I’ve often written about how the University of Arizona’s Creative Writing program remains steadfastly focused on Literary Fiction as opposed to, horror of horrors, Genre Fiction. So during the of 2014, I offered a two-week long Genre Fiction workshop, sponsored by the U of A Library’s Special Collections.
One of the attendees. Ricardo, was someone I’d met briefly once before. He was a vet, back from doing tours of duty in the Middle East, and he was clearly using writing as a way of processing some of his difficult experiences.
Occasionally someone I’ve never met will send me an email blast offering to provide “content” for my blog—for a price, of course. I’ve never bitten on one of those offers.
This week, however, I heard from Ricardo again, and, with his permission, I’m sending along what he wrote:
Journal Entry: How I Accidentally Met J.A. Jance
The truth is, I had no idea who J.A. Jance was when I won that raffle. The University of Arizona Alumni Association called to say I’d won lunch with a bestselling author, and I nodded politely, trying to sound excited—then immediately turned to my girlfriend like, “Who the hell is J.A. Jance?”
We raced to the bookstore that day, grabbed a handful of her novels off the shelf, and started skimming. “She’s kind of a big deal,” my girlfriend whispered. I felt like I was cramming for a pop quiz in a class I hadn’t signed up for.
When the lunch came around, I walked in nervous but curious. J.A. Jance had that presence—sharp, calm, a storyteller even in silence. She looked me dead in the eye and asked, “So, you’re a fan of my books, huh?”
I was trapped. I could have lied, but something in me said don’t.“
No, actually,” I said. “I didn’t even know who you were until I found out I won. Then we went to the bookstore. I’m sorry.”
She laughed.
And just like that, the pressure dissolved. She could just be herself. I could be myself. No bullshit. No fanfare. Just two people from the desert, sitting down to share a meal.
That honesty set the tone for everything that came after. I gave her a tour of the Veterans Memorial project I had poured my soul into. She saw it—not just the site, but the meaning behind it. She wrote about me on her blog afterward. Not as a raffle winner. Not as a fan. But as a fellow human being trying to make sense of the world through service, scars, and story.
Over the years, we’ve stayed in touch. Quietly. Kindly. I send her my work now—essays, op-eds, ideas set on fire—and she sends back brief, powerful notes that say more than paragraphs ever could. She recently told me that the fiction writing workshop I took didn’t make me a fiction writer, “but it was a small first step on the way to where you are now.”
She’s right.
Meeting J.A. Jance wasn’t some cosmic literary fate. It was awkward, honest, and absolutely perfect. I’m better for it. She’s a friend now. A quiet mentor. Proof that you don’t have to pretend to be anyone else to find your people. You just have to show up and tell the truth.
Even if that truth is: “Sorry, I just Googled you yesterday.”
—R.P.
That is such a nice story. Both of you got lucky.
Ricardo admitted that he didn’t know anything about J. A. Jance until he ran off to the bookstore to pick up some of her books; I’m admitting I just googled “What is genre fiction?” because I didn’t know the difference between that and literary fiction.
I didn’t win a raffle to lunch with J.A. Jance, but won a jackpot and dinner. Big, big thrill for me then and still, and as far as I’m concerned, friends for life.
Blessing to you and Bill.
Kudos to both. It seems honesty really is the best policy after all.
That man can write! So enjoyed his comments!
Wow! This blog and your life and the people in it never cease to amaze me, JA.
I particularly like Ricardo’s observation on TRUTH. We need so much more of it.
<3
Has he published any fiction yet?
No, but he just go the Governor of Arizona to declare April Garden Month in Arizona. And he’s done lot of writing advocation medical marijuana treatment for sufferers of PTSD.
That could be a challenge if trying to get the VA to accept that PTSD treatment. I’d welcome it.
Several years ago, when I found my “real world” and the world of J.P. Beaumont, in the book I was reading at the moment, intertwining I felt as though I needed to share that information with you. I sent a brief note with no expectations as to what would follow. You graciously responded. It was sometime later following a devastating hurricane when you emailed to check in on the wellbeing of those of us who found ourselves in the middle of chaos that I discovered you were more than a “storyteller”, you are humanity in its purest form. You allow us to get away from what our “real” world often is with the words you put to paper.
I thank you for those words.
Excellent story. Thank you. I’ve hears about writer’s workshops being therapeutic for veterans, especially combat vets. I tried one many years ago put on by Patience Mason, wife of Robert (Chickenhawk author). It made an impression on me. I’ve never written any book or blog, but am a volunteer for my veteran organization and editor of our state newsletter. So, I guess I do have a bit of the bug. My wife was also in the field, one time working for McGraw-Hill. She was my editor/proof reader…who I miss greatly.
