“Three Remain” Replaces “Sunshine at the Oasis”

“Three Remain” Replaces “Sunshine at the Oasis”

This post concerns the title of my upcoming novel and therefore departs from the usual theme of my posts. What is Three Remain you ask? The working title for the new novel has been Sunshine at the Oasis since its inception. I have assumed this would be the published title until both my editor and an individual who I rely upon for insightful critiques both said, “No, sounds good but doesn’t capture the essence of the story.”

My Argument for ‘Sunshine at the Oasis’

I like it and it does have meaning for the story.

The Debate

Those opposed: “There’s no oasis in the story.”

three remain

My argument: “But yes there is.” And then I proceeded to define “oasis” and why it relates to the storyline.

Those opposed: “No, I don’t agree. And ‘Sunshine’ doesn’t give proper attention to all the main characters in the story.”

three remain

My argument: “But it has a double meaning and…”

Those opposed: “No. Get over it.”

My argument: “But…”

Those opposed: “No.”

The Outcome

three remain

The title of my upcoming novel has changed from ‘Sunshine at the Oasis’ to Three Remain.

It is the right title for the book.

Updates can be found on the Three Remain tab in the menu.


The following are the first two pages of Three Remain:


Chapter 1


Traci sat on the small bench provided inside the changing room, deciding to watch funny cat videos on YouTube to pass the time. She could text her friends later about her parents being so late to pick her up. Her friends would get a laugh out of that because it happened so often, but a girl needed priorities, and funny cats ruled at that moment. Feeling groggy, she balled up a sweater she brought in to try on, then stretched out on the narrow slab of wood watching a cat fall into a toilet on her phone. She giggled. The desire for sleep became overwhelming. Traci closed her eyes.




Pulling himself up from the leather chair, Glen felt weariness in his arms and legs and tried to remember the last time he ate. He was not hungry, but maybe just the act of eating would distract him out of his restlessness, or so he hoped.

Moving to the kitchen and opening the refrigerator, he laughed. Staring back at him from a lightless cave was a heavily bruised apple, wrapped slices of plastic cheese with a shelf life of twenty years or more sporting green patches of mold, and a carton of milk with an expiration date twelve days earlier. Quite a transformation from the cornucopia of supplies typical only a few months ago. Ignoring the gourmet delights, his eyes finally set on a single bottle of Corona.

Sitting at the table, he faced his reflection in the sliding glass door. “Cheers!” he said, raising his arm in a toast to himself. He sat and watched condensation trickle down the Corona and form a puddle at the bottle’s base on the twelve-year-old mahogany table, which had never suffered as much as a minor scratch. He sighed.

Glen checked his watch; only fifteen minutes had passed. Not exactly the time-killer he anticipated. Too early for bed, he decided a walk around the back yard might soothe him. Grabbing a light jacket to ward off the chill of an early August, Michigan night, he slid the door open, pulled his shoulders back and inhaled the damp air before stepping into the darkness. He had no mission in mind other than circling the yard, the grass still wet from an afternoon shower. Eventually confronted with a lounge chair set on the patio brick pavers, he elected to settle onto the webbed fabric, shivering once as the cold dampness seeped through his jeans. Soggy Nikes dampened his socks and the flesh beneath thereby continuing the grand evening experience.

Lying back, he stared up at the billions of icy points of light, ranging from brilliant gems to dusty smears. A meteor flashed overhead. The fact that no one was there to share the event tempered his excitement. Again, he slipped into thoughts of his solitary life. He vowed never to permit himself to love another person because of the inevitable pain and misery.

Resting back, he hoped to glimpse another meteor, and as if fulfilling his wish, one appeared. It was big. Astounding. Not just a streak of light, but large enough to discern the solid sphere of the meteor enveloped in a seething, burning gas. That image imprinted in his brain. A blue-green fireball racing to Earth. Not only towards Earth, but also towards him. Glen jumped to his feet, raising an arm across his forehead as if to protect his face from an impact equivalent to a nuclear detonation.

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