A couple of years ago, Patrick Wensink, writing for Salon, admitted that his Amazon bestseller, Broken Piano for President, made him nothing. It didn’t make him rich. It didn’t even make him a comfortable sum in terms of a year’s income. It amounted to peanuts, to chickenfeed, to numerous other metaphors for a relatively... »
I got a message from a friend and fellow author today who was curious to know how I felt about the subject of ghostwriting. I have performed extensive ghostwriting over the course of my career. Not only have I written as Don Pendleton for... »
Millions of Americans suffer from sleep apnea. Your options, when you’re slowly dying in your sleep, are few. You can ignore the problem and continue dying; you can undergo surgery or perhaps be fitted for a mouthpiece to keep your airway open; or you... »
Colored lights and half a dozen melodies fought for Moxley’s attention. He stepped through the air curtain at the Surfside half expecting someone to notice. The casino was a... »
Moxley smelled blood. The door was open and that was bad. Lobby kept his place locked down at all times. Drawing his gun, Mox crept inside. The lights were... »
Oyd Waller stood up behind the square of machined crystal that was his desk. “Explain to me,” he said, growing redder with every word, “why you can’t kill a... »
