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Month: November 2024

Posted
November 22, 2024
Category
book excerpt / announcement, writing
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The Artificial Machine

Image of the author's authenticity stamp that reads "AI-Free: Literary works of natural origin."

I was in the Federal Detention Center in Oklahoma City for a couple weeks last month. Flying Con Air from a Central Florida prison to another gated community in Indiana. Hopefully my last time ever traveling with the feds. Miserable experience. Shackles, handcuffs, waist chain, black box. Impossible to eat, or scratch my ear, or blow my nose . . . But while in the holding cell, I overheard two young men discussing books.

“Man, that thing said ‘Sensational New York Times Bestseller’ and it was garbage!” one said. “I need to write a book.”

“It’s easy now,” his homeboy answered. “Between AI and talk-to-text, the books write themselves. All you gotta do is feed it an idea, pay somebody to design a badass cover, and then pump it on social media. Once it goes viral, you already know—instant millions.”

No shit. Instant millions? Who knew? 🙂

I really wanted to interject that I’ve been writing novels since 2011. Novels with badass covers and intricate plots, stories full of conflict and tension that I’ve poured my heart and soul into, plotlines that AI could never invent. Books that I’ve been pumping on social media since Obama was president. And so far . . . No millions. Instant or otherwise.

I used to fear AI. I even wrote about it in Letters to the Universe. Check out this excerpt:

Which leads me to this memoir, if that’s what this is, this collection of essays written over the last nine years at five different prisons. Hybrid memoir? It almost feels pretentious to be writing this at all. Like an unknown band putting out a greatest hits album. I guess in some ways I’m attempting to write my future into existence, that oak and acorn thing again. But with the tectonic plates of time shifting, and the great and terrible Artificial Intelligence cresting in the cosmos and on the verge of crashing into our planet like some digital tsunami, it’s beginning to feel like now or never. Pretty soon AI will be producing works that rival the masterpieces of men like David Foster Wallace and David Mitchell in a fraction of the time. The market will be flooded with synthetic brilliance and creativity. This is bad for established authors, but it’s horrible for unknown writers like myself.

Or is it?

Maybe there will be a backlash, a rage against the artificial machine. Maybe a pro-human movement will kick up like the Buy American response to all the outsourcing and offshoring of the early 2000s and usher in a new era. Maybe in this brave new world of computer-generated storytelling, the author’s backstory will inch to the forefront, and the story behind the stories will lend an authenticity to the overall reading experience. To cop David Mitchell yet again in this little rambling soliloquy, “Such elegant certainties comfort me at this quiet hour.”

But today, 1000 miles from home, 20 years and 8 books into this prison sentence, my mind keeps going back to those two young men in that Oklahoma holding cell. They were really just trying to figure out a route to get rich quick. A shortcut. That’s the American way, right? Can’t fault them for that. But is it really the American way? Nah. Maybe the American dream. Maybe . . . But upon further review, I think the American way is about hard work and sacrifice. Showing up every day, grinding through adversity, refusing to give up. If I would have known back when I first started writing Consider the Dragonfly that I would go on to produce 8 books while in prison and none of them would be bestsellers, I might’ve dropped my pen then and there.

What a colossal mistake that would have been.

Had I quit, or chased some shortcut by outsourcing all the work to a computer program in the pursuit of instant millions, I would have missed my blessing. I would have missed the transformational journey of all those hours logged, all those years of sweat and solitude, all that time spent writhing on the cell floor in search of the perfect word, hunting it like a piece of crack. Soul-sculpting, character-building years. And I would have missed the unparalleled exhilaration of writing “The End” on the final page of a long project, of slaying that dragon, of standing over it and growling “Rest in peace motherfucker” as Steven Pressfield says in his magisterial War of Art . . . then immediately starting the next one. AI could never replicate that.

The work is its own reward.

—November 18, 2024

Posted
November 9, 2024
Category
book excerpt / announcement
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And Then There Were Three

Image of the 3 book covers in the Miranda Rights Series with Lowell Correctional prison in the background.

