About

I love to write. I love the flexibility and weight of words and the infinite possibilities and magic that can be wrought by just the right combination of them. I’m a story-lover first and foremost. When I write, I endeavor to convey a story in a manner that would most inspire or move me if I were the reader, alas with varying degrees of success.

I was a story lover before I even developed any notion that I might want to write. Writers like Isaac Asimov, Ray Bradbury, Anne Mccaffrey, Larry Niven, Gene Roddenberry and Frank Herbert were the first storytellers to really stir my imagination when I was a child. These days, I try to make time to write and found ways of connecting with other writers online to share stories and ideas. In addition to novels, I write short stories, abstract poetry, and flash fiction.

I was born in St. Ann, Jamaica in 1978. I lived in a town called Steer Town until I was, maybe ten years old. Like any other kid, I was content to soak up hours of cartoons and chase my cousins and friends all over our rural neighborhood playing boisterous games of heroes and villains – which I’m suddenly recalling, once nearly resulted in the loss of sight in my right eye. I don’t remember the details but I still have the dark mark over my right eyelid from either falling on a sharp rock or a badly aimed pebble from a catapult. I don’t remember which but I do remember that I was blind in that eye for almost a week. It was during these adventurous years that I made a couple of life defining discoveries about myself. I loved to read and I loved Science Fiction.

I would watch re-runs of The Twilight Zone, The Outer Limits and Star Trek (Enterprise) with my eyes practically glued to the television screen. My mind would swirl with all these wild imaginings of distant worlds and adventures. Even to this day, no TV hero has ever been as awesome in my mind, as Captain Jean Luc Picard. I was a strange child, sometimes uncommonly quiet and constantly caught up in daydreams and reading anything that I could get my hands on. Neither the Brothers Grimm nor Hans Christian Anderson could hold a candle to Isaac Asimov or Ray Bradbury.

When I was twelve, I lived in a town on the outskirts of Ocho Rios, called Exchange. I remember my best friend’s name was Carolyn. One day I told her about a book that I was reading. I forget what that story was was about, but it was awful and I told her as much. She said that if I knew so much about stories I should write them myself. She was probably just being sarcastic but those words grabbed hold of me because before that moment, it never even occurred to me that I might want to write. It’s strange that a moment so innocuous could inspire a lifelong pursuit.