Robert Ryan

Robert Ryan...

I'm a man born in the wrong era. My heart yearns for faraway places and even further afield times.

Sometimes I imagine myself in a Viking mead-hall. The long winter night presses in, but the shimmering embers of a log in the hearth hold back the cold. The chieftain calls for a story, and I take a sip from my drinking horn and stand up. . .

Or maybe the desert stars shine bright and clear, obscured occasionally by wisps of smoke from burning camel dung. A dry gust of wind lifts sand grains into the air and blows them through our lonely campsite, and the wayfarers about me stir restlessly. I sip cool water and begin to speak.

Samantha Krenneck...

Really, Roberteo, is that the best you've got? Camel dung and mead? I'm going to ignore the camel dung (you could ease up a bit on the mead too) and open your stories to ... banter, romance and dragons.

Especially dragons.

You've invited me to co-author with you, so consider the kraken unleashed! No, wait. That's mixing my metaphors. Or monsters. Anyway, you get the point.

Stay tuned everyone for the stories you've always loved from Robert, but now with a twist from me!