Published... At Long Last

I’m excited and I wanted to share my good fortune with my fellow writers. I’ve always read quite a bit, and one day it occurred to me that, hey, I can do this – that I could write. So, over the past fifteen years, I’ve written three books – even finished them, I did.

The first was a non-fiction work about my travels as a messenger in Hollywood, entitled Deliverance: Confessions of a Hollywood Messenger – from which my Hub, “Pip, the Wire Haired Terrorist,” came. They say write what you know, which sounds like sage and sensible advice, so that’s exactly what I did. And I’m not sure that if I knew then what I know now I’d have ever done it in the first place.

I’ve always considered that the people who could write had it made – but I had no idea that the writing was the easy part. I always thought that if you take the time to write a book, then it will be published, and that’s where books come from…but I was wrong.

What’s hard is the “after” part. What’s hard is getting it published – which is the obvious goal for any writer, I’m thinking. What’s hard is finding an agent who will even read what you’ve written. What is hard is – well, you get the idea here, I’m sure.

Well, after years of failure, I’m finally published. Ta Da! Okay, not so fast there bucko - we’re not talking about the New York Times Bestseller List, here. We’re talking about an E-Book.

A fairly new company – only about a year old – has published my book. It’s called ireadiwrite Publishing www.ireadiwrite.com, and I’m quite excited about the prospects. They already have nearly forty authors and are growing fast. They believe that Digital books will explode in the coming year, and they will grow exponentially along with it. Downloading is the thing now, don’tcha know, and pretty soon we’ll all be downloading the pizza to go with it, box and all.

There is a new E-Book reading device - called a Kindle - that is electronic, hand held, wireless, and which will hold several hundred complete books in crisp clear PDF format, and the latest version will even read it aloud to you. So, you take this thing – about the size and shape of a thin paperback – and you have reading material for your whole vacation or business trip in one small package. Whoa Star Trek, the future is here, right now. www.kindle.amazon.com . Hey, I just saw a commercial on my football game, advertising the new Sony version of this wonderful device.

The book they’re publishing is my third book, a novel, entitled Roadkill. It’s a Serial-Killer Thriller about a guy cruising the highways and byways of LA, Orange County and surrounding areas, killing people who are flaunting the law and talking on their cell phones while driving… and it’s personal. It’s also about a group of process servers, based in Orange County who become enmeshed in the whole bloody thing, mocking the killer on network TV after an incident with one of them and incurring his considerable wrath.

It’s a fast paced read that keeps the reader in the game the whole way through as it rumbles to it’s exciting climax where it all began, high up in the Hollywood Hills overlooking his killing fields, the streets of LA. I love this book and I enjoyed writing it, and I still love reading it every now and then. It doesn’t take itself too seriously and is fraught with humor the whole way through, kinda like a Bruce Willis movie.

So, if you don’t want to buy a copy, at least peruse the sites I’ve mentioned. Maybe you’ll find something there you do like. Anyway, here’s a sample of my work – Roadkill…Chapter One.

Now that cell phones are outlawed…only outlaws have cell phones!

Sweet – I’m even doing the cops a favor…

Chapter One: Riders in the Sky

They thundered from the eastern sky on winged steeds, leaving fiery hoof-prints on the summer wind. The F-4 Phantom screamed over the low hill, banked hard right, and dove, hugging the MiG-29’s tail like a relentless bee at a picnic. The two planes were as one, roaring down the narrow wooded canyon in their dance toward destiny.

The MiG jinked and janked, but could not shake the relentless gray jet. The ghostly figure in the Phantom was just too good. The MiG driver flew like a madman, brushing trees and outcroppings, but it was no use. “Jesus Christ,” he breathed, bringing up his radio mike to call for help. “I’ve pissed off the Devil himself.”

The Devil - for it was he - grinned. “Too little, too late, asshole.” He toggled open the fire button on his 20 mm Vulcan cannon, then thought better of it. Snapping the button-cover closed, he brought the Phantom up to full power, working the stick to maneuver alongside and slightly above the doomed MiG. A scant three feet from the cockpit, the tip of the Phantom’s wing shadowed the stranger’s face, dripping with sweat, frozen in fear. He could feel it. It was why he had come.

“No fear,” the face in the Phantom mouthed, reveling in his adversary’s, savoring it. It was his first kill. He took one last look into the pleading eyes of the trapped man beside him and moved his stick slightly forward and right.

