Welcome, and thank you for your interest in my literature.
I have been fascinated with words since the age of six when my paternal grandmother would read me excerpts from Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. My grandfather would lean against my bedroom doorjamb holding his unlit pipe and unravel fabulous adventures of Kit Carson, Daniel Boone, and the unruly Jesse James.
Ironically, I started writing poetry when I took a short story class in junior college. One of the requirements of the class was to write at least one poem. I bristled at the idea, but completed the assignment. My short story writing was less than stellar at the time, but somehow I had the glimmer of a knack for writing poetry.
My many teachers have told me that to become a poet means to read other poets. These days, my leanings are contemporary. I enjoy poetry that plucks at the gut strings. Poetry that tastes like cool water on parched lips. Favorite poets that come to mind are the accessible works of Gary Soto, Kim Addonizio, Philip Levine, Dorrianne Laux, and Naomi Shihab Nye.
Call me peculiar, but to me, writing is fun. These days, my fun has expanded. Six years ago I wrote down two sentences. Over time I added more and more sentences. The sentences began to take a shape, and now I am on the cusp of finishing an 80,000-word novel. It’s a novel about chaos, dysfunction, lots of feeling, and, I hope, an ample dose of humor.
“Novel” is a big word. It would be presumptuous to refer to myself as either a novelist or a poet. I simply like to write. Writing takes me to a zone where hours seem to compress into minutes, where the world falls away and time stands still. I intend to keep pursuing those moments. I’m working with words and having a blast.