While I was in the service, I was lucky enough to write for military newspapers, as well as a stint as a columnist for the Rome Observer when I lived in upstate New York. A few years ago, once the kids were in college, I decided to write a novel. It was just that simple–sit down and write a novel–except not. My first effort, a Western called Hell With A Gun, stayed buried deep in the confines of my computer, patiently waiting another edit (or two or four). Then I wrote Easy Street. I love the tough-guy-with-a-heart writings of Robert Parker and Raymond Chandler, and I wanted my tough guy, Paul Doyle, to be a bit like Spenser and Philip Marlowe, with my own twist thrown in for good measure.
Every now and then, an author comes along who writes with such a connection to the human condition that you feel your own life expanding along with those of the characters. I’ve been transported with every one of Michael Shepherd’s books as I’ve followed his gunfighters, private investigators, widowers, and desperados. The characters in these books have courage, smarts, and—above all—heart.
The scariest moment is always just before you start. After that, things can only get better.
The only mortal sin is giving up.