The Phantom inched closer. The canyon wall stood firm. The MiG had run out of room. Just then, the phantom’s wingtip dropped slightly, tapping the MiG’s canopy like Death himself a knocking. It was.

The MiG’s pilot flinched, bringing the stick hard left. He lost it. A blood-curdling scream echoed through the deep canyon as the MiG broke through the guardrail. Three hundred feet down, the screaming stopped.

The killer had never actually seen a real F-4 Phantom, or a MiG-29 either, for that matter. But the one his mind had conjured up had done the trick. His mind shifted quickly from fantasy to reality as he pulled his Nissan Pathfinder alongside the broken guardrail. He had just taken a life, and strangely, he was okay with it. A hint of bizarre satisfaction flickered across his face as he set the parking brake and got out. He had to look.

He was rock hard as he stood there on the mangled precipice - wildly alive, completely aware. He knew he would have to hurry. Another car could be along in a minute, or an hour. He wouldn’t be here when it did. Leaning backwards a bit, arms spread for balance, he shuffled his feet to the very edge, as loose dirt and pebbles careened like lemmings over the side. He looked down.

A tremendous rush washed over him as he viewed what was left of the ‘MiG-29’. The dirty undercarriage of a Mercedes 450-SL ragtop stared silently up at him. He knew the gleaming white paint and polished chrome that he had seen only moments before lay underneath, along with the driver. The safety harness had still been tightly strapped when it had gone over.

“Dead as a doornail,” he breathed, wondering just where that old expression had originated. It fit, however, since the man in the Mercedes had been hammered into the mountainside by the full force of his car, which gave rise to a wry smile.

The man at the edge of the cliff knew exactly where he was and what had just happened. The F-4 Phantom and MiG-29 were gone now, but they had served their purpose. They were just part of the game. He knew that, too.

“Sorry, sir, your call has been disconnected,” he called down the steep drop. “Perhaps you can try again later, idiot.” The cell phone the man had been using - the one that had started this chain of events - would be under there, too. He began to laugh.

He laughed for more than a minute when a thought occurred to him. “Calling card,” he mused thoughtfully - dark eyes twinkling malevolently - “Got to have a calling card.” He hadn’t planned this part of it. Actually, he hadn’t planned any of it. Not consciously, anyway. He thought hard.

Fingers snapping, he pulled the red and white paisley bandanna from his rear pocket. He turned it over in his hand. “Okay,” he said, pleased, “Now, how do I get you down there?”

His eyes darted about on the ground around him. He saw it. He took a step to his right and back a bit, fully aware of the cliff’s edge and its power. He bent over and picked it up, experimentally hefting a rock the size and shape of a golf ball. “Perfect.”

He held the bandanna flat on top of his splayed left palm, and dropped the rock neatly into its center. But the mid-afternoon sun and the excitement of the moment had almost betrayed him. “Damn!” he said suddenly, as a drop of sweat trickled into his eye. He plucked the rock from the kerchief and brought it to his forehead. Before it touched his skin, however, he stopped.

“Uh, uh, uh,” he said, in the jovial voice of insanity pleased with itself …“DNA.” He crumpled the bandanna back around the rock and pulled up his shirttail with his free hand. “Can’t have that now, can we?” He used the shirt to wipe his eyes and then his brow. He looked down at his handiwork again, admiring it, the grin widening sardonically.

The killer shifted the cloth-covered rock to his right hand and drew his arm back. “This is for you, Sara,” he shouted. He threw it with all his might. The bundle flew outward, dropping like the stone it was. On the way down, the rock broke free of the bandanna and left it floating like a red and white butterfly on the summer air. It fluttered to rest on the branch of a tree a few feet from the fallen automobile. His fist went up and shook triumphantly. “Yes!”

He studied the scene below one last time. It was done. “For you, Sara, my sweet,” he reiterated softly …“and for our son.” He climbed into the black Pathfinder and was gone.

Curious to see what happens? If I’ve done my job then you are, and I certainly hope that is the case. If it’s not for you, that’s okay too. I have two more books to get published and just maybe, one of them will strike your fancy.

I’m excited for what the future holds, whatever that may bring, and I just wanted to share. Good reading and writing to all of you out there, and I’d love to know what you think. If it looks good, leave a comment. If not, I’d like to hear about that too. Thanks for reading…