SFWritersU

As an introduction, I'll tell you what I'm not: professional dog petter or shaver, rocket surgeon (or is it brain scientist?), little girl beauty pageant coach, bus charter coach, lawn waterer, laundromat assistant, toilet (include the whole bathroom) attendant, spam eater and/or writer, code monkey, funky monkey, howler/baby/spider monkey, shoe gum remover, Roundup weed assassin or any kind of foliage assassin (excluding houseplants), baby seal clubber or any kind of baby clubber, sidewalk chalk artist, little girl beauty pageant judge (although I'm open to overtanned old man pageant judge), counterfeiter (although it's a recurring yet unintentional dream), warm or cold caller, hand modeler, scrapbooker (not since I got a Kindle), dog food taster (my sister does that), jelly doughnut, jelly mint or jelly candy eyeball filler, ant farm ant catcher, armpit/breath smeller aka odor judge, urinalysis observer (female only), zoo artificial inseminator, cemetery plot or pet rock telemarketer, rock-thrower in a greenhouse, stand-in for bridesmaid or for full cavity body search, poopscooper (any kind), agoraphobic dominatrix.

As a writer, I've won 1 1/2 screenwriting awards, published technical manuals and non-fiction feature articles and stories, and published and edited magazines. Most authors' true unspoken objective, writing a real book, was too scary for someone with a severe case of ADHD and Asperger's like me. Then I met Charlie, a cop with more stories than one person ought to be allowed. Only an idiot couldn't see opportunity screaming as loudly as a marked car running code. The first story, "Drink, Fish, Smoke: Preparing for a Life in Law Enforcement" is a nonfiction narrative of one man's twisted journey into a career in law enforcement, and in the never-ending edit process. With three books outlined and in various stages of completion, I feel like I got the book thrown at me. Or perhaps, these cop narratives arrested my writing career. Hope my stories are officially charged.