This week I published a new novel. Nothing unusual in that, but this one’s a bit different.
First, it’s not a new novel — it’s about 25 years old. Second, it’s not by me. Third, it’s by a writer who went missing for twenty years and who still remains something of an enigma.
The tale of how I tracked down Chuck Loyola is almost as mysterious as the brooding, dark, angry, noir-ish novel, Blood Libel, itself. Almost, but not quite. But as publishing stories go, it has a few twists and turns and a whiff of mystery. Continue reading
