A Certain Point of View: Writing, Film and Stuff

© 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...

(C) 2018 Alex Diaz-Granados and CreateSpace (an Amazon company) It is June 1983.  Jim Garraty is a senior at South Miami Senior High. He's a staff writer for the school paper, a college-bound scholar who plans to become a historian and author of books on military history. He's well-liked by his peers and teachers, and his future looks bright.  But as commencement draws near for the Class of 1983, Jim must deal with unfinished business. The girl he loves from afar is also graduating, and rumor has it that she is going away for the summer before starting college in the fall. Worse still, Marty doesn't know how deeply Jim's feelings for her are - unless he tells her. But when an opportunity arises on the last day of classes at South Miami High, Jim hesitates...and the window of opportunity closes. Now, 15 years later, James Garraty is an up-and-coming history professor whose literary career is on the rise. Respected by his fellow faculty professors and recipient of ...

Love Unspoken, Love Unbroken Dedicated to everyone I've loved, past...and present No Absolution: February 1998 It’s quiet here. But then again, it’s supposed to be quiet. Cemeteries, even those in the heart of a city, tend to be full of silence. The sounds of the neighborhood – barking dogs, laughing children, even the traffic on the adjacent streets – are swallowed up by the silence of the graveyard. The walls around the perimeter of the cemetery – imposing redbrick walls six feet high and adorned with a black iron fence – have something to do with it, I suppose. I’m a historian, not an acoustical engineer. I’ve been here some fifteen minutes, but it seems as if I have been here for hours. It has been twenty minutes since I drove into the parking lot, walked into the main office, and asked one of the dark-suited employees where Marty’s grave is. The employee – or Service Representative, as her desktop nameplate so eloquently states her job title – quietly tapped a few...