What makes McCormack's story so important are the empathic and insightful profiles of those whom he touches and who touch him. Whether it's an octogenarian who suffers with dimensia or a struggling 20-something student whose fear of real life stifles action, the reader feels their pain. Throughout, McCormack weaves an interesting story of 20-something growth and change amid his personal search for purpose and life's greater answers.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR 
Daniel McCormack is a screenwriter and editor who lives and writes in Dayton, Ohio. When he was twelve years old, he experienced an accident which, while it impaired him physically, enhanced his sense of discovery and gave him the gift of empathy. He lived in a nursing home until the late eighties and now resides in an apartment wired with the latest in cyber technology. He is a former editor for the "Miami Valley Contributor" and served as Senior Editor at FictionNet. He recently wrote and directed the full-length feature film, "Turning The Corner."
 

EXCERPT

     I looked across the room and saw Paula talking to Jerry. She laughed between sentences, smoking a cigarette as he spoke and she listened. It was active listening on her part, fueled by interest and friendship. Jerry was informal and personal, his presence displaying the comfort they felt toward each other.
     I saw her laugh at something he said, touching his arm in familiarity. I suddenly felt a sensate joy, an emotional satisfaction from the act I had witnessed. The touch was minor, not sexual or provocative, but it symbolized her social evolution; without thinking, she had achieved a closeness with him she never would have allowed herself even three months earlier. She had reached self-actualization, feeling comfortable around others with or without me. I realized that was what I had really hoped for with her, further realizing that such progress would eventually lead her away from me.
The euphoria left me warm, with the emotion of the moment insulating me from thoughts of the future. The beer magnified my senses and left me fully removed from reality.
     Janet approached. The thought of their marriage left me drunk on hope, while the thought of Paula's graduation left me sober. I wanted Bernard and Janet to share euphoria, but I wanted to share my insight, to find company in my appreciation of life's ultimate sadness.
     "Hello, Janet," I said.
     "Hi, how are you?" She sat down. "I haven't talked to you for so long, I wanted to make sure I at least saw you tonight. How've you been?"
     "Fine, just fine."
     Janet occasionally enjoyed being around me, an honest enjoyment that could be recognized immediately. At those times, no one was more kind or considerate toward me.
     "Bernard told me the news; I'm very happy for you two. I hope marriage is everything you want it to be."
     "Thanks, I appreciate that," she said. "When we decided to do it, I was so excited that I wanted to tell someone right then. I almost called you, but I thought I better not; it was two thirty in the morning, so I-"
     "I was up," I said. "I'm always up until four; if you ever want someone to talk to, remember that."
     I hoped she would remember that, that she and anyone else would have someone to turn to at turning points in their lives.
     "I will," she said, smiling maternally. "We want to have a dinner party the night we get married; the wedding will be private, but we want everyone to be at the dinner party. We hope you and Paula will come."
     I looked at Paula, who was talking to Pete. "I really appreciate that. No matter what happens, I appreciate you inviting me."
     "Both of you," she said. Paula laughed at something Pete said.
     "Yeah, well, like I say, no matter what happens, the invitation is all that matters." 
     Janet looked at me, quietly confused. "Don't you see? That's all that matters. It doesn't matter whether we show up or not you invited us today, and today's what matters. It's like with you and Bernard; you don't appreciate him for what he might do someday, you appreciate him for what he adds to your life now, today. I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable, it's just just that you and he are such good people, so important, too important to worry about things that aren't real yet."
     The future, an ogre symbolized in Paula's independence, had driven me beyond their marriage. "I love you both, I hope you know that. I just want you two to always be happy, and happiness is only possible through appreciation."