I’m thirty-nine and the father of three. I live in San Diego, which isn’t exactly the cultural Mecca of the country, but at least it isn’t roasting hot. I should like the heat, as I have arthritis, but, literally, insanity erupts beneath a blazing firmament. Therefore, I am a great fan of the shade and spend a great deal of time indoors; or when life forces me to go outside, I’m set under a pepper tree or a sycamore, or deep inside some eucalyptus grove, or in the bowels of a gully, or under water.

As a writer, I’ve been accused of focusing too much on the negative topics. This observation cannot be argued. People often think writers of misery are dark, depressed malodorous mattress stains of human beings. I am not a despondent person. Quite the contrary, I love life, and doing what I can to help brighten the lives of those around me--especially my family--brings me great joy. When I write, however, no sunshine kids allowed. I aspire to dredge deeper than my peers into the psychiatric mulch pit. Why? Because there is much more beauty the hideous as there is in the obvious. I wish not to write “downer” stories, rather, stories of murk and misery in which people have their noses pushed in their chronic recitals of banality and unhappiness, in which the antihero saves the day, in which “pathos” is the only sanity in the house; and as a realist, I want stories in which vices, quirks, addictions are as life-affirming as the varnished “triumphs of human spirit” that I’m so Goddamn sick of hearing about.

In terms of recognition for my tiny quest, I have had three of my poems published in literary magazines, and one of my short stories (Submarine Ride) published as well. My first novel, “Clam Soup”, will be published by Dark Tales the first quarter of 2002. I’m marketing “Cameron and Kava” a novel which is a parody of the Adam & Eve/Cain & Able tragedies. No takers as of yet. I have de-crucified Jesus for a new project that has proven to be a nightmare and will probably need to be stuck right back on the cross where it belongs.