• The Last Stage
• Stranger Souls
• Becoming Angel

• Links

I grew up in Chicago in the 60’s, I remember and absorbed it all. I remember being born and the kaleidoscope images of childhood. My mother read to me, acting out the characters and put the pictures in my head. I danced on a corner and made it rain, I discovered magic or power, it was child’s play. Art was another early discovery when I saw a bunch of girls crowded around a fellow classmate I looked over to see what was going on, he was drawing Peanuts characters. I read just about everything that came my way, I have many voices in my head.

A writer has to live both in his imagination and the world of experience and I think I’ve done both. I lived the first 23 years of my life in my imagination. From the earliest years reading about pirates, baseball players, racecar drivers, mythology and after I put the books down the adventures continued in my head and backyard.

I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was 13 years old, I made Mad Magazine parodies of Richard Nixon. I started keeping journals and when I was 19 I burned them, destroying the evidence, I guess. I’ve worked in many different jobs from detassling corn, working in theaters, and marketing research.

As I got older I wanted to see the places of my heroes and embark on my own adventures which have carried me to New Orleans walking the same streets as Indians, pirates, Andrew Jackson, Mark Twain, and William Faulkner. Germany where I was dumped by a girlfriend. Los Angeles where the adventures were numerous and many made it into my writing.

I write under the idea that the farther I go in, the further I reach out, and I’ve discovered that every story reveals something about myself, sometimes it wasn’t what I intended or even things I was comfortable with but if I didn’t reveal those things the truths you find in fiction wouldn’t be there for you to discover.