Fading light buttered the ridges until shadows licked them clean and they were lost to nightfall.

There's an overlap between social-realist fiction and crime fiction - a sweet spot there.

The opening novel of the 'Bayou Trilogy' was the first one I finished.

Pine trees with low limbs spread over fresh snow made a stronger vault for the spirit than pews and pulpits ever could.

He unscrewed the lid, set it on the dash, snorted from the bottle twice, banged the steering wheel, and said, 'You got to be ready to die every day - then you got a chance.'

Never. Never ask for what ought to be offered.

I felt like a number of things in me as a writer just clicked.