I’m that bearded chap at your cocktail party, that guy standing in the corner of the room, observing the human condition as he sips a rusty nail. But I could also be that musician improvising jazz on the keyboard, lost in the melodies of another time, when songs offered pleasing harmonies, and you could actually understand the words above the primal beat of the drums, monotonous rap, and the screech of fuzz guitars. Surely, I’m not that pathetic creature hovering over a pile of shrink-wrapped, self-published novels on a rickety card table jammed into the restroom aisle of an independent bookseller.
I was born many years ago in Reading, a quaint little city in southeastern Pennsylvania, that’s famous for its factory outlets, pretzels, and the once-mighty Reading Railroad. Despite a childhood talent for art and music, I inexplicably changed course and studied to become an engineer. That, in turn, led to a career in tribology [Google the term if you dare].
But the writer’s itch still burns within me, and I’ve authored or co-authored over 180 journal articles and five non-fiction books over the course of my R&D career. Then, about twenty years ago, I became interested in writing sci-fi novels and techno-thrillers. They’re character-driven stories that lead the reader from deep within the earth to the dizzying heights of thunderstorms, to the shimmering rainbow curtains of the Aurora Borealis, and to the playground of ephemeral green elves and pink sprites.
Excerpts
…blinding white forks of current snapped like electric whips at the tallest tree limbs. Soon, the luckless spruce trees burst into flames. And that amazing spectacle was happening right there, right before Harry’s very eyes…
from Solar Wind
Cloaked in the suffocating blackness of an abandoned silver mine, a trembling figure braced for another debilitating wave of pain. Just one more time, he told himself as he waited for the worst to pass.
from The Lightning Man
The air freshened as it whistled over the rims of the ancient fissures that stretched like bloodless wounds across the valley floor. Today, they would know whether Professor Martin Deutsch’s improbable proposal – one that Shelby himself had called ‘a pinnacle of idiocy’ – had even the slightest chance of succeeding.
from Deep Earth
Flowing phrases 