Going Back to School

Technically, I’m not ‘going back,’ since I’ve been studying in higher education for three and a half years now. Yes, pushing 50 and still doing the college/university thing.

I started out taking accounting, because I needed to make a living to support my family. But one of the things I learned in accounting was that accounting is as boring as watching snails run a marathon. And when you combine the fact that the book of tax laws makes the Wheel of Time series look like a short story and they change a bunch of those laws every single year, it just isn’t worth trying to keep up.

But, I was still stuck in the ‘I have to do this to make money’ mentality. But here’s the thing: I had a three-year college diploma in Business Administration – Accounting, and nobody would hire me. Why? Because I didn’t have a DEGREE. That college diploma? Nope; employers want the whole enchilada just to get started. I mean, I intended to get the degree anyway, but it’s tougher to do that when you can’t feed your family.

Meanwhile, I learned about writing and how much fun it was, and that I actually could, eventually, make decent money as a self-published author. So, after three years of college and half a year of online university study, I made the decision and switched out to another major at another online school. I’m going to have a history degree when I’m done. And oh, what a difference it has made.

First, the courses are actually interesting. Instead of taking a mandatory course discussing the arcane cultural nuances of Luxembourg, I took courses that were actually relevant to what I want to do. I want to write sci-fi; I’m studying Astronomy and learning all kinds of cool stuff about the solar system. And what writer wouldn’t benefit from learning history? The Cold War is just littered with story ideas, from spy stuff to science fiction (let’s go back to the moon!), action and adventure to political thrillers. And the best part is, I got to live through the last twenty years of it. So, this course is both relevant and fun.

I am taking a creative writing course, which has helped me in the sense that I am thinking of stories that otherwise I never would have considered; I just wrote a story from the point of view of my eleven-year-old son (when he was six). I wouldn’t have written that if it wasn’t assigned. So, it’s a way to broaden my writing horizons. But it’s the only creative writing course I intend to take.

I think that the switch away from accounting was a great decision, because it just wasn’t what I wanted to do. I’m pretty good at it, but it’s just not something I care about. With a history degree, though, I can use it to boost my writing (especially since I can take other courses that touch on relevant subjects, like Astronomy), and I can probably get work as a history teacher as well. And I love teaching.

I don’t know if there’s a moral to this story, but I guess it comes down to the simple fact that there are a lot of people stuck in dead-end careers, miserable and feeling hopeless. Don’t be like that; find something you love, find a way to monetize it, and take steps to make it even better. And above all, have fun. Because being rich doesn’t compensate for being miserable.

Can You Make a Living Writing Fiction?

That's a good question, isn't it? I had already written this post before I saw one of those ads on Google titled, 'Self-Published authors are poor and can't sell their books.' Quite the eye-catcher, isn't it? Naturally, I read the article, and it was basically confirmation bias for people who believe the myths of publishing, namely that most self-published authors write garbage, and most of them are poor. Well, some of them are, sure. I know I'm not making much money yet, but I've only just started. And the article, as brief as it is, is written from the point-of-view of someone who is entrenched in the traditional publishing establishment.

So, can you make a living writing fiction? Most people think you can't, unless you're one of those huge superstar writers like Stephen King, J.K. Rowling, or maybe James Patterson. Maybe, if you get lucky, you'll write something that will get picked up and turned into a world-famous TV series (Hello, Mr. Martin!) But the truth is, it's very possible to make a decent living as a writer, if you go to independent publishing.

That's right, indy publishing, where you won't see your name on the New York Times Bestseller list any time soon, or see your book in the triple-digit rank on Amazon. And this, despite the claims in the article I mentioned.

The reason? Passive income.

I published my first book, Final Exam, in early January. It didn't cost me anything to publish it, not one red cent. But I make a little bit of money on every copy I sell. Not a lot at the moment, it's true; it's set at an introductory price at the moment. But here's the thing: I can leave it up on Amazon for a year without touching it, and I'll still make money from it. In fact, I could leave it there for the next half-century and still make money from every copy I sell.

What does that mean, long-term? It's simple, really. Let's work the numbers. Right now, my third book, Chronicles of Meterra: Arrival, is priced at the low rate of $3.99. On Amazon, I make 70% of that with every copy I sell. Let's say, for argument's sake, that I sell an average of one copy a day for a year. That doesn't sound like much, does it? 365 copies. Whoopee.

But on every one of those copies, I make $2.79. That works out to just over $1000 in royalties for the year. Again, it doesn't sound like much.

