A Certain Point of View: Writing, Film and Stuff

 Image by Vika_Glitter via Pixabay  A Companion Reflection for Comings and Goings: The Art of Being Seen Some moments imprint not because they’re perfect, but because they were true. Not rehearsed, not adorned—simply lived, and remembered. For Jim Garraty, that moment comes beneath the hush of moonlight, in a quiet room striped with silver shadow, beside a woman whose presence steadies more than it startles. It isn’t a scene about conquest or climax. It’s about presence . About the shyness of a first-time lover, the cataloguing habits of a historian, and the aching relief of being held in truth rather than judged in silence. Kelly sees him. Not through the lens of expectation, but through care. When he whispers, “I wish I’d been better at this,” she doesn’t dismiss or deflect. She listens. She stays close. And her reply— “Then it was perfect. You were kind. You were here. That’s what matters.” —becomes the emotional thesis of their entire connection. This wasn’t a ...

📚 For the ones who still turn pages... Here’s a clever little verse to echo the heartbeat of Comings and Goings —made just for those who know that sometimes, the best connections happen offline: For When the Battery Fades Or the Wi-Fi just won’t play nice... Boston, '84. A boy on the run From chatter and chaos, from everyone. A girl with eyes that didn’t flinch— A mixtape moment, inch by inch. Not swipes, not screens—just breath and beer, And Rachmaninoff floating near. He wasn’t looking, she wasn’t loud, But somehow, silence drew a crowd. A paperback tale for your favorite chair, For train rides, porch lights, anywhere. A story that listens, instead of insists— Of glances held and what love resists. Not first love. Not neat or clean. Just the grace of being truly seen. 🗓️ Out July 1 in paperback—because not every chapter needs a charger. Perfect for hands that miss the rustle of a page… or hearts that carry the weight of memory like a well-loved spine. =

  Comings, Goings, and the Wait in Between Friday afternoon in Miami. The clouds are hanging low, the air is heavy with summer’s humidity, and for once, there’s no thunder cracking in the distance. Mom would say St. Peter must be off his bowling game today. I’ve always taken her warnings to heart—no charging electronics when lightning’s involved. So, small blessings: just cloud cover, not chaos. In theory, I should feel pretty good. Earlier this week, Comings and Goings: The Art of Being Seen went live on Amazon—another piece of the Garraty puzzle, written almost on impulse and finished before the ink had time to dry on Reunion: Coda . It's not sprawling. It doesn't try to do too much. And maybe that’s what makes it one of the most focused and emotionally honest things I’ve written. If you've followed Jim's arc across the Reunion stories, you’ll recognize this as something smaller and quieter—a moment in 1984 that sets the tone for everything that comes after. It's...

  Because You Were Kind. Because You Were Here. Sometimes it’s not the grand gestures or the well-timed speeches that leave the deepest impressions. Sometimes it’s just being there —quietly, imperfectly, but fully present. There’s an illustrated quote making the rounds from Comings and Goings: The Art of Being Seen that reads: “Because you were kind. Because you were here. That’s what matters.” It’s simple. Unadorned. But it echoes—for good reason. In stories and in life, we often believe impact comes from fixing something. That if we say the perfect thing or perform the perfect act, we’ll finally make a difference. But presence—genuine, patient presence—is its own kind of grace. It doesn’t demand a spotlight. It doesn’t require resolution. It just offers a kind of quiet hope: that showing up for someone, even in their silence, can still mean everything. That’s the kind of love and kindness I’ve tried to explore in my work—not as a climax, but as a current. Not shouted, but...

  © 2025 Alex Diaz-Granados Comings and Goings: The Art of Being Seen wasn’t something I planned to write. It began, as many things do, with a memory—or the ghost of one. A fleeting moment tucked into Reunion: Coda , when Jim Garraty, now older and maybe wiser, walks across Columbia’s campus and thinks he sees her. Not a name, just a resemblance. Not certainty, just recognition. And for a second, 1984 floods back—along with a girl who poured him a Heineken and didn’t ask him to be anyone but who he was. “She has the same blonde hair and bright, inquisitive blue eyes as Kelly Moore, a girl I met at a freshman party at Harvard... The faint taste of the beer lingers in my memory, crisp and slightly bitter.” That was all it took. Kelly Moore—originally just a footnote in Jim’s emotional ledger—began to insist on more space. Her voice, her presence, the shape of that night refused to fade. Until finally, I stopped trying to treat it like a tangent. And wrote it as a story. ...

