My writing began in grammar school, the fourth grade. I remember I used to exchange scary stories with a class mate to see which one of us could write the scariest story. The stories were along the lines of the Hardy Boys Mysteries, and were no more than a page and a half, or so. We didn't do this for a long time, maybe three or four stories, before moving on to something more exciting, like pulling pony tails. But that was the beginning of my desire to write a novel some day, a desire that didn't come to fruition until some forty years later with my first novel, Prisoner Prodigal Pawn.

I wanted my first novel to be unique or different on some levels. For instance, the story doesn't take place in some grimy, big city, or in a small sleepy town. I chose Albuquerque NM for it's enchanting beauty, and since it's the hot air balloon capital of the world, I was able to use the Balloon Festival in a unique and exhilarating way. I wanted a diverse cast of characters to appeal to readers of varied ethnic and cultural backgrounds, looking for a new kind of protagonist to root for. In addition, the subplot takes a look at a phenomenon quietly sweeping across the Native - American landscape, that of tribal members who are being disenrolled (kicked off the reservation so to speak) due to – some would say— the greed associated with the success casino gambling on Native – American soil.

I tried to hook up with a literary agent, and mailed my query letter and synopsis to several of them In fact, I did receive some interest in my book from a major New York agency. I sent him my manuscript, and at first he said he was very interested and liked the "Native 'American lore..." Then, I received an e mail saying, "sorry but this isn't for me... Good luck..." It was devastating, I sent an e mail asking where did he lose interest in my novel, but received no response. That coupled with the fact that I'm still waiting to hear from other agents, after several months, compelled me to try to market my novel myself.

The greatest joy of writing is when someone says they enjoyed reading my book. That makes all of the good, long, and frustrating hours of writing and wondering if "it's" any good, well worth it.

Tom Clancy is one of my favorites. As a veteran, I was captivated by his knowledge of weapons systems and the intricacies of being in the military, especially given that he never served in the military. Lain Pears, Dean Koontz, and James Patterson are a few others.

I'm a huge sports fan, so I watch a lot on television, and attend games in person. I run and work out 3 to 4 days a week. I especially like to go running when I'm faced with writers block, or need to run some ideas through my mind. I play the "what if game" sometimes when I'm jogging, Such as, what if character A does this, or if character B does that, or what if this or that happens etc....

I get several suggestions through my twitter account, and of course through Smashwords.

It would have been a scary story shared with a friend in the 4th grade. But more recently, when I really got into my writing, it would be a short story called The Sales Pitch. It's about a person who ran a telephone sales - boiler room operation, who cheats his employees out of their payday, but he get's "it" in the end.

I have a long train commute to work, I'm up at 4:30 am, and on the train at 5:30 until 7:45, so I write a lot on the train, going to work and coming home in the evening.

The first novel I ever read was, Jack London's -- Call of the Wild. My aunt gave it to me to read when I was in the 5th grade. It was a bit above my reading level at the time, but I remember enjoying reading it.

I wanted to have my daughter design the cover for me as she is a graphic design major at Pratt Institute in Brooklyn. But she was too busy with her studies to help her dear old dad out. Maybe next time. I used one of the Smashwords cover design artists that they have listed for my novel.

I have an I pad Air.

I grew up in Georgetown, SC a small town on the coast, some 60 miles from Charleston. It was the kind of small southern town where kids dream of getting away to something bigger and better. I was raised to be respectful of my elders, to go to church, and where walking to grandma's house was an adventure, a dirt road with an umbrella of dark leaves and branches covered the middle part of the road. It looked like an entrance into a cave from a distance in the sun light. It was dark underneath those leaves and branches until you passed by the trees and into into the daylight at the opposite end. Your imagination would run wild with monsters and creepy crawlies waiting to attack you until you emerged into the sunlight.