The year was 1993. My third wife and I, along with her 4-year-old daughter, had just moved into a rental home. The house had a downstairs office where I could write. And though my young wife proved way beyond my capacity to endure (we divorced within a year) she did have one unassailable, positive effect: She made me write.
Every morning at 4:00am, a habit I still maintain today, with a cup of hot black coffee at the ready, I’d write for two hours before work.
A good friend, head of our print shop, started a new magazine, and she asked me to write a story for the first issue. The first of several, this story was my initial contribution.