NOTE: What follows is not an apology. But it’s not, not, an apology either.

How about we take a second, hunker down, and let Old Uncle Josh tell you a story.

It won’t take long, and maybe we’ll all learn a thing or two.

Or not.

Nobody is forcing you to read this. It’s not like there’s a gun to your head.

Ready?

Good.

Now let me take you back to the days when Josh still had hair on his head.

By the time I entered the first grade, I knew one thing for certain. I wanted to be a writer. Not when I grew up, but right that minute. Thus my walk down the writers road started.

The first story I ever finished was a GI Joe fan fiction (I don’t think that world existed at the time) about a battle between COBRA and the Joes over the skies of Washington, D.C.

It was bad.

Really bad.

But it had a beginning, middle, and end, so I declared it a success. I was so happy with it that I made one of the world's worst covers and glued it all together. I was so proud of the work that I thrust it into the face of anyone I could run to ground.

I loved that story.

I wish I still had it.

Around the same time I realized I wanted to be a writer, I discovered Dungeons & Dragons.

My love of role-playing games grew concurrently with my love of storytelling. Since the two loves were symbiotic in nature, it wasn’t long before I was creating my own game settings, often eschewing the established book information for my own creations.

My unofficial stepfather worked for a printing company in Southeastern Michigan called McNaughton and Gunn, which did all of the printing for an RPG Company called Palladium Books. He brought me home printers' proofs and offcuts of their books, and they quickly became my favorite game company.

Despite all that came after, they still are.

Over the years, after my stepfather and mother broke up, I continued to by Palladium’s books as soon as they came out. Or, at least, as soon as I could scrape up the funds to purchase them.

To say that the worlds of Palladium Books have been one of the main pillars of my creative life (up there with Stephen King, George Romero, and Star Trek) is putting it mildly.

Palladium Fantasy, Mechanoids, TMNT, After the Bomb, Robotech, and (of course) the juggernaut that is RIFTs were all stepping stones on my road to being a developed writer.

I suppose it’s not a surprise to hear that I longed to work for Palladium Books. When I was a teenager, I wrote several proposals for books, but despite living less than twenty miles from their offices, I never mustered the courage to submit my work to them.

Fast forward twelve years.

In 2006, Palladium held its first open house. Over the weekend, I met the staff and many of the freelance writers and influencers. I still call some of them friends to this day. Among them, I met Kevin Siembida, the owner, editor, and publisher of Palladium Books. He is also the primary creative voice.

I was gobsmacked that following the Openhouse we became actual friends.

Now, a brief pause for station identification.

At this time, I was thirty years old. I’d been out of therapy, therapy I’d never taken seriously, since I was seventeen. I was thirteen years from my first suicide attempt and initial bipolar diagnosis. I was exhibiting the first signs of severe bipolar symptoms and five years pre-psychiatric meds. It was fourteen years before I began seeing a psychiatrist and a therapist.

In short (too late!) it was sixteen years before I started being serious about being healthy.

I am only telling you this in order to explain some of my reactions to what came next.

Also, I’m not trying to excuse my behavior.

There really are no excuses in life, just explanations.

We now return to regularly scheduled programming.

I suppose it was inevitable that I, along with my friends and writing partners Sanford,, would pitch a book idea to Kevin. What was not inevitable was thathe’s jump on the idea and then go on to offer me a staff position at Palladium Books.

My dreams were coming true.

So of course I fucked it up.

Kevin has a reputation in the industry, and it’s well earned. He keeps a firm hand on the steering wheel and controls the singular creative vision of locked and on target. He’s the reason Palladium quality (in my opinion) tends to be higher than the norm in the industry. Whether you like him or not, you have to respect his drive, determination, and creativity.

I’d never worked with any lid of editor, and I was not prepared for Kevin’s style of editing; instead of meeting the challenge, I buckled under self-imposed paranoia and pressure. I thought he was attacking me and trying to destroy me as a writer when all he was trying to do was help me learn.

Even when he literally told me he wanted to help make me a better writer, I took it as an attack. I saw the proffered helping hand as a fist ready to beat me down. I saw the friend as a duplicitous aggressor out to steal my ideas.

I was twelve pounds of jackass in a three-pound bag.

I took a crap on the best career opportunity I ever had.

In the end I sent a cowardly email and quit the job.

In the next few years, as my mental health dissolved into chaos, I got paranoid. The paranoia led to lowkey backbiting and passive-aggressive bullshit on my part,

In the end, my whole life became unglugged, and I nearly lost everything.

But I’ve told that tale in other places.

Fast-forward to now.

Since the end of my stint with Palladim, I've gone my own way and have published a mixture of fiction, nonfiction, and roleplaying game material. I am proud of my work and more than a little relieved that I set my mental health house (mostly) in order.

But about two years ago I started thinking about Palladim again.

I hadn’t bought a Palladium book since 2009 when the impulse hit me. I wanted to see where they stood, catalog-wise, and to read the newer material. I was delighted. The books were great, and the production was still top-notch.

So I kept buyimg books.

About half a dozen books in, I realized something. I did actually learn a few things during my short tenure with Palladium, well, two things. First, I learned to keep complete creative control of my work, just like Kevin does. Second, I developed a thick skin. Every creative type, such as writers, artists, and musicians, needs a thick skin.

If we don’t develop it we’ll die.

This started out as a pseudo apology and explanation. But it’s turned into something else. Not only is it an apology for my actions, and lack thereof. And an explanation (not an excuse) for my disinterest.

So what else is this meandering collection of semi-gibberish?

It’s a thank you.

Thank you, Kevin, for helping make me the writer I am today.

I am proud of my work, and you had a not insignificant hand in shaping my process.

- Josh (06-17-2026)