rick.jpgHistorically, I was born and raised in Orlando, Florida. Shortly after my fifth birthday my father shipped our entire family off to St. John’s, New Foundland, thus commencing my nomadic life as an air force brat. By the time it was over I had five sisters and four brothers. And as fate would have it, the oldest boy sandwiched between four girls who thought I was their personal dress-me-up-like-a-girl-doll.

After a two-year stint in the U.S. Army (where my heart’s desire to fly was grounded due to faulty eardrums), I returned home and joined the Racine Police Department. Not that I had any burning desire to become a police officer, I didn’t. It was just luck. My lack of money and Uncle Sam’s decision to subsidize the hiring of Vets happened to converge at exactly the same time I entered the unemployment office looking for a job.

Devine intervention? Who knows? But we made sweet music after that. Nine years later I was married with a family and the usual boatload of bills. I also had a B.S degree in Criminal Justice from Milton College (now defunct but never forgotten), which several years later got me promoted to Sergeant of Police and a cushy job as the Department’s training division supervisor.

That was also the time I started actively writing human-interest short stories. Getting them published proved harder than I anticipated. I tried magazines first, thinking they were the easiest market for up and coming writers. Unfortunately, a couple of million authors must have read the same thing. None of my early works ever saw the glossy sheen of a magazine page. A few were considered but never sold. (Sticking point was severely editing the content.)

Although that experience was bittersweet, I did learn some valuable rules when it came to writing: Never quit, always believe in yourself and edit, edit, edit. I can’t say that enough about the latter. And if you can’t be brutally honest, then have someone do it for you. You’ll thank yourself in the end.

I switched to writing short stories about police work, which turned out to be a big mistake. They read like slapstick rehashes of daily police work. My characters were flimsy and artificial, their cases predictable. Nobody seemed real. In retrospect I think I was enamored with Joseph Wambaugh, who at the time, was the only author worth reading when it came to cop stories. He was pure magic.

But I never quit. There was gold in them there hills, I just didn’t know how to mine it. So I tried my hand at other genres, writing whatever came to mind. I wanted to find one I felt comfortable writing, but always from a cop’s perspective. And it was during this period of searching (twenty three years to be exact) that I eventually found my niche. The suspenseful psychological crime thriller.

After that it didn’t take long before River of Sensations was born. It’s sequel, Private Conversations, followed about a year later. And I’m happy to say Betrayal for Eternity followed in the same vain, but with a different cast of characters. My hero there is a female. So enjoy them. You’ll find a excerpts of each under Books.

Lastly, my characters do what they do because that’s who they are; not what I wanted them to be. They are individuals, each and every one. And if you’re wondering if people so cruelly depicted can really exist, the answer my friends, is yes they can. Unfortunately they are everywhere. They just don’t have signs around their necks advertising it.