You Woke Up Breathing…
Author and Devout Coffeeist
Fiction, I think, tells truths that can’t be easily parsed by science or philosophy. I’m a fan of both, but stories go deeper, to where we have a hard time charting, to where we are forced to look between the lines, between words and sentences, in actions and dialogue, in relationships, in themes. In stories.
A Few Facts…
My name spelled backward in sinned. I had way too much fun over that one with my mom. I am a proven breeder with seven children. I trained as a molecular biologist, and now work as a nuclear chemist. I write when I can in multiple genres.
There are few things as wonderful as giving yourself away to a book or a story. Favorite novels are Anna Karenina by Tolstoy and History: A Novel by Elsa Morante. Frank Herbert’s Dune falls in there somewhere. I love short stories and am drawn to the sparse and terse telling of Hemingway in Hills Like White Elephants and The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber. I read Dorothy Parker’s The Standard of Living regularly, and wonder over the taut and chilling writing of Joyce Carol Oates’ Black Box.
I’ve been an inveterate stamp collector since I was in the fifth grade. I built custom furniture for a shy living once. I like all things science and like my literature classic.
Most importantly, I drive a thirty-year-old Saab turbo convertible. It’s glorious.
Find Me and Something About Me
Navigation is all in the menu, but here are a few pointers. I write my blog on this site, with a focus on writing and reading, something of the good life, and, well, stuff I like. It’s really that easy.
Crumbs on the menu are stray and often unconnected thoughts. Sometimes they rush in like an overflowing stream and sometimes the stream dries up. I don’t force it. I post them unedited and without pics.
I write mostly non-fiction and about evolution on Medium. There’s a paywall you can burst through for the cost of a venti caramel machiatto. Moneys collected are spread between the writers based on popularity. I occasionally post on Wattpad, too. Things I publish elsewhere are posted below. Sometimes I post unpublished bits to my Patreon site.
I am a Seattle ex-pat living in the dripping humidity of South Carolina with my wife, two at-home children, two dogs, and one bunny.
My wife is made of soft but brazen steel. Maybe I’ve case-hardened her. I was run over by a car once on a bicycle training ride. Before leaving the hospital, the night nurse, a woman I adored but was a little frightened of, came in my room to check on me. Puttering though her checklist, she spun around like a cyclone and put her finger right in my face.
“You listen here,” she said. I looked for lasers shooting our her eyes. “I been here a long time. I ain’t never seen a woman like your wife. That woman is made of steel and will go to war for you. I seen a lot of love but I ain’t ever seen love like that. You better treat her like a queen ’cause she deserves it.”
I reached inside and pulled up my most sincere Southern manners. “Yes Ma’am.”
I publish just about anywhere and update the Recently Published tab to give a link to any new article or story.
Most of my non-fiction is at Medium. It’s a great forum for reading and browsing and for learning new things. It’s free, but you can become a member for $5.00 per month and read behind the paywall.
I’m in a mad rush to garner 100 rejection notices this year. Weird. But I have a plan.
Works in Progress
“Just write every day of your life. Read intensely. Then see what happens. Most of my friends who are put on that diet have very pleasant careers.”
My Writing Blog
“Your love is dead, and the sun still comes up.”
Talked with a friend today about how Wayne Dyer said there was a heaviness that drapes the Anne Frank house like a musty blanket. How anyone could go there and not be touched was a mystery to him. Same with Nelson Mandela's prison cell. My friend said, "Hey, let me...
In one moment, you think you’re in charge, and you know everything. In the next, you’re hurt and wondering who you are and what went wrong.
…or you were so strung out on perfectionism and people-pleasing that you forgot to have a big juicy creative life, of imagination and radical silliness…
It’s embarrassing, but I even started dressing like the Great Man. Nothing like wearing a bright green smock with a wide belt to get some stares while mowing the lawn. It’s a wonder my children are normal.
Mal and I looked at each other and at the girls. “Time to go,” we said.
I decided to lean on my strengths. I agreed I wasn’t the right person for what we need to accomplish in the time allotted. That’s the official title of my decision. “Not the right person for what needs to be done in the time allotted.” It saves my reputation from abject failure. More than one person secretly accosted me, grabbing hold of my hand and shoulder. “Best decision you ever made,” they said.
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