My new full-length rock/pop album "Death, Be Not Proud" is now available on all digital stores.  See link below to purchase it on iTunes.

Kevin Ott - Death, Be Not Proud

My second rock/pop single "Firefly" now available on iTunes (click here) and all other digital stores

My first rock/pop single "The Fullness of Joy" now available on iTunes (click here) and all other digital stores

 

Writing Progress: The Prom Queen of Monte Cristo (Young Adult fiction) 

The Last Symphony of Juan Garcia 

The Woods above the World

The Gardens above Safed Koh (short story spin-off of The Woods above the World

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Favorite Quotes and Passages
  • A Grief Observed
    A Grief Observed
    by C. S. Lewis

    "But perhaps I lack the gift. I see I've described her as being like a sword. That's true as far as it goes. But utterly inadequate by itself, and misleading. I ought to have said 'But also like a garden. Like a nest of gardens, wall within wall, hedge within hedge, more secret, more full of fragrant and fertile life, the further you explore. And then, of her, and every created thing I praise, I should say 'in some way, in its unique way, like Him who made it. Thus up from the garden to the Gardener, from the sword to the Smith. to the life-giving Life and the Beauty that makes beautiful."  -C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

  • The Lord of the Rings Trilogy Gift Set
    The Lord of the Rings Trilogy Gift Set
    by J.R.R. Tolkien, J. R. R. Tolkien

    "Yes, that's so," said Sam. "And we shouldn't be here at all, if we'd known more about it before we started. But I suppose it's often that way. The brave things in the old tales and songs, Mr. Frodo: adventures, as I used to call them. I used to think that they were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of a sport, as you might say. But that's not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind. Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually - their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn't. And if they had, we shouldn't know, because they'd have been forgotten. We hear about those as just went on - and not all to a good end, mind you; at least not to what folk inside a story and not outside it call a good end. You know, coming home, and finding things all right, though not quite the same - like old Mr. Bilbo. But those aren't always the best tales to hear, though they may be the best tales to get landed in! I wonder what sort of a tale we've fallen into?" -Sam Gamgee in Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien 

  • The Everlasting Man
    The Everlasting Man
    by Gilbert K. Chesterton

    "But it was not the strange story to which anybody paid any particular attention; people in that world had seen queer religions enough to fill a madhouse.  It was something in the tone of the madmen and their type of formation. They were a scratch company of barbarians and slaves and poor and unimportant people; but their formation was military; they moved together and were very absolute about who and what was really a part of their little system; and about what they said. However mildly, there was a ring like iron.  Men used to many mythologies and moralities could make no analysis of the mystery, except the curious conjecture that they meant what they said. All attempts to make them see reason in the perfectly simple matter of the Emperor’s statue seemed to be spoken to deaf men. It was as if a new meteoric metal had fallen on the earth; it was a difference of substance to the touch.  Those who touched their foundation fancied they had struck a rock." -G.K. Chesterton, Everlasting Man

  • The Complete Poems of John Keats (Modern Library)
    The Complete Poems of John Keats (Modern Library)
    by John Keats

    MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains  
      My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,  
    Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains  
      One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:  
    'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,          5
      But being too happy in thine happiness,  
        That thou, light-wingèd Dryad of the trees,  
              In some melodious plot  
      Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,  
        Singest of summer in full-throated ease.   10
     
    O for a draught of vintage! that hath been  
      Cool'd a long age in the deep-delvèd earth,  
    Tasting of Flora and the country-green,  
      Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!  
    O for a beaker full of the warm South!   15
      Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,  
        With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,  
              And purple-stainèd mouth;  
      That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,  
        And with thee fade away into the forest dim:   20
     
    Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget  
      What thou among the leaves hast never known,  
    The weariness, the fever, and the fret  
      Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;  
    Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last grey hairs,   25
      Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;  
        Where but to think is to be full of sorrow  
              And leaden-eyed despairs;  
      Where beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,  
        Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.   30
     
    Away! away! for I will fly to thee,  
      Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,  
    But on the viewless wings of Poesy,  
      Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:  
    Already with thee! tender is the night,   35
      And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,  
        Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays  
              But here there is no light,  
      Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown  
        Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.   40
     
    I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,  
      Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,  
    But, in embalmèd darkness, guess each sweet  
      Wherewith the seasonable month endows  
    The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;   45
      White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;  
        Fast-fading violets cover'd up in leaves;  
              And mid-May's eldest child,  
      The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,  
        The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.   50
     
    Darkling I listen; and, for many a time  
      I have been half in love with easeful Death,  
    Call'd him soft names in many a musèd rhyme,  
      To take into the air my quiet breath;  
    Now more than ever seems it rich to die,   55
      To cease upon the midnight with no pain,  
        While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad  
              In such an ecstasy!  
      Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain—  
        To thy high requiem become a sod.   60
     
    Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!  
      No hungry generations tread thee down;  
    The voice I hear this passing night was heard  
      In ancient days by emperor and clown:  
    Perhaps the self-same song that found a path   65
      Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,  
        She stood in tears amid the alien corn;  
              The same that ofttimes hath  
      Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam  
        Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.   70
     
    Forlorn! the very word is like a bell  
      To toll me back from thee to my sole self!  
    Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well  
      As she is famed to do, deceiving elf.  
    Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades   75
      Past the near meadows, over the still stream,  
        Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep  
              In the next valley-glades:  
      Was it a vision, or a waking dream?  
        Fled is that music:—do I wake or sleep?

Kevin's new fantasy novella THE WOODS ABOVE THE WORLD is now available for the Amazon Kindle. If you like novels like THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA and fantasy stories with elements of classic literature, you will love THE WOODS ABOVE THE WORLD. Click here or on pic below to download the eBook for $2.99 for your Kindle or the Kindle App on your handheld device. 

You left me, sweet, two legacies...

You left me, sweet, two legacies,--
A legacy of love
A Heavenly Father would content,
Had He the offer of;

You left me boundaries of pain
Capacious as the sea,
Between eternity and time,
Your consciousness and me.

(Emily Dickinson)

 

Forgetting What You Write

There's something to be said for taking time away from a book. I recently opened up the pages of something I wrote awhile ago, and it was enlightening. I saw things I didn't see before and found ways to improve it. It also encouraged me because I thought, "Hey, this isn't half as bad as my overly critical memory made it out to be."

So if you're an author going through a frustrating season of writing, sometimes it's a good idea to shelve the book and go out for some fresh air. Let the book be for awhile, and then come back to it.

It might refresh your creative energies.

A Slight Improvement to Rock, Paper, Scissors

Thanks to the geniuses over at Big Bang Theory and nathanthenerd.tumblr.com, here is a joyfully awesome augmentation of rock, paper, scissors:

Days Away From Becoming A New Dad

In possibly only a week or two, God willing, I will be a proud new father of a baby girl named Lucy. The thought makes me nervous and joyfully excited all at once. One of the things I am eagerly anticipating is reading to her. They say even infants enjoy hearing the voice of a parent read something lengthy to them (like novels). Obviously, they don't understand the words yet, but they like all of the little inflections and the constant soothing sounds and rhythms of the mom or dad reading to them for long periods of time. Besides short little baby books, I plan to begin reading the Chronicles of Narnia to her, beginning with The Magician's Nephew.

There is much to be thankful for in this beautiful suffering world. Even in the pain, there are things that can fill us with gratitude.

I Love My Kindle

I got a standard Kindle for Christmas (not the touch screen one, just the normal one) and I love it.  I love how the screen is made to look like the physical page of a book.  It doesn't cause any eye strain like a bright back-lit screen often does with other devices or computers.  There are these nifty little buttons on the sides that allow you to turn the pages with such understated ease that you don't even realize the pages are flipping by.  My favorite feature by far is the way you can instantly (through Wi-Fi) "share" a passage that you highlight in your book and have it posted to your social network of your choice (i.e. the Facebook status update).  I've shared many great passages with friends all over the world.  And no I don't work for Amazon.  I just appreciate great technology.

Letting God Write Our Story

The following is the text of a speech I am giving this Friday at Westmont College's chapel:

"One of my favorite song lyrics of all time comes from the hymn “Blessed Assurance,” where the chorus declares, “This is my story, this is my song, praising my Savior, all the day long.”  The story of Fanny Crosby, the woman who wrote “Blessed Assurance,” is living proof that the Author of Life is busy writing remarkable stories using the conflicts, characters, and events from each of our lives.

