Truth Be Told...

When you write a novel and you live in a small town, people around you tend to feel very comfortable approaching you to tell you what they thought of your story. I find it both gratifying and intimidating when people come up to me and tell me how they would like the next book of the series to end. My favorite question that I have gotten so far is how much of an influence was my husband really in the story line? The major player in the book is the head of the Mexican Mafia and a former maintenance manager for an apartment community. It just so happens that my husband used to manage maintenance for apartments and is Mexican. I laughed a little, inside, thinking how seriously I should take this question.

            I write about what I know or should I say, that’s how it all begins. I look back at glimpses at my past life and take bits and pieces of where I been and what I’ve done and spin a web of fiction unrecognizable to those who know me. Or at least I try.

So, truth be told, when I first met my husband he was driving a very fancy beamer, much like the one Max drives in Easter’s Lilly. He was also (and is still very) handsome and sought after by women. It was rumored that he might have other sources of income to support his lifestyle. So when people ask me if I took Diego’s story from my husband’s life, I simply smile and say, “Maybe…”