But what happens next year, when I sell another 365 copies? I'm going to make that $1000 again from this book. And that's just one book. As I said in an earlier post, my goal is to publish twenty books this year. If I sell them all at that average price, and sell one copy per book per day, that's going to be $20,000 a year for those books. Now we're seeing some real cash.

But what else is going to happen next year? Because I'm not going to sit back and bask in the glory of having published twenty books. I'm not retiring; I'm going to keep on publishing. So, every time I put another book out, that passive income has the potential to grow. If I made even $500 a year per book, in three years of publishing 20 books a year, I'm up to $30,000 of passive income.

And here's the really nice part of this: There are people actually doing this right now, indy publishers who are quietly putting out a dozen or more high-quality books every year. They aren't making tremendous sales, and you'll never see them on Oprah, but they're collecting some real coin from their efforts. All for sitting down at a computer and telling new stories.

So, yes, it's possible to make money writing stories. It's not a 'get-rich-quick' scheme, and you still have to work at improving your skills. I'm still learning, and I'll continue learning until the day I die. But I'm going to have a lot of fun doing it.

And frankly, I can't think of a better way to spend my working time than coming up with entertaining stories.

My second murder mystery, The Missing Magnate, is also available on Amazon; check it out!

Reading for Fun and Profit

One of the most important skills a writer can have is reading. That sounds obvious and silly at the same time, but it's the simple truth. You can't write well if you don't know what good writing looks like, and it's not as easy as the school teachers make it seem. Sure, you can look at Shakespeare and be told 'this is great writing,' but let's be honest: If it doesn't speak to you, it's not going to be that great. To you.

Now, I'm not putting down Shakespeare; the man had his finger on the pulse of his culture and time, and there's a reason he's revered as one of the all-time greats. But today's crowd doesn't 'get' Shakespeare, whether it's because of the language barrier (it's English, sort-of), or because it's harder to read a play than to watch it, or because he's one of those old dead white guys that we're now told we should despise solely because they're white. Whatever the reason, Shakespeare isn't the draw he used to be.

So, what is the draw? Shakespeare knew it, as did Homer, as did the Greek playwrights, as did Virgil, as did Dante, as did Galileo. The draw is this: People want to be entertained. Yes, people also want to be informed, but if it's boring, they won't pay attention to the information. So, entertain the reader.

How do you learn how to do that? By reading the masters of entertaining fiction, that's how. If you're into a specific genre, go back and read the masters of that genre. Mysteries? Agatha Christie, Rex Stout, Raymond Chandler, Sue Grafton...read how they did it, and learn how they entertained the reader. Science fiction? Jules Verne, H.G. Wells, Edgar Rice Burroughs, E.E. 'Doc' Smith, Leigh Brackett, Frank Herbert, David Weber...learn from the entertainment they provided. Fantasy? H. Rider Haggard, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Abraham Merritt, Robert Howard, C.L. Moore, C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien... you know the drill. Be entertained, and be enlightened.

Pick a genre, and that genre has its masters, writers who knew that the primary purpose of fiction was to entertain the reader. Sure, they might have messages in their writing, but those messages were delivered with flair, with verve, with fun. And that's why we learned them.

So, if you want to write, read. Read stories that entertain you, and think about why they entertained you in the first place. If you do that, you'll start to emulate what they did right, and you'll do what the reader wants you to do first and foremost.

How Long Does it Take?

My post last night spoke of being prolific. And I'm sure that people reading this are thinking that it's not that easy to write. It takes time, it takes planning, and it's hard.

I used to believe that, too. And some of it is true; it does take time to write; nobody can just stare at a page or a screen and magically transfer words from their minds. But it doesn't take nearly as long as people think.

Here's a simple test. Take the time to write four double-spaced pages, or approximately 1,000 words (it's about 250 words to a page). Time yourself doing that. Don't worry about making it perfect, or revising it twenty times. Just write it. It doesn't have to be a whole story, or even a chapter; it just needs to be 1,000 words. How long did it take you to do it?

For the average person, it could take up to an hour. For myself, it takes about twenty-five minutes, but that's because I've had a lot of practice typing. Now, this isn't referring to your base typing speed; your writing speed won't be anywhere near as fast as that. I type over 100 words per minute on timing tests, but I'm not writing that fast. So, just time how long it takes you to put 1,000 original words to paper or document. It didn't take that long, did it?

