About Me
By training, I am a chemist. For years, I lived in a world of laboratories and classrooms, teaching college-level chemistry, publishing scientific papers, and earning patents for my work. My early career was built on precision, logic, and the quiet discipline of research. I was comfortable with facts, formulas, and problems that had answers.
Creative writing, I once believed, belonged to a completely different kind of mind. Then, on a whim, I tried writing fiction. What began as an experiment quickly became an obsession. I discovered that writing offered something science never could. It became a refuge, part escape, part exploration, and always a way to spend time with people who existed only in my imagination. Before long, my characters began to feel remarkably real. They had opinions, secrets, complicated histories, and, occasionally, minds of their own.
Over the past two decades, I have written five novels and countless short stories. My stories have found their way to English professors, colleagues, and book clubs, where they have received encouraging feedback and, thankfully, a few loyal readers. I have also been a long-time member of a writers’ group. The group has kept me writing, grounded me when I needed it, and challenged me to become a better storyteller through prompts, deadlines, and plenty of encouragement.
I have two beta readers I can always count on for honest feedback. They have the unenviable job of reading my work before anyone else does and telling me when something isn’t working. Every writer needs people like that.
I am married and have two adult children, a daughter and a son. I am retired and live in New Jersey, although I spend my summers on the Delaware shore. I play doubles tennis several times a week, and I write every day.
My writing routine is fairly simple. I get up, have a light breakfast, and write until lunchtime. Sometimes, if a story has gotten hold of me, I’ll return to it after dinner and keep going until about nine o’clock.
In my early days of writing, I could write for six hours at a time. These days, I’ve learned that about three hours is my limit. Perhaps I’ve become wiser. Or perhaps my characters have simply become more demanding.
I am, without question, an emotional writer. Just like Diane Keaton in Something’s Gotta Give, I have actually cried while writing because one of my characters has died. And every time I finish a novel, I feel a little depressed because, in a very strange way, I feel as though I’ve lost friends.
I’ve spent months, sometimes years, with these people. I know their history. I know what makes them happy and what keeps them awake at night. I’ve watched them fall in love, make mistakes, suffer losses, and change. Then I type, The End, and suddenly they are gone.
I suppose I need more friends. But I think most writers understand. Writing is not for everyone. For me, however, it has filled a space in my life so completely that I cannot imagine living without it. Science taught me to observe, to question, and to look beneath the surface. Writing gave me a way to turn those observations into stories. So, I will keep writing until I die.