: this book.personal mordor

The story of how Be a Hobbit came to be written is very much my story, and it probably began the day I was born, though I’ll try not to bore you with pages of my childhood, tip-toeing in the tulips of my metaphorical Shire. Don’t worry, I won’t depress you with every detail of my life; this isn’t my autobiography but I will share a few of my experiences when they serve as an example.

The Beginning

Like the Hobbits in The Shire, I had a happy childhood, a Shire-like childhood, if you will. My mom and dad, who were model parents—however you want to measure that—were Salvation Army officers, which means preachers, or ministers. Contrary to what many think, the Salvation Army is not just a social, charitable organization that rings bells at Christmas. They do that, of course, and I did it many, many times in my youth and early adulthood, but it is at heart a church.

So my brothers and I grew up in an atmosphere of religion and charity work. We rebelled against both at times, as children and teenagers do. I tell people all the time that there are two kinds of preacher’s kids: ones that become preachers themselves, and my kind. At one point in my life, early adulthood, I rejected almost everything my parents had ever taught me.

My rejection of religion, and many of society’s conventions, came as the result of books that challenged much that I thought I knew about the world. Unfortunately for my parents, I was born with a questioning mind. I tell people all the time that there’s nothing more dangerous on Earth than a good question. Once a question lodges itself in the brain, there’s really no getting it out until you find a suitable answer for it. And very strong questions require very strong answers, backed up with stronger evidence.

I won’t go too much into why I rejected my upbringing, but a process that began with reading and questioning was then reinforced by the struggles of being a young father in my early tweens (twenties), money (the lack thereof), and divorce. I chose to drown most of that pain and stress in copious amounts of alcohol, which of course did nothing to solve the problems.

What I did manage to do during that period, however, was to read insatiably. I read a butt-load of Stephen King’s books, The Stand, being my favorite. I was in a very nihilistic mindset at the time, and King’s vision of a post-apocalyptic world, nearly devoid of people was attractive to me.

In my mind at the time, the problem with the world was that it was filled with too many stupid and ignorant people and if they all disappeared one day it would be fine with me. I was in a very negative mental state, and the more I read, the darker the World appeared to me.

I read everything I could get my hands on, especially non-fiction; history, religion, philosophy, new-agey, old agey, you name it, I read it. What I really wanted to know was, “If Christianity isn’t the answer, if there is no God, then why are we here?” This led to an endless stream of further questions, but at the heart of all of them was “What possible purpose does our seemingly ruined species serve on this rock in space?

So I read. And read. While I am neither a card-carrying atheist, nor a preacher, religion is important to my story and the story of how this book came to be. My rejection of any and all belief was part of my spiral downward much as Frodo was dragged down by the power of the Ring. I was carrying my own Ring at the time: a ring of despair, fear, ignorance, want, and rage, which pulled me ever downward.

A Light in Dark Places

I was drowning in negative emotions, groping through a metaphorical dark tunnel in the side of a mountain, trying to get through to the other side—which in my twisted mind was probably just as bad or worse than the tunnel itself. As far as I was concerned the other side was just more darkness. I didn’t know it then, but I was Frodo, lost in Cirith Ungol headed for certain death in the webs of Shelob’s Lair. I could not see a path through my negativity, it enveloped me like the darkness that surrounded Frodo.In a very real sense, I had been spun into a spider’s web, awaiting the hunger of the beast of my own making.

Then one day, someone suggested a book that I had heard of before. Everyone had heard of it, I suppose. I’m not sure who it was that turned me on to The Hobbit first, possibly it was my brother, Tim, who was living with me at the time in that roach-infested apartment in New Bern, NC. I don’t remember, which is strange, because normally my mind is a steel trap, but I reckon drinking a minimum of twelve Olympia beers per day, and God only knows how much liquor on the weekends, might just blur the memory a bit.

I wouldn’t recommend it as a cure for depression. But I survived. Because like Frodo, a faithful companion came to rescue me with the Light of Eärendil, Tolkien’s wonderful books, and I could see again. Yes, I was still in a tunnel but I was not alone. I had a Samwise and I had hope, if only the smallest glimmer.