Let's say you're an average person, and it takes you one hour to write that thousand words. Now, do that every day for two and a half months. Congratulations, you just wrote a 75,000 word novel. That's close to the length of the first Harry Potter novel, which runs to just under 77,000 words. The whole series is less than 1.1 million words, which you could do in three years at 1,000 words per day.

"But it's not that easy!" I hear you saying. I know, I used to say the same thing. There's planning, there's outlining, there's revising...and yes, you can do all those things, but don't let them take over your entire process. What matters most is getting the words out.

Writing isn't meant to be a chore; it's a joy. And if you can give yourself one hour a day to express that joy, you can accomplish amazing things.

Tomorrow, I'll talk about tracking what you're doing. While you're breathlessly waiting for those tantalizing words of wisdom, please consider my published works, available at my Amazon page.

Being Prolific

Anyone can write, but not everyone can write. A lot of people think that writing involves a lot of polishing and rewriting. I used to be like that. But, like so many things that we learn when we're younger, the way we think it is doesn't always match up with the way it actually is.

Now, I've self-published three books in less than six weeks. I've had people at work look at me like I'm crazy. And people think that the notion of publishing twenty books in a single year is impossible. "How can you expect to write well when you write so fast?"

Well, it comes down to practice, and persistence. We're used to authors writing one book a year, or maybe two if they have a second series on the go. One of my favorite authors is David Weber; he publishes one book in the Safehold series a year, and the Honor Harrington books now come out even less frequently than that. And that's the normal, 'traditional' way of doing things. But how traditional is it, really?

One of the most eye-opening things I learned was what Dean Wesley Smith had to say about writing speed. The most prolific authors of the first half of the twentieth century wrote in the pulps, and they wrote a LOT of words. Smith describes what he calls 'pulp speed,' talking about writing a million or more words a year. To put it into perspective, the popular series Game of Thrones, through five volumes, runs to a total of 1.7 million words after five books. George R.R. Martin wrote the first book in 1991, and published the fifth book twenty years later. That's an average of 85,000 words a year. To a lot of people, that sounds impressive.

To a pulp writer, that was less than a single month's output. For some of them, that was about two weeks' worth of work.

Personally, I've set a goal of 100,000 words a month. That includes short stories, novellas, and even blog posts, although I'm not publishing those. Is that crazy? Not really. It's just a matter of self-discipline, self-confidence, and unleashing the creative side of the mind to do whatever it wants.

That's going to work out to about 1.2 million words this year. I managed to achieve my goal last year, starting in late July and finishing with over 500,000 words in 2019. That was a great feeling, believe me. And now that I know I've done it already, I'm know I can do it this year, as well. All told, by the end of this year, since starting in late July of 2019, I'm going to have written the equivalent of the entire Game of Thrones series by the start of next year.

I'm not writing this to brag about how awesome I am. I'm not, really. And not everything I write is going to end up published. But a lot of it will, simply because I absolutely love what I'm doing now. I look for new ideas to write. I just keep typing; I'll clean it up later, sure, because nobody's rough first draft is publishing-worthy. But the key to being prolific is to keep moving forward, and that's what I'm doing.

No, I'm writing this to show that it's possible. Not that it's easy; you have to want it. No, you have to need it as much as you need air. And you have to know what your goal is. I set the goal of 20 in 2020 because it's a challenge, because it's demanding. But I also set it because I know, deep in my heart, that I can do it. And, if you're someone who wants to write for a living, or just wants to write because you can't imagine not writing, then you can do it, too.

And if you don't believe that yet, then just keep watching. And check out my page on Amazon; it's going to keep on growing. If you like mysteries, check out the first two Cameron Vail Mysteries, Final Exam and The Missing Magnate. If fantasy is your thing, you might want to take a peek at the Chronicles of Meterra, which start with Book 1, Arrival.

Chronicles of Meterra has Arrived!

I said yesterday that I would publish 20 books this year. Well, the third one is available on Amazon right now.

Unlike the first two, this one isn't a murder mystery. It's a fantasy novella, with historical ties. It was actually the first book I finished last summer, but it took a while to get it ready for publishing. In particular, the cover art was an issue. Fortunately, there are a lot of freelance artists on sites like Fiverr.com. The cover art for the first Chronicles of Meterra book was done by Alex Lechev, also known on Fiverr as thegreyghost.

