Here are a few of my longer projects that I've been dragging ass on. There are others - many others - but these are the ones that are closest to some semblance of completion.

As you can see, I've even gone so far as to make little fake book covers for them rather than use that time to actually finish writing them. My hope is that posting these here with chapter excerpts will culminate in friends/readers/visitors shaming me to finish them.

So go ahead; shame me. Do it. And then...then spit on me a little. Yeah, like that. Ooooo yeah...

Foamers Novella

I come into orbit around Soho Beach at 8:00 AM local time, drunk, tired, and achy as hell. It’s a twelve hour float from the Ganderson barracks, but in the cramped quarters of a cruiser it feels like twice that, especially if you don’t dose. I never touch the stuff – not even for long distance runs. Booze gets out of the system faster, and, while the hangover can be pretty fierce, it’s quick and dirty. A finger down the throat and a few cups of strong hot black, and I’m as good as gold. The effects of a dose, on the other hand, can linger for days; days that can make or break an investigation.

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Shutterbug Novella

“In there,” Miller leans in close, and nods toward the living room. He stinks like a bag of dirty laundry. “It’s a fucking mess,” he says. “Get this. The spic shoots his wife, sticks a .38 right up in her snatch, right? And then - this is the fucked up part - then he shoots off his own dick before he sprays his brains all over the wall. Ain’t never seen nothin’ like it in the twenty I been on. I’ll tell ya, say what you want about tweakers, but fuck if they don’t keep this job exciting.” Miller’s smile fades as he pats at the pockets of his dirty trench. “Ah, Shit, I left mine in my car. You got a…?”

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Dead Red Novel

Red Chester took a quick glance through the grimy, sand scarred window, and could see they were still gathered there, surrounding the body like vultures on a fallen steer.

He shoveled a spoonful of the congealed stew up to his lips, and took a loud slurp. The salt stung his tongue. Every nerve in his body seemed to be on fire. It was a high, alright, but when the guilt kicked in, this would be just another incident in a long line of incidents he’d rather forget.

Even gunfighters had a conscience.

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