So I picked up The Hobbit. And I began to read. I was swept off to a green, green Shire in a far, far land, and my soul has never returned. I suppose it never will. Yes, my soul at the time wandered more in the smoking wastelands of Mordor or the Dead Marshes than Hobbiton, but wandering in Middle Earth, was superior to my own world in every way.

After ripping through The Hobbit, I read The Lord of the Rings, and the darkness of that story enveloped me in a way that is impossible to explain. I was THERE, in a very real sense. The fear was palpable in the presence of the black-cloaked Ringwraiths, and I could taste the sulfurous fumes of Mt. Doom. I could smell the sweat of horses and hot leather and hear the clash of battle as I rode with the Rohan on the fields of the Pelennor. I bled and died with the sun-king, Theoden. I rose again with Eowyn’s defiance of the Witch King. I soared with the Eagles as they swept the broken and bloody body of Frodo and his companion Samwise the Brave from the smoking crags of the fiery mountain. There has never been such a story, and I don’t think there ever shall be again.

Continue reading, pt. 7, ‘Heroes Needed’

Steve Bivans is a FearLess Life & Self-Publishing Coach, the author of the Amazon #1 Best Sellers, Vikings, War and the Fall of the Carolingians,The End of Fear Itself, and the epic-length, self-help, sustainability tome, Be a Hobbit, Save the Earth: the Guide to Sustainable Shire Living, If you want to learn how write and self-publish a book to best-seller status, crush your limitations and Fears, and disrupt the status quo, contact Steve for a free consultation to see how he can help you change the world! CONTACT STEVE

Second Breakfast #4: Justin Finkelstein, Walkin’ Dude & Connector of Man

“I’ve never looked into the eye of a human being and was like, ‘That’s an evil person.’ I’m sure there’s probably some evil people out there, but I think we’re just all kind of like, hurt children.”

My guest this week on Second Breakfast with Steve Bivans, is another of my good friends from the Anchor community, my newest Shire: Justin Finkelstein.

Justin and I met on Anchor almost as soon as I joined, and we became fast friends.

He has an innate sense of compassion and insight, and he delivers this every day while walking to work in the heart of Manhattan, the blare of car horns, the noise of traffic, subway trains, jackhammers, and the voices of New Yorkers banging away in the background.

I was so happy when he agreed to have Second Breakfast with me, and we were finally able to schedule it around both of our busy lives.

This conversation is brings a slightly new format to the show. I’m still sitting in my office chair at Bag End, while the sun is sinking into the west, leaving me bathed in nothing more than the light of my desk lamp, while Justin–in true Finkelstein form, armed with his iPhone–took to the streets of his city for a long walk.

As we discussed our relationship on Anchor, the power of Gratitude, and then importance of authentic human communication– “saying what needs to be said” to strengthen our key relationships, and topics like the End of Fear Itself, whirlpools of piss, positive and negative feedback loops, and the end game for writers and creative people (there isn’t one, just so you know)–Justin strolled along the Hudson River, sat down on park benches with the lights of the New York Skyline and the Empire State Building in the background.

Not only will you watch and hear an amazing conversation, you’ll get to hear what makes Steve Bivans, the writer, tick. And, Justin reveals what his dream job would be–and it’s NOT what he’s doing currently.

So, pop some popcorn, pour yourself a cold drink of some kind–you know what mine is probably gonna be–relax, kick back, and let Justin do your exercise for you! You’re gonna love this one, I guarantee it!

 

Steve Bivans is a FearLess Life & Self-Publishing Coach, the author of the Amazon #1 Best Sellers, Vikings, War and the Fall of the Carolingians,The End of Fear Itself, and the epic-length, self-help, sustainability tome, Be a Hobbit, Save the Earth: the Guide to Sustainable Shire Living, If you want to learn how write and self-publish a book to best-seller status, crush your limitations and Fears, and disrupt the status quo, contact Steve for a free consultation to see how he can help you change the world! CONTACT STEVE

Second Breakfast #1: Ricardo Paes–Art, Anchor, & Voice of the Unheard

May 5th, 2016

Episode #1

Steve Bivans welcomes Ricardo Paes, the author and artist of an upcoming, fantasy graphic novel, Triadin: the Education of Rogar, to the first ever episode of Second Breakfast with Steve Bivans! Some topics discussed: art and how that can be employed to give voice to those who are normally unheard in society; How the Anchor App is revolutionizing what social media can be.

