I was so pleased to receive these prestigious literary awards. Thank you to The BookFest  judges who selected my first book for these honors!

When I was invited to be a speaker at The BookFest® Fall 2022 event I had no idea I would also win these awards. 

My topic, The Adventure of a Lifetime Chat with Chester L. Richards,
was shown on Day 1.

The weekend was packed with authors who are experts in a variety of fields. Talks and panels on Day 1 was aimed at readers. Day 2 was aimed at topics of interest to writers. The weekend also focused on critical issues of our time, including climate change and book banning, with honest discussions of what is happening in the USA and around the world, and what we can all do about these challenges.

There was a plethora of authors and books of all genres to discover. Being among this distinguished group of presenters was indeed an honor for me, and I am grateful to The BookFest for inviting me to participate again. (I first appeared in Spring 2022, in a panel on memoirs, Decoding His Story -- Men Who Write Memoirs.)

If you missed it, no problem. The entire weekend will be streaming 24/7 soon. Check here for the link once it goes live. Or check the link below:

https://www.thebookfest.com/

Meet New Friends at The BookFest® Fall 2022 October 22nd and 23rd.

Join the fun and hang out with the bookish community of readers, writers, and industry experts. The BookFest® Fall 2022 has a spooky, autumnal theme. It is presented by the Horror Writers Association (HWA) and Bookstagrammers. Winners of The BookFest Awards will be announced during the two-day bookish adventure.

Highlights to look forward to on Day One of The BookFest, Oct. 22, which is geared toward readers, include the opening keynote by Beatrice Adenodi, author of Mindless Behaviors: Breaking Through Unseen Barriers. Philip Fracassi, who The New York Times calls, “terrifically scary,” will be in Conversation.

Chester L. Richards will be featured in a conversation about the importance of adventures in your life, as well as highlights from his book, From The Potato to Star Trek and Beyond: Memoirs of a Rocket Scientist. He's in marvelous company with authors from around the world throughout the day.

Also on Day 1, there are panels about climate change-themed books; science fiction, fantasy and dark fiction; a Conversation with author and speaker Neil Bockoven, PhD.; and what promises to be an insightful and poignant panel with experts discussing book bannings and challenges in the US.

Oct. 23 is Day Two of The BookFest, which as always leans to writers. The day kicks off with an opening keynote from Karla Olson of Patagonia Books. In Conversation is Angela Bole from the Independent Book Publishers Association (and soon-to-be with Firebrand Group). New York Times best-selling author David L. Robbins and Katharine Sands from the Sarah Jane Freymann Literary Agency return for a BookFest favorite: The Critiki Bar, which has the duo delivering page one manuscript critiques.

The BookFest streams online and is an always free-to-attend two-day event.

Join Chester and the The BookFest community! The website streams the online event, and it can be found on the Books That Make You YouTube Channel, too. You can also follow The BookFest on Instagram, Facebook Page and Facebook Group.

If you like winning books, you’re in luck: The Big Bundle of Books Giveaway is back. It is open to entries until Saturday evening of every BookFest. Winners are announced at the conclusion of the Live Author Chats. 

Become a BookFester by signing up for email alerts. You'll also get the Virtual Gift Bag, which is sent at the end of each BookFest. Packed with free downloads and special offers, it is something all booklovers gotta have.

Books That Make You is a proud presenting sponsor of The BookFest. The BookFest is produced by Black Château Enterprises.

The BookFest Fall 2022 is presented by The Horror Writers Association and by Bookstagrammers, a platform dedicated to book influencers, plus many other supporters. Visit the Virtual Booths and support the companies and organizations that support The BookFest. 

For signup and info for Chester's conversation as well as the entire weekend, check the buttons below.

Welcome back to Adventures with Chester L. Richards on our new YouTube Channel @ChesterLRichards.

Do come with us this time as we go on a racing adventure: “Ford vs Ferrari.”  Learn fascinating facts about the genius behind the legendary Ford GT engine that defeated Ferrari in the 1966 Le Mans, as depicted in the widely acclaimed film starring Matt Damon and Christian Bale, "Ford v Ferrari." Nominated for Best Picture, the film lost to Parasite, but did capture two Oscars: Best Film Editing and Best Sound Editing.