So, for those who like to know what they are getting into, here's a sample of Arrival, the first book of the Chronicles of Meterra:

**************

            The desert heat pounded relentlessly on the heads of the slow-moving caravan. The knights’ gleaming chain mail reflected the bright sun into the eyes of everyone, forcing them to keep their gazes low to the ground, looking up only occasionally to reassure themselves of their direction. There was little conversation; even the children had no energy to play among the animals and wagons. The quiet was broken only by the softly-chanted prayers of the priests and monks.

            Near the head of the column, the Saxon Baron Eadric of Nanscarden shaded his eyes as he gazed into the distance, vainly seeking any sign of the scouting column sent out that morning. Sweat dripped from his dark blonde hair and mustache down onto his white tabard with a red cross, but he had grown used to it in the weeks since they had left Europe. He had disagreed with the knight-commanders in their decision to march during the heat of the day; he didn’t doubt the courage and fortitude of his brother knights, but the civilians of the caravan, and especially the bishop’s entourage, should not have been exposed to this torment.

            After a time, he rode back to the largest wagon of the caravan. To his surprise, Bishop Marten was riding alongside, in discussion with Sir Louis de La Hay, a Norman knight. At Eadric’s approach, the Bishop dismissed the other knight and motioned the Saxon to come forward.

            “Good morning, Your Grace,” greeted Eadric, bowing in the saddle.

            “And to you as well, my son,” replied the Bishop. “What news from the road ahead?”

            “There is none yet, Your Grace,” admitted Eadric. “The scouting party is overdue. There’s no telling what might have delayed them; a sandstorm could have come upon them suddenly; a pack of marauding bandits; even wild animals, though I can’t imagine any of them being out in the heat of the day.”

            The bishop nodded. “Does Sir Rickard share your concerns?”

            Eadric snorted. “He’s German,” he replied in explanation. “Nothing concerns him except getting to Jerusalem as quickly as possible, regardless of the obstacles.”

            “That is a noble sentiment,” Marten pointed out. “Trust in God, my son. He will ensure we arrive at our destination safely.”

            “I trust God with all my heart, Your Grace. It’s my faith in the Saracens’ peaceful intentions that is lacking.”

            “There have been no incidents with the heathens in several years,” said the bishop.

            “No, but there are rumors of a new leader, a man who is eager to bring war back to the Holy Land.”

            “Yes, I have heard mention of this ‘Saladin’ before. I find that rumors often grow with distance. Most likely a local tribal leader has made a stirring speech or two, and the tale has spread among the heathens and the local people.”

            “I pray you are right, Your Grace. But the lack of scouting information is a grave concern, nevertheless.”

            The bishop looked carefully at the young knight’s face for a moment. “You truly believe we will face a Saracen attack, then?”

            “We’ve never lacked for information from the locals,” replied Eadric. “But for the last three days, they have been very, very quiet. I don’t believe it’s because they are suddenly cowed by the presence of two thousand knights on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem.”

            Bishop Marten nodded. “You may be right. Bring this matter up in council tonight, my son. I will consult God for advice in my prayers.”

            “Of course, Your Grace.” The bishop gave him a blessing, and he returned to his place in the column, joining Sir Gervais of Flanders. “We’ll bring it up in council tonight,” Eadric said to his French friend.

            “Tonight? That’s assuming we don’t get ambushed and slaughtered,” replied Gervais, a dark-haired knight with a matching red-crossed tabard. “Sir Rickard’s crazy if he thinks we can handle an army the size of the one Saladin is putting together.”

            “Trust in God, my friend.”

            “I do, but unless he’s going to lend us a heavenly host or two, we’re going to be facing Him sooner than we had hoped.”

            Eadric clapped Gervais on the shoulder, then turned to see Sir Rickard of Bremen, the titular head of the knightly force, approaching from the west, his squire and retainers in tow. He pulled his horse up by the two knights. “Where are the scouts, Saxon?”

            “They haven’t returned yet, my Lord,” replied Eadric with exquisite courtesy. “We expected them back this morning, but there has been no news.”

            Sir Rickard grimaced. “What more can we expect from peasants?” The other knights dutifully chuckled; as nobles, they all had little use for the base-born. Still, Eadric knew the men he had sent out the night before, and they had always been reliable.

            “What does His Grace have to say?” asked Rickard.

            “That we will discuss the potential threat from Saladin tonight in council,” replied Gervais.

            “Saladin!” Rickard spat on the ground. “A trumped-up would-be warlord, with no more than a handful of followers. Our force is more than a match for anything he can gather. These tribes can’t get along with each other enough to share an oasis, much less fight a war.”

