D.W. Rigsby is the quintessential man of our times. Not only did he come from the hills of Ohio, his entire family does too. There's hope yet for this man from small town America as he sets out to become discovered by the supper wealthy hipster men and women of the entertainment industry. Let's not forget he's on a mission and with any mission he must have three things - his looks, his wits, and his words. Looks aside - he must have at least the other two. He's worked thousands of hours, no jest, in learning the craft of screenwriting, and novels by learning from the best - Robert McKee, and Stephen King - though not in person.

At the age of seventeen he and his mother moved to the rolling hills, more like lumps, of central Florida. He worked, helped to pay bills, went to school, played varsity soccer and counted the days of when he'd be set free. When his H.S. bell rang for him its final ring he got up, went out, looked around the schoolyard, fenced in with barbed wire, and said to himself - "never again." Shortly after he joined the US Army, and found himself surrounded by barbed wire, crawling through it, over it and getting stuck on it.

Nine years later he's published two books - though he's written closer to seven or eight books. He's entered several screen play contests of which the current one he's not received the final results. He writes across genres but much of his work is paranormal in nature. This is probably due to part of his upbringing when he'd sit around a table at the age of twelve and read the fortunes of people, or try and contact spirits of the underworld. It's a world behind him, though not forgotten.

Finally - he's ready after all those years of hard work with two more books being edited, and one he's in the process of writing. This is his year and the world will know his name or not.

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat. Excerpt from the speech "Citizenship In A Republic" - Theodore Roosevelt”
– Kirkus Reviews