What's the story behind the story? What inspired you to write Neural Bounty (Wild Frontier Chronicles Book 2)?
After completing Smuggler’s Rebellion, the first book in the Wild Frontier Chronicles, I brainstormed ideas for the next installment in the main storyline. I decided to follow the spec ops team that WFA Commander Ella Kuhn mentions she’d send to the Scrapyard of Duryak to eliminate the Stygian Duster threat and to establish a working relationship between the WFA and Kade Duran, the Scrapyard’s “boss.”
At first, I centered the narrative on this team, with their leader, Eckhard Lorenz, as the primary protagonist. But as I wrote, something felt off. The story wasn’t clicking. Eventually, I hit a wall and had to step back altogether. During this break, I wrote short stories and explored other projects, but the real breakthrough came when I watched Netflix’s 2021 live-action adaptation of Cowboy Bebop. I loved it! (You’ll notice Neural Bounty’s dedication honors Spike, Jet, and Faye—the show’s core bounty hunter trio.)
Faye Valentine particularly resonated with me. Her amnesia, the discovery of that haunting VHS tape from her childhood, and the fleeting reference to her mother struck a deep chord. Her story became the catalyst for reimagining my entire novel. I rebuilt Neural Bounty around Kassidy Reyez, a character inspired by Faye, following her as she pursues a bounty to the Scrapyard of Duryak.
The WFA team—Lorenz, Jin Jao, and Dante Nguyen-Sanchez—remained, but as supporting players rather than leads. I’m grateful they survived the rewrite, as they bring layers of personality and political intrigue that enrich the story’s texture.
If you had to pick theme songs for the main characters of Neural Bounty (Wild Frontier Chronicles Book 2), what would they be?
“Bring Me to Life,” by Evanescence. Amy Lee’s powerful vocals over crushing guitars capture the duality of vulnerability and strength. Perfect for Kassidy Reyez, who’s dealing with internal conflict while maintaining a hardened exterior. The song nails the exact moment when numbness transforms into rage, when disconnection becomes deadly focus.
Kassidy didn’t just wake up. She erupted. Everything that tried to keep her asleep became collateral damage. That’s why this song works for her. It’s not about finding yourself through some fluffy journey of self-discovery. It’s about creating yourself through the controlled demolition of everything you used to be. Kassidy definitely comes to life in Neural Bounty in a powerful way.
What's your favorite genre to read? Is it the same as your favorite genre to write?
I gravitate toward science fiction, thrillers, suspense, and westerns, both as a reader and a writer. But what really captivates me, regardless of genre, is noir. That atmosphere of moral ambiguity, pervading suspicion, and inevitable fatalism draws me in every time.
Neural Bounty was written as a noir thriller, and that choice was deliberate. There’s something powerful about noir. It peels back the comfortable lies we tell ourselves and forces characters to stare at the uncomfortable truths of who they are and what humanity is capable of. It’s unforgiving in the best possible way, demanding honesty from both the characters and the readers who follow them into the shadows.
What books are on your TBR pile right now?
Animal Farm and 1984. Books are unnervingly relevant to our times, unfortunately.
What scene in your book was your favorite to write?
Without a doubt: Chapter 16: Convergence in Blood. The whole damn chapter, but especially the showdown that gives it its name. Every choice Kassidy made, every line she crossed, every piece of herself she’d sacrificed to become what she needed to be—all crashed together in that chapter. Pure cause and effect, stripped of any comforting lies about redemption or moral clarity.
The best part? That chapter made me uncomfortable. It revealed truths about Kassidy that shocked even me. When your own writing forces you to walk away from your computer because you can’t handle what you just created, that’s when you know you’ve hit something real.
Do you have any quirky writing habits? (lucky mugs, cats on laps, etc.)
I do like to burn pinion incense. It’s a New Mexico thing. Something about the scent helps me focus and relax. The scent resembles pine and juniper, with hints of sage and dried herbs, as if the Southwest itself is distilled in the vapor.
Pinion smoke feels clean and natural, as if you’re sitting beside a campfire in the mountains of New Mexico or Arizona. Love it. Give me a rainy day and pinion incense—that’s the best!
Do you have a motto, quote, or philosophy you live by?
Truth is mighty and will prevail. But here’s the rub: truth may be mighty, but it often needs champions willing to fight for it. That’s exactly what good stories can do—champion truths about human nature, justice, and hope that might otherwise get buried under despair, deception, and oppression.
Kassidy Reyez embodies this philosophy with her fists and weapons instead of words. She doesn’t believe in moral victories or noble defeats. Truth either wins or it doesn’t. And if it needs someone to clear the path with violence, deception, or whatever tools work? That’s not a corruption of the truth. That’s accepting what truth costs in a world built on lies. Truth prevails when someone’s willing to get their hands dirty, making sure it does.
If you could choose one thing for readers to remember after reading your book, what would it be?
That Kassidy Reyez isn’t your comfort character. She’s not here to restore your faith in humanity or prove that good triumphs through noble means. She’s here to show you that survival is ugly, justice is filthy, and sometimes the only way to fight monsters is to become something worse.
Her transformation isn’t about redemption or becoming “better.” It’s about the revolutionary act of accepting yourself exactly as you are—sharp edges, bloodstained past, and all. When she walks away at the end, she’s not walking toward some promised land of healing. She’s walking toward whatever the hell she chooses, answering to no one’s definition of “fixed” or “whole.”
That’s the bruise I want this book to leave: the recognition that maybe the most radical thing you can do is stop mutilating yourself to fit into spaces that were never built for you anyway. Accept yourself. Claim your space. And dare them to stop you.
