I’ve been telling stories for as long as I can remember—first as excuses to my mother, then in the melodies and lyrics of my songs, then in lines of code, and eventually words on the page. When I was eight, I filled a composition notebook with my first short stories, and by fourteen I’d written a full-length horror novel called The Fourth. It was a loving tribute to Friday the 13th and Halloween, handwritten in a hardback journal, one shaky line at a time. The writing wasn’t good—not by any sane measure—but it was mine, and that mattered. It taught me something I still carry: that writing is how I make sense of the world, my place in it, the things that break us, and the strange beauty of what comes after.

For thirty years, I worked in software development, and somewhere in that world of logic and syntax, I realized that writing code isn’t so different from telling stories. Both are about guiding someone through an experience and drawing them in, keeping them engaged, leading them somewhere new. I’d write a first draft of a program, rough but full of potential, and then refine it until every line felt inevitable. Software development, at its heart, is a storytelling craft: you set a hook, create rhythm, introduce conflict (sometimes accidentally), and guide the user toward resolution. Code was my prose for a long time—draft, revise, refine, release. Same process, different punctuation.

I studied Creative Writing at NYU and Screenwriting at the New York Film Academy—never finished either degree, because life had other plans—but those classrooms taught me how to think about story, character, and voice in ways that still shape everything I write. I lived in New York City for twenty years, and honestly, just riding the subway or eavesdropping in diners gave me enough material for the rest of my life.

Today, I live in Florida with my family, a Goldendoodle named Milo, far too many books, and more unfinished ideas than I’ll ever admit to. My short story Pick Up the Pieces is available now, and my debut novel The Family will be published December 9th from Mirelune Press.

I still believe the best stories are the ones that feel like they’ve been waiting for you—humming quietly in the background until you’re finally ready to bring them to life.