The writing is on the wall, they say. Albeit, with a chiaroscuro- leaning on invisible ink.

They say folks are reading a hell of a lot less these days, newspapers and magazines are folding left and right, bookstores and libraries are closing-again: left and right. The masses want their news and entertainment NOW, not tomorrow.

Hey! this is far from an accusation or a diatribe against this trend for I’m also guilty of such behavior every now and then. I mean: Jesus! Have you seen the caliber, and amount of entertainment that’s available to the average Jane and Joe these days? From social media to million dollar T.V. productions, at home or on the go, you want it? You got it.

Right here right now, buddy.

We’re living in a world of technological wonderment like no other since the invention of slice bread and the two-piece bikini–don’t forget the two piece bikini.

Where the hell am I going with this?

As a besotted lover of the written word, and at a time when it appears that nobody reads, what did your humble little servant here decided to do? I decided to write books– no less.

In the book: Bambi vs. Godzilla, the great David Mamet wrote:

“Storytelling is like sex. We all do it naturally.” There’s that, plus-in my case, I needed a creative outlet, I needed a challenge–and boy howdy did I get one.

I needed to do something which provided dignity as I get older and no, I’m not a sadistic fool (okay, maybe a little) who thinks he might not be doing this in a vacuum( er, okay-maybe)

I’m playing the odds here dear reader. Not because I’m dreaming of riches- Fuck no…. that’s the last thing on my mind,I’m well aware that I just entered a mercurial business, to say the least. A business in which–if I’m lucky– I’ll get me some beer money which will surely  be welcome with open arms as I’m always thirsty for a good ale. Point is: I’m doing this because I love to spin a yarn, always have.

Always will.

Now here’s the challenge, the super objective-if you will:

How to pull the masses away from their wonderful new toys and have them bury themselves in a book every now and then? As the masses are jaded, and not easily impress? I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that by writing interestingly better books?

I’m not saying you’ll be getting literature on par with the likes of: Hemingway, Harper Lee or Nabokov out of moi.

No literary fiction from me–not smart enough.

I write crime fiction, with a dash of mystery, thrills and jet-black humor. I write about dangerous and psychopathic men and women, in other words: I write what thrills and scares the beans out of me. That being said, I’m sure it’s not everyone’s cup-o-tea and that’s a-okay, the fact that you haven’t bolted and you’re still reading this dribble tells me that we can still be chums.

My point is:

Welcome to my little journey. If anything, I hope I can at least keep you entertain, and If it means that I have to reach into my chest and throw my heart all over the page, so be it I’ll be more than happy to at least try. (thumbs up for the Rollings Stones reference!… Maybe? no? yes? someday?)

Now I have to turn this darn machine off and get some reading, or writing done.

‘Till next time…



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