About

I joined the US Air Force at age nineteen in 1999 and spent the following fifteen years engaged in one adventure after another.  I’ve flown in helicopters; set up weather equipment in the deserts of Afghanistan; stood guard around a broken aircraft in an open field in Bamyan, my weapon at the ready as locals descended; nearly died as my vehicle veered into a minefield then onto the edge of a cliff in Mazar-i-Sharif in the middle of the night; saw the awesomeness of a Haboob in Iraq (insane to see this wall of orange sand move toward and overtake you); lived through a hurricane ripping off the roof of my shelter; and jumped out of perfectly good airplanes.

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I got to see the best and worst of the world. From the coast of Mississippi during Hurricane Katrina (where we lost everything but the shell of our house and our family), to Afghanistan where I watched children play in a field littered with mines and without shoes or coats during winter. I’ve seen the beautiful German countryside, along with much of Europe, all the way to the incredible view of Mt. Rainier in Washington.

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Along the way, I’ve watched my four children grow to become incredible humans finding their own way. I even managed to discover my love for writing throughout it all.

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In 2011 I was on a training airborne jump. As my feet left the aircraft off the back ramp, my static line failed to release, violently jerking me backwards. That millisecond of tension was enough to change my entire life. My jaw, along with several teeth, broke from the sudden jolt. It caused brain damage, which, to this day, dramatically affects my eyesight. It ripped my spine quite literally within my neck, crushing vertebrae and causing such pain that I spent months alone in the dark and silent world of my mind struggling to live as every sense seemed to misfire on overload.

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During that time, however, I discovered the painless ability to write with my eyes closed. Long trains of endless, seemingly random thoughts commenced in the only pain-free activity I could muster. Sometime later, once back on my feet, I stumbled across these writings. I knew they were mine, though I didn’t remember writing them. Eventually, after much sifting, one particular document developed into chapter two of my first novel, Glass Prison.