As promised! Excerpt from Dirty Town Under a Crooked Bridge – December 7, 2011

CFN –   As some of you know I’ve been working on my second novel; Dirty Town Under a Crooked Bridge.   It’s been an interesting and challenging process.   I had to scrap my first draft and start over from scratch, and am also working on the screenplay as that’s my forte .  (more to come out on that at a later date)

One night on facebook recently I had a little fun and posted above that if 25 people liked the post I’d release the excerpt.  I was stunned to see those 25 do so in less than an hour.    With what’s been going on and time I wrestled with which excerpt to release, and at the end of the day someone said “Why don’t you just toss out the opening?”

Which is what I’ve done below.

DTUCB was due out in time for Christmas, but it’s going to be delayed; most likely until May.   The charity print edition run has sold out (I’ll be announcing the charity at print time) and of course the book will be available as a digital download via Amazon and other fine book selling sites.

I wish to thank all those that have offered me the support and messages as this process is evolving.    It’s fun and very cathartic for me, and I hope that I earn that support when the book is finally released!   Please note that this is “historical fiction” .    This is from the third draft and of course the final product may differ.  Special kudos to artist Jay Schwartz who did the first test cover!

Dirty Town Under a Crooked Bridge Excerpt 1-C

December 7, 2011

“Why are you stopping at the top of this bridge?”

 

It was a cold December night. The air was still, and the lights of the city created a haze. I gazed across the water.

 

It was pretty and still. No cars were out; no people visible; just this pretty little town. It was about as far away from Los Angeles as a person could drive, or at least felt that way at three in the morning.

 

To the left my wife stared at a smokestack spewing out chalky thick smoke that seemed to be creeping toward our car.

 

“This is gross. Can you smell that? I’m so sick of driving.”

 

“You’re just tired. I’m sure there’s a hotel up ahead.”

 

The car descended the bridge into the morning. Driving down Brookdale Avenue it just looked like any other town; one of hundreds I’d driven by the last four days.

 

We just needed some sleep, and tomorrow we’d be in Montreal to bring in the new Millennium.