After many years as a visual artist, there came a time when I was unable to go to my studio, take up my familiar tools, and craft my work. There were sick parents you see. First things first. It was a precious, sacred time, but my creative self was frustrated - mad as a wounded rooster at a cockfight. I spied my laptop and began to peck, peck, peck.

I suppose most writers have degrees in English or Comparative Literature or Creative Writing. I flunked college English on the first try. So I took the visual design principles so familiar to me, and applied them to words and snippets of story. The only literary preparation I can claim is what I firmly believe is the best one, years of hungry reading.

Check back, if you love to read or aspire to write, expect a plainspoken account of days in the life of a first novel, and moments in the life of “an accidental writer”.