David Creps

David Creps has worked as a ditch-digger, truck driver, dice-dealer, carpenter, screen¬writer, playwright, and novelist. The first highlight of his writing career happened when he was twenty-two years old, and Shecky Greene read a couple pages of his stuff, and said, “I’ve read worse.” And, in analyzing the unspoken words within Shecky’s comment, David understood Shecky to mean, “Holy crap! I am the greatest writer Shecky has ever allowed to work for him for free!”

This was enough to inspire him through decades of laborious scribbling and ultimately provide him with enough cash to get a small mortgage on a cabin 8,000 feet up in the mountains, and to purchase a genuine 1966 greenish-gray U.S. Postal Service mail truck lined with wall-to-wall-to-ceiling-to-floor green shag carpet, which could transport more lengths of lumber in one haul than any vehicle in this entire country.

(David is also a husband, a father, a brother, a grandfather, a good-natured, and occasionally, totally innocent, rascal.)