I was born in the U.P. (that's Michigan, for the unawares) on an Air Force base, raised in Waukesha, Wisconsin, a mid-sized suburb just west of Milwaukee (that's a "big" city north of Chicago, for the non-North American crowd), and currently call Tampa, Florida my home. If current trends continue, I may need to move to Ecuador.
I am not the same boy I was yesterday. I am not the man I'll be tomorrow. I'm forever in the in-between places and, peering upwards, sinking deeper. My interests are my tailwind and they are vast and formidable and unceasing.
More specifically, I write stories, short and long, with plots and characters and moods that pointedly eschew easy labels. You could call it SpecFic, but even that wide descriptor won't float the whole boat. I write what I want and hope sincerely someone likes it.
I also write non-fiction, both creative and not. I write essays, reviews, copy, blurbs, tweets, twaddle and twumpus (I also make up words, from time to time). If you need words on it, in it, or about it, I'm the faucet to tap.
Beyond that, my activities are bent by whim and passion. Long ago, while crawling out from under the crunching smolder that was child-like wonder meeting the brutal realism of adulthood, I resolved to take the path I wanted to take, it being my walk and all, and only getting the one trip. I would pursue the things I love, become the kind of person I wanted to be, rather than the one I was expected or urged to become. Though my aspirations are high, they're my aspirations, not those of anyone else, and the choice to walk wherever my heart would carry me has, so far, made all the difference.
Which is a long-winded way of saying that if you're doing something cool, I want in, I want on, and I want to make it cooler. I love the stuff I love and the bounds of stuff swell by the hour.
Here are some places you can read my work online:
"Pulling Up Roots" is the fictional story of a young man coming to terms with a new environment over the course of a week-long project with his father.
"Above The Fold" is a work of creative non-fiction, about the time I graced the front page of the hometown newspaper.
Both works appear in print and online in the literary journal Thread.
I've got a resume. So does everyone else. It says the same sorts of things everyone else's does too. I can use a computer and everything in it and on it. I can do math. I can accomplish things. I could send it to you, if you want.
What that near-useless form-letter-to-nowhere doesn't say is that by day one I'll be working at a proficiency you expected after a week's training, that after a week you'll wonder how you ever got by without me, and after a month I'll make my boss worry that I'll steal her job. I pick up quick and I keep on rolling and I'm not happy until I'm better at everything than anyone there.
Beyond that, I tend to become a full-throated advocate for every employer I've ever had. If I work for you, everyone I meet will wonder why they hadn't heard of you and why their business isn't going your way.
When I work, I work all the time. I may be in the office from 9-5 but my motor runs around the clock. If we're doing it, you'll have to pry my fingers off the desk to get me to stop. I'll go to bed with ideas flittering and wake in the morning, scrambling for a pen to get them down. You won't need to question my level of commitment. If I'm doing it right, you'll look to me and begin to question your own.
I'm available, I'm reasonably priced, I'm willing to move practically anywhere, and I'm intensely capable. You'd better hope no one gets to me first.