I am a winemaker and a writer. There is no connection between the two, though I have tried to craft a clever way of making them fit together. So far, no luck. I have always been captivated by fiction. My early childhood days were dominated by fairy tales, the really scary ones, and the classic books for kids. I also grew to love the juvenile detectives, history, and assorted great works that my parents seemed to position prominently on my bookshelves. I think my mom must have let a traveling book salesman in the door once. I never minded the sick days that seemed so frequent when I was younger, because I had so many stories to keep me company.
Somewhere along the way I abandoned ideas of becoming an English teacher for the practical world of accounting. Yes, I understand that this was a big leap, but money, whether mine or someone else’s, began to loom larger in my mind. Perhaps it was reading all those Scrooge McDuck comics, or something else. Whatever the reason, I lost myself in business for a couple of decades. Those were good years too, and in a way I never anticipated, I came full-circle back to writing.
I am a teller of stories that remind the reader that the world is not a perfect place, and that people don’t always do the right thing. I like to think that any reader could see himself or herself doing the same things as my protagonists as they save a small part of a broken world.