My wife and I arrived in Sofia in early 2009 at the start of a two-year job relocation. We had never before lived in Europe, had never previously lived in a big city. We looked forward to the possibilities of travel and new experiences and were quite excited as we began our Bulgarian adventure. A heavy snowfall greeted my wife when she flew into Sofia, and we realized our adventures would have to wait. We settled into a daily routine of working, shopping, laundry, cooking, and living ordinary lives in a strange and unfamiliar country. Still, we were eager to venture out from our apartment and begin our explorations.
Just around the corner from where we lived I discovered a very small chef’s restaurant, called The Golden Apple. On my way home at the end of one of our first work weeks, I stopped in and made dinner reservations. It was Friday night and it would be good to go out.
The waiter brought menus to our table, and we asked for the English version. Realizing that we were newcomers to the country, the waiter asked, “Have you ever tried rakia?”
I am excited to announce that my novel The Burgas Affair will be published in Bulgarian by Ciela, the leading Bulgarian publishing house.
The publication of the book in Bulgarian will be its world premiere. Hopefully publication of the book's original English version will soon follow.
I look forward to working with the team at Ciela and to my role in making this book a success.
I wish to thank all those who helped me during the research and writing of the novel – your assistance is truly appreciated.
I express my sincere gratitude to Jessica Schmeidler of Golden Wheat Literary, who shares my literary vision for the future. This deal is the first of many.
THE BURGAS AFFAIR. A Bulgarian policeman is teamed up with an Israeli woman from the Mossad as they work a case involving international terrorists and local criminals in both Bulgaria and Israel, while confronting the traumas of their pasts.
The green-winged ogre landed on my window sill, on the top floor of Druddigon Castle in the underground land known among the peasants simply as Moligan. I fought off the dragon's harsh bad breath to rise from my bed, drew my trusty dagger from its pouch, and went to face the ogre before it could capture the golden chalice that I had kept under my pillow through six hours of restless sleep.
Not exactly the most appealing prose, right? Well, that's because I just can't write fantasy. Or speculative fiction or science fiction for that matter. In my writing I am incapable of placing characters in strange, far-off worlds, where the culture and religion and history is so much different than our own.