He sounds like a great guy and what a nice tribute to you, Judy. Well said!
Powerful, poignant, and positive…
We are all Blessed to have found you as an author…. and to learn with these Friday blogs what a special person your Mom knew you are!
Sometimes meeting people by chance leads to great friendship. When I was a paramedic I met people who were patients in the back of my ambulance. We became friends in life. Stories were told of our growing up. Often I found that we had a common ancestor. Sometimes they would call me if they had a health problem. I would check them The first few years of our lives. Our friends are of same age. Then we gain friends way older than us. I am early 70’s. I have friends who are in their nineties. Still sharp as a tack. One was Audie Murphy’s sister. We talked once a week for years. She had great stories of growing up in the 1930’s and 1940’s. I learned a lot from older folks. I grew up on a ranch we lived 20 miles from town. The nearest neighbor was 5 miles away. All I seen all summer was older folks. This was in the 60’s. Some old cowboys told of life before the early 1900’s I had a great life learning from them. You have a great day. Larry
How nice that you were friends with Audie Murphy’s sister. My step dad served in the same unit with Mr. Murphy during WWII.
Small world.
An important, powerful message contained in a beautifully honest manner. If only we could all live that message.
Thanks to both of you for passing this on.
I think you’re a quiet mentor to a lot of us. What a beautiful way to start Friday in a particularly hard week. A beautiful conversation and relationship that reminds us all of what really matters.
Hahaha – I love it. And I love your response. He told the truth and you laughed. What could be more perfect?!
Great blog. Will Ricardo be a character in one of your stories? He should be.
Meeting Jance by chance in one’s journey is akin to finding a gold nugget while a dodging life’s rocks and hard places.
Thank you, Judy, for your gracious humanity. This Yuman is blessed to have had one of those Jance by chance moments.
And great Mexican food at La Piñata
That is a beautiful testimony. I saw him in his message as a veteran much like my son. A kind hearted honest soul. I trust these past years have been well for him. Living a journey that has been kind to him. I saw something of you too Judy. I see it in the books you write. A warm heated person that sees people and has not let fame make you blind to people as human beings in need of kind word and encouragement. God Bless you!
Ms. Jance,
I’m a longtime fan of your work. After meeting you and attending a few of your singing and talks, I discovered your newsletter. It is the only one I read religiously.
Today’s posting of Ricardo’s accidental meeting gave me a happy, warm, and visceral response.
Thanks to you and Ricardo for sharing his story.
Those type of meetings can lead to the best of friendships.
Brings tears to my eyes
Loved this!
Wonderful story. And you are down to earth. Listening to you at your “talk and signings,” I feel like we are good friends also. You share so easily and from the heart.
I’m genuinely humbled by the kind words shared here—thank you all for taking the time to read and reflect.
When I first met Judy, I had no idea how that chance encounter would change my life. I walked into that lunch as a stranger and left with a mentor, a fierce friend, and someone who saw something in me I hadn’t quite embraced yet.
To those asking—yes, I’m still writing (and yes, The Sandbox from that 2014 class is finally getting finished). I’ve spent the past decade advocating for veterans, working on medical cannabis policy, and trying to tell the truth—loudly or quietly, depending on the day. But it’s moments like these, reading your comments, that remind me the truth doesn’t have to be shouted. It just needs to be shared, sincerely.
To anyone who feels called to write—especially my fellow veterans—you do have something to say. And I promise, someone out there needs to hear it.
Thank you again, Judy. And to everyone here—thank you for reminding me why words matter.
With gratitude,
Ricardo
I’m genuinely humbled by the kind words shared here—thank you all for taking the time to read and reflect.
When I first met Judy, I had no idea how that chance encounter would change my life. I walked into that lunch as a stranger and left with a mentor, a fierce friend, and someone who saw something in me I hadn’t quite embraced yet.
To those asking—yes, I’m still writing (and yes, The Sandbox is finally getting finished). I’ve spent the past decade advocating for veterans, working on medical cannabis policy, and trying to tell the truth—loudly or quietly, depending on the day. But it’s moments like these, reading your comments, that remind me the truth doesn’t have to be shouted. It just needs to be shared, sincerely.
To anyone who feels called to write—especially my fellow veterans—you do have something to say. And I promise, someone out there needs to hear it.
Thank you again, Judy. And to everyone here—thank you for reminding me why words matter.
With gratitude,
Ricardo
When I learned that my ( now ex) husband’s mentor had happily married J A Jance, I went to a bookstore to find her first books.
I read them and was hooked. Then she and Bill came to Milwaukee to do a book talk. We went…. And I never missed another one!
She is warm, real, and I’m proud to call her my friend.
Neat story! Love your weekly blogs, thank you for taking time to connect with readers.