For over four decades, since my teenage years first introduced me to the magic of putting words to page and melody to meaning, I've been exploring the intersection where story meets song, where poetry becomes prose. This isn't just a career—it's been a lifelong conversation with the creative spirit, a journey that has taught me as much about myself as about the craft.
What began as youthful experimentation with fiction, poetry, and lyrics has evolved into something deeper: a commitment to truth in storytelling. Not the truth of facts and figures, but the truth of human experience—messy, complicated, and beautifully flawed. I've learned that the most compelling narratives emerge when characters are forced to confront not just external obstacles, but the internal landscapes that often prove far more treacherous.
In my thrillers, the real suspense comes not just from who committed the crime, but from whether the protagonist can overcome their own demons to solve it. My fantasy heroes must battle their inner doubts as fiercely as any dragon. Mystery protagonists unravel personal truths alongside the puzzles they're solving. Because that's how life works—we're all simultaneously the hero and the obstacle in our own stories.
This approach demands authenticity. It means my characters make mistakes, harbor contradictions, and sometimes fail in ways that matter. They carry emotional baggage alongside their plot armor. They face moral ambiguity, relationship complexities, and the kind of personal growth that only comes through genuine struggle.