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Mark Wm Smith
An overeducated, blue-collar cowboy, I grew up on along the banks of the Yellowstone River in Eastern Montana. Raised by a long haul trucker and a bartending waitress, I learned the hard ways of the modern frontier, scraping life from the unforgiving high chaparral.
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My Writing Blog
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The Last Winter of 2000
Beginnings are impossible. I’ve been starting the author game for 20-plus years. It rarely appears as work in progress. Fits and starts. That’s my record. Fits lead to starts/restarts lead to fits, ad nauseam. Time to stop beginning and advance. Accept my invitation…
MGC Chapter Forty-Four
Sheriff Shudders The Sheriff arrived in a fit, caterpillar mustache bouncing with frenetic energy. He barked madly at the air. A kaleidoscope pulse of emergency lights punctuated his outbursts, provoking an atmosphere of hysteria. “What the hell did you do, Pierce?…
MGC Chapter Forty-Three
Deputy Dead Ollie smoothed his uniform shirt as he declined our request for Spiesz’s location. He reminded Tony that professionalism prevented a casual release of such information. Tony and I shared our suspicions and the need to confront Spiesz about his life of…
MGC Chapter Forty-Two
Library Finds “It’s their job to find bad guys, Connor,” Tony told me after I gave a detailed review of my condition. “LEOs train for that sort of thing. We sign up to take a beating. Or a bullet.” He sighed and shook his head. “It’s not your job to get yourself…