When I was nineteen and studying in England, I went with a hundred students to a youth hostel in the Lake District. I got separated from my group and spent the day hiking alone. Rather than seek guided help, I chose to follow a map and see the countryside solo. By bad luck or simple ineptitude, I ended up strolling through a farmer’s hillside pasture and became stymied by a tall stone wall. Obviously, I was hopelessly lost. My next concern was whether I’d hear shouting or a shotgun blast. (Growing up in the South, this was a real possibility.) Fortunately, no “Bloody Yank!” came my way. Though it took me all day to wend my way back to the highway and the youth hostel, the experience taught me that I’d be going solo down interesting roads throughout my life. And that's okay.

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Years later, I was seated in a small conference room, defending my thesis for a Masters in writing. I might've felt just as lost as when I hit that mossy stone wall years before in England. Instead, this time, I was in my element. Questions would be asked, and I could answer them. Mostly.

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Now I craft worlds that are full of suspense and hazardous situations. I write novels with characters who wander to find themselves—through obstacles, pain and misfortune. As they say, it’s all about the journey.

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These days, I'm a middle- and high-school math teacher, hoping to shape a better-educated (and happier) future generation. I dabble in websites, play soccer when I can, cook and explore ideas. Home is Seattle with my wife, son and daughter, and three vocal cats. You can read my blog here.