Born in Texas and grew up in Southern California. After years of dead-end jobs and publishers’ rejections, I stumbled into the pre-dot.com tech world where I spent the next decade paying my rent on time, eating regularly and not putting pen to paper for anything creative. In 2000, I pulled the plug on my techno-rat race to resume writing. Currently living in San Francisco, at work on a third novel.
Bailed out of jail and holed up in a low-rent motel, amnesiac Eric Ashworth’s only memory is a woman’s name: Desiree. With steadily increasing doses of a strange new hallucinogen, Eric finds that the drug allows him to reassemble his past in broken fragments. But as he begins to lose touch with the present, his distinction between truth and fantasy begins to crumble, creating a world where divisions between love and loss, violence and tenderness, and fact and fiction are less discernible than they ought to be.
John Vincent Dolan is a talented young forger with a proclivity for mathematics and drug addiction. In the face of his impending institutionalization, he continually reinvents himself to escape the legal and mental health authorities and to save himself from a life of incarceration. But running turns out to be costly. Vincent’s clients in the L.A. underworld lose patience, the hospital evaluator may not be fooled by his story, and the only person in as much danger as himself is the woman who knows his real name.
…what they show tells you what they want to hide.
The time flies. The time flies feed on rotting clocks.
A person’s life story is equal to what they have plus what they want most in the world, minus what they’re actually willing to sacrifice for it.
It’s taken me years of practice to learn how to act natural.
Everything in the universe is everything else. A man is a killer is a saint is a monkey is a cockroach is a goldfish is a whale, and the Devil is just the angel who asked for More.