Ashville Rising is Live on Amazon!

I’m sitting here with a cup of coffee and a heart that’s beating a little faster than usual—because today is the day.

Ashville Rising is officially available on Amazon, both in paperback and as a Kindle eBook!

This story has lived in my head and on scraps of paper for longer than I care to admit. It started with a simple “what if” while driving down Highway 411: what if the land beneath these quiet Alabama towns remembers more than we do? What if there are secrets buried under courthouses and old stage roads, and it takes a handful of regular kids—grease under their nails, doubts in their hearts—to keep everything from shifting too far?

That “what if” grew into Makaley, JD, Dezi, Sean, and the lantern-lit world of the Handyman’s Guild. It’s Southern Gothic with a touch of urban fantasy, set right here in the ridges and valleys we call home—Ashville, Leeds, the Cahaba, and places that feel like neighbors even if they’re just down the road.

I’m proud of this one. It’s about listening—to the ground, to history, to the people who held the line before us. And it’s about what happens when new hands finally take their turn.

If any of that sounds like your kind of story, I’d be honored if you’d grab a copy.

📖 Paperback and Kindle now live on Amazon: Ashville Rising by Ronald Howard

Reviews mean the world to a new author, so if you read it and it resonates, please consider leaving a quick note on Amazon. And of course, feel free to drop a comment here or message me—I’d love to hear what you think.

Thank you for coming along on this ride with me. Writing this book has been its own quiet adventure, and seeing it out in the world feels like the ridge finally exhaling.

Until the next story,

Ron Simple Contemplations

Re-Inventing Myself?

 

The Strange Notion That I Still Need Reinventing

Lately, I’ve been carrying around an odd and slightly illogical feeling—that at seventy years old, I still need to reinvent myself.

That sentence alone feels strange to write.

After all, by most measures, I’ve already done more “reinventing” than anyone ought to be required to do at this stage of life. I’m retired. I’ve started four YouTube channels. I’ve published five paperback books. Somewhere along the way, Facebook and Instagram decided I qualify as a content creator, which still makes me laugh a little every time I see it.

In reality, I don’t feel like a creator of content at all.

I feel like a simple old man with a camera in his hand, a head full of stories, and a quiet hope that something he leaves behind might matter to someone someday—even if only a little.

That’s the part that doesn’t always make sense. By all reasonable standards, I should be content. I have a loving wife who still puts up with me. Two wonderful children. Four amazing grandchildren. And now three great-grandchildren who are already teaching me that time doesn’t slow down just because you want it to.

I am rich in the ways that actually count.

And yet, here I am—writing blog posts, filming videos, editing photos, telling stories—still chasing the feeling that there’s something more I’m supposed to do.

Maybe it isn’t reinvention at all. Maybe it’s just leaving breadcrumbs.

I still love photography. I still love the quiet moment when the light is just right and the camera feels like an extension of my hand. I still enjoy filming videos, even if I fumble through the words or ramble longer than I intended. I still enjoy writing, not because I think it will change the world, but because it helps me make sense of my own small corner of it.

Perhaps what I’m really trying to do isn’t to become someone new—but to be a little more visible before I’m gone. To leave behind a few stories, a few images, a few recordings that say, “I was here. I noticed things. I cared.”

That may not be reinvention. It may simply be reflection.

At seventy, I’m not chasing fame or relevance. I’m chasing meaning—however modest it turns out to be. And maybe that’s enough. Maybe it always was.

I don’t really know what more there is to say.

But for now, I’ll keep writing. I’ll keep taking pictures. I’ll keep pressing the record button. And I’ll be grateful for the life I’ve already lived, even as I quietly try to leave one more small mark on the world—before the light fades and someone else picks up the camera.

If any of this sounds familiar to you, you’re welcome to share your thoughts. I enjoy hearing from fellow travelers, especially those a few miles further down the road.

—Ron Howard
Simple Musings