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 J. Conrad Guest is the author of January's Paradigm, available through BookSurge.com., Amazon.com, Half.com, and Alibris.com. Of January's Paradigm, Current Entertainment Monthly (Ann Arbor, MI) wrote: "Personal identity—the slipperiness and malleability of it—make up the major theme of the story... (readers) will not be able to put it down."
Guest has recently completed work on the second book in the January series, One Hot January. His first full-length play had the honor of being turned down by the Purple Rose Theatre (owned by Jeff Daniels) in Chelsea, Michigan. he has worked in radio, acted in and directed numerous plays—drama as well as comedy—and has written theatrical reviews.
Guest contributes articles regularly to Encore Magazine, a Kalamazoo, Michigan, publication dedicated to businesses and people in and around the Kalamazoo area.
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MY NEWS:
Read the transcript of a rather in depth interview I had with Writer's Manual.
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MY FAVORITE LINKS:
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MY RESIDENCE INFO:
City: Northville
State/Country: Michigan
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BOOKS PUBLISHED:
 With an action thriller on the best-seller list, a lucrative contract with his publishers, and hard at work on the eagerly anticipated sequel, Robert Porter is enjoying the fruits of success. Then one day he comes home to discover, firsthand, his wife's infidelity.
As his world come crashing down unceremoniously around him, there is only one man who can rescue Robert Porter from this morass of grief and loneliness. Only one man who can restore his pride — Joe January, Porter's fictional detective from the year 1947 and fantasy alter ego. Only with January's help can Porter set about righting the wrongs of his own tormented present and, through letting go of the past, find hope for a better tomorrow.
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 Below is an excerpt from my just completed manuscript for the next novel in the January series, One Hot January, for which I'm actively seeking representation or publication.
My name is January. Joe January. I was a private dick from the South Bronx, circa 1940. Was once described as an indignant Humphrey Bogart. Who am I to argue? The difference between Bogie and me is that I was the real McCoy. Where he took the scripts that Hollywood wrote for him, I took on the tough cases nobody else would. Unlike Bogie’s, my bumps and bruises were the real deal, not makeup. Although in retrospect I can see that this could be construed as one of those Hollywood type scripts that Bogie might have been interested in bringing to the screen were he alive today.
In truth, I’m no Joseph Conrad, but I wrote every word on these pages. This is my story, but make no mistake, it’s anything but a story. I know. You’ll say it reads like science fiction, spanning two centuries and dealing with time travel and alternate realities. Some might find a less than satisfactory denouement, while still others will accuse me of arrogance in my self-depiction, creating a sort of comic book superhero; but in truth, in youth we often view ourselves as invincible. It isn’t until later in life that we come to realize how fragile life really is; furthermore, that we come to see the global repercussions of our actions. Yet given the chance to live life over again, avoiding the mistakes made during the first go-around, who among you would turn your back on the chance? Hence the real meat of my story is about missed opportunities, how, through my own foolishness, I lost the one woman who meant the most to me, not once but twice.
I didn’t get involved in this case until nearly six years after the events depicting my first meeting with the MacIntyre siblings—you’ll read about that next. See if you don’t agree with my assessment that they were trouble right from the start. What happened between that long ago December 6 night in 1941 and May 1947, where chapter one picks up, is paramount to my story. But since I didn’t live it I can only rely on Professor MacIntyre’s account. I was a tough nut to crack. I wasn’t convinced, despite all the facts being right there in front of me, until I saw the proof. I guess I’m just hard-nosed. Not being a scientist, I can’t tell you the “how” behind what happened, only that it did happen.
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