A current resident of San Diego California, I began writing at a very young age in Racine, Wisconsin and grew up later in the metropolitan area of St. Paul/Minneapolis Minnesota. My mother often scolded me for composing adventurous tales past bedtime, and frequently found me beneath a blanket with pencil, paper and flashlight, writing wondrous fiction well into the night. Back then, it was a means of escape. Those stories took me to far away places, from the chaos of a fairly large and somewhat dysfunctional family.
I suppose that’s how and when I developed my vivid imagination. Sometimes, I’d wish that I was a riding into battle with the knights of King Arthur’s Roundtable or looking for fossils on a dark cold Saturn moon. It was moments like these, when I was alone, that really defined me. I became very curious about the world, and consequently, extremely interested in all aspects of the natural and applied sciences. As a kid, I read any and everything that I could get my hands on regarding subject matters pertaining to anthropology to biology to physics. I remember once while in my mother’s kitchen, using her pots and pans to mix spices, grass, broken sticks, crushed glass and dirt, trying to cook up a cure for every disease imaginable. And although that moment has long since past, every so often, I can still feel the sting of that admittedly justifiable paddling.
My first attempt at serious writing came when I asked and got permission to start a school newspaper while in 6th grade at Lincoln Elementary School. I recruited a couple of other students as reporters, and with the assistance of my teacher, Mr. Griffith as the editor/overseer, the two pages of the Lincoln Press was born. I don’t think I was really interested in journalism, but I learned the art of objectivity which further improved my skills, and I was able to write something other people would read.
We are all born with an inner voice whose sole purpose is to guide us safely on our journey through life, so that we may be humane and fruitful. However, when traumatized, the human spirit manifests itself as a dark cloud of distrust and emotional seclusion. The condition eats away at the soul, consuming character, strength and will, eventually becoming comfortable like old leather. Our inner voice, that which guided us, becomes as distant as the sun. I’d like for you to read a quote I penned, when one day, while contemplating…well….me, I had a brief moment of undeniable clarity.
"Everyone is running from something. But if we’re lucky, really lucky, fate intervenes and presents an opportunity to conquer our fears. Only then, if triumphant, can a destiny bestowed become a destiny fulfilled."
For this reason, as a means of personal discovery, and to share in that journey, I write. And I can guarantee two things you will discover from reading my novels; my books will always be entertaining and the characters will teach you something about yourself as they have taught me. Because when it really comes down to it, inside, I am like you, and you, like me.