Of Bullets and Bones

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I told the story of how my first novel was born in the tipsy tune my father sang to me one day, a  song about a preaching man who used a straight razor to keep people in line.  Another song inspired this tale and it’s more familiar: Twilight Zone by Golden Earrings.  One day on a random drive I suddenly realized what kind of pain a bullet to the bone would mean.  Only someone close to you, someone you trusted completely and never doubted could deliver that kind of pain.

Then, as always, everything I’d absorbed during the previous months arranged itself into the details surrounding the wound.  A crypt broken into, the effects of domoic acid, the creepy red tide, and of course the heartbreaking tale of the Romani people during WWII. I never quite know where I’m going with a story until I get there, but these are the stops that were made along the way.