A dad, a husband, a writer who never had time to write.
I’ve always written. It just hasn’t happened for a while. Technically, it happens all the time because I write for work as a copywriter, but that’s not quite what I mean. I just got busy. Not writing made me grumpy, though.
I’m a husband, a father, a brother, a son. I like long walks and short work weeks. I’ve the golden, glorious opportunity to work from home, so I’m extremely fortunate.
So it’s time to write again. To force myself to write for myself again, even at 1 AM. That’s what coffee is for. Fun stuff, meaningless stuff, no pressure. We’ll see what happens.
Born in Montana, I attended the University of Montana-Missoula, and stuck around several years afterwards before moving to San Francisco when all my friends were leaving and an online romance turned out to be more zeros than wins.
In San Francisco, near the ocean I’ve always loved, I met my love, with whom I’ve traveled to Mexico, Canada, Iceland, England, Spain, France, Hawaii, Australia, Bali, Singapore, and now fatherhood in Sacramento.
It’s a long way from Montana, with miles and miles-or at least a few more minutes-to go before I sleep.