I write police suspense novels and stories.  Every cop who has ever tugged a badge and gun has plenty of stories.  I’m putting a few of mine on the page.  At least the ones that don’t have to go to the grave with me.  If you’ve ever worked in law enforcement, you know what I mean.

I’ve written fiction for twelve years, and I have drawers full of rejection letters--some well deserved.  It’s a tougher business to break into than Fort Knox.  As a mentor once advised me, there’s nothing fair about the publishing industry, you have to make your own breaks.  So I’m not whining, I’m just writing.

Please bear in mind, I write fiction.  Just because something is in my stories doesn’t mean it really happened.  Ernest Hemingway said: “A writer, if he is any good, does not describe.  He invents...”

Ernest Hemingway is my favorite author, and his work influenced my voice.  Unfortunately, he hasn’t written much in the last fifty years.  I’m also fond of Neil Gaiman, Christina Meldrum and Randy Wayne White.

I don’t read much police fiction.  Just enough to learn how it’s done from the good ones.  An old friend smarter than me once compared it to inviting a postman to go hiking on his day off.

Many best selling authors don’t know their heads from a hole in the ground about police work.  But they are successful for a reason; they’re great story tellers.  I don’t begrudge them, I respect their success.  About the best of the bunch are Michael Connelly and, of course, Joseph Wambaugh.

I dedicate the body of my work to all my comrades in blue, living and dead.  Good luck.  You need it.