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James Michael Pratt
has successfully penned five national and internationally sold novels
and this year will release two more for Audio and E
Book. His first novel,
 The Last Valentine, was a New York Times Bestseller with People Magazine calling it “...a return ticket
 to Bridges of Madison Country territory.” Now a HALLMARK HALL OF FAME
--
CBS Movie of the Week,
it is scheduled for a world-wide release. Fans continue to let Jim know they have been
able to find The Last Valentine and other
Pratt works from as far away as the battlefields of
the Mid-East, South East Asia, to the Islands of the Pacific,
Europe, Latin America, and Africa. The Lighthouse Keeper, his second, and Ticket Home, his third, have consistently hit bestseller charts around the country including the coveted USA Today Bestsellers list. Kirkus Reviews calls the trio, “...the fictionalization of The Greatest Generation,” for the love and war stories taking the reader back to the days of World War Two.
Calling Pratt, "...a master of moral fiction,"
(Booklist) is validated by the many fan letters
and emails Pratt receives daily from all over the
world.
Jim
produced his fourth love story with a hard and soft
cover release in 2003. Still selling well, Paradise Bay, a tribute to his
generation and the redemptive powers of love,
belief, and forgiveness, is a coming-of-age story set in the present.
Originally written under the title The Piano Man,
Paradise Bay takes the reader back to transitional years of the 1950s-60s, with the realities of social change, music, and horrors of Vietnam.
Jim's fifth novel, THE GOOD HEART was well
received in a May 2005 western regional release and
continues to sell into the Spring of 2007 in
hardcover. A thriller
with a medical mystery matching political intrigue
of the fast paced Washington DC power elites, it moves
the reader from the 1960's to the present day. A
Senator with a dark secret, and his political
strategist who needs a heart transplant and inherits the memories
from his donor 's heart, combine to bring unwanted attention to skeletons from
the Senator's closet. Drawing attention to
his conspiring for the Presidential seat of power,
the past comes alive to haunt him and in the end
shows a "good heart" can't lie.
Pratt started his writing career with a dream during a period of his life when he was devastated
 by the effects of a
real estate and financial recession in Southern California. He details his rise from economic gloom to
international bestselling writer in this “Biographical” section.
(see below)
With many novels to write including his traditional works-in-progress, Roses Have Thorns,
the sequel to The Last Valentine, and
When the Last Leaf Falls, a new love story,
Jim devotes writing energy to the dynamic and
evergreen self-improvement readership. His latest
inspirational novel is based upon James Allen's
timeless 100 year-old masterpiece multi-million
copy, "As a Man Thinketh." Jim will finish
As a Man Thinketh...In His Heart in May 2007,
building a new success paradigm he calls "Power
Thinking."
Jim also develops inspirational non-fiction titles. His first
-- DAD, The Man Who Lied To Save The Planet,
a memoir reflecting upon the values of a generation
fading from us fast,
was released Spring 2003. His second non-fiction
title MOM, The Woman Who Made Oatmeal Stick To My
Ribs, reveals the tender and humorous side of
Pratt growing up in the '60's. It was released in
May 2004. Both continue to sell well in hardcover
and will soon be released in paperback, E-Book, and
Audio Book.
Jim frequently involves himself in volunteer work and charitable causes.
Through his newly formed Power Think, LLC, Jim plans
to promote Power Think Humanitarian, a charitable
organization supporting the cause of "Micro-Finance"
and "Micro-Franchising" in third world countries,
beginning in Latin America. He trained and served as a Reserve Police Officer for the City of Simi Valley, CA.
An accomplished
speaker, Jim served as a radio host for three years
for a popular book show and often responds to
speaking engagements around the country.
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How Complete Disaster Became The Force Behind My Writing Career
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I want to share a story with you. It is a simple story of many life circumstances, including failures, which ultimately set me on a path to writing as a career. I do this to hopefully encourage anyone with a dream.
I hope to share bits and information of my life since having become a full time novelist and budding non-fiction writer so that you may know that whatever it is you desire--if the desire is strong enough--may become a reality. Many readers have asked me about my beginnings, and they honor me in their requests for information.
So here it is. I would find some of it embarrassing to share had I not seen the hand of fate and God in my life--the mix one finds when setting out on quests of an idealistic nature-- with no clear understanding of where the quest may lead or when it may end. My writing began with nothing but hope and the ideals of an ignorant believer who knew that "everything was up from down here." Except for a friend who loaned us a trailer to move what little we had left, and a brother who loaned me $1,500 dollars, my life was clearly at the mercy of fate in 1993...and God.
