When this column started, I had given up on writing novels. Now?
The debut novel of my first series is HERE!
Publisher’s Weekly: “Steeped in the style of 1970s pulp detective fiction . . . Brimstone is cut from the cloth of the classic wisecracking detective, and Ridler peppers the text with perfectly pitched hard-boiled vernacular. The novel’s wild mix of comedy and supernatural perils bodes well for its detective’s future adventures.”
And the great Brian Keene called it, “Deliciously uncomfortable, wonderfully gritty, and a worthy successor to the occult detectives of old.”
I’m a legit author.
Published from New York to Cali and all points in between. Positive reviews and endorsements, from my command of plot to characters.
So the big question is . . .
… how the hell did it happen?
We will return next month to get the final installment of The Gutters, which will explore the years Before Brimstone, when I paid my dues in massive amounts of failure, broken dreams, and stupidity. When I stopped worshipping success and had to survive. Because in a strange way, when I gave up on dreams, better things than dreams happened.
Things like reality, in the form of a debut novel.