Little did I know that twenty-five years would pass before a book of mine would be published. Not that I wasn't trying. In the years after college I wrote four novels, but nobody wanted them. They were adult novels. So was number five, or so I thought.
Life is full of happy accidents.
Sometimes I'm asked if I do research for my stories. No, in the sense that I seldom plow through books at the library to gather material. Yes, in the sense that the first fifteen years of my life turned out to be one big research project. I can see that I was also gathering material that would one day find its way into my books. John Ribble's blazing fastball.