T. Nelson Taylor is the author of Bolita, Dust: Special Edition, and To Dust.

We all loathe writing about ourselves. Better someone else fall on that knife, right? You know, I say that then I suddenly remember the folks who’ll wax on about themselves all day—as a profession or sheer indulgence. I can assure you that’s not me, although I’ve carried on for three sentences now in avoiding the task at hand. On with it …

T. Nelson Taylor is the author of… Wait, I’m in third-person now? Ugh, never mind. Maybe it’s this aqua-colored draft background that’s got me in a mood. Oops! You folks don’t see it; the stones of Devils Tower are in the background. If you look real hard, you might find Larry Butler’s jacket.

Anyway, I pecked my first novel, Dust, in 2009. Crazy idea. This story had been ricocheting off my head for several years, and the economic meltdown meant I had some extra time on my hands. I’ve been a casual follower of neuroscience for decades, including the often-incomplete or insincere jabs at explaining dreams (part of oneirology)—déjà vu, long-term/short-term memory, and other routine anomalies à la cryptomnesia in scientific contexts. This often led down the path to the paranormal or summarily dismissed as a psychological illness. Science is slowly catching up, comedic as that sounds. This is where Dust dwells—a happy accident with unforeseen consequences.

Now to the sequel!

Um, nope. My father, a retired criminology professor and former detective head of Tampa Police Department’s Criminal Intelligence Unit, insisted Bolita must be next. A friend and TPD colleague of his, DET SGT Richard Cloud, was slain in cold blood by the mob at front door of his residence in October, 1975. Many believe it came with the blessings (and possible direction) of Tampa’s local mafia underboss, TPD’s police chief, and their misguided lackeys. I say misguided because Tampa’s don, Santo Trafficante, claimed full ignorance, condemning the act, and that part might be true. The fallout was severe—several paid with their lives—but the question of full justice remains to this day. Those in knowledge of the complete story have long since met their maker. Facts are scarce or perhaps intentionally obscure. Research and interviews became intense. The police department, it seems, would rather keep it all in the past. Maybe Bolita will inspire others to come forward or draft more books. Maybe it all needs to go away? Problem is, nobody got over it. How could they?

Now comes To Dust. After what—a 12-year wait? All I can say is, life gets in the way sometimes.
I hope it’s worth your patience. I enjoyed all the technical research that went into writing it. No spoilers!

Yours,

/T

Oh … me … almost made it out of here without more of those dreaded ellipses editors hate.
Music and legal industries—engineering, performance, editing, graphic arts, and their business. My inspiration to write surfaced during an academic return to the University of South Florida, and a little nurturing from certain literary professors who enjoyed my description of early-2000s detective fiction cinema as “Denim Noir”.

Writing? You have a story to tell, you sit down, you start to type, words appear on the screen. Many you like, some you don’t, but it doesn’t discourage you. More percussive tapping—a paragraph, then finally a page. You examine it and say to yourself, “Maybe that’s a start.”