The place was packed as we flooded in, all the patrons freezing at the sight of an armed sheriff, two deputies, an Indian, and a construction worker; we probably looked like the Village People.

I looked over at her; if women knew how good they looked in the dash light of oversized pickup trucks, they'd never get out of them.

If someone is starving, excessively exercising or using purging behaviors, then we know they are in a high-risk place for turning on the psychiatric illnesses.

He mulled that over. "Sheriff Connally woulda let us shoot 'em." I reached over and took his coffee away from him. "Yep. Lucian probably would have done the job himself, but we're living in more enlightened times." I drained his cup and handed it back with a smile. "Ain't it grand?

Writing is a solitary pursuit and I think you have to be partially at peace with yourself, but it's the other part that's usually producing the stuff worth reading.

It was the second time that day that I stood looking at a space where a large thing wasn't where it was supposed to be.

A writer, like a sheriff, is the embodiment of a group of people and without their support both are in a tight spot.