Just finished the final book in a trilogy that examines the female journey through the criminal justice system. If you reside on the far left, you may be wondering what right a 50-year-old male has to tell such a story. You may think that only incarcerated females should write about incarcerated females. If your political home is on the far right, you may be wondering what pronoun I prefer. What my preferred gender is. We live in strange times. The truth is that I’m a writer. And it is the writer’s mission to imagine himself into the lives of others. To feel what they feel, to see what they see, to love and hate and fear as they do. I admit that I’m glad this series is over. I’ve been living in the head of this fictional girl for five years now. Sweating her legal deadlines, feeling her longing, dealing with her shit. Nice to be back to just having my own 50-year-old dude problems . . . But there is a point to this rambling little soliloquy, and it’s not just “Look at me, I wrote a book!” If anyone out there has an incarcerated friend in any state, I’d like to send them the series, free. Just shoot me their info.

Wishing you Momentum. —IV

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Posted
November 5, 2024
Category
book excerpt / announcement, kindness, politics
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Manhood

Excerpt from Letters to the Universe. Wrote this in the run-up to the 2020 election. It’s probably even more relevant today . .

Manhood

When did the GOP become the party of the alpha male? Somewhere over the last few years, the Right found its rugged “God, guns and country” swagger while the Left was reduced to a bunch of snowflake socialists more concerned with transgender bathroom preferences than the issues facing the average American. Fair or not, this is the perception. And in this era of fake news and alternative facts, perception trumps reality. Especially in this era.

But I refuse to be sucked in. I’ve done enough herd-following for one lifetime. Wasted too many years ignoring that small voice inside telling me what’s right (or muffling it with chemicals). These last 14 years in the joint have been a massive rebuilding project for me. Lots of soul-searching. My father did the best he could for a man who struggled with multiple demons, but he died relatively young. The absence of a strong male figure in my life left me wondering what manhood actually looked like. The gang-banger? The knockout artist? The bodybuilder? The lifer playing with his kids in visitation? The Christian on his knees? The Muslim making his salat? The quiet guard pulling shift work? The abusive one going above and beyond? The warden? The governor? President Obama? President Trump?

This is what I have come to believe: A man treats others with the exact amount of respect he demands for himself. He is confident but not arrogant, strong but not oppressive, kind but not soft. His will is iron, just like his word, and he finishes whatever he starts. He doesn’t take things personally . . . unless they are. He’s not thin-skinned or combative. He knows what he’s capable of and lets his actions speak. He believes in second chances. He understands how dangerous the extremes are and makes his home in the realm of moderation. He stands up for women and sees his own children in all children. He knows how fortunate he is to have been born on American soil, in American skin, and realizes that he could have just as easily been born in a Guatemalan body. He appreciates the risks that fathers and mothers from impoverished nations face in order to give their families the opportunity of a better life . . . because he knows he would do the same thing if it came down to it.

Again, this is just my version. You probably have your own. One thing is for sure: neither party has a monopoly on manhood. I have brothers, cousins and friends on both sides of the aisle who embody much of the above. But I don’t see a lot of it in D.C. these days.

—November 2018

Posted
November 5, 2024
Category
book excerpt / announcement
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Acknowledgements from “The Law of Momentum”

Excited to announce that The Law of Momentum is now available on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and wherever fine books are sold. The fact that its launch date coincides with Election Day is no accident. If you’ve read the first two books in the series, you can probably guess why . . . It’s become a tradition for me to post the Acknowledgements of each new release, since many of you guys whose names are mentioned have never actually read one of my books and might not otherwise know. (Wtf!) Just wanted you to know that I love and appreciate your friendship and support over the last two decades. And if you don’t see your name here, check the other 7 books. Read the other 7 books. I left breadcrumbs everywhere.

Acknowledgements

August 22, 2024. As I sit here on my bunk drafting what will be the final acknowledgements of the Miranda Rights trilogy with the Democratic National Convention thundering from my headphones and a release date that is suddenly months―as opposed to decades―away, my mind keeps returning to the women who populate the pages of this book. Tasha and her maternal guilt and pride, Tussie and her dementia, the fearless recklessness of Daphne Throckmorton, the sarcasm and stoicism of Dixie, the tragedy of Amity . . . even characters like Yani and Vanessa. These women having been living in my head for so long, I keep catching myself worrying about them as if they’re real people. Especially since most of them are serving life.

