“I’ve been waltzing through the doors of perception more years than you’ve been alive.” Things I’ve heard that have ended up in my novel…

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If you want to know the truth, just about every novel written — on some level — is a roman à clef. You may think you’re writing noir fiction, or something picaresque, but in the end everything you type is informed by your perception of the world.

In the broadest sense my perception of the world is based on where I live, and while that’s not on a studio lot, movies and Hollywood have a lot to do with how I see things.

I also tend to be flip, waggish, cheeky (usually just in print, I behave myself in public) — it’s not that I’m irreverent. Really. I have a deep respect for the city in which I live and the creative forces which made it famous. Yet when I’m writing, it’s like I’ve tuned into every voice from my past, every bit of industry gossip, and it comes out like this:

It’s in His Kiss

(click here to purchase)

While I’m working on the second book in the Hollywood trilogy I thought I’d apologize to my blogging buddies (sorry for going on about the book again) — and invite new readers to check out what got this blog going in the first place (the novel).

I’ve had the pleasure of appearing at a couple of book club meetings before Christmas, and my favorite comments on the book were these, “I was sitting in the bleachers, supposed to be watching my kid’s soccer game, pulled out my Kindle, and before I knew it was dark out and I hadn’t seen a thing. I was totally swept up,” and, “I went up to my bedroom, closed the door, and didn’t come out until I was done.”

So, bearing that in mind, if the wind is beating at your storm windows and worries about snowdrifts big enough to bury a tall man up to the crown of his head are crowding into your cranium may I suggest that It’s in His Kiss would be the perfect comfort, a little something to send you whirling away to a world of sexually ambiguous actors, cosmetically-altered Screen Queens, nutty not-at-all cult-like religions, drug-happy aging lotharios, morally-dubious Hollywood execs, corpses in cars, and – maybe – True Love? Well, that’s what people tell me it is, anyway… Like George Washington I cannot tell a lie…who am I kidding? Of course I can! It’s called fiction… 😉

click here to listen on SoundCloud

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