Hellbender (Murder Ballads and Whiskey Book 2) (38 page)

Then there’s my family from Laurel Highlands River Tours—the good years: uncles Bo Harshine, Chaz Hamilton, Rich Krajacek, Packy Nicholson, Big Jack Preston, Rockin’ Scott Bunner, Tom Steyer, and Mark McCarty, aunt Gayle Myers, cousins Mike Hendricks, Alan Jackson, Glen Shearer, Brian McMullen, T-Bird Nicholson, Harold Tawney, Doug Arbogast, and my brother, Mike Duff. At some point in the six years I spent up there I became a man. Not sure if it was the cold water or the toluene. Thanks for the laughs and the stories.

A pair of very special people adopted Heidi and me into their own writing families, and I owe a big debt of gratitude to both. Mary SanGiovanni and Christopher Paul Carey are by far the best critique partners I’ve never had. They exemplify professionalism and creativity, and I’m grateful for the laughs we’ve shared.

And I have a very, very special thanks for my label brother Michael A. Arnzen who left his blueprints on the table for me to look at. He’s what I want to be when I grow up. And he does it with a smile.

It was Mike who introduced me to Jennifer Barnes and John Edward Lawson of the Raw Dog Screaming Press family. We squared off over some Sundae Pie and my life hasn’t been the same since. I owe them both a tremendous amount of love and thanks.

Over the last twenty years I’ve accumulated all kinds of new family members, and especially want to thank my new cousin Mike Mehalek for making the day job fun for a few years (and for teaching me patience), Little Mike Rega—an old cousin—for always helping me to remember why twelve years old was, in fact, awesome, grandma and grandpap Hawk for their kindness and Tuesday night halupki, the Rubys—Albert, Sharon and Tom, for welcoming me as a son and a sibling and for sharing the magic with me, and Crystal for being a sister when I only had a brother.

And I want to express my deepest thanks to my real brother, Mike, and my mom for always being there, even when I wasn’t. Whenever I’m with either, I’m home.

Lastly, thank you, Heidi. Thinking of all the stories we have yet to write together keeps me up at night. In that Alpine meadow we made a promise; “We aren’t like the rest.” Maybe those weren’t the exact words and maybe neither of us even ever muttered them. But I remember the exact moment it happened—when you grabbed my hand, and led me into the clouds.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jason Jack Miller hails from Fayette County, Pennsylvania, as in, “Circus freaks, temptation and the Fayette County Fair,” made famous by The Clarks in the song, “Cigarette.” He is a writer, photographer and musician. His first band was the un- ironically named Phist, a punk/grunge hybrid who played their first show during second period at Tri-Valley High School’s Winter Carnival. Their last show was a week later on New Year’s Eve at Friend’s Roller Rink. He worked as a whitewater raft guide on the Lower Yough in Pennsylvania and the Cheat in West Virginia, during which time he met his wife, Heidi. Shortly after getting hitched they moved to Florida and worked for a very famous mouse. An outdoor travel guide he co- authored with his wife in 2006 jumpstarted his freelancing career; his work has since appeared in newspapers, magazines, literary journals, online, as part of a travel guide app for mobile phones, and in a regular column for Inveterate Media Junkies. He wrote the novels
Hellbender
and
All Saints
during his graduate studies at Seton Hill University, where he is now adjunct creative writing faculty. When he isn’t writing he’s on his mountain bike or looking for his next favorite guitar. He is currently writing and recording the soundtracks to his novels,
The Devil and Preston Black
and
Hellbender
, and his next novel,
The
Revelations
of Preston Black
. He lives near Pittsburgh with his writer wife Heidi Ruby Miller. His blog is http:// jasonjackmiller.blogspot.com. Tweet him @jasonjackmiller

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