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On July 25th, I am heading to Walport Family Cellars for Pages and Pairings, and I want you to come. Here is the thing about being an author in Southern Oregon: you get to know other writers. Real people doing the work. People who sit down and make shit up for a living. People who understand the loneliness and the joy and the uncertainty of putting your stories out into the world. Pages and Pairings is about bringing those stories together. Good wine. Good food. And a room fu

Today, America turns 250 years old. I have traveled abroad enough to know that the world does not always see us the way we see ourselves. In the Air Force, I learned early that the perception of the obnoxious American was real. Drilled into my head. A warning. Be mindful. Be respectful. Do not be that guy. Fair enough. But here is what I have learned: Americans are not uniquely jerks. We are just human. I have seen plenty of arrogance in other countries. Seen plenty of rudene

If you love suspense novels that go deeper than a twist ending — stories built on family secrets, flawed characters you can't stop thinking about, and settings so vivid they feel like a character — indie suspense is where you should be looking. Especially when those stories are set against the moody, rain-soaked backdrop of the Pacific Northwest. This list rounds up some of the best indie suspense books worth reading right now, starting with a psychological thriller set in th

Why I Set a Murder Mystery in the Oregon Outback I went back to Lake County, Oregon to get away. To reconnect with that part of Eastern Oregon. To revisit childhood memories. I was not looking for a book setting. That came later. The Trip I had not been back to that part of the state in over forty years. I camped at Dead Horse Lake. The same lake where I camped as a kid. Reconnected to those memories. The fire. The cold nights. The simple pleasure of being outside with nothin

Why My Characters Are More Important Than the Mystery I did not set out to write character-driven mysteries. That just became what I do. Early on, I thought the mystery was the thing. The plot. The twist. The revelation. I figured if I could surprise readers, keep them guessing, make them turn pages fast enough, that was enough. But somewhere along the way, I realized the mystery does not matter if you do not care about the person at the center of it. The Advice That Changed

Why My Characters Are More Important Than the Mystery I did not set out to write character-driven mysteries. That just became what I do. Early on, I thought the mystery was the thing. The plot. The twist. The revelation. I figured if I could surprise readers, keep them guessing, make them turn pages fast enough, that was enough. But somewhere along the way, I realized the mystery does not matter if you do not care about the person at the center of it. The Advice That Changed

Why I Set a Murder Mystery in the Oregon Outback I went back to Lake County, Oregon to get away. To reconnect with that part of Eastern Oregon. To revisit childhood memories. I was not looking for a book setting. That came later. The Trip I had not been back to that part of the state in over forty years. I camped at Dead Horse Lake. The same lake where I camped as a kid. Reconnected to those memories. The fire. The cold nights. The simple pleasure of being outside with nothin

I was a junior in high school when I wrote a short story for English class about how Grants Pass got its name. This was before the internet and easy research. So, I made up an elaborate story about how Ulysses S. Grant was visiting the Pacific Northwest and his stagecoach decided to pass by our small town and visit the more popular Jacksonville, Oregon instead. My teacher laughed. Encouraged me. Gave me an A. Students read it. Patted me on the back. All the things that make a

If you love suspense novels that go deeper than a twist ending — stories built on family secrets, flawed characters you can't stop thinking about, and settings so vivid they feel like a character — indie suspense is where you should be looking. Especially when those stories are set against the moody, rain-soaked backdrop of the Pacific Northwest. This list rounds up some of the best indie suspense books worth reading right now, starting with a psychological thriller set in th

I joined the Air Force to run. Not toward something. Away from it. Away from home. Away from the shame of what happened to me. Away from a family that wanted to pretend nothing had happened. If we don't talk about it, did it really happen? Away from the kid I used to be before everything fell apart. I thought if I could be perfect, it would cleanse my past. If I could be the best at everything, maybe I could erase the ten-year-old who got abused by a man everyone respected. T

My father walked