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Waltz of Shadows has a somewhat odd history. It was originally called Mucho Mojo. I wrote it for my then-publisher Mysterious Press, which was an arm of Warner Books, now Hachette.

I worked hard on it and spent almost a year writing it. It was a difficult book, and it seemed to go in all directions at once, or at least that was the case with the first draft. When I finished, I was unhappy with it, and wrote another book bearing the title Mucho Mojo. Totally different book, but I brought some of the themes from Waltz to it.

Mucho Mojo was published and was the second novel in my popular Hap and Leonard series. I was proud of that book, and it was a New York Times Notable book, and this led to several other novels about that duo, all currently available from Vintage and in e-book form.

Waltz, however, lingered in my files. I had worked so hard on it, and had felt so disappointed in it at the time, I decided it was a busted flush. In time, I gave the original manuscript to a university and pretty much forgot about it. But then a small press called Subterranean, which is now a major publishing house, asked me if I had something they might publish.

I didn’t.

Or I didn’t think so.

And then I remembered Waltz. I guess it had been in the back of my mind for some time, my subconscious most likely working on it without me knowing it. That’s the way I write best, when I’m not consciously trying to figure out what comes next, but instead let my subconscious sort things out while my conscious mind goes about the everyday business of living. Still, this book was different. I think at my core I knew I had something, but it was unusual for me in that whatever that something was, it hadn’t jelled early.

I had a spare copy of the manuscript. I got it out and started reading, and saw right away what the problem was. It was too lonscrg and too busy and too wordy. I took a pen and started to cut. As I cut away the debris, like a sculptor chiseling away at a fine but oddly-shaped hunk of granite, a form began to reveal itself. I knew immediately what the problem had been. I had been trying too hard. I had written too much. I had tried to cover all the bases and had attempted to make it too complex. I cut out entire scenes and stretches of description. I realized that the novel was at heart exactly what I did well, that it encompassed themes that I’m passionate about, like brotherhood and friendship and family, duty and honor. But there was a lot of flack there too.