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

Me?

Oh dear. Anyone else loathe the self-aggrandizing promotional part? You know, I wrote that and then I suddenly remembered the folks who’d wax on (no Miyagi!) about themselves all day. I can assure you that’s not me, although I’ve carried on for a few sentences now in avoiding the task at hand. <sigh>
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. An editor recently strafed that as an arcane reference too buried for today’s average reader. Seriously? Okay, maybe I should tuck the tongue before some twisted internet controversy occurs. (This is an actual clickbait PR modus for too many).

Anyway, I pecked my first novel, Dust, in 2009. Crazy idea; the story’s nucleus had been ricocheting off my head for several years, and 2008’s economic meltdown meant extra time on my hands. Nerd Alert! I’ve been a casual follower of neuroscience breakthroughs and peculiarities for decades. This includes 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. It 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. Since I have no guilt complex with popcorn action/adventure and sci-fi flicks, Dust’s premise blew the hatch open for a “let’s see where it goes” ideology. Towards the end, I realized the entire Dust saga would be far too ambitious for a single massive debut novel, and anyone familiar with publishing agents knows the drill. It’s etched with malice on digital inkwell for automated query letter rejections. “Who do you think you are?”—put the nicest way possible.

What happened?

The sequel’s outline and opening manuscript were prepped and ready, but before I could catch the first rhythm of a 10,000-word week, someone threw a track switch. That’s the short of it.

My father, E. Alexander “Alex” Taylor, Jr., a retired criminology professor and former detective head of Tampa Police Department’s Criminal Intelligence Unit, insisted Bolita must be next. His friends were passing at an alarming rate. Their stories—their testimony—would be lost if I waited. A friend and TPD colleague of his, DET SGT Richard Cloud, was slain in October, 1975 by the mob in cold blood at the front door of his home. 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. 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. This is why Bolita is a novel, not a documentary. Maybe its story will inspire others in possession of verifiable missing pieces to come forward or draft more books. Or, maybe it all needs to go away. Problem is, nobody got over it. How could they? Why should they?

Now comes To Dust. After what—a 12-year wait? Blaming “life” seems lazy, regardless of the truth. I make no apologies; it happens. Diversions, tangents … more track changes. My silver linings might have been achieved under a blood moon, cryptic as that might sound. Nonetheless, a few draft synopses and outlines for future works spilled out onto the desk. Sporadic writing flurries kept To Dust alive all those years, and a deep dive into voiceover narration also produced a punchier, enhanced version of Dust—now Dust: Special Edition—my first audiobook!

I hope To Dust is worth your patience. I enjoyed all the technical research that went into writing it, and more fun in the drafting. It’s quite a ride.

Yours,

/T

Oh … me … almost made it out of here without more of those dreaded ellipses editors hate. <sigh>

Music and legal industries—engineering, performance, editing, graphic arts, and their businesses. 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”. If I were to cite when my aspirational spark occurred, that was probably it.

Writing process? 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.”