Every town has stories beneath its streets.
Some are buried beneath abandoned mines.
Others beneath baseball fields, family tables, and memories that refuse to disappear.
Bespoke is where I share those stories.
Featured Book
Seven Hills
A novel by Brent Taylor
In the fictional mining town of Jasper, Oklahoma, three childhood friends come of age beneath the shadow of the Seven Hills—towering remnants of a mining boom that brought prosperity to their community while leaving scars that will outlast them all.
Grace Ryan, Percy Walker, and Clay Boyd share a childhood shaped by baseball, friendship, faith, and the rhythms of small-town life. But as they grow older, Jasper begins to change. The mines that once sustained the town have left behind poisoned streams, buried dangers, and questions few people are willing to ask.
When Grace returns home from college, she sees Jasper differently. Her hometown seems to be changing. Percy dreams of becoming a writer and searches for a life beyond Jasper. Clay is deeply faithful to his home and family.
As their paths diverge, each must decide what loyalty means to a hometown that has given them both belonging and loss.
Seven Hills is a story of friendship, memory, courage, and the complicated love we carry for the places that made us.
Books for Sale
Seven Hills will be Available to purchase October 2026
Stories
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Earlier this year, I joined with my brother and other family members in establishing a foundation called 1256 Movement. I grew up 40 miles north of Black Wall Street, the epicenter of a place that was grand and thriving in 1921. In a couple of days, white mobs reduced Black Wall Street and many homes…
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Rain drips from the eaves of our cabin porch near Westcliffe, Colorado, as Led Zeppelin’s The Rain Song plays in my ear pods. It’s 60 degrees and the sky is electric as I gaze at the Sangre de Cristo Mountains rising like blue steel in the distance. The mountains whisper as I write, distracting me,…
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I’ve been thinking about Dooney lately. He was 5’10” about 175 lbs…just like me only he was black. I guarded him in practice. He could shoot it and he could get in your face and shut you down. Although he didn’t look tough, a bit paunchy for a high school senior, he was tough as…
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One of the enduring images of watching his earthly body fade was Mom reading Facebook comments to him. Mom often read to all six of us in the car on vacations, assorted books, Reader’s Digest jokes, the Bible. It was this traveling voice in the car she used as she read hundreds of your comments…
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Dad always had a travelin’ jones. He loved maps, highways, vacations, travel. It was an itch that could only be scratched with a road trip. As Dad lay dying, he asked the logistical questions one asks when preparing for a journey. What time is it? Can we drive through for barbeque? Where are my children? …
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Last night my Dad told those gathered around him, “I don’t want to be a burden.” This morning, I read from Henry Nouwen’s, Adam’s Peace. “Adam can do nothing. He is completely dependent on others. His gift is purely being with us. Adam’s peace is first of all a peace rooted in being. Being is…
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April 12 My brother Greg mentioned that there are perhaps more moments of children and parents having a catch these days. In my childhood, this would have been my sister or my dad with whom I had a catch. I hit my sister in the shin once with a fastball and she hasn’t tossed a…
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2020 April 5 I left for college my freshman year driving a Pontiac crammed with Advent stereo speakers and a Yamaha receiver. I was wearing my uniform of the times, Nike sneakers with a sky blue swoosh, a polo shirt and Lee jeans. Elvis had just left the building, he died in August…
