"Waiting For White Horses" was born as a short story, something to read to my father as he lay in a nursing home bed...just a way to help pass the time during some long bedside vigils.

When Dad passed away, instead of being finished with the story, I felt compelled to continue.  I suppose the writing provided some closure for the loss of my best friend also.

At about that same time I suffered several other personal losses, and as I wrote "Waiting For White Horses" the question in my heart was, "Just how vulnerable am I willing to be in order to hold on to the ones I love?"  Two years and 500 pages later I was finished with the story and readers were left to answer the same question for themselves.

The only goal I had in writing "Waiting For White Horses" was to tell a good story, and hopefully to allow my imagination to merge with that of the readers.