Readers often ask whether characters are based on real people, composites of several people, or made up our of whole cloth. Most of mine have some basis in reality, though almost never a single real person. A character trait from one, a mannerism from another, the hair and eyes of a third. But the person you create becomes real and after a book or two (or eight or nine) you forget the source of your own inspiration.
A signing this weekend brought some of this back. I was sitting at my table, chatting and scribbling when I looked up to see a woman, middle-aged now, a little more gray in her hair than when I’d last seen her, but she could say the same of me. She said she wanted to buy a book for her husband for Father’s Day. She asked me to recommend one.
I picked HOME BODY. I signed it for Neil. I was honored to do it.
Neil is a car mechanic, has his own garage next to his house. He does business in cash and on a handshake. His word is like epoxy. Neil is as honest, honorable, and ethical a guy as I’ve ever met. He would go through a wall for his friends. He would go through two walls for his family. He is smart and tough and resourceful. He is also very funny, knows a thousand jokes. He’d tell them during breaks in the garage, pausing by the workbench, lighting a cigarette, eyes glinting. “You hear the one about the minister, the priest, and the rabbi in the hot-air balloon?…”
Neil served in Vietnam. He came back not so impressed with governments so he tends to keep to himself. He works most of the time, six days a week, sometimes seven. When he isn’t working he likes to go fishing. He goes way up north, away from people. Trout streams, deep in the woods. He used to hunt deer but killing things lost its appeal after the war. He didn’t talk about that much. When he did, it was usually over a Budweiser or two. Sixteen-ounce cans.
I haven’t seen Neil in a long time, but I mention this here because he was a big part of the inspiration for Clair, Jack McMorrow’s mentor and back-up. I never told him that and I doubt he has ever read any of my books. But he might recognize his garage in Clair’s barn, maybe see a hint of himself in Clair’s quiet but steely resolve.
So hat’s off to the real deal from the guy who makes things up.
In PORT CITY SHAKEDOWN, the first Brandon Blake novel, Brandon gets a full dose of bad guys. A brawl in a funeral home introduces him to Joel Fuller, a sociopathic hustler. Fuller is fresh out of jail and determined to take Brandon out—after Fuller and his sidekick Kelvin shake him down.
Rocky isn’t a tough guy. He’s a skinny little kid with crooked glasses, and he shouldn’t be homeless in Portland, Maine. When McMorrow and Roxanne pluck him from under the stomping feet of a gang of street kids, Rocky latches onto McMorrow–and drags him into a world of murder, both old and new. Why is McMorrow protecting Rocky? The cops want to know. Why is Rocky on the run? McMorrow wants to know. Why does death follow in Rocky’s wake? Jack and Roxanne need to find out before they’re added to the list. 
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