            Eadric and Gervais said nothing. Rickard noted their silence, and glared at them. “Are you so cowardly as to fear the Saracens?”

            Gervais stiffened, and Eadric put his hand to his own sword. “Are you questioning our honor, Sir Rickard? We have put all our faith in God, and we have pledged that the Bishop and his entourage reach Jerusalem safely, even at the cost of our lives. But that doesn’t mean we will ignore the warning signs all around us.”

            Rickard sneered. “You jump at shadows. God will not permit the Saracens to harm us, for we venture to the Holy Land.” A sharp command to his retinue started them off to the other side of the vanguard. “Jerusalem is but five days away. If your scouts haven’t returned by nightfall, we will send out more to find them drunk.” He rode off, sweating in the blazing heat.

            That evening, after the celebration of Mass, Eadric joined the other knightly leaders at the Bishop’s tent. Large enough to accommodate fifty men, it served as the expedition’s military headquarters as well. The thousand knights, along with their retainers and common soldiers, had encamped in a long valley on the edges of the Holy Land. They and their camp followers were eager to reach Jerusalem, which held the promise of civilization. Two months had passed since they left Constantinople, a force strong enough to reinforce the city against the threat of Muslim attack. Now, however, as close as they were to their goal, there was a definite unease as the force commanders took counsel.

            “I tell you, the fact that the scouting party still hasn’t returned tells me there is a greater danger than we realize,” insisted Eadric in response to yet another dismissal from Rickard. “They may be peasant-born, but they know their work, and they swore an oath over the Sacred Scriptures.” He paused, forcing a deep breath, then continued. “The threat of a Saracen attack cannot be dismissed so easily.”

            Before Rickard could respond, Bishop Marten held up his hand. “While I appreciate the zeal of our military commander, I must point out that Baron Eadric has spoken truly. There is little out there to entice Christian men to shirk their duties. If these men have not yet returned, then we must consider the possibility that they have been ambushed and killed.”

            Several of the knights and priests in attendance crossed themselves at the thought of anyone, even base-born peasants, being taken by the heathen tribes. Men did not speak of what was done to Christian soldiers taken prisoner by the Saracens.

            “Be that as it may,” replied Sir Rickard with proper deference, “the fact remains that we have no information that suggests such a force even exists. And there is no force of Saracens that could withstand the might of our cause.”

            “Yes, we have no information,” agreed Eadric. “And that is what concerns me the most.”

            Before Rickard could reply, a sentry threw open the tent flap and entered. “My apologies, Your Grace, for the interruption, but one of the scouts has returned. He is badly wounded, and won’t survive much longer.”

            Eadric, Rickard, and the rest of the knights joined the bishop as he headed out of the tent. “Where is he, my son?” asked Marten, and the sentry pointed to a small gathering of men a hundred yards away. The bishop quickened his pace, and knelt down beside the dying man.

            “Be at peace, my son, for though your life here is ending, you will be with Him today in Paradise. If you have time, give your report and I will hear your confession.”

            The scout nodded, and weakly turned his head to Eadric. “My Lord, they ambushed us late last night. All but two of us were killed in the attack. Bertrem and I escaped to bring word back, but they know the land too well. We spent the whole day hiding and avoiding them, but they tracked us like the devil himself.” He coughed, and blood came out of his mouth as his breath rattled in his chest. “They caught Bertrem a few hours ago; he gave himself up so I could escape and bring warning. We saw their army, my Lord. Thousands of them, dozens of tribes together. They—they will be here by morning, ready for battle…” He coughed again, and the bishop looked to Eadric.

            “If you have enough, my son, then I will minister to this unfortunate man while he has time left.”

            “Of course, Your Grace. We have some work to do before morning.” He turned to the dying man. “Go with God, John. You may have saved many lives today.” The knights waited respectfully as the bishop administered the Last Rites to the dying man and offered him absolution for his sins. Within a few minutes, the scout’s eyes closed for the last time.

****************

If you like what you read, then run over to Amazon right now to buy it! Support indie publishing, because it's where you'll find the best writing.

