That’s a question I’ve been wrestling with for years—and truth be told, I’m probably further from the answer now than when I started. What I can tell you is this: “writer” wasn’t a title I planned on wearing, but here I am—fingers sore from typing, sleep-deprived, and more obsessed with character backstories and plot twists than a Waffle House waitress-turned-therapist at 3 a.m.

This whole author gig may have come out of left field, but it turns out left field is where the weird, gritty, and gloriously messed-up stories live.

If you’re into redemption arcs, Southern grit, and characters who make spectacularly bad choices for mostly decent reasons…

Welcome home.

That’s the “short” answer.

Here’s the long answer:

I call Alabama home, where my endlessly patient wife Rachel and our two spoiled fur babies graciously tolerate my antics, including the ones that involve me dramatically reading dialogue out loud in the kitchen. My ideal weekend involves strong coffee, slow mornings, and evenings spent tinkering with new recipes that sometimes result in triumph and other times in setting off the smoke detector. I'm happiest surrounded by good people, better stories, and food that comes with at least one warning label. If you’re here for sharp dialogue, twisted humor, flawed humans, and the occasional emotionally devastating gut punch—I think we’ll get along just fine.