Find Ricardo Paes’ work in these places:

Steve Bivans is a FearLess Life & Self-Publishing Coach, the author of the Amazon #1 Best Sellers, Vikings, War and the Fall of the Carolingians,The End of Fear Itself, and the epic-length, self-help, sustainability tome, Be a Hobbit, Save the Earth: the Guide to Sustainable Shire Living, If you want to learn how write and self-publish a book to best-seller status, crush your limitations and Fears, and disrupt the status quo, contact Steve for a free consultation to see how he can help you change the world! CONTACT STEVE

A Tour of Bag End Garden, St. Paul

Day 4 of the Year Long Blog experiment…Today’s article is a short one.

It’s Saturday morning in St. Paul.

It was positively hot yesterday, nearly 90 degrees in early May, and that’s an oddity for Yankeeland.
But I”m not complaining: hell no. It was sunny, the birds were chirpin’, the squirrels making those little squeakin’ noises, the breeze was blowin’ through the trees. It was a beautiful day.

Today, I just want to mention something I’m grateful for:

Bag End Garden, my garden.

bag end garden

It’s lovely, but I can’t take all the credit for it, nor can WE: Patience, Duke, and her family, especially her dad, Greg. While all of us have put in a good deal of work on it, there was a lot of structure built into the garden before we bough the house a few years ago.

 

 

 

 

 

That being said, let’s walk through my garden…

First, there’s the garden gate;

bag end garden gate

Welcome to Bag End Garden, The Shire

gotta have one, and ours is super cute, as you can see.

 

bag end garden

Sir Tetanus

 

 

 

 

 

 

There there’s my guardian of the garden, Sir Lancelot—or Sir Tetenus, as Duke and his friend Luke refer to him, standing as a sentry to the garage and the rest of the garden.

There’s also Mary of the Garden,

bag end garden

Mother Mary

who looks over all the growing things, and keeps things peaceful. She resides in the rock garden, which comes courtesy of our neighbors, the Fiebiches, who tore down a rock retaining wall in front of their house last year, and let us have all the stone, which Greg and I moved to the garden, and then Duke and I stacked as a little garden border complete with a stone seat to sit in the shade of the trees.

stone seat, bag end garden

Duke on his Throne of Stone: very dwarvish

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then there’s the raised, planting beds,

bag end garden, pallet raised beds

Gamgee’s Garden

pallet raised bed, bag end garden

Our pallet, raised beds

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

that one our neighbors, Sarah, helped to build last summer, along with help from Greg. They were amazing, as you can see, bursting with sweet peppers, and jalapenos, as well as some Calendula flowers that one of my readers sent to me as a gift! In the other one, we planted potatoes, which actually gave us a crop—unlike the first year when we planted them in a different spot in the yard, in crappy soil.

The potato patch is slightly shaded by

bag end garden crabapple

Our Crabapple Tree

this amazing little crabapple tree, which is in full bloom right now. Under it sits, St. Francis, to look after all the wild critters that come to the yard, as well as Freeloader, our neighbors’ black cat, who must be GOOD luck, because we’ve had mostly that since moving here.

 

 

 

Then there’s the compost bins, that Greg and I built from free pallet wood,

compost bins, pallets, bad end garden

our pallet, compost bins

and the party-central spot: the firepit,

fir pit, Bag end garden

Duke, tending the fire

that he and I built from bricks that came from under University Street in St. Paul, and are more than a hundred years old, and fired to over 3000 degrees. they look like they’ve been in the ground forever, which is the effect I wanted.

 

 

 

 

Then, last but not least, is my favorite tree in the garden: the ornamental crabapple.

crabapple tree, bag end garden

My favorite tree

This morning, thanks to a pretty stiff breeze last night, most of the blooms are gone, but this last week has been stunning. It is just one of the prettiest trees, ever.

And that’s it! Thanks for coming on a tour of Bag End Gardens!

Y’all come back again!

