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Joseph Vitucci
A Run by the River

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'm not the kind of person who majors in English. Or film studies. Or philosophy. I've always been too pragmatic for a serious endeavor in the liberal arts.

Yet the man in front of me, even after hearing this explanation, insists, "You should be an English major."

The problem, I explain, is that I don't want to be a starving artist. Writing is a hobby and a passion, yes, but it is something I can always do on the side.

"Why not make it a minor?" he counters.

I say it's not part of the master plan. I've been working hard since grade school to get here.

Here is my first year of college where I promptly declared a business major and took the first step in landing a job in Corporate America. Here is the start of becoming an adult with financial independence.

The man in front of me shrugs. "Just think about it. And never stop writing," he says.

I leave his office and walk onto campus, secretly congratulating myself on making the mature decision. Smart move, I say to no one. Outside, the campus looks like Holden Caulfield's Pencey Prep, or the college Hampden from The Secret History, or any other novel where—

Smart move, I say again.

Fast-forward four years.

Here is now a place where I stayed true to the master plan and earned a degree in MIS and Accounting. In the late summer, I begin working for a consulting firm and entrench myself in the new job. Things I do for fun in this phase of my life: write JavaScript, read the classic Active Server Pages 2.0 (a Wrox Press book), and compile a binder of super-cool web development tips. These are things I hope will put me on the fast track for senior consultant, and over the next two years, this is my way of life. Except one day, the unthinkable happens.

Enron.

My firm, Andersen, becomes involved in one of the largest business scandals in United States history. New business in the local office comes to a halt. Suddenly I have a lot of free time, and instead of always watching Lou Dobb's Moneyline on CNN for the latest scandal updates, I begin daydreaming about that two-roads- diverged-in-a-yellow-wood conversation four years ago, the one about majoring in English. What if? I wonder. It's not that my current work isn't challenging or satisfying, it's just that I wish I would've pursued writing on the side like I'd told my English professor.

What I decide is that Enrons must happen for a reason, and in my life, this might mean that time on the side. The more I think about it, the more I believe that this is a sign—the kind I read about in other authors' bios. You know, the ones where This Event inspired Johnny Bestseller to write Masterpiece in one day, which has now sold two trillion copies. My story isn't glamorous, but I do look at it as an opportunity, so I dust off ten pages I'd written a year ago in Thousand Islands, New York, which were the beginning to a story.

What happens next is I start to write and, dear God, it doesn't come easy at first. Over the next three months, there are nights when I stare at blank pages for hours before generating a paragraph. I know the story will be about an eighteen-year-old boy who aspires to be a standout long-distance runner; a man who can foresee the future in dreams; a girl that captures the boy's attention; a mysterious runner lurking on the perimeters . . . I know that somehow, all of these characters' lives will collide in a traumatic event, but how will it happen? And what's the point of all this anyway?

And I learn that that's the fun in it. I draw from my imagination and inspiration to come up with the answers. For this story, it's high school cross country, college days, and a relationship gone sour that move my pen in creating the initial backdrop. As I bury myself deeper into the novel, the story takes on a life of its own and journeys to the one-hundred-page barrier which, for me, is the point of no return—I now feel compelled to finish the story. In a first-time-author moment, I actually celebrate this milestone by eating a Papa John's pizza and drinking a beer. Here's to one hundred pages. From there, it's a second draft, trial readers, editing, a third draft, more editing . . . and the rest is history.

This takes us to the best part—the here and now. Although the initial excitement of publishing my first novel has waned, I'm left with a lingering sense of satisfaction. Whether people love it or hate it, I wrote exactly what I needed to write for that particular time in my life. Even better, here is a place where I no longer wait for excuses to write. Here is where I write because it is a part of who I am.

In this last segment of Making of the Book, I take a walk outside and reflect on it all. Today I say, Smart move, for very different reasons, and I think about my first college English professor. Somewhere in the world, I hope he continues encouraging students to major in subjects they never considered.

About the Book

John Meyer would never get to run with Steve Prefontaine. The legendary distance runner died in a tragic car accident before John was born. Yet, Pre's legacy always inspired him. John earned a running scholarship to Stradford University, one of the elite Division I cross country schools. There, he would be teammates with the runner every major sports media called the next Pre. More importantly, it gave John the chance to put behind a troubled past and start a new life.

But past relationships come back to haunt, and a bronzed god roommate, a gorgeous brunette, and the pressures to succeed plunge John to psychological depths he never dreamt possible. No one seems to be able to help—no one, except for a mysterious, shirtless runner on campus, who seems oddly familiar...

A Run by the River will take you through amazing twists and turns, the mind of a runner, the schemes of a seemingly perfect roommate, and fast-paced running—all that bring the story to its crash course finish. For John, things will never be the same again.

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A Run by the River

After speaking a few minutes with his wife, John debated how he would spend the next hour and a half waiting for his flight. He could work on the communication plan for the client. He could read the new Stephen King. Or, he could sleep. What was new? It was the standard list of choices.
John looked at the Delta gate attendants. He knew their names: Sam and Lisa. Sam had worked this gate for three years, Lisa two. In an hour and a half, he would board a Boeing 757. He knew the attendants' names on Flight 034, and they knew his. It was always the same, all the time.
John picked up the communication plan, then immediately tossed it aside. Everything felt so repetitive. So qualified. Why was he feeling this way? John decided to sleep instead. In business, this is known as work-life balance, he thought.
He set his mobile phone alarm for 30 minutes, slouched in his seat, and drifted off to another place . . .

John felt alive again. He had returned to Stradford University, his alma mater. He was running steadily in a group. And it felt right as the wind brushed against his back. John could feel the warmth of the sun on his head and smell the sweat dripping down his face. It felt great to be alive again.
There was the shirtless runner, ten to fifteen yards ahead of everyone. John started plotting but forced himself to stop thinking. Don't think, only react. He must catch the runner ahead, but how could he do it? He felt himself emerge from the pack of runners around him. He would make his move and catch the runner once and for all. His strides grew in length and his heart beat faster, but the runner maintained the standard lead distance. He wasn't sure he could catch him.
John turned around and saw the pack yards behind him. He glanced ahead, and the runner was gone. Where did the shirtless runner go? He would figure this . . . Why is my leg vibrating?

John slapped his pants pocket a few times before completely awaking. His mobile phone didn't seem to mind—it continued massaging his leg with methodical vibrations. John turned the alarm off and tilted his head back. That always managed to be the shortest 30 minutes in his life.
He glanced around the airport. Only one hour until his flight. He didn't really mind the flying—it was the waiting that annoyed him. He found himself people-watching on such occasions, and the carnival of airport characters never ceased to amaze him. That was, never ceased to amaze him until today.
At 6:37 P.M. in the Newark Airport, Jonathan Meyer's heart literally stopped beating for a brief moment. He caught a mere glimpse—but a perfectly clear and unquestionable glimpse—of the woman that once had changed everything for him. I haven't seen her in . . . twenty years. John's mind went racing, and he returned to college. There, he felt alive again . . .

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A Run by the River is available to purchase in Paperback and E-book formats.

Publishing Details:
Paperback: 370 pages
Publisher: 1stBooks Library (2003)
ISBN: 141077726X (Paperback)


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Posted October 15, 2003
©2003 - All rights reserved
This text may not be published, rewritten, or redistributed without permission.



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