Maybe you were expecting an “About Me” page. You can find the biographical details below if you’re interested in learning how my life is different than yours.

But I’d rather find our commonalities.

So I’ll give it my best shot, and you can let me know how well I did.

 Since you are here, reading this page, I believe…

  • We love good history, love true and deep characters, love beautiful and fascinating settings.
  • We’re busy people, so when we choose a story, we want to really enjoy it.
  • We’d rather engage with a great story than mindlessly binge-watch TV, but it’s often hard to find our next favorite read.
  • Much of the fiction we end up reading doesn’t fit our taste or is contrary to our world-view. Maybe it’s too light & fluffy, or too dark & hopeless.
  • Our reading taste seems unique among our friends, so getting recommendations can be tough.
  • We want our books to transport us to a different place and time, and bring us back smarter and more inspired.


I hope so. I need more friends like you.

And I’d love to hear your book recommendations! Reach out to me through the Connect page on this site, and tell me what books to put on my reading list. Please.

In the meantime, I’m hoping you’ll allow me to become your next favorite author. I know, that sounds a bit on the arrogant side. But truly, if we’re kindred spirits, I believe you’ll enjoy my books. And I think finding an author you enjoy, with a whole list of books to discover, is one of life’s greatest pleasures.


If you’re wanting to dive into my books, click here to get a bit of guidance to help you choose where to start.


And now, a short story about the life and death of dreams.

I had a dream that started at the age of eight. It was audacious, but I didn’t know it at the time because I was eight. I was going to write a novel. This dream was big enough in my heart even then that I vividly remember the exact moment I wrote the first sentence.

I was in the backseat of my parents’ car, at a gas station just off the interstate, about to begin a family trip to New York City. For years, and I mean years, afterward, I thought about that novel every single time we passed that gas station.

This unfinished novel was so important to me that I still have it, decades later. It began on a notepad and continued into several spiral notebooks.

This is a story about two sisters and a brother. Their names were Lucy, Joey and Mary Jane. They usually had boring days and summers but in the last few days it had been different…

It was all right there, in the first three sentences—the characters, their ordinary world, and a hint of the incident that was going to change it all. Scribbled on the back of the story’s first pad of paper is a family tree and a timeline. I was all in. And I was eight.

So, did I take this dream with me into high school and college, forging ahead with my desire to pen exciting stories for a living? I honestly don’t think it ever occurred to me. I pursued a degree in English Literature, Secondary Education. In other words, my plan was to become a teacher and teach high school students about other people’s stories.

But the dream surfaced again toward the end of my undergrad days, and I again set myself to the task of writing a novel. We bought our first computer as a newly-married couple, a big investment back then, largely so I could write this novel, print it out, and send it off to publishers.

Two things happened.

First, I sent it to one publisher (the biggest and most successful I knew of), and got a postcard in return, informing me that they were not accepting unsolicited manuscripts.

Second, I wrote a fan letter to a writer I admired, asking for some writing advice, and to my shock she wrote back and told me she would read my manuscript and if she felt it was worthy, she’d show it to her publisher.

With great expectations, I bundled it off to her. I received it back within a couple of weeks, tore it open excitedly, and proceeded to read her cover letter.

Even to this day, as I remember that letter, I know it was not “constructive criticism.” It was unnecessarily harsh and even sarcastic at points. She made hurtful assumptions about me that were untrue. And she basically told me that I was not cut out to write fiction.

In my mind, that was the end. Dream crushed. No point in trying.

And I didn’t try again, for ten years. Ten years!

I share this story because it illustrates that even the most powerful dreams are so very, very fragile. I can see clearly that at eight years old I had an unusual level of talent and ability. But somehow, even as a child, I felt my dream of writing stories was too big, and I should be satisfied with teaching the stories other people had written.

And then when the dream wouldn’t die, and I got the courage to show my work to someone I admired, the rejection of that one person was enough to convince me I didn’t have what it would take.

It wasn’t until ten years later, after a decade of honing my skills writing drama productions for my church, that I tried again. And even then, it took some very extreme circumstances in my life to push me into it.

I’ve since had nearly twenty novels published. But it was almost none. It could have easily been none. Our dreams are so easily crushed.

So, if you’ve read this far, my encouragement is this:  You have a purpose in this world. Something you are uniquely qualified to express. Don’t let it go.

As for the rest of my life, along that publishing journey, I have also earned a Master’s Degree in Ancient History, raised four amazing kids, built a shipping and logistics company, and traveled to Greece, Egypt, Jordan, Israel, Italy, and Turkey, researching my books and falling into adventures.  Life has been full and grand, and I still have lots of stories in my head, all trying to get out.

I’m currently passionate about landscaping around my 3+ acres of woodlands, reading good books (by a crackling fire in cold weather, outside near my pond & waterfall in warm weather), and traveling the world.

Thanks for reading. I’d love to hear about you now.

Use this link to get in touch.