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Trying to put a date on the beginning of a career as a writer isn't easy. I certainly wasn't my Simi Valley High School English teacher's dream student, when in 1971 she said on the final day of my Senior year: "Mr. Pratt, here is your report card. Trust me, you'll never make it in college. Good luck."
But I believe my resolve to write remained and then took root in 1993. By that I mean something clicked and thinking about it wasn't good enough anymore. I sat in my home office realizing I could do no more to save our homes, land, or assets I had spent a decade building from nothing but a thousand dollars and a dream.
I was watching my hard earned contracting and building career sink under the weight of a massive California Real Estate recession. 500,000 people were out of work, the Defense Industry was cutting back to the bone, and that had a domino effect on prices and the building industry. I grew up watching real estate in California only go up in value. Now all my homes and land were suddenly worth less than I had paid for them. Our city of Palmdale, California, ranked as one of the fastest growing cities in the country for seven years straight. It was now literally condemned, as USA Today's headlines shouted: Palmdale, The Foreclosure Capital of the United States. People all around us were walking away from homes worth less than they had paid for them.
I recall standing out on our driveway one day, tinkering with my truck. Frustrated, I was used to having my plate full when it came to work. In fact, I was used to working six days a week. It had become "normal" to me to do so, and so to find myself at home midday with nowhere to go was depressing. I found myself gradually joined by other "unemployed" men, neighbors, who seemed to find solace in my predicament. They began talking of the dilemma they found themselves in, and knowing of my lack of work one asked: "So Jim. What are you going to do now?" I answered, "Oh, I think I'll head to the Rocky Mountains and become a philosopher." They all laughed. We consoled one another and gradually drifted back to whatever we were doing before the spontaneous gathering took place.
But seriously, I was considering just the very thing I had told my neighbor. I resolved that, after all I could do to salvage my dwindling estate to no avail, I would cease to be part of building "things" and instead put my natural personality (which had always been filled with idealistic motives) into building "people."
I pondered upon what course I could take to do such a thing. I couldn't become a paid preacher, nor could I become a civil servant at age 40. I already volunteered at church, and had tried my hand at police work earlier in my life. I couldn't give away forty working hours a week to altruistic causes since that wouldn't sit well with my in-laws--a wife and children demand proper respect and caring--or better my position in the necessary area of finances. My mind was restless, looking for a way to fulfill the emotional longings I possessed to do something of value, of good for others, and make a living at the same time.
My thoughts went to people who were making a difference. Successful people. People who had earned money, respect, and had a profound influence in helping direct the paths of fellow wanderers. I studied what they had done to get where they were. None of them had landed "on top." They all had climbed. I understood climbing. Nothing had ever been handed to me. I had never begun an enterprise with money. So I had no fear of the effort or hard nature in re-inventing myself and my work life.
I admired several writers for the impact they had in inspiring me when I needed it most. Most of them seemed to be "self-improvement" writers who also possessed speaking abilities and had some sort of credentials to offer the publishing world. I had speaking abilities when motivated in areas of personal belief and moral practices, and in fact had been speaking to audiences both in religious and secular settings for years. But that speaking talent was not bankable.
I looked at the many writers who influenced me most during this time of self-doubts which had been created by the silence of my phone, the silence of the buying public for homes, and the silence of those who owed me money that would in turn, allow me to pay those I owed. A two decade sufferer of chronic pain and the resulting fatigue unending pain causes, I had the weight of exhaustion, both mental and physical, to deal with along with the nagging realization that as a provider for my family, I was failing.
Three writers came to the rescue that year. Three above the many others I admired, had inspired me in a strange way to make decisions that ultimately propelled me to the position I find myself in today.
One was my favorite inspirational fiction writer, Og Mandino. The author of the multi-million bestselling book, The Greatest Salesman in the World, The Greatest Miracle in the World, The Christ Commission, and others, he was an example of a man who had suffered hard times only to be brought out of it by writing and firm resolves to make changes in his life. I was encouraged by his writings to make a statement of belief I called a "Creed" and to read that statement aloud each day.
Og Mandino, the rock of inspirational literature in the 1970's and '80's, died that year. I made a rather naive but bold statement and pledge in my "Creed" regarding my personal desire to influence other people with the written word. I then asked a personal friend to listen to it, so that I would have a witness of what I was setting out to accomplish. I wanted to tell someone, have someone I could be accountable to, and know there would be a witness of these new resolves and goals. I intuited that by doing so I would be "burning my bridges" and have nowhere to go but forward, and that my mind would naturally find ways to accomplish the tasks I was laying out in the open for another person to see.
