Morgan Entrekin, the publisher at Grove Atlantic, once sent me a letter laying out how a hero in a novel manuscript should appear page one. Okay, I get it. I had started out with a sweeping view of the Southwest. He’s right. I should have chopped that out.

And then, I did.

It’s very hard for me to dip into the American mind. Mainly, I smile and nod. Frankly, I have no idea what you want.

I know what I want. I want characters who can talk the talk and walk the walk. I have walked in the skin of Romeo Void for five years. Romeo is worth at least a couple of books.

Romeo Void is a homo sapiens albino.

It does present a few possibilities. As a character, Romeo is rich in that he, too, has no idea what you want. Americans are a mystery. Which is why I live in a vast and forbidding woods.

Romeo is in his twenties, and is married to a whirling dervish named Hecuba. They take a road trip on dirt bikes.

Gentlemen do not ride on dirt bikes. But, Morgan, you were correct. Along the way, since then, I see blacklist after blacklist. I thought publishing had finally gone beyond that. I think publishing is about who you know. — Tim Barrus