So, this is book 22 for me. I remember a few years back when I read that William Bernhardt was writing his 22nd book. It just seemed too amazing to me. It was not only a goal but something I held to be so very wonderful. If I could do that, if I could write 22 books, I told myself, I would really feel great about it. It's true. I do feel great about it. I am not lying, I feel fantastically wonderful about being able to say I've written 22 books.
Now, Bill, I'm thinking, has written over 60 books, and not all of them have been novels. Some of this work is nonfiction guides; some of it is poetry. He has a few historical fictions in there, but I mainly know his work in legal fiction thrillers. That's where I first found his works, and that's where I do most of my Bernhardt reading. I will say this: I've read a plethora of authors, and he's right up there with the best. If you have not taken the time to read his work, you should do so. He's on Amazon!
Bill has written 19 novels in the Ben Kincaid series. I've written eight, and am writing my ninth in the Nick Posh series. Ben Kincaid is a lawyer, while Nick Posh is a detective. Ben was probably hanging out in the 1980s to 2010 if I had to guess, while Nick was born in 1890, and the first book I wrote, "Murder Book", takes place in 1929. Both Bill and I are from Oklahoma. In fact, we are both from the same area; he was raised about 15 miles from me. He's just about 22 months older than me, so you could absolutely say we have a lot in common. I truly admire his work.
"The Mother Road" takes place from August 1934 to about Christmas time. There will be a five-year reunion of sorts because Murder Book's end was right at that time in 1929, and now that it's 1934 in this book, a few of the characters will talk on the phone and exchange gifts to remember a fallen friend from the first book, Oscar Keogh. (I love that guy) I think it's nice that the books talk about and include characters from other books I've written, so that they have a few common threads to string them all together. It's intentional.
The actual Mother Road, Route 66, is literally less than 1/4 of a mile from my house. I was born less than 6 miles from it, lived less than 2 miles from it for 24 years, and then bounced around, but I was never that far from it except when I lived in Indiana. Even when I lived in Beverly Hills and worked in Hollywood, the end of the road came right up to the Santa Monica pier in Los Angeles. It's been a staple in my life and something I haven't given too terribly much thought about - probably because it was always there.
I kind of giggle when I see the Route 66 signs in the backgrounds of some of the YouTubers I watch, or in movies. I think to myself, I could throw a rock really hard and hit the street, but that's an exaggeration. I could walk to it in under 2 minutes, though. I really could. I decided to write the book because the road is turning 100 years old this year. I love the road. It's a fun and amazing thing. I haven't driven the whole thing like some people have, but I've driven part of it in every state it goes through.
I don't think I was even aware of its importance until many, many years after I learned to drive. I'd see it in movies and think it was fun because I knew it so well. I'd take it from Oklahoma City to Tulsa if I wanted to avoid tolls. I took it from Oklahoma City to Amarillo, but there are more "Old Route 66" roads that are off I-40, so it's hard to find them all -- I'm thinking I'll rent a car someday and drive it from Oklahoma City to Dwight, Illinois, near Chicago. I don't think I want to go into Chicago again. I love Chicago, but I don't want to drive in it -- not now, I'm too old.
The route is still an amazing road, but the real stories it holds are long gone. I wanted to bring some of them back, even if only through fictional means. I'm sure hoping a dozen folks weren't killed around the road at any particular time period - I'm also hoping that gangsters and mobsters aren't lurking about the side of the road attractions waiting to pounce. If they are, I'm also hoping that there will be two wonderful detectives with brains and brawn to take them out! That's what the book is about anyway - hope I didn't give too much of it away.
I wrote three more chapters today. I'm up to Chapter 8 now. I'll do 8,9, and 10 tomorrow. I'll probably have the thing written in about six weeks, so by the end of May. It's taking a bit longer than I first expected, but I'm not in any rush. I have another two or three books to type out this year as well. I'll have at least one more Posh book and another romance book. I could do two Posh thrillers if I push it. I may write another Blog Book as well - just to have it out there. They take a couple of weeks to produce, not too much time, not too much trouble. I like them, and even if no one else ever reads them, I wrote them. Whenever someone on YouTube sends me an uninvited DM saying they want to "get to know me," I tell them to read all the blog books first -then we can talk.
The way I see it, I'm just too busy to start up some romantic venture at this age. I'm both uninterested and, really, I'm not even sure my body could handle it. Fuggetaboutit -- nope! I'm too happy being old, fat, and frumpy in my jammies. If I didn't get dressed and put on makeup to go to work, what would happen if I had a man in my life? Gosh darn, please, don't even think about it - nope! I'm good. Thank you, I'm good. I'm getting my 5th dog tomorrow. I will do that. I will welcome that kind of love into my life. Go ahead, twist my arm.
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