I shared with my friend, Mark Kastleman, my goals to influence millions of lives through moral storytelling. I determined that somehow, someway, I would fill the hole that Og Mandino had left. Not an easy or very studied goal at the time, it gave me something to think, ponder, and pray about as foreclosure on our final property loomed. Mark was gracious to keep a straight face as I outlined this heavy proposition to him.
Another writer influenced me that same year, a man who I had known as one of my college professors in the mid-seventies, Stephen R. Covey. His bestseller, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, was receiving rave reviews. Although very broke, I was determined to have the book. I sensed that I needed information that could help me in my new beginnings at age 40 and that this book would provide valuable maps for me to get my next set of entrepreneurial legs. I was not disappointed.
The third writer who impressed me that year was a friend of mine, Lloyd D. Newell, who I had worked with ten years earlier. We worked for a financial planning company in Utah directing the writing for their home study course and I also managed the national speaking seminars. Lloyd was born with a golden voice and a flare for non-fiction writing. (I had fortunately been given the opportunity to do technical and research writing for financial planning projects over a five year period earlier in my twenties, so that talent of mine put us together.)
Lloyd D. Newell was a confidant young man, who, after leaving college and the financial planning company, succeeded in the broadcast world as an anchor, first for a network television station in Pennsylvania, and then for CNN. I had not seen him for all those years. He had just written a bestselling book on a topic of faith and our destiny as humans called The Divine Connection. He also was a much sought after speaker on the major corporate lecture circuit on topics of general success and leadership. Not bad for a former financial writer and television anchor. I was impressed to say the least, and scraped up the pennies to purchase his hardcover book.
For some reason these three writer's words instilled in me a great desire to follow in their footsteps, belief that I could do it, and to pursue what many of us think about at one time or another, (but find reasons why it "can't" be done) --authorship.
As my wife and I were readying our belongings to move, holding garage sales to lessen the burden of dragging furniture and other bulky items with us to our next adventure, I asked her the following: "Honey, where would you like to be broke at?"
See, money wasn't an issue anymore. You can be broke anywhere. One place is as good as the next. Everything is up when you are completely down.
We pondered staying in California but the job prospects were nil. We pondered my going back to school and working two jobs, but where? We finally settled on being jobless somewhere in a family town we had both enjoyed earlier when we were in college--Provo, Utah. It had consistently high rankings in Money Magazine as one of the USA's most livable towns of it's size, (along with Thousand Oaks and Simi Valley, California--which we considered our "hometowns.")
The Northridge earthquake of Feb. 1994 occurred two weeks prior to our move 700 miles to the northeast. It was one tough wake up call for Los Angeles County. But a strange thing happened. We went ahead and made the move, then suddenly there was all this "repair" work needing men to bid on in LA County. What had been "silence" in the wake of a massive recession was now filled with the noise of machinery and men fixing a devastated city. There was plenty of work now. This going from zero work to an abundance occurred literally from one week to the next.
My brothers, Rex and Nick, had survived the shakeout of builders going broke (but barely) and were suddenly swamped with wall repair work I commuted 700 miles two weeks out of the month to "bid" work, do repairs, (anything it took to survive) and the other two weeks stayed at home in Provo, Utah to begin my writing. I did it as a hobby, of course--a therapeutic hobby--and this continued for that year.
We had moved on faith, not for money, and not with money. Interestingly, it would prove to be fertile ground for one seeking mentorship in writing. I found several neighbors, college instructors, who offered their services as writing coaches, and so had my beginnings at true guidance in writing almost from the first upon our arrival in Utah.
Life wasn't easy, but it was happy. Money wasn't plentiful, but we found fun and pleasure in simple things. We rented a fifty year old home at almost one third the price of our former mortgage. Even though we started with a picnic table in the kitchen, hanging out our cloths to dry, and drove one and a half cars (one car worked half the time), and sat on bean bags for chairs in the living room, we had a feeling of being in the right place at that time.
Serious writing began late one night in 1995 when I woke up with an idea for the title to a novel (that wasn't even close to the historic times of the Roman era I had been working on). It was a love story idea set in Los Angeles during World War Two. The whispering to my mind of the title was uncommonly strong. I lay in bed telling myself I'd remember the title in the morning and that I didn't want to start something new without first finishing what I already had set my mind to write. The little voice inside my head demanded that I get up, and I finally obeyed.
Forcing myself to get out of bed at 3:00 am, I sat down at the kitchen table, and began writing The Last Valentine. I soon conceived it to be a tribute to my parents and other friends from the era typified by Tom Brokaw's writing of "The Greatest Generation" (I began the book three years before his book hit the store shelves and the current wave of books honoring World War Two's generation arrived on the scene.)