 

 

Steve Bivans is a FearLess Life & Self-Publishing Coach, the author of the Amazon #1 Best Sellers, Vikings, War and the Fall of the Carolingians,The End of Fear Itself, and the epic-length, self-help, sustainability tome, Be a Hobbit, Save the Earth: the Guide to Sustainable Shire Living, If you want to learn how write and self-publish a book to best-seller status, crush your limitations and Fears, and disrupt the status quo, contact Steve for a free consultation to see how he can help you change the world! CONTACT STEVE

From Human to Party Tree: a Sustainable Hobbit Funeral

Let’s talk about death.

[A chapter from Be a Hobbit, Save the Earth]

Though none of us like to think about our own mortality, or that of our friends and family members, preparing for the inevitable is something we all should do at some point in our lives. If you’re not to that point then come back to this article later. If, however, you have begun to consider planning for the future, hopefully distant future, then read on.Party Tree Wedding

In Middle Earth, all races were susceptible to death. While the Elves were immortal in the sense that they could not die of disease or old age, they could in some circumstances, die. They could be killed in battle or suffer accidental death. When they died their souls were swept off to the Halls of Mandos in Valinor over the Western Sea.

All the other races were mortal. The fate of  the souls of Humans, Hobbits, and Dwarves was unknown to all in Middle Earth, even the Elves. The Elves who lived outside of Valinor considered the fate of mortals to be a blessing, as they considered their own immortality to be a curse. The death of the things around them brought with it a mounting weariness, which could turn to sorrow and grief. Some Elves succumbed to this and died themselves. Most Elves who were still living in Middle Earth chose to sail into the West to be with the Valar and their fallen kindred.

You will remember my discussion of Boromir’s funeral in an earlier article, where I described in great detail his journey to the sea and what would become of his remains and that of his vessel.

A Western funeral today, while certainly ritualistic, containing most if not all of the aspects of Boromir’s funeral send off, is more different than similar. Instead of returning the body of our loved one to the Earth, we embalm them with chemicals, hermetically seal them in an expensive coffin made of numerous materials that are now wasted forever—probably including many plastics—place that inside a concrete sarcophagus and then cover them with dirt, usually reciting from the Bible, “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” which when you think of it, is completely absurd.

They are not ashes, nor will they ever be, nor will they completely turn to dust. We have preserved them with modern chemistry, as if that will give them some special place in the afterlife. This is ridiculous. Why do we do it this way? Is the process driven by modern science and chemistry, “Hey people! Your loved one will get to Heaven or Nirvana or Paradise in much better condition if you pump them full of man-made juice and send them off in a plastic box! Only $5,995!”

Did modern chemists take an intro course to Ancient Egyptian History and think, “Cha Ching! Now there’s a way to make some dough!”?

Surely there must be better ways to do it. I have been of the mind that I should be cremated and placed in a small wooden boat, much like ole Boromir, then pushed off into a lake doused in bourbon so that one of my friends—who hopefully isn’t too drunk to pull it off, [this means you, Keith]—can shoot a flaming arrow into the boat, sending me up in smoke, returning me to the Ether and to Mother Nature.

Problem is, they usually burn you in a coffin and expend vast amounts of fossil fuels to accomplish it, so I’m not sure it’s really any greener than the coffin option. Maybe there are better ways to do it out there. Certainly there are people in other countries around the world practicing a more sustainable way.

Plant a Mallorn Seed: BE the Party Tree!

A while back, a fellow Hobbit posted a link to a company called Bios Urn that makes biodegradable urns. bios_urn Party TreeThe urn itself is made of all biodegradable ingredients. The ashes of the deceased are placed in the bottom part which is separated from a top section where you place local dirt, compost, etc., and a tree seed! The seed will germinate fairly quickly, and over time the urn will disintegrate as the roots of the new tree absorb the nutrients from the ashes! So life springs from death and your loved one becomes a tree!

As a tree, they will give life in the form of oxygen to all the Earth while standing as a living memorial to their spirit. I think this is the most Hobbity idea I’ve ever seen. Like Samwise, who planted Galadriel’s Mallorn seed, they, or we can become a Party Tree where our friends and family can gather for decades to remember them, or us, and to celebrate important life events.

