Writer and Editor

Mythology novel, The Time Before The Moon, is a #1 Amazon bestseller and the winner of two book awards.

Then, he just watched the sunset, and for some reason, he thought about the butterflies he had seen in that clearing when he first left the village. There had been so many, a swarm of flying colors, and he had never seen so many of the insects in one place. He didn’t know why, but this sunset reminded him of those butterflies.
Omi kept watching as the sun tucked itself under the horizon. He sat there a while in the dusk, until Pup jumped up and snarled, looking down the slope, tense as ever. Omi looked at the wolf, his brown-grey fur looking charcoal in the twilight, then hopped up at once. He lifted his spear in his right hand and drew his knife with his left. They were all hiking up to him, no longer discernable persons, but shadowy figures, once again, phantoms looming in the coming darkness.

Coauthored contemporary fantasy novel, The Renaissance of Oddity Todd.

To the untrained eye, the waters were merely quivering, but to Todd,
they were erupting with roaring unseen forces. Todd could feel the largest of
movements from tectonic plates far beneath his feet, as well as the most minute
energy from swirling electrons, photons, quarks, and other physical
phenomena—and the space between them all sang into a symphony of strings
that powerfully hummed creation.
He exhaled one final time—and he was ready.
He ran at the water, light and graceful and confident. His feet hit the
surface of the lake, water splashing, but they did not sink. With just ripples, as if
leaves were falling on the water, his feet found traction and support, and he
sprinted hard and fast over the entire lake.
Gone were the days of Ezra laughing at him for completely sinking
and getting drenched. He had mastered the High-Modus of Tracentrum, which
allows the shifting or warping of the mass and gravitational forces of one’s body.
Hypothetically, a Modus like this could open ways to conduct feats both terrific
and terrible. Todd, as great as his potential was, still had his human limits on
how much Anima he could summon into his body.
After running over the lake, Todd switched to more traditional
exercises. He found a perfect tree branch for pull-ups—did a thousand—then
dropped to the forest floor for a thousand pushups, and finished with the same
number of crunches. His skin was beaded with sweat, his eyes fierce and
bloodshot red. This was the best way to wake up.

For two years, I was the editor of the popular fantasy game, Evertale.

My first novel, Roads of the Righteous, reached Amazon’s bestseller lists.

“Stroan, when I take the throne, if the people discover that the Condor had anything to do with the disappearances of their neighbors, my rule will be ill-favored. You see, Ozgan is perfect. He was born one of us—raised one of us. He knows our ways. Most importantly, he knows if he crosses us, we will kill him.
“He was one of us?”
“But since he deserted the clan he can no longer be called a Condor. If he dies, it means nothing to us. If he’s caught, he cannot be tracked back to us. He’s perfect.”
“The three apostates,” said Stroan in wonder. “He is one of them?”
“Aye. He belongs neither to our world nor the outside world. Men like him are merely whispers and shadows—nothing more. We lose nothing by employing Ozgan.”
Stroan cringed at the thought of those three. The three apostates—deserters of their clan and cause, selfish rogues of the outer world, and now the lands’ most feared mercenaries. There was no law for them, not Condor law, nor the law of Tiomot or Dandil.
“What of our ears in Snowstone Castle?” asked Anza, making it clear she was finished speaking on the previous subject.
“Good news, Anza, good news. Tiomot and Dandil are at odds because of a small gold mine that was found in Cyana not long ago.”
“A gold mine?”
“Aye, and Tiomot has been raiding it.”
“Of course, the greedy king has.”
“He has done it several times now, and Dandil won’t long tolerate it.”
“There will be war between Snowstone and Cyana,” said Anza, sounding as if she were quite sure of it.
“There may be,” Stroan said, nodding. “After the last raid, Dandil sent a letter to Tiomot saying that his men were seen raiding the mine. He threatened Tiomot, telling him there would be war between the two kingdoms unless Tiomot wrote a sworn testimony that his men had nothing to do with it.”
“Will Tiomot write this letter?”
“Well, Yuna said Tiomot didn’t want to.”
“With that fool, the war will come easily.”
“Aye, but Prince Tharid urged the king to send the letter, offering to take care of the matter himself.”
“The lad has sense,” said Anza. “It’s him and the queen who have kept Snowstone strong for all these years.”
“So the letter will be sent.”
Anza sat quiet a few moments, wearing a thoughtful grin. “Even without our efforts, Snowstone and Cyana are nearly at war. Dandil knows it’s the Snowguards who are raiding his gold mine, but for the sake of his pride, he’s allowing Tiomot to deny the claim and stop the raids.” The woman chuckled. “But he’ll go to war if he doesn’t get the letter or his mines are raided again. We are going to make sure both happen.”
“We can have someone intercept the messenger,” said Stroan, “but do you think the Snowguards will raid again?”
“If they don’t, we’ll make it appear as if they did, but we’ll give them time. For now, let’s make sure that letter doesn’t get delivered.”
“Do you want me to do it?”
“No. The abduction of townspeople, the assassination of a royal envoy—it is too vile for us. Our hands will be clean of such affairs so that when we come to power, there can be no fault found in us. Let us be as puppeteers, pulling strings from the shadows behind the drapes.”

Worldbuilding

Stories need more than a plot and characters—especially science fiction and fantasy. A vibrant, believable world is necessary to immerse the reader.