Well, it had to end some time, right? Long illness left me dry. I can neither read nor write. My body of work became uninteresting and inert. It used to be a sparky adventure, always eager to stand taller and straighter, better magic to gamble and triumph again.
All gone. Whatever I achieved, so be it.
If it matters, or if anyone cares, the Playboy centerfold twins were real. The vacation house in Holland and the snowbound Belgian chateau were real. Assaulting the Dept of Energy and the rest of First Feature were real events. The Last Book was real, and Dreamland was 7/8 factual. I carried a gun and fired it. When Chris Cable went to prison I was writing from experience.
Obviously, I never went to Mars, but the characters were real people I encountered. Cocktail happens in the real world, people and places I knew, and it addressed an uncomfortable fact of life. Sexuality trumps everything else. Private actors do what government cannot do. They can't be stopped by religion or laws or common sense or physical danger if they fall in love.
It's hard to name the story I liked best, but Charity was closest to the truth of life, Partners my finest saga of raw courage, and The Executive Branch a fair guess of what's likely to happen in reality when things fall apart.
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