We can name the tree after them, even place a permanent marker next to it! Party Tree KidsInstead of being hermetically sealed in an overpriced box pumped full of poisonous chemicals and buried in some cemetery—which takes up a ridiculous amount of land—and being left there, where most of us forget to visit, let’s plant our loved ones in our yards! Then we can visit with them every day, sit under their cooling shade, watch them grow, shed leaves every fall, and return every spring. Plant flowers around the tree, perennials that will come back every year.

Your Party Tree can be the gathering place for all kinds of family rituals and celebrations: weddings, birthdays, baptisms, coming-of-age parties, graduations, and even funerals, where another tree could be planted near by.

And some day in the future, if we raise our children as good little Hobbits, they will take a seed from that tree and plant another one, or the seeds will just fall to the ground and a forest will spring up! I can think of nothing lovelier than that. Then, instead of hewers of trees, we will all become trees. We will have evolved from Homo Hobbitla to Homo Entlus: Hobbit, to Ent!

[This article is dedicated to my cousin, Tim Lowder, who died on December 21, 2015, from liver cancer. You will live long in the memories of those who knew you. And to his mother, my Aunt Nettie Jo, who passed away on March, 30, 2016, also from cancer. Love to you, and to all my relations.]

Party Tree 1

Steve Bivans is a FearLess Life & Self-Publishing Coach, the author of the Amazon #1 Best Sellers, Vikings, War and the Fall of the Carolingians,The End of Fear Itself, and the epic-length, self-help, sustainability tome, Be a Hobbit, Save the Earth: the Guide to Sustainable Shire Living, If you want to learn how write and self-publish a book to best-seller status, crush your limitations and Fears, and disrupt the status quo, contact Steve for a free consultation to see how he can help you change the world! CONTACT STEVE

Hobbits, Cave-men Chefs, and My Relations: Why Are We Here? part II

If you haven’t read Vikings, Sex, and Charlemagne: Why Are We Here? part I, do so, or you’re gonna be asking yourself, “what the hell is he talking about?”

You may already be asking that.

We left off our discussion of the meaning of life with a basic, physical understanding of our drive to survive, in the sense of our own personal survival, that of our gene pool or family, and then that of our immediate friends and community’s survival, with the examples of the Vikings and the Chuck-ster, or Charlemagne as everyone else calls him.

But is our purpose on this spinning rock really to be boiled down to something as basic as finding a mate to create offspring and making sure they survive?

I don’t know. I used to think that was the case. Maybe it is. But deep down I hope that our existence is something more meaningful than copulating and replicating our genes. I know there are some who hold such a bleak view, but if so, then why do we possess the ability to think at the level that we think, or at least at the level that some of us can think, or do think?

I suspect that most humans can think at a higher level. They can criticize their own thought processes and actions, and inspect them for flaws. Of course, that doesn’t mean that the most of them actually do. I think that we can all agree on that. I mean, I have friends and acquaintances that certainly don’t get much past, “what’s for dinner?” Although, that’s a very good question; don’t get me wrong.

Hobbits and the Origins of Cooking

I also want to know what’s for dinner, but while I’m scarfing down BBQ pork, I wonder why we eat what we eat, how we eat it, the origins of cooking–was it really just an accident? Did some cave-dweller leave a shank of wildebeest lying next to his ‘questy’ fire too long, returned, bit into it, burned his tongue, said, “Oww!” and then thought, “Hey, this is pretty fuckin’ awesome!” making him the first chef in pre-history?cave man chef

Or I ponder the mental process that his descendants went through that led them to take the seeds of ancient wheat grasses, grind them up, add water, and then bake them or fry them on a stone to make the first loaf of Unga Bunga Wonder Bread.

That’s the kind of thing that goes through my brain when I sit down to eat. I know; I’m strange. But not that strange, because the bread thing was Patience’s question at breakfast the other day. Of course, I then co-opted the discussion to contemplate the accidental-ity or intentionality of certain cooking scenarios in the theoretical, original Hobbit-hole, addressed to Number .001, Bagshot Row, Mr. Unga Bunga Baggins, Bilbo’s greatgreatgreatgreatgreatgreat grandfather to the 50th power, or something like that.

