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I have been writing ever since I can remember - and maybe before that. My Auntie Ruth claims that my first literary effort was done in color crayon on my grandmother's living room wallpaper. I have no recollection of this episode so it's a matter of which of us you choose to believe.
When I was in grade school, I scribbled short stories to amuse the other kids. In high school, I co-authored a column called The Peculiar Press in the student newspaper. The nature of this feature is self-evident from the title. Recently, I was shocked to learn that some of these still survive among the minutiae of a classmate's memorabilia. In college, I wrote sports stories for the student paper and essays that I thought were screamingly funny for the campus magazine. The latter were published because the editor also thought they were humorous gems. Have I mentioned that I was the editor?
During four years in the Navy, my scrivenings were limited to letters written to my fiance and my parents. When I returned to civilian life, I landed my first newspaper job and began pouring forth a stream of written works that is still running after 43 years. Many of these gushers have been printed on paper that eventually was used to wrap fish, line bird cages or spank naughty puppies. No matter. Stringing words together always has been fun. I have met scores of interesting people and sometimes my combinations of sentences and paragraphs have produced salutary results.
I've heard that truth is stranger than fiction, but the truth is that it seems strange to be writing fiction after so many years of ferreting out facts. Whatever. My biggest hope is that people will enjoy reading my novels as much as I enjoy writing them.
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