I grew up in a house filled with wild animals, and a library of Stephen King and Anne Rice. This probably has something to do with the way my brain works.

As soon as I could grip a crayon, I started telling stories. With broken sentences and scribbled drawings, I shared the worlds in my head with anyone who would listen. The tools have changed, but that same basic desire remains.

Thinking an artistic career out of reach, I began adult life with a decade in the military before leaving to help my wife chase dreams of her own.

I gave an honest effort at a corporate career, but it never felt like the right fit. Through it all, childhood dreams cried out from my subconscious.

Now I write from a calm and peaceful life in the desert with my wife and kids. Sometimes, in the fleeting moments when the world is quiet and still, I wonder if it’s all a mirage.

But I know it’s not.

Right?