: About Me

A native of Vermont, I was dragged kicking and screaming to Central Florida by my parents when my father relocated to work at the Kennedy Space Center. I was a precocious and adorable little boy who overflowed with the creative juices that would prepare him for success as a noted author.

Unfortunately that was stifled at a young age by an overwhelming desire to take apart things to see how they work. Thus, the left side of the brain won the battle over the right and I became a boring engineer.

Three years ago, as luck would have it, I ruptured the L4 and L5 disks in his back trying to play tennis as if I were eighteen years old, again. With nothing to do but lie on my stomach for days on end, the right side of my brain saw an opening, and pounced on the left brain, thus the creative juices once again surfaced.

And now the lucky readers are the beneficiaries of my misfortune and get to reap the bounty of what my addled and idled mind hath wrought.

My passion is ...

Writing, Golf, Surfing and oh yeah, wife and the kids.

I know too much about ...

Engineering.

My parents always told me ...

Stop asking so many questions.

My childhood ambition ...

Marine Biologist or Fry Cook.

My favorite memory ...

Finding lolipops growing on our front yard tree on my fifth birthday.

Why I write ...

Because my hand would look funny moving haphazardly without a pen.

What I am reading/watching/listening to ...

Jeffery Deaver, Steven Pressfield.

My first job ...

Mowing lawns at age seven.

My best moment ...

Winning award for my novel 'Prodigious Savant.'

My inspiration ...

Bud Light

Creative Writing > Short Stories Short stories: Futuristic tales

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“Good morning, Virginia.” Edgar didn’t wait for a reply, purring as he neatly placed her panties and bra in the top right drawer. The lamp over the bed shone bright, then dimmed as the ambient light of the room was measured. Edgar zipped to the bathroom, started the bath, added oils, (two ounces) bubble bath (one point four ounces) and then monitored the temperature (eighty-four degrees) before replacing the bath and hand towels and washcloths. Ginny blinked away the sleep. The previous night’s injection was heavenly, as they always were, but the crash the next morn...

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