© 2025 Alex Diaz-Granados   Sometimes, our best-laid plans find themselves quietly rewritten by the world around us. I originally intended to hold onto Comings and Goings until the fall of 2025, letting anticipation build in step with the turning seasons. But with so much uncertainty close to home and across the globe, I decided the story’s quiet light might be needed now, not later. So, as of yesterday, Comings and Goings is available in Kindle format for $2.99, and the paperback ($9.99) will arrive on July 1.   Boston, 1984. A party Jim Garraty never wanted to attend. A girl who didn’t look away. A night stitched together by mixtapes, quiet courage, and the ache of choosing to stay. Jim isn’t chasing romance—he’s just trying to outrun the noise. But when Kelly Moore enters the room with her drink, her Rachmaninoff references, and her uncanny ability to see without pressing, everything shifts. Over cassette tapes and Heineken beer, conversations deepen, touch beco...

The author in 2020   “Some Loves Don’t Ask”: A Poem in Three Movements Some moments don’t belong to the past so much as they echo quietly in the present—fragments of kindness, memory, and presence that resist the erosion of time. As I prepare to share Comings and Goings: The Art of Being Seen , I’ve been thinking about the spaces between stories—the ones that never become chapters, but shape the emotional weight of everything that follows. The poem below isn’t part of the short story, but it shares its emotional DNA. It’s a reflection on encounters that didn’t last, but mattered. I hope it finds you in a quiet moment.   The Boy She Loved for One Night She’s older now— not by much, but enough that the past feels more like a country she left than one she was exiled from. At a shelf she wasn’t seeking, his name appears— spine out, serifed, tucked between authors she almost recognizes. Garraty. A flicker. A room. A song dressed in Beethoven’s longing. ...

Soft Light, Quiet Courage Kelly’s Perspective He stepped inside like he wasn’t quite sure he belonged. His eyes moved over everything—the piano, the books stacked sideways, the lavender sprig in the jelly jar next to the stereo. He didn’t make a single joke about the crooked lampshade or the milk crate bookshelf. Didn’t pretend not to notice the faint scent of lemon cleaner and reheated rice. He just looked around like it was a story he hadn’t heard yet. A man had never looked at my apartment that way. Not like he was casing it or judging it—more like he was absorbing it. And that’s when I saw it. Not in anything he said. Just... how still he stood. Hands at his sides. Shoulders slightly hunched. Like he’d crossed a threshold and didn’t want to track in something he wasn’t supposed to. He’d never been in a girl’s bedroom before. Not like this. Not as himself. Not without bravado or teasing or expectation. That realization settled gently in my chest—not as power, but as tenderness . “I...

  Ten Reasons This Quiet Universe Leaves a Lasting Impression There’s a certain kind of story that doesn’t shout—it hums. It lingers in memory like a melody you forgot you loved. In the Reunion Duology , author and blogger  Alex Diaz-Granados invites readers into a world shaped by memory, music, and the choices we carry long after the moment has passed. Across two deeply personal works— Reunion: A Story and Reunion: Coda —we follow the inner life of Jim Garraty, a man who’s never stopped wondering about what might have been. And coming soon: Comings and Goings: The Art of Being Seen —a poignant companion story that traces the roots of one quiet turning point and the emotional bravery it awakened. So, what makes the Garratyverse different? Here are ten reasons readers find themselves gently, unexpectedly moved. 1. It begins with a moment missed—and never lets go. Jim Garraty’s world changes in 1983 when he hesitates to speak his truth. What follows is a li...

