When I was eleven years old, I wrote my first story. In it, I visited the World of Coca-Cola in Atlanta, GA on a family vacation. Somehow, I became separated from my parents and stumbled upon a secret backroom deal between the President of Coca-Cola, Mr. Awesome, and the President of Pepsi, Mr. Sucks. Right before Mr. Awesome sold the secret recipe to Mr. Sucks, I persuaded Mr. Awesome to tear up the contract. He did and then named me the new CEO. The first thing I did was give my family a lifetime supply of free Coca-Cola.
Clearly, when it comes to Pulitzer-worthy material, I peaked too soon.
Nevertheless, I still write stories, some of which may or may not be true, most of which will be deleted before they reach the light of day, and all of which are attempts to dig a little deeper into the unknown and make sense of those strange things people call feelings.
I’m an English teacher, which is perfect because I get to read great books over and over again, but it’s also kind of terrible because I have to read great books over and over again and then go home and try to write my own.
I like to fly fish. Occasionally, I catch fish. Oftentimes, I don't. But that's okay. It's not about catching fish.