Chuck G. Bowie
Categories: Male Authors - Anglophone Authors - Novelists - Miramichi River
Charles (Chuck) Bowie was born in Chatham, New Brunswick, attended Miramichi Valley High School and received a BSc. in Biology from the University of New Brunswick in Fredericton. His writing--short stories, tourism articles and essays--began to sell in the Eighties, but it wasn't until 2013 that his first novel, a suspense-thriller was published. Chuck is currently writing Book 2 in his series Donovan: Thief For Hire.
How has New Brunswick influenced your work?
My short stories and essays are almost all derived from New Brunswick experiences. As for my novel, my protagonist in the suspense-thriller series is a Canadian who has moved as a youth from New Brunswick to Quebec. The reader will understand from his thoughts and actions that he could be an archetypical New Brunswicker. I do not attempt to alter that.
What is your favourite New Brunswick book, and why?
Nights Below Station Street, by David Adams Richards is my favourite New Brunswick (and Canadian) novel. 1) It inspired me to actually become a writer, rather than to think that only people from away can aspire to be one. 2) It presents, in compelling fashion, a story of people from where I am from. It is superb, superior writing.
What do you consider to be the highlight of your career so far?
Completing a manuscript was the first part of the highlight, acquiring an agent was the second part, becoming published was the third part and the zenith was making my first sale (to a non-relative).
The dogs and children playing in the street awakened him. Yaps and growls floated through the open window, riding on bleached morning sunlight, sliding over the ochre window ledge. So early in the morning for kids to be out. I wonder if they're orphans. The air was so still he couldn’t determine if they were playing just beneath his window, or across the boulevard in front of the Leitha, a disease of a hotel. But he was not at the Leitha; he was in the Majestic, four stars, and second best in Romania. No sense being pretentious. He had learned that if you made a living as a contract thief named Sean Donovan, it was best not to let your surroundings draw any more attention to you than necessary.
He had pulled back his bed linens the evening before, folding them to one side so he could lie naked in the warm October night. The sheets were ivory-colored and complemented the buttery color of the walls. At least a four hundred thread count and Egyptian at that. Decent. He rolled over and glanced at the cheap plastic clock radio that read eight o’clock. Why the cheap radio and the gorgeous linens? Must be the technology lag. With the country just getting back on its feet economically, not all industrial sectors will rebound at the same time. “Romania won’t be rebuilt in a day,” he murmured.