#YouTube #FordVFerrari #LeMans #Adventures #BobPons #ChesterLRichards #RocketScience #Memoirs #Oscars

It must be genetic. That’s the only possible explanation. Of course, this really isn’t an explanation, but it will serve for now.
 
For many placid northern Europeans, people in Mediterranean lands must be baffling: they furiously wave their hands while peculiar noises flow forth from their mouths. Italians are particularly outlandish in this regard. And then there are the Sicilians. If the Italians gesticulate in rhythm with their words, florid Sicilians are a cut above, or below, depending upon your viewpoint. A Sicilian simply cannot talk without his whirling hands. They are what convey his real meaning — the emotional subtleties underlying his words.
 
And Sicilians are very emotional. I should know. For I, too, am Sicilian. And I, too, suffer from this affliction. Or, I once did, though now I suppress my uncontrollable hand waving deliberately. Actually, I am half Sicilian. My maternal grandparents were born and raised on that noble island. My father’s side, New Englanders, passed down gloom. I have suffered a lifelong conflict between these two opposing genetic strains.
 
I well remember the moment when this fundamental Sicilian characteristic was excised from me — out of necessity, of course. In the American society of that era one had to show proper reserve to be taken seriously. Advancement in the world precluded being too Italian, much less Sicilian.
 
Mom did the appropriate surgery. And surgeon she was, for Mom was a skilled and tenacious registered nurse. Given the troubles she had handled in the past, curing my Sicilian affliction was well within her capabilities. Pure Sicilian herself, of course she understood my problem, and almost certainly had undergone a similar discipline.
 
Mom’s operation on me occurred one afternoon when I was particularly excited by some event of the day, talking a mile a minute, pouring out all the wonder I had recently experienced. Mom, with the voice of authority, commanded a cease fire. She grabbed my hands, put them together in her firm grip and said: “Talk.” I opened my mouth and . . . nothing came out! I literally could not say a word without my hands being in motion. I tried. I really did. But nothing.
 
After a bit Mom released my hands and allowed me to speak. Haltingly I was able to convey some of what had excited me, but the emotional fire was gone.
 
After that initial trauma we had several sessions of basic training in American customs and civilized discourse. Dad sat on the sidelines, watching with amusement.
 
Eventually the newfound discipline stuck and I can now usually converse without waving my hands. But sometimes my excitement does get the better of me and I temporarily revert to my Sicilian heritage. Fortunately, my friends let these brief moments of insanity pass without comment.

© 2022 Chester L. Richards. All rights reserved.

Richards explains why the most critical step in your success lies in your willingness to go on adventures

Immediate Release
 
Los Angeles, California--From The Potato to Star Trek and Beyond: Memoirs of a Rocket Scientist is releasing June 21, 2022. Author and Star Trek contributor Chester L. Richards tells his life’s adventures as a rocket scientist, screenwriter, musician and world traveler in this action-packed memoir. Drawing inspiration from his late wife Sarah, Chester is baring all in his debut book release.

A man of grand adventures, Chester relates why taking the plunge into voluntary adventures is so enriching — they’ll change you forever, and sculpt your life’s story.

From The Potato To Star Trek and Beyond reveals his passion, his most exciting journeys and brushes with death. Chester believes one must view all that comes your way – the good, the terrifying, and the ugly – as a series of adventures. He shares an almost fatal encounter with a potato (yes, a potato), his experience as co-writer of one of the most iconic episodes of the original Star Trek, several wild African adventures, and more.
 
Says Steve Pastis (author, and writer/editor of The Good Life publication for seniors):
“I would highly recommend From the Potato to Star Trek and Beyond. The book is informative, even educational, but author Chester Richards maintains a friendly, conversational tone throughout. The stories were a definite surprise. Who knew that this mild-mannered, soft-spoken gentleman I’ve known for years had so many harrowing adventures, and was so accomplished in the scientific community? If there is a lesson to be learned from these pages, it’s that everyone should get to know the people in their lives on a deep level, especially the mild-mannered, soft-spoken ones.” 
 
From The Potato to Star Trek and Beyond: Memoirs of a Rocket Scientist by Chester L. Richards is available for pre-order on Amazon
 
Publisher: Pawpress
ISBN: 978-1880882306
Pages: 334
Available in Paperback, Hardcopy and Ebook
 
About the Author 
 
Chester L. Richards, a retired aerospace engineer and inventor with 19 patents, recently turned 80. With a number of odd close encounters with the grim reaper under his belt, he has always boldly gone where few have dared.
 