Cooking in the original Bag End was a much more basic thing than in Bilbo and Frodo’s day where it had evolved quite a bit.

What was I talking about before I went off on the origins of food? Oh yeah, we were talking about the meaning of life. Hmmm. Maybe they’re related? I suspect they are. But I’m thinkin’ there must be a greater meaning to it all.

Here’s what I think. Yeah, I know, you were waiting with bated breath for me to say that. What I think, is that while making a kick ass breakfast with charred shanks of wildebeest and stone-grilled flat bread sounds like a good start for a purpose in life, it must mean something a little more than filling our own bellies, or even those of our hairy-footed offspring in the Hobbit hole. I think that our purpose is two-fold, maybe three-fold? I don’t know; hang with me. I’m goin’ in.

Free at Last

First, it should be our personal goal to reach a state of physical and then mental or spiritual freedom. Of those two, the latter is a far more important goal. That’s not to say that the physical must be neglected; I’m not suggesting that we flagellate ourselves, or that we have to sit under a tree for 20 years, like a Buddha, starving on little more than bread and water. I just mean that the spiritual is more important than accumulating wealth, or a bunch of stuff. The last thing we all need is a bunch more crap stored up in our basements or garages. In fact, we will never reach mental or spiritual freedom if we can’t walk through our own garage without tripping over boxes of junk. Get rid of it. Give it away. Cut it loose!

No, by reaching physical freedom, I mean just that: free ourselves from the stuff. It’s tying us down. We’ve become attached to it and that attachment spawns blocks to the mental-spiritual development that we should all be trying to achieve. They are anchors to the physical world, or at the very least, distractions from concentrating on what matters: the inner journey of our own minds. We can never master our mental state if we are too tied to the physical things around us. Once we jettison that shit, our minds are free to focus on things that really matter, like our families and the other people in our lives. That’s the second step to a more meaningful life, to answering the question of why we do what we do. That’s just my opinion, of course, my correct opinion. You can disagree with me, if you want. You have every right, to be wrong.

All My Relations…

Once we chuck all of those physical anchors, we begin to realize that what really matters to us is our relationships with the people we love: our families and our friends. We can then work to make those ties stronger. We can spend time with them–instead of stumbling around in the garage smashing our toes on boxes of detritus, looking for some thing that we don’t need.

We can cook food for them! That’s what I do anyway. Real food! Charred meats and hearty breads, okay, a few veggies, too. But is that it? As I said above, I think we have to move beyond that if we really want to have a purposeful, meaningful life.

Achieving some sense of family and friendship is a goal that most of us aspire to, if not achieve. That’s one that most of us can agree upon. But I think there’s more to our existence than throwing Barbecue parties for our family and friends–and I love to do that. No, in order to really say that our life is meaningful, we need to think beyond our own families and immediate friends. We need to embrace the rest of humanity in some way. We should work to create a better world, to realize that all humans are really one.

This is where we get to the third ‘fold’ of purpose: creating ripples. Now I’m gonna get really philosophical on ya, so get ready. It’s not really enough to just take care of our own.

Why not? Well, it’s not because there’s anything wrong with the idea; it all depends on how we define the last two words: our own.

What most of us mean when we say “own own” is, the people in my family, or the people I know and give a shit about. That’s what we mean when we say it. But the definition is too narrow, confined, and limiting. We should, I think, define it as every living being and everything in the universe. Yeah, I said it. It is our duty, as sentient beings, to take care of everything in the universe, what Native Americans refer to as All My Relations.

What the hell do I mean by that? I think we’ll save that for part III….

 

Steve Bivans is a FearLess Life & Self-Publishing Coach, the author of the Amazon #1 Best Sellers, Vikings, War and the Fall of the Carolingians,The End of Fear Itself, and the epic-length, self-help, sustainability tome, Be a Hobbit, Save the Earth: the Guide to Sustainable Shire Living, If you want to learn how write and self-publish a book to best-seller status, crush your limitations and Fears, and disrupt the status quo, contact Steve for a free consultation to see how he can help you change the world! CONTACT STEVE

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