Monthly Bullet Points.


I can’t believe it’s been one year and three months since I started this blog. Back then, the idea of doing this scared me, I didn’t know anything about blogging (still kinda don’t) writing for strangers is quite terrifying, but here we are. When starting this adventure, I didn’t know what I was going to blog about. I thought it was something that bored house wives did to kill time, but as a writer I’ve came to the realization that this bloggity thing is pushing me to write more (even though sometimes I don’t know what to blog about), and so it seems that somehow, I’m still finding my footing.

* I recently published a short novel call Desperados (get your Kindle copy here: AMAZON) I’ve been harping about it because it took me roughly three to four years (on and off) to finish it. It started as a short story, the first two chapters are—more or less—just as I wrote them back then, way before Donaldo Trumpado decided to go on a tirade against my Mexican primos, because of this, I thought the book was doomed, see I don’t want to be perceived as agreeing with the Orange One. A lot of research and hard work went into it, I felt I had a lot to say, and there was no way that the twisted rhetoric of a pompous billionaire was going to stump my efforts. So if you read the book, keep in mind that in no way, shape or form, do I agree with that loony toon.

* The second amendment is a wise article of the constitution; I get it, humans are easily corrupted and it’s meant to keep in check, whom ever is in power. However, the second amendment becomes a horrendous nightmare when it’s abused by sickies, and cowards who go on shooting sprees such as what happened in Orlando, Fla. twice, this month. I don’t possess the wisdom, knowledge or acumen to offer an easy solution, but something has to be done to quell this insanity. It’s not about being political; it’s about having common sense.

*This is possibly a misleading headline, but I read somewhere that the world’s 400 richest people lost $127 billion on account of Brexit. Fear not, dear reader, because this just means that the world’s 400 richest people are still the world’s 400 richest people.

* The subway train is stuck between stations. After fifteen minutes of this, folks tend to get a bit angsty, fidgety. They’ve had it; however most keep their cool. All except for the guy who hurls himself, several times, toward the closed doors screaming that he needs to get the fuck out. He wants to be let out. Eventually the train moves along, it gets to the next station. Cops are waiting on the platform, the hurler steps out, says hello to the officers and goes on his merry way. Fellow passengers draw a collective sigh, it could have been worse, I’m thinking; “Hey at least it wasn’t a stabber, or worse; George Zimmerman.” Such is life in the city that never sweeps sleeps.

* Hey did I mentioned that I just published a short novel call Desperados? I did, didn’t I, so what you waiting on playa? Help this humble scribe become one of the lucky 400 rich people (yeah like that’ll ever happen) still, head on over to AMAZON and buy a copy, I could use a cold one. Tell your friends!

Thank you for reading my rant—Peace Out Yo.


My short novel Desperados is live today. I Know I’m not supposed to say this but, I believe it’s some of my best work. I’m proud and excited that it’s finally available to readers on – AMAZON.  ITUNESB&NKOBO. So what’s it about you ask? Here’s the synopsis:

By crossing the U. S. border, Julio Roman embarks on a roller coaster ride.

With hellhounds on his trail, he navigates an America he did not imagine. The land of the free ain’t paved with gold; rather it is a place where desperate men and women do what needs to be done in order to survive. Get rich or die trying is the name of the game. Question is: Will Julio play? And if so, will he live to tell the tale? The cards have been laid on the table of life. And the stakes are high indeed. Welcome to the land of milk and honey.

Includes a link to the original song “Two Summers Ago.”



And while you mosey on down to your favorite book vendor to get your copy, I’ll crack open a brewsky, listen to Metallica (in honor of my new friend Julio Roman) and get ready to write my next book.


Thank you for your patronage!

Book Review.

BlackHollywood private dick Artemus Black is one hip cat (or so he likes to think). What keeps him grounded is Roxie; his fabulous office assistant who makes up for much of the cool banter peppered throughout the book. The guy has problems. From an out-of-this-era wardrobe, to an ex who took the money he made as a one-time musician, to an overweight tabby who hates his guts. Add to this, filthy rich hippy parents (while he struggles to make end meet), and you’ve got yourself an antsy guy.

An ageing movie star with a hot young wife hires Black in the heels of his movie comeback, paparazzo jump into blood infected waters, pretty soon said paparazzo begin to drop like flies around his new client.

What P. I Black thought was going to be an easy gig turns ugly fast.

Is there any genre out there which Russel Blake doesn’t write? I’ve read a few of the Jet books and those are pretty stellar, picked this one up as an Amazon freebie. I was pleasantly surprise. I didn’t know he wrote detective mysteries.

Fantastic writing (if a tad too descriptive for my taste) cool characters, hip banter, and a dark plot. What’s not to like?

5 out of 5

I’m not a book reviewer, so don’t ask me to review your book-sorry, I don’t do that.

Dig This.


There’s a bunch of reasons why I love writing. First of all; it’s fun, at times vexing. It can be cathartic, it drives me bonkers. Most every cliché you’ve read about writing is true—a writer lives in a dreamscape of his or her creation. While writing; the whole structure of the house you’re in may be burning to a cinder, but you’re there with the characters, the scene, their situations; etc. It is indeed a dream state. I wish more people would try it.

The other thing I love about writing is the chance one gets to learn new things about this third rock from the sun we call home. You get to learn this in the form of research because research is a writer’s best mistress, an unforgivable mistress. If you refuse to dance with her, you will come across as a jackass who doesn’t know what the hell you’re talking about.

The worse part though. The most feared gremlin of all for any writer, is editing.

Editing is where you get to kill your darlings, darlings that you’ve worked on for days and nights, through good days and bad days. This is where you got to slay them fuckers because, for some reason or another they just don’t work. You love the scene, that character, that sentence, that line of dialog; you thought was clever—guess what? The bitch gotta go. It ain’t working. And you do this line by line, scene by scene. You add and you take out. A great editor helps a lot, they’re not cheap, but is A MUST.

So you’re ready to publish—it’s done. Guess what? You still need to get the book in the hands of the right people who would be more than happy to read it. But since I don’t want to bum anybody out with that adventure, I’ll leave it for another post—you dig? Good.

In case you haven’t noticed; I really love writing. Coming up with a great story that jumps out of the page is what I love doing. Speaking of which, my upcoming short novel Desperados is being formatted as we speak, and it will be ready to hit the web soon. I hope folks like it, and although it was a mere three to four years (on and off) in the making, I’ve learn a lot from writing it. I had a lot of fun, and hopefully that comes through in the story.

As always: Thank you for reading my rant.