Let’s begin.

You came here to find out more about me. After perhaps hundreds of bios and “about me” sections, I’ve lost interest in them. Each carefully crafted line and strategically articulated accomplishments pulls us further from the truth of it, of any of it, for any of us. I prefer the work to stand on its own. Either it’s good, or it’s not. If I have to work to sell it, it pulls me away from making it better. Ironic, isn’t it? I’ve spent a number of years as a marketing copywriter. I suppose that’s why I dislike the act of selling my own work. Also, I live in L.A. and am tired at the artifice required in selling yourself. Also, it seems that I’ve lost all social graces during pandemic lockdown.

I write for readers seeking substantive content, well designed arguments, a carefully crafted turn of phrase exploring paths less traveled.

I appreciate your visit, and that you’ve taken the time to read this far. Perhaps, in the pages that follow, you and I can discover something together, something that lies between the material and the unknown. I like those spaces–unknown unknowns. If you would like to know about those too, then come. I don’t know where I’m going, but I sense it could be interesting.

17 thoughts on “About

  1. there is always that moment…you’re feeling clever, you’re finally getting words on paper, and then I reread it and hate it…HATE it. If I was doing it the old fashioned way, it would be the crumpling it up and throwing it in the corner stage. Luckily, I have yet to throw the lap top into the corner so I edit, edit and edit some more. Nice to know I’m not alone in the trenches

    1. Yes, very nice to know we’re not alone. And I know the feeling of wanting to crumple the computer up and throw it in the fire, abandoning all hope of a writing career. What am I thinking?

  2. I completely agree! After my first post I felt like I might as well have run naked through the streets! 🙂 But look at us now, overcoming that fear! I think we could be friends! 🙂

  3. I just read your post about your father and am choked up. I lost my father 30 years ago, but I can still picture him when he died. As you say, you instinctively know that they are no longer there, the person you knew has gone elsewhere. Thank you. It was a privilege to read.

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