Author
S. L. Marchand
I spent thirty years in the engine rooms of Mississippi riverboats, mostly at night, mostly alone with a lot of machinery that knocked when it wanted attention. You learn to listen down there. You learn that a river has moods and a boat has opinions. I retired to a shotgun house in the Bywater with a porch, a fig tree and a neighbor who tells me every ghost story she has ever heard, twice. My books are not about blood. They are about the sound in the wall that stops when you stand up, and the streetcar that comes by one stop too many. I write at the kitchen table after midnight, which my wife says is the problem.