Chester’s mantra — view all that comes your way, the good, the terrifying and the ugly, as a series of adventures —took shape early. After narrowly escaping mortal injury from The Great Potato as a lad, a few years later, in college, Chester and friend Judy Burns co-authored a spec script for Star Trek on a lark. The story they were brought in to write, “The Tholian Web,” became one of the original series’ most popular episodes.
 
A veteran writer advised the young man, “You should write. Write your passions.” But I have nothing to say, Chester thought. That was the moment he decided the real message was to fill his life with adventures. And he did — adventures in surfing, learning and performing music, traveling to exotic places for river rafting, and his work as a rocket scientist. But it was the loss of Sarah, the love of his life, that caused Chester to write his first book of stories. At the house in Thousand Oaks they once shared, the hair-raising adventures Sarah loved continue to occur, though, as the author says, he no longer has much hair.

To book Mr. Richards for interviews or to speak, please contact Desiree Duffy at Black Chateau Enterprises.

“Three...two...one...fire!” Hissss. Pop. “Uh, oh!” said the technician as the meters all swung to zero and red lights lit up down the length of the long control panel. My signals also had disappeared.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“We just blew up the test stand.”

“That little pop?”

“Yeah, that little pop.”

I moved toward the door to see what had happened. I visualized some minor damage. The little pop made it seem like the technician must be exaggerating. “Hold on, don’t go out,” he said. “Safety requires an hour wait.” He was right. Hydrogen and Fluorine were the propellants for our rocket engine — nasty stuff those, and they had to be fully dissipated before we could pay a visit outside.

The test stand consisted — I should say had consisted, before our recent, most rapid remodeling — of a concrete blockhouse, a neat tangle of piping and tanks above a concrete pad, and the rocket mounting fixtures. These fixtures projected the blast from the engine horizontally over the lip of a steep canyon near the fabled California town of San Juan Capistrano. The blockhouse was long and narrow — perhaps twice the size of a large living room. It was situated about thirty yards from the canyon’s edge and oriented parallel to the edge. The control panel stretched along the entire length of the blockhouse wall facing the canyon. Doors at each end of the blockhouse opened onto narrow, concrete walled, and labyrinth shielded, walkways which led to the canyon lip. Between the blockhouse and the canyon was the tangle of silvery pipes and tanks — all of which were suspended over our heads by massive steel girders. These girders also supported the cradle which mounted the rocket engine.

With nothing to do, time passed slowly until the all clear was given. Eagerly, I walked out the door and passed the labyrinth shield to find that the entire far end of the test stand had simply . . . vanished. Ten yards from the edge of the canyon the piping and girders, the rocket engine and its cradle, all had been sheared off, as neatly as if with a surgeon’s scalpel, and vaporized. Only the concrete pad remained, just slightly scorched.

“We won’t be doing any more testing soon,” said the technician. “I’ve seen this before. It’ll be a year before we get this place up and running again.” All I had, after nearly a year’s hard work, was about a second’s worth of now priceless data. I realized we would have to proceed to the flight tests without the confidence building experiments that we had intended. That’s often the way it is with National Priority programs.

What we were doing was, after all, of the greatest national significance...

Excerpt from "Rocket Science," in From The Potato to Star Trek and Beyond: Memoirs of a Rocket Scientist. Copyright @ 2022 Chester L. Richards. All rights reserved. Photo Minuteman III Rocket launch from Vandenberg Air Force Base. Camera Operator: F. Franz. Released to public.

New! See me talking about Flying Rockets in Space, crystals and bedrooms on new YouTubeVideo!

It had been a good day at work, a day of considerable achievement. I was looking forward to telling Sarah. The last few weeks had been hard on her. She was recovering from a fractured pelvis, and the pain had visibly weakened my Sarah. The news, I hoped, would give her some pleasure.

After the long drive from work, I finally arrived home. Odd. No cheerful greeting. Something was wrong. I found Sarah sitting in her wheelchair at the entrance to the bathroom. She had been there a long time, she said, waiting for me to arrive. She got up, took a few steps, collapsed and lay still.