As the series wound down, I was careful to leave each of them a little daylight. A little hope for freedom. But it’s sad to realize that in a story that addresses issues such as undiagnosed mental illness, systemic failure, institutional drug abuse, and predatorial staff members like Jason Grantham, the only imaginative stretch, the one area where I took a little artistic license, was when I offered these ladies hope. Because for those serving life and de facto life sentences in Florida―especially those who have exhausted their post-conviction legal remedies―there is no hope. Not at the moment, at least. Life means life in the Sunshine State and there is no parole. No incentive to grow, no finish line to cross, no mechanism in place to earn one’s way home through years of exemplary behavior and a demonstrated commitment to rehabilitation and education. If you’ve read Letters to the Universe, particularly the “Politics and Reform” section, then you know I intend to spend the rest of my life fighting for this change. In the current political climate, things aren’t looking too promising. But the pendulum will swing again, and when it does, we’ll be there.

Special thanks to my sweet Mom who types, and my lovely Shonda who handles interior formatting and cover design. This is a massive understatement though. These amazing women do much more than that. They form the unsung two thirds of this Ivey experiment. Without them, there would be no books . . . and I’d be lost.

Big hugs, high fives and fist bumps to readers Janet Zimmerman, Rachel Schenck, Josh Wolford, Deborah Hinton, Jo Vernier, Shae Shae, Karen Vazquez, Anna Knapp, Cameron Terhune and Sarah Voorheis. There are thousands of other authors in the world. Hundreds of thousands. Many with the full power of the Big Six publishing firms behind them and plush high-rises full of professional and intelligent people working to ensure that their novels are pitch-perfect, slickly packaged, and lining the shelves of every brick-and-mortar bookstore in America and beyond. The fact that you guys invest your time and your heart reading books that were written in prison and produced by our little family-owned operation means everything. You are a major part of this.

I also want to thank the ladies at Gadsden Correctional for keeping my novels on the preferred reading shelf in the library. I could not receive a higher compliment. I realize this honor has a lot to do with Marlo Knapp who pushes my books like Throkkie pushes Suboxone strips. Thanks Marlo. I owe a similar debt of gratitude to my good friend Sheena Law who keeps my name ringing at Lowell (when she’s not busy nurturing rescue dogs).

In addition, I gotta show some love to Tommy Roland who was born since the last book came out. Beginning with the elder statesman, Jude, I’ve welcomed seven nephews and two nieces since I began this writing journey. The acknowledgements sections of the last six novels have chronicled every new arrival over the years. I’m looking forward to relinquishing my role as the uncle in prison and spending the next chapter of my life as the uncle roaring in the bleachers at football games and applauding at ballet recitals. Almost home.

Without going into a lot of detail, I also want to acknowledge the unconditional love and strength of Rhizo mom Marie Aspley and her beautiful daughter Callie. “Heaven awaits your heart and flowers bloom in your name.”

To my good friends Marcia Ensminger and the man known only as “Pilot,” I hope I’m not blowing your cover when I say Wishing you a happily ever after!

Last but never least, I want to thank the people who inspire me most―Harry “Chino” Tipton and his sweet mom Kyong who sat next to me and my mom at five different prison visitation parks over the last 20 years. Also, Patrick Odom (it’s almost over, bro), Chad Mattson, Megan Siefert, Tristan and Dara Stokes; Leah, Avery, and Nicolas Dorris; the Skills Program faculty and partici-pants at FCI Coleman; Mike Da Barber; my bandmates Jean “Venny” Ferreira, D, Martin, and Ghost; fellow writer Isa “J-9” Thompson; to Teddy Stokes who read Year of the Firefly and immediately drew up a post-conviction motion for Miranda (look for it on malcolmivey.com soon); to my boy Ernie Davis; Matthew Perry, Josh Hite, Jeff Mitchell; Kelly and Marcus Conrad; my friends Caro Outhwaite, Jessyca Smoky, and Allison Nichole.

This will most likely be the final book I release from this side of the razor wire. If you have been riding over the years and I have not acknowledged you by name in any of the novels, hit me up on Substack and let me know what books you’ve read and how you discovered them. Maybe I’ll give you a shout-out in Scar Tissue.

As always, wishing you momentum.