Having witnessed others I loved taken from this life, I was also concerned that my own legacy to my family should be written words of love, sacrifice, and honor to values most important to me. I found this title and this story to be an ideal way to represent that legacy and never thought about it as a work that would be published. I wrote it for the love of it. I really wanted my kids to get a sense of what their Dad was "all about."
At that time I could not suspect the mortal trials that loomed for me in the coming months. In a mere 90 days from beginning The Last Valentine my life was hanging by a thread. Twice in a 24 month period I would experience near bleeding to death, suffer through blood transfusions and surgery, and the physical weakness that lingers afterward. These "near death" experiences however, only strengthened my resolve to continue to pursue writing that could "lift, build, and inspire" others.
"Lift, build and inspire" became a trademark, my motto of sorts, with the words "faith, hope, and love," added along the way to describe what I felt was most important in life. Coming close to losing your life can have a profound impact on the way you see mortality afterwards. I sensed that like a gardener pruning back overgrown branches, God was allowing life to do a splendid job of the same to me. Being "pruned" and "cut back" was not pleasant but I gained valuable understandings and increased insights into life and its meaning.
The years 1995 and 1996 were recuperative. I did some building management jobs in Provo, (making less than running to California, but allowing me to focus on writing.) My first coach, Hartt Wixom, was just perfect for me, and although still weak from my operation, I was enjoying the vision of perhaps even being published one day. 
As I stated earlier, the title The Last Valentine, was a concrete title given to me in the dark of the night. It was like a voice, but not loud, and it came as I pondered on the beauty of my father's life and his final three words spoken to me before slipping to the other side. The three words were simply, "I love you."
There are times when those words mean more than at other times. I lay there pondering upon all that he was, all that he expected me to be when the title came and I never looked back.
Six months after beginning to pen the novel I allowed others (besides my friend and coach Hartt) to read my work. What happened set me on the path to pursuing publication of the 300+ page manuscript.. The emotions of those readers reviewing my manuscript were no different than my own. As Emerson said: "No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader." The book was hitting some nerve common in virtually all readers.
I soon discovered that the "nerve" being touched by my "go back in time love story" was a nerve general to the age of people reared by the World War Two generation and of course those of that time still alive and recalling the days of their youth. The feeling was one of reverence, love, and gratitude for those who in their youth saved the planet from evil militaristic empires. Although I was soon offered two separate contracts from regional publishers who liked the manuscript, I stubbornly decided to self-publish the novel and learn all I could first hand about the new business I was entering.
The Last Valentine was an emotional journey for me as I relived in memory all the tales of war I had heard from my deceased father. I had decided this book would be a tribute to him and my mother and all those of a great generation who lived during the eventful and uncertain war years. As the plot developed it became the moving love story of a World War II Navy pilot's "last valentine" to his wife 50 years later--and just in time for a selected group of stores to receive the "hot off the press" first run for Valentine's Day 1996. With the help of a local distributor, Origin Book Sales, of Salt Lake City, Utah, I created a marketing campaign that sold more than 15,000 copies of the book in the following year.
Kenneth J. Atchity, president of Atchity Editorial/Entertainment International of Beverly Hills, agreed to represent me in early 1997. I was in the hospital recovering from life threatening blood loss and surgery for the second time in as many years when the offer came in that set me on my course to full time writing. With tubes coming out of my stomach, my throat, my nose, and other places, and with no health insurance, and no income, Ken Atchity put me on the phone with the wonderful Jennifer Enderlin of St. Martin's Press, who bought the rights and published The Last Valentine in a hardcover edition for a Valentine's Day release in 1998.
Since 1998 I have had the magical experience of meeting and hearing from thousands of readers and book store staff from across the United States and beyond. We have recovered financially. I am in a state of "managing" pain and health and have had the honor to have two additional books published and the fourth on its way at the time of this writing (July 2001).
I have not yet reached Og Mandino's stature in terms of books sold or influence felt among readers, but I am working on it. I count people like Mr. Covey, and my friends Lloyd Newell, and Mark Kastleman (who has just finished penning his first book to be released in Aug. 2001 see www.kastleman.net) as people who were there for me in 1993, whether they know it or not.
Above all, I see God's grace and hand in all things. He allowed me to live, while other's died from similar health struggles I went through. He allowed me to grow from pain, and gain further insights into the human struggle. I can only hope and pray I use all I have learned to "lift, build, and inspire" others.
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