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I write professionally but don't make a living at it. This means, essentially, that I sell most of what I write but don't make enough to pay the bills. I write both fiction and non-fiction, and even some poetry. My fantasy novels, Swords of Talera and its sequel Wings Over Talera, appeared as four part serials in Startling Science Stories and Alien Worlds in 1998-99, and 2000-2001. In January I finished the third book in the series, which is called Witch of Talera. It has been submitted. Email me if you'd like to know more.

For a relatively complete Bibliography of my work click here.

About two years ago I finished a horror/thriller called Cold in the Light. It was published by The Invisible College Press and is now out in trade paperback. It can be ordered from The Invisible College Press Website or online from Barnes & Noble, Amazon, or Walmart. Email me if you'd like to get a copy of the book and have any questions or problems. To get a flavor of this tale click here.

The snail mail address for The Invisible College Press is:
The Invisible College Press, LLC
P.O. Box 209
Woodbridge, VA 22194-0209

Though I've written all sorts of things, including science essays, tip pieces, children's stories, westerns, literary/contemporary, and Science Fiction, most of what I write is either horror/thriller or heroic fantasy.

Generally, my writing style is fairly surrealistic and--I like to think--action driven. Early influences on my style would be Robert E. Howard, Edgar Rice Burroughs, Louis L'Amour, John D. Macdonald, and Ray Bradbury.

More recent influences would include, Dean Koontz (See my links for a Koontz fan group that I'm a member of), Peter Matthiessen,and Ernest Hemingway.

Below are a few opening paragraphs from stories of mine....

Razor White

He climbed toward wakefullness through scarlet-tinted dreams, rising up to a morning sky that burned pink outside his window, like watermelon flesh. A hundred images cracked and ran as the dream period ended and heavy lids shuttered back over eyes that were yellow-brown scars in an otherwise pale face. The empty pupils dilated suddenly with pleasure as he slid from beneath sticky wet sheets and stood looking down, his body finger-painted red.

Splatter of Black

The moonlight settled over the December beach like snow birds coming in to roost on an arctic plain. And the midnight world was brush-stroked in white, the white of sand and shells and stones, the white of bones and ghosts. In the midst of that white was a splatter of black, or what could have been red in brighter hours. It reminded Kyle Dupree of a snowflake in negative, and he thought it was incredibly beautiful until he realized what it represented. Then he dropped the cigarette that he'd walked out on the beach to smoke, and he reached down with his thumb to unsnap the strap that held his Colt Trooper in its holster.

Still Life With Skulls

There were eyes in the canvas that I had never drawn, desert eyes of bronze, sulfur eyes like cicatrixes, and river eyes of green--eyes full of dark wings and teeth. There were round mouths open to the night air, and sanguine tongues whose dance burned with holy words. And in the chiaroscuro wastelands of the unfilled canvas there were ruins whose outlines I could not yet trace. I knew only that they held a bitter rapture and smelled faintly of ashes.

For more samples--opening paragraphs to other stories of mine--click here. All but two of these have been published. Can you guess which ones haven't been?

If you'd like to read an entire short-short story, then click here. This is one of the very first stories that I ever had published, back in 1991.