In a faraway corner of a dark dusty attic stood a small stack of time worn old boxes. Inside one of the oldest boxes, nestled in a blanket of aged, yellowed newsprint, the Little Red Christmas Ball yawned awake from a long, peaceful, waiting sleep.
Amid the tales of yesterday he’d waited. Through the soft bloom of spring to the crisp colors of autumn and winter's shortening light, he’d waited and waited...and dreamed....
And so begins “The Little Red Christmas Ball” my new book which is—as the subtitle proclaims—a story for kids and anyone whoever was...and would be again.
So, pretty much everyone...at least I hope.
I wrote these words— my first lines of fiction—way back in 1992 when a video producer overran his budget and basically didn’t have enough money to pay for my services rendered. So, in lieu of cash he offered me one of his old computers and told me to go write that novel I’d always talked about.
And I did, night after night, into the early morning hours, over the course of a year; I sat and brought this story and characters to life.