20 in 2020

You want to talk about ambition? I've always been the type to set really high bars for what I'm doing; when I sold life insurance, I set goals of making a dozen sales a week; when I start reading a new author, I don't just pick a couple of sample books; I read everything they wrote, starting from the beginning. When I collect something, I want it all. Found a website with old Amazing Stories pulps on it? No skimming for the highlights for me; I started with the first issue and read the whole thing.
So, I tend to go all-out on things. My wife, who is somewhere between awesome and amazing, says it's unrealistic, and she's probably right. But, it is what it is.
So, what does that have to do with writing? It's simple; my goal this year is to publish 20 books on Amazon and other sites, both in e-book and in paper format. That's right, twenty books. Some are novels, some are novellas, some are short story anthologies. All of them are going to be original works, stemming from my own crazy and warped brain.
So far, I have two e-books, both available on my own Amazon Page. Paperbacks are forthcoming as I learn how to do it. But, in the meantime, I'm going to keep on writing, and I'm going to make the most of this opportunity.
And before you ask, yes, it's possible to do this in the modern world of publishing. But it takes dedication, commitment, and perseverance. I've been writing steadily, virtually every day since late July of 2019, and I've got a lot more stories to tell. I hope you'll come along for the ride.

Once Upon a Time...

Every story has to have a beginning, and there are a few classic ones. The most famous, of course, is 'In the Beginning...', but there's also this one, that sparked a global franchise: "A long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...'. Of course, that one's pretty specific, and not really suitable for general use.
But 'Once upon a time' is iconic. I mean, it's the start of almost every fairy tale ever written. It's even the title of a TV show that was all about fairy tales coming to life. And it speaks of something fantastic, something special, something that will transport you to another world, a place where the impossible can happen, where people can accomplish amazing things, where people like you and me can be, just for a few pages, someone important, someone more than what we seem.
But this story isn't about those people, it's about me. And my story doesn't quite fit the fairy tale mold. But it is still my story, and the best part of this story is that it's just beginning. You see, I'm a writer.
I've always been one, really. I wrote some silly little stories when I was a kid, and I wrote in high school because I refused to read a boring book that I'd already read in a prior grade. I told the teacher, 'I can write a better book than this.' She challenged me to prove it. So, I tried.
I didn't do a great job, and no, you'll never see what I wrote back then, because it was an LotR rip-off mixed with some blatant D&D tropes (long before I knew what a trope even was). It's rotting in some landfill in Ontario by now, and I don't miss it. But still, I had the bug. I eventually finished a book and sent it off to a publisher. They turned it down, of course. And for a while, I gave up on the idea of being a professional writer. But it never quite went away. I wrote the opening to a mystery novel when I was in college (I'll get back to that), and I wrote fan-fiction stories for various games (Alternity, Diablo II, etc.). It was fun, but I didn't take it seriously. I especially didn't consider it something that could actually make money, even though I did win a small publishing contest for Hero Games and got paid for a magazine article.
Fast-forward a lot of years, and I discovered the Pulp Revolution. I didn't even know what that was; I'd had virtually no experience with pulp fiction (not even the movie of that name). But while reading about Appendix N (if you're a gamer, you know exactly what that means), I came across an author's website, the great Dean Wesley Smith, who talked about the myths of writing. These are things that writers have been taught for decades, things that have always been assumed to be 'the way things are,' and things that were completely wrong.
And I believed every single one of them.
Through Dean's website, I learned about Heinlein's Rules of Writing, Pulp Speed, and indie publishing, and how it was indeed possible to make money as a writer. In fact, there are a lot of writers making very good money. And I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I could do that, too. And I also knew that I wanted to. Very, very badly. So, I started doing what he recommended. I started tracking my writing; I stopped rewriting everything to death. And I started truly enjoying what I was doing.
Fast-forward to today. Or rather, this past January. That mystery book I started writing back in school thirty years ago? I finished it last September. And on January 6th of this year, I published it on Amazon. It's called Final Exam, and it's the first of my Cameron Vail mystery stories. And, because I had so much fun doing that and seeing people actually buy my book right in front of me, I skipped ahead in my plans and wrote the second one, The Missing Magnate, also available on Amazon.
Mysteries aren't my first love for writing, but I've always loved Agatha Christie, Rex Stout, and other masters of the genre. So, I'm writing them, along with other books, because I have a lot of genres that I love very much and want to contribute to. Sci-fi, fantasy, mystery, sports, steampunk, superheroes, and other fun stuff. No erotica or anything like that, though; I believe that kids should be able to read what I write.
So, that's the short version of how I got here and why I'm doing this. I hope you'll stop by once in a while; I've got some big goals, and some bigger dreams, and I would love to share them with you.