Hi, fellow inkblots,

 

I came to writing quite by accidentally. I was a high school science teacher and although I could easily recite genus and species, dissecting sentences were a bit of a challenge. Becoming a writer wasn’t even on my bucket list. But a diagnosis of an aggressive malignancy, during a routine doctor’s visit, landed me in the hospital facing a bleak future.

 

I began writing letters to my children. They were bits of myself they could keep as they grew. They were words of wisdom, part philosophical, part guidance, the flotsam and jetsam of life as seen through my eyes.

 

My wife Janet had been writing about the experience from the caregiver’s perspective. We decided to combine our experiences in a book. Kroshka Books, a small publishing house accepted it. It was exciting stuff. We had book signings at Barnes and Noble, even selling some books to people not friends or relatives.

 

Our fifteen minutes of fame spent, I hadn’t put pen to paper until we moved to Chapel Hill and discovered Morning Writers Out.

 

I don’t submit much but have had stories placed in The Oracle Fine Arts Review, and The Doctor T.J. Eckleburg Review. I’ve recently written a novel with the working title of Conversations from the Grave. It’s a philosophical treaty on life after death.

 

Lately, I tend to write about politics as seen through the lens of science fiction characters. Once I identify an interest and begin writing, the story unfolds itself. I never know where it will take me. My current work is about a supercomputer who thinks he’s human.

 

I write for several hours a day, mostly for enjoyment, but the stories do accumulate. I guess I’ll clean house and start submitting again.

 

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