No doubt it was only a few minutes before the paramedics arrived, but it seemed an eternity. I knew Sarah’s heart had stopped and time was now against her. The paramedics did get her heart going again, but as one of them turned to look at me, his expression, and a slight shake of his head, filled me with dread.

At the hospital I waited in the Chapel while the staff worked to stabilize Sarah. Time passed. The head physician came to get me. His pessimism was apparent.

For a long while I stood beside my beautiful wife’s silent form, talking to her, telling how much I loved her. She seemed to respond to my voice, but it could have been an illusion. Soon the staff told me to go home and get some rest. I turned on every light in the house. It didn't give me much comfort, but it was better than the dark.

Later in the evening the hospital called. Sarah's heart had stopped, but they’d managed, once more, to get it going. They asked for instructions. I told them if it stopped again they were to let her go. But her heart continued strong and steady.

Much earlier I’d called Paul, her son by a previous marriage. He’d immediately started south from San Francisco. I expected he would arrive sometime around midnight, or shortly thereafter, so I stayed up waiting for him. In the morning I awoke from a short sleep on the sofa. Paul had still not arrived. Another worry.

Mid-morning Sarah’s son showed up. He had been so tired on the drive south he pulled off the road and slept through the night. Good. Better late than worse. We talked. He had not realized how serious the situation was.

At the hospital I left Paul alone with Sarah. He had many things to say to her. A couple of hours later he found me, and we stayed with her together.

Shortly before the end a priest arrived to give last rites. Sarah’s blood pressure slowly began to fade. The attending nurse had briefed us, so we knew this was the end. The inevitable continued until only the oxygen machine was still pumping her lungs — simulating a life that was no longer there. I turned it off.

Paul could not bear to stay. This place was now a nightmare. He headed north to be with his family. Alone in agony, I wailed, and wept long into the night.

There was much to do the next day. Work had to be notified and business put on hold. A funeral had to be arranged. A gathering planned. A grave and gravestone had to be purchased. Friends had to be notified. The day passed quickly. Exhausted, I slept, but not well, that night.

The next morning it really hit me. The house was empty. It would always be empty. Half of me was gone. I had been sliced in two, from the top of my head on down. I was deep in shock. There are no words to describe the experience. No language is capable. If you have suffered the like no words are needed. You know. If you have not, you simply cannot comprehend. One thing was clear, I could not stay here. I fled.

My colleagues at work were shocked to see me. I couldn't explain. I needed to be someplace different but familiar. Most of all, I needed the human companionship of my collegial friends. I felt a certain relief being in my office, and tried to work on my project. The nature of my work as an engineering physicist often requires intense focus. This concentration was now out of the question. I couldn’t do a thing. At least, though, I was in a place of comfort.

Sarah was universally loved. At the upcoming funeral our friends would want some reminders of her life. That was my task. I sat for a while, remembering the stories she had told me about the years before we met. I remembered the many things we had shared. Yes, there was much I could report to our friends. Much, but not all. Many things were just between the two of us. I sat in my office and began to write.

I wrote A Great Lady. I told about Sarah’s early life and gave some hint of the troubles she had experienced. I wrote of her talents and triumphs. I wrote about things we had done together. I told of the great privilege I had had spending so many years with this wonderful woman. I wrote my love. And as I wrote, my mood lightened.

The days passed. Friends from all over came to the funeral. It was good to see everyone again. We talked, we told stories, we laughed, we cried. We said farewell to the one we all loved. All gave me comfort. All gave me their love.

After this brief bright moment I sank back into darkness. This depression, I knew, would be fatal. And I knew I must find some way back up towards the light. While I brooded over the question of how to move forward, the warmth I had felt when I wrote my eulogy flooded through me. I knew what to do.

Sarah liked my stories. She liked to hear of my travels to exotic places, of my challenging and rewarding experiences as an aerospace engineer. Most of all she liked to hear about the people I’d met along the way.
Many times Sarah said I should write these tales. I never did. I never wanted to, but now I needed salvation. If writing would put me on the upward path, I would write. I would write stories drawn from my experiences. I would write in memory of Sarah. Writing worked. I began to heal.

Each story is a letter of love to my dear Sarah. Each is an adventure. Each stands complete by itself. Each is meant to entertain or inform. Each is true.

Photo and story "Overture", From The Potato to Star Trek and Beyond. © 2022 Chester L. Richards. All rights reserved.