Fanny Crosby was born on March 24th, 1820 in a village north of New York City.  Like many stories, her life began with great conflict.  When she was six weeks old, she caught a cold that caused inflammation in her eyes.  The doctor who treated her used questionable methods, and when his treatment destroyed Fanny’s eyes and blinded her for life, he left town.  It was later discovered that he was an unqualified physician who had deceived her parents.  Despite this tragedy, Fanny was not a bitter girl.  At the age of eight when doctors in New York City confirmed that her sight was irreparable, she wrote the following words in her diary: “Oh what a happy soul I am, although I cannot see, I am resolved that in this world, contented I will be.”  Fanny had a perfect auditory memory and was able to memorize entire books simply by hearing them read aloud.  Despite her genius, her school teachers did not know how to teach her, so they covered up their inadequacies by calling her stupid and ignoring her in class.  When she was fifteen, she was accepted into the New York Institute for the Blind where she quickly excelled as a scholar and became the resident poet of the school.  Notable officials often visited the institute, and Fanny was always asked to read a poem for them.  Over the course of her time there, Fanny read to twenty-two American Presidents from John-Quincy Adams to Woodrow Wilson, and one of them, James Polk, became a close friend.  At the age of twenty-two, she was hired onto the school's faculty.  A year later, she became the first woman in US history to be invited to speak before the US Congress and Senate to advocate for the rights of disabled citizens.  Up until this time, she had pursued secular poetry only, until tragedy struck again.  When a cholera epidemic ravaged the school, she lost many close friends and almost died herself.  This experience shook her to the core, and she surrendered her life to Christ wholeheartedly.  An unquenchable passion for the Lord was birthed from her broken-heartedness, and she began to write hymns, often writing six hymns a day.  By the time she died in 1915, she had written over 10,000 hymns.

One of those hymns, "Blessed Assurance," swept across the nation after it became an anthem for revival meetings.  According to Fanny, the hymn was written as a meditation on Hebrews 10:22, which says, "Let us draw near with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience…”  Each verse of the hymn describes a different element in the experience of surrendering to God.  The chorus shows us the end result of that surrender: a life story written by God Himself and a heart that praises Him daily. This hymn urges us to lay the pen on the table in surrender and let God write our story, beginning first with surrendering our hearts to the cleansing blood of Christ, and then surrendering everything else to His Authorship.

Whether it is movies, novels, or TV shows, stories only interest us if the characters experience great conflict that transforms their world within and without.  If Fanny had written her own story, she would not have chosen to be blind from infancy. And yet, that tragedy was the twist in her story that led her to her destiny, which included everything from befriending presidents to writing hymns to advocating for the rights of the disabled before Congress.  This hymn reminds me that it is much better if I stop trying to write my own story.  It is better if God writes my story, even if that means I will face great conflict.  As we see in the Cross, God can take the most painful moments in our lives and turn them into our greatest victories.  In the face of great tragedy and conflict, Christ is indeed our “blessed assurance.”  As we sing this hymn, I encourage you to surrender everything in your life to Christ and let the Author and Finisher of your faith write your story."

Yes, I'm a Tebow Fan

In an age of spoiled superstars and professional athletes who are arrogant, self-serving, and habitually carrying guns, someone like Tim Tebow is just plain refreshing.

Saturday night's game against the Patriots and the Broncos is going to be so much fun to watch.  For one thing, I am also a Tom Brady fan because he is one of the greatest, if not THE greatest quarterback to ever play the game, and he is always a joy to watch. Like watching Monet pain. He's done more with so little than any quarterback in history. He can take a scrub squad of receivers that no one's ever heard of and make them look like Hall of Famers. Unlike many other great quarterbacks, Brady has never had a Jerry Rice or a Reggie Wayne or a Marvin Harrison or a Calvin Johnson or a Greg Jennings -- with the one exception of the season when Randy Moss came to town, and in that season Brady broke many NFL all-time records and he almost achieved a perfect undefeated season.

So I'm not a Brady hater, in other words. That's not with this post is about. I'm just overjoyed to finally see such a classy athlete like Tim Tebow in the spotlight for once. Just sick of reading about whiny professional athletes or thugs who shoot themselves in the leg at nightclubs.

So, I just can't help myself, I will be cheering for Tim Tebow on Saturday night.

Good Laughs In Pawnee

Tonight will be a good night: Bible Study and then some R & R with my favorite shows: Parks and Rec, The Big Bang Theory, and The Office. I don't watch much TV, so this is a rare treat.

Here's a book I'd like to read someday:

Another Beautiful Santa Barbara Sunset

My friend Todd Pulliam took this:

"In the Fire": An Amazing Album from Funeral Club

I have recently discovered a band that has reminded me why I love music so much. I purchased "In the Fire" the newest album by Funeral Club. Joe and Jenny Andreotti formed the band, and they are carving out a sound all their own.  It's as if the Parisian sound of singer Edith Piaf of "La Vie en Rose" fame has relocated to the dusty plains of Americana. Or maybe it's the other way around: the gritty banjo-playing Dust-Bowl characters from John Steinbeck's THE GRAPES OF WRATH have invaded Paris, joined an indie rock band, taken over an old jazz club from the Roaring Twenties (like La Gerny), and have become the back-up band for a famous French singer whose vintage-like vocals swirl and float around the room in a sea of reverb. There's something very special about this group, and I hope they make many more albums.