Born in Albuquerque New Mexico, I grew up in the Rocky Mountains, moving to Colorado when I was seven. An avid outdoors man, I spend a lot of time camping and working with the Boy Scouts. I had little interest or time for school, which was a distraction from the places I wanted to go, worlds of science and vast, mysterious technologies and races. Or to the arctic tundra in company of White Fang, and Jack London. I thrilled to the adventures of the Hardy Boys, and combed the pages of the Worldcraft Encyclopedias. From their pages I learned about the Earl of Sandwich, and the invention of that staple of school lunches which are named after the famous gambler.
These were my drugs, my addiction, and my abstraction from reality. I read walking home from school. I read late into the night. I read when I should have been in school, and as a consequence, I’m convinced I got a better, more diverse education that most of my peers. It was only natural that I would want to write one of those marvelous vessels of the imagination.
And as a writer, you’d think I’d be really good at segues, but you’d be wrong. Speaking of which…
We tend to think that the realm of make-believe is for children, but it is also the realm of writers, though children own it more wholly than do adults. For us it is an escape, for the child it simply IS. When children make believe, they’re not pretending to be something they’re not. They become what they play at. Their iteration of imagination is absolute as they invest themselves in their imaginary world with complete abandon.
They do not play to escape the drudgery of life, as adults do, but simply to play. Nothing more, and yet so very much more than we know, for many of us have forgotten how to play. The rare exception to that is a book. When we read, it is with whole abandon. When we open a book, we can shut out the world and imagine the way we did when we were children.
I prefer “make believe” the way children do it. It’s how I write, and it’s how I invite you to read my stories.