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I am a writer of small renown who currently resides in a California penal colony. Before my fall from grace I wrote for alternative music magazine, played music professionally, and wrote and produced humorous radio commercials. While on the road with my Gothic blues band, I deliberately employed the most dissolute musicians Hollywood offered, who in turn, introduced me to the practice of heroin smoking, which led to Prison. Not a good situation by a long shot, but I do have time to write and write. My policy of submitting short stories, essays, articles and poems to every English speaking magazine in the world has borne fruit in that I have been published in a bewildering number of venues in a dozen countries. I will enclose a list of the last couple of years’ publications.

Naturally, I have a novel, The Narcotic Field Theory, a darkly absurd crime novel with literary ambitions. I’ve been working on it for five years and would enjoy working on it for another five years, but I have ideas for other books and so must approach the task of sending this one out into the world. It’s about Christian, a poet/junkie/music.phpian who lives in Hollywood and steals things. It is fiction, but deeply informed by people and events I observed and survived. Christian has run-ins with black and Mexican gangs, pot smoking LAPD officers, a jazz musician who enjoys armed robbery, and other counter-culturish types. I am an Elmore Leonard fan and originally thought to emulate him, but it didn’t work out that way. I also like Pete Dexter and Gabriel Garcia Marques (specifically Love In The Time of Cholera). In no way do I compare myself to them. I wish I could.

If you are a general reader, I hope you enjoyed the first four chapters. If you are an Agent or Publisher and would like to read the remaining twenty-seven chapters, please contact me and I’ll have my literary assistant on the outside get them to you. So let me know what you’re thinking, and thank you for your time and consideration.

Your humble Servant,
St. James Harris Wood


. . . a narcotic field is created by inhaling an organic substance taken from the poppy; body chemistry shifts down—the metabolism slows, blood pressure drops and the field oozes into existence—a small zone where the laws of gravity and other unproved forces can be changed or cancelled; all laws really, of man or physics or nature no longer apply. Well, there's one law: Don't kill. All that other crap addressing sex and property goes straight out the window. The heroin creates a singularity around its user like a black hole changes time and space. When the field is up and running, it protects me, though, sometimes, I can't remember everything . . .

--excerpt from Christian Walker's interview with LAPD psychiatrist

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