Began writing at nine, inspired by novels from Jack London and MarkTwain, and other gems picked up at my local libraries. Moved often and so the localities changed often, and the libraries therein, but the thoughts on the page had a kind of permanence not otherwise achievable. To that end, achieving some kind of permanence, I have pursued a writer’s life. 

Studied philosophy in college but tuition was too expensive, and my appetites for drink and other mood and mind altering substances proved too tempting. Might claim the turn to linguistics in philosophy also made my studies less appealing. And maybe the advances in neuroscience reduced some of what philosophy attempted to merely anecdotal evidence. All true, but honestly it just wasn’t my path

While dropping out of college- for it was a slow process rather than something decided and instantly acted upon- I did busy myself with waiting tables for rent and food. By the time my last attempt at securing a loan for tuition had failed, I had already convinced myself that waiting tables was more promising if I was to write the Great American Novel than finishing my degree. 

So, the pursuit of the writer’s life? Have waited tables, bartended, put together circuit boards, sorted tax returns for the IRS, inspected stone fruit for the USDA, trained as a nuclear reactor operator in the US Navy, worked as a telemarketer- and participated in a variety of other occupations both legitimate and illicit. Now, having settled down, I do manage a family casual chain restaurant in the Sierra Foothills, in this small town of California Gold Rush fame.

As for publishing, I’ve had a dozen or so poems in print in small press magazines, most of which are now defunct. One of my paintings landed on the cover of a now defunct college arts magazine. I have made some attempts at self-publishing my novels using Amazon. And I have received a few hastily scribbled and even typed notes from agents and publishers. I am looking for a publisher to put my work to print, or an agent to get my work in front of that publisher. Or, at the least, a few more hasty scribbles- something to pin up on the cork board in the garage.