Dead Reckoning is up to its third draft. I have a completely new cover to add whenever I manage to get it completed and uploaded to Smashwords.
Dreams Die Hard is at 20,000 words. Yeah, yeah, I know, but it’s riding season. So leave an admonishing comment. I’m doing this for fun, not fame and fortune.
Dreams Never Die is still on the radar. I’m fleshing out the beat sheet. The beginning, mid-point and end is done. I’m working on filling the rest of it in, but it’s summer out here in hill-billy heaven. I won’t be making a serious attempt at writing it until sometime in the fall when riding season is over.
I may have to ride down to the Keys to do some research for this one. My fading memory is even worse when I try to take it back to the ’80s. I’ve not been down that way since then, so that should be a treat. By now, traffic on that two-lane causeway is probably a real bear.
On one of my forays through Miami I recall hitting the south end around midnight. I was too tired to go any farther, so I checked into the first motel I saw. It seemed like the thing to do at the time, but I was kept up most of the night by the girls parading up and down the street under my ground-floor window, clickity-clack, clickity-clack, back and forth until the wee hours. And those Cuban girls were LOUD in those shoes. I think they used that walking sound as a form of advertisement. Not for me, though.
Come light of morning, it was obvious what the motel was used for, but at midnight after a day-long ride from dawn, I never noticed.
I wonder if the old, good-time chickee bars are still there – like anything ever stays the same, right? The girls I used to know are probably grandmothers by now. It’s long past time for a whole new adventure in the Keys.
