Science fiction and fantasy author. Former soldier, former technologist, current skeptic of complicated solutions. I write about humans meeting the impossible.

The Journey

I first wanted to write when I was a young teen. Somewhere I got the advice that to be a writer I had to experience life, so I did exactly that. I joined the Army, saw the world, and earned my honorable discharge. I met incredible people, both in uniform and out. I experienced cultures far beyond my home state of Arkansas. The experience taught me that there are many perspectives, even if only one is right. Take people as you find them and try to understand them. Most importantly, it filled me with stories.

I was always a storyteller—the South is a storytelling culture, as is the military. I’ve got an anecdote for any occasion. Too many, if you ask my friends. The hard part was writing them down. I took my first real swing in ninth grade and managed a whole chapter about Earth being uninhabitable and humanity traveling to space to find the other lost twelve tribes. Yep, boy meets Battlestar Galactica. I got as far as the edge of the solar system before running out of steam.

But the drive never left. Through my 20s, I devoured books like The Weekend Novelist, learning the craft while living the experiences I’d later mine for fiction.

In my 30s, I decided to give it another serious try. This time, I plotted a book that grew into three. I still have that plot somewhere. It eventually became my first series. I published four books in my 40s, then made the hard decision to end it. My heart had moved on to new worlds and different stories.

Now in my 50s? As Doc Holliday said in Tombstone, “I’m in my prime!”

Why Science Fiction & Fantasy

They say to write what you read. Biographies take too much time to research. I grew up on a steady diet of science fiction and fantasy movies. Krull. Beastmaster. Conan (not the Comedian). And the blockbuster franchises that have since steadily ground themselves to powder. I read Tom Clancy—I gave him 50 pages before I decided if it was worth reading on. James Clavell (Taipan, Shogun). Even Dr. Seuss, especially Hop on Pop.

But it was Orson Scott Card, Alan Dean Foster, L.E. Modesitt, C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, and Iain M. Banks who showed me what these genres could really do. I loved how they wove their worldview into what they wrote. Even when I didn’t agree with them, I still enjoyed reading. They weren’t preaching, they were exploring. They used alien worlds and impossible magic to examine very human truths.

That’s the power of science fiction and fantasy: we can strip away the familiar and see ourselves more clearly. Contemporary issues become timeless questions. Beliefs get confronted and confirmed in the same story. The ability to understand perspective needs a parable, and there’s no better laboratory for parables than worlds we build from scratch.

Writing Philosophy

I’ve long liked the notion of putting movies in my reader’s mind. The novels I’ve enjoyed did that for me. I like to paint with a light brush. A friend of mine was convinced I wrote detailed character descriptions. I laughed and told him I didn’t. He re-read the novel. Only once did I say “she had short hair.” But he had a vivid picture of everyone and everywhere.

That’s the magic I’m after—trusting readers to co-create the story with me. When we respect our audience’s imagination, we don’t need to shock them into feeling something. Sex and violence as plot devices? Fine. As the entire plot? That’s not storytelling—that’s just giving up.

I believe fiction should uplift the human spirit. It should appeal to our desire for virtue, not pander to our base vices. I write stories that follow classical storytelling values: clear moral lines, choices have consequences, and light ultimately conquers darkness. Card, Modesitt, and Lewis all proved you can write compelling stories without compromising your values.

It’s easy to drop an f-bomb for shock value. I save mine for stubbed toes, not storytelling.

Beyond Writing

I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. Humvees slogging through the mud of Germany. Billions of stars through NVGs (Night Vision Goggles). Watched a man crouched inside an F-150 engine compartment field-strip and rebuild a carburetor, with fuel while smoking. All of these moments are trapped in my mind like a steel trap. It feeds my writing.

Thousands of people from dozens of different cultures, nations and ethnicities. Some I’ve befriended, and some I’ve decidedly not. Each one adds texture to the characters I write. My reading habits are gloriously undisciplined: sociology, psychology, geography, history, and yes, the AD&D Monster Manual. As a kid, I’d wander library stacks and read anything I could reach. Still do.

I’ve been playing Civilization since it was called Empire in 1989. Still on vanilla Civ V. If it ain’t broke, don’t patch it. I spent a few years sneaking around in World of Tanks, managing to reach the top 20 in the ELC EVEN 90 (if you know, you know).

Through some genuinely dangerous moments in my life, I’ve learned that faith isn’t just something you talk about—it’s what carries you through. Like Michael Sweet once said, you stand for something or you’ll fall for anything. That belief threads through my stories, not as sermons but as the quiet confidence that there’s meaning in the struggle and purpose in the pain.

When I’m not writing, I’m probably deep in a history book, planning my next Civ campaign, or adding another anecdote to my apparently endless collection. My friends have stopped trying to tell stories at parties—they just point at me and say, “He’s got one about that.”

For Readers

If you’re looking for stories that trust your intelligence and respect your imagination, welcome home.

Here’s my promise: Adventures without assault. Romance without raunch. Clear moral stakes where choices matter and endings satisfy. I write smart, clean fiction that’s impossibly hopeful in the face of darkness.

You won’t find graphic content masquerading as “gritty realism” or nihilism dressed up as sophistication. You will find complete series with real endings—no cliffhangers between books, no dangling threads.

If that sounds like your kind of storytelling, grab a book and let’s build a world together. Your imagination provides the pictures—I’ll provide everything else.

Turns out the best training for writing about the impossible is living through the improbable.