Kade Carson Roadmap
I grew up in the nineties. What an era. What a time to be alive. What a great concept for a book series, right? Several years ago, I had thought so, but I decided to put this off, thinking the task was too daunting. After all, how does one incorporate an entire decade’s worth of material into a series, all while providing an honest and thorough depiction and conveying everything in a compelling narrative? The task seemed doable, just not by me, so I shelved the idea alongside other story seedlings not ready for planting. However, the seedling didn’t stay there for long.
Before continuing, let me explain what I mean by, “It seemed doable, just not by me…” As of this posting, I’ve written fourteen books. If you’ve seen what novels I have available for purchase, you might think my math needs work. That’s true, but what’s also true is that I published my first ten books under now-defunct pen names. These books never gained much traction, but they provided invaluable writing experience. I mention this because one of my pen names wrote historical fiction novels, all of which truly failed to launch. That made me question my skills in this genre and why I decided to postpone my 90s series. Instead, I devised other historical fiction ideas, but none enthralled me enough to begin development. Stuck in the literary doldrums, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to at least map out my 90s series. While creating the characters and their storylines, along with the book outlines, my enthusiasm reached a fever pitch. I resolved to push forward, lackluster skills be damned, but one concern lingered. Was I even qualified to tell this story?
When the 1990s kicked off, I was a mere seven years old. Generation-wise, I’m a millennial, and if you’re Gen X, you might be thinking, “The nineties belong to us, you avocado toast eating whippersnapper! A seven-year-old knows nothing about our decade!” This imagined denunciation was the cornerstone of my concern, and as I considered my response to the charge, I realized there was only one. “Balderdash. Hogwash. Hooey.” I consider myself 90s because the decade influenced me more than any other factor, hands down. How could it not? It began as my consciousness came online—as I became aware of myself and my surroundings. Correspondingly, I absorbed my surroundings’ cultural influences like a sponge. This wasn’t an accident, either. My environment primed me for absorption because of one simple reason—there was no Internet.
Okay, the Internet existed in the 90s, but virtually no one in my cohort had access, so almost everything we did was in vivo. That meant real-world events shaped my character, and there was only one real-world—the 90s. So, everything the 90s had on offer stamped itself on my existence, including the music, movies, TV shows, video games, and so on. Plus, the lack of Internet meant no endless array of tailored content. Back then, content was singular and mainstream, so my cohort and I experienced the same offerings, giving us an even deeper sense of connection to the era’s building blocks. Allow me to illustrate.
Do you remember Saved by the Bell? What about Beverly Hills 90210? What about the crappy 90210 ripoff, Melrose Place? I watched those shows, as did the people around me, which unified us in ways unseen today. In our modern era, there are endless TV series on tons of streaming services, so when someone asks if I’ve seen one, maybe, maybe not. When I was growing up, my cohort and I all watched The Simpsons, the TGIF lineup, etc. The same applies to music. Today, millions of artists pump out tons of tracks, so it’s hard to keep up. Back in my heyday, we listened to the same groups, probably because we all listened to the radio. For my fellow Angelenos, you know the stations—Power 106, 92.3 The Beat, KROQ, and so on. Video games? Same thing. We all played Mario Kart, GoldenEye, and so on. And I’m only harping on widespread cultural phenomena, not the niche activities.
Do you remember Pogs? What about Super Soakers and Slip N’ Slides? How about that Huffy Sonic 6 BMX bike with the fancy gear shifter that never worked correctly? I didn’t have that bike, but a neighborhood chum did. I knew about this because we actually played in the streets, everyone yelling, “Car!” when a vehicle came toward us, and using the streetlights as our cue to head home. And when we did indoor activities—such as me wrecking shop in Mario Kart or GoldenEye—we did them at each other’s houses, sitting next to each other, not on an online server. It didn’t stop there.
As I grew older, my cohort and I gained access to the most precious privilege—vehicular travel. We would pile into our crappy cars and venture to friends’ houses, parties, the beach, and every other place where teenagers hung out. All the while, the cultural backdrop tied everything together. For instance, we still rode BMX bikes, but now, while driving to nearby dirt jumps, playing Offspring along the way. We still listened to KROQ, but now at outdoor music events like the Weenie Roast. Making things even more memorable were the weed and cheap booze we added to the mix, which gave the heady spectacle new and interesting dimensions.
In short, I was the 90s, and the 90s were me. The 90s were all of us. We lived it. We listened to Dr. Dre, Snoop, and Nirvana as their tracks played for the first time. We watched The Fresh Prince, Seinfeld, and Friends as their shows aired for the first time. We watched Pulp Fiction, Goodfellas, Schindler's List, and The Silence of the Lambs as these movies came out for the first time. You don’t need to be Gen X to appreciate the spellbinding impression these cultural staples made. You simply had to be there, and I was there. That’s why I decided to push forward with this book series. As for my concern that I might not possess the literary chops to pull this off, that remains, and that’s okay.
If I only rekindle a fraction of what made the 90s so magical, I will have succeeded. In essence, that’s the Kade Carson roadmap—not a path forward but a journey to the past. I seek to accomplish this by incorporating plenty of nostalgic references, but more importantly, real-life events that defined the era. Furthermore, I’ll detail those events with the thoroughness and honesty they deserve, even if doing so is difficult. Since this decade means something to me, I can’t go about it any other way. If the era means something to you, too, I hope you come along for the journey. Heck. Even if you’re unfamiliar with the 90s, come along anyway and see the music, movies, modes of speech, scandals, political upheavals, technological advancements, and more. They were a panoply of experiences all but guaranteed to leave a lasting impression. They also underlie my bold assertion that the 90s were America’s last great decade. Through my Kade Carson pen name, I hope to show you why.