  © 2025 Alex Diaz-Granados Why Reunion: Coda Isn’t a Romance Novel—And Why That’s the Point For readers who don’t do “romance,” this one’s for you. Love is in the story—but it’s not the story. Reunion: Coda isn’t a romance novel. It doesn’t follow genre formulas, offer tidy resolutions, or hinge on whether “he gets the girl.” Instead, it’s about what endures when love becomes memory , and how we move forward with all we didn’t say. Jim Garraty, now a respected history professor, is living in the present—but haunted by the emotional undertow of his past. What begins as introspection slowly widens into something deeper: a reckoning with lost moments, fractured friendships, and a silence that has lasted almost two decades. Reunion: Coda is about the power of reflection—not to rewrite the past, but to understand it. If you’ve ever stood in front of a school you haven’t seen in years… If you’ve ever wondered what your younger self would think of the person you became… I...

Marty Several years ago, a former classmate read one of my blog posts and—without hesitation—declared that Marty, the central female character in the   Reunion Duology , had to be based on a real girl. She was so certain, in fact, that no amount of authorly denial could sway her. Why? Because, in her words, “Jim’s feelings for Marty were just so strong.” I’ve been turning that over in my head ever since. To be clear: Marty is fictional. She’s not a thinly veiled version of anyone I knew well—though her physical appearance was inspired by a classmate I barely spoke to, someone whose yearbook photo struck a quiet chord fifteen years later. That image became a door I stepped through in 1998 to imagine a character who was vivid, smart, guarded, hopeful—and, yes, magnetic enough to pull someone like Jim Garraty into her orbit. If Marty feels real , it’s because I poured a good deal of emotional truth into her, even if the details are invented. She’s stitched together from memor...

When a Cassette Says Everything   There’s a moment near the middle of Reunion: Coda —quiet and unassuming—when Maddie glances at a framed photograph on Jim’s mantel and says softly, “She would have loved being with you.” The she , of course, is Marty Reynaud—Jim Garraty’s high school friend, frustrated love, and, in many ways, the still point in his emotional compass. Marty doesn’t dominate the present-day storyline of Coda , but her absence is felt in every heartbeat. What she couldn’t say aloud, she expressed in other ways—like the gift she gave Jim on graduation day. Not a mixtape. Not something dubbed. But a store-bought cassette —the Columbia recording of the 1957 West Side Story Original Broadway Cast album. Bought with her own allowance. Chosen with care. Given with intent. It wasn’t just music. It was a gesture of emotional bravery, a quiet offering that said: I see you. I get who you are. And in the years after Marty’s death, that understanding doesn’t vanish—it evolves. ...

  Lisa Dolan, director of student affairs at the International College of Seville, with her copy of Reunion; Coda. A Journey Through Love, Loss, and Renewal: Reunion: Coda The past has a way of lingering—sometimes as a whisper, sometimes as a storm. In Reunion: Coda , the second book in The Reunion Duology , Jim Garraty finds himself navigating the echoes of old regrets and the possibilities of new beginnings. Recently featured on Smorgasbord Book Promotions , Reunion: Coda continues Jim’s story as he reflects on the relationships that shaped him, the choices that haunt him, and the hope that still flickers in the distance. Now a successful history professor, Jim’s life is woven with memories—some tender, some bittersweet—but all leading him toward a deeper understanding of himself and those he once loved. This novel is more than a sequel; it’s an exploration of timing, courage, and the enduring power of connection. Through heartfelt letters, introspective moments, and the weight ...

© 2025 Alex Diaz-Granados Afternoon, Thursday, June 12, 2025—Miami, Florida Every author hopes their work will resonate with readers. We spend months—sometimes years—crafting stories, refining themes, layering emotional depth, and ensuring the characters feel like real people. Then, when the book finally makes its way into the world, we wait. We hope readers connect with it. We wonder if the themes we wove into the narrative will come across as intended. And above all, we hope someone out there will get it —not just enjoy the book, but truly understand what it was trying to say. That’s why reviews matter. This week, I received one of those deeply gratifying moments when Pooja’s review of Reunion: Coda went live on Amazon. Though she lives in Nairobi, she posted the review on Amazon.ca due to regional account restrictions. Still, no matter where it appears, it’s a review that means something . Among her observations: "I appreciate that his writing is incredibly intelligent...