My Collection of Novels
Writing snuck up on me like no-see-ums—you never feel the bite until the itch drives you mad. It started with a nibble, but printed words burst the dam and now there's no stopping the feast. The only cure? Pens scratching at paper.
After 43 years of flying and somehow managing not to kill myself, I’m left with enough marvelment to fill a hundred novels. I cut my teeth on a memoir, spilling decades of embarrassment, as if all those years weren’t humbling enough.
Next, I dove into creative lying (fiction, some call it), starting with an epic, multi generation saga. It was a blast. I rambled thence into shenanigan-land of a creepier complexion discovering how juicy good and evil are facing off in a close quarters. My latest true love barged in without permission, resolved to make me write thrillers. I’m at a depth where my hearing aids are shorting out, but I have no intention of coming up for air anytime soon.
With my fourth book about to launch, I invite you to take a stroll through the turmoil (below). Free chapters abound—grab one and see if something doesn't keep you turning pages long into the night.
Thank you for stopping by.
"I learned early how to clench a fist, and throw it with results. "
Genre: Thriller | Coming SOON | 2025
I’m sure I wasn’t the first kid to ever wonder what convoluted idea’d lodged into his parents’ heads when they got around to name choosing. I didn’t appreciate it much at first, but by the time I was a young man, I’d bent toward it like tides slaving at the moon. I supposed that was Mom and Dad’s intent, but I wonder if they considered the bumpy ride that was likely to come with “Puma.” I’m not saying I waded into “boy named Sue” hullabaloo, and I didn’t grow up mean. But you better believe tough muscled me up through my kid stages, and I learned early how to clench a fist, and throw it with results.
