I’ve spent over two decades teaching science — long enough to know that people reveal their real selves under pressure. That understanding drives everything I write. I don’t care for polish or pretense. I’m drawn to the moments when the mask cracks and what spills out underneath — faith, fear, anger, doubt, and the flicker of something worth saving.

My fiction tends to wander through darker corners — crime, consequence, redemption, and the thin line between good and evil. These stories are built on grit, not gloss. You’ll find people clawing their way out of their own wreckage, some finding grace, some falling further into the fire. I believe even the worst of us can be redeemed, but not without a fight.

My nonfiction comes from the same place — honesty — but with a different purpose. I write for young adults navigating faith in the real world, where doubt is common, pressure is constant, and easy answers don’t hold. I don’t offer hype or performance-driven faith. I offer grounded discipleship shaped by lived experience, Scripture, and the belief that following Jesus is a daily walk, not a polished image.

Outside the page, I’m a lifelong comic book collector and an outdoors guy. I like the smell of cypress and old paper. I fix things when they break. I spend time in places where the noise of the world doesn’t reach. That quiet gets into my work — not peace, but reflection.

I don’t write to chase trends or please algorithms. I write because the stories — and the questions — won’t leave me alone. They show up uninvited and demand to be told. Whether fiction or nonfiction, my work is rough, honest, and sometimes uncomfortable — just like real life.

If you read my work, expect truth over comfort, redemption over revenge, and a little light bleeding through the cracks.