I have a piece of land, just outside of Boulder Colorado, twelve acres, and on it I have my house, my four horses, and just about everything I possess. My wife Naomi, my oldest child Catherine age eleven, my son Nathan age five, and our dog Peyton, he’s around ten.

Not to say I own them, (laughing) but we have been here for just about three years now. We moved here so I could work more, and we also wanted another child, hence Nathan. So, since I’ve been here, I have written exactly one hundred and two pages, gone through about five paper shredders, and frustrated my publisher to no end.

Shannon, my pub rep, has been up here over a dozen times, she always brings the family gifts, and she knows I will have destroyed more paper shredders, so she’ll bring me another one. It’s almost laughable, no it is laughable. I know the real story is supposed to be in this manuscript somewhere, but I’ll be if I can locate it. What I should do is procure stock in some company that manufacturers fellowes powershred ratings.

I keep burning out the motors or something, I don’t know, all I can say is that, I have not been able to use computers yet, and typing was the way it had to be. It’s a long story, but to give you an idea, I had been employed for a newspaper from about 1984, to the end of 1989, when there was a fire. The fire took our first born Micheal, the fire was caused by a surge on the lines, coming from our worn out network. Needless to say, I was, and still am traumatized by the whole thing. I know it seems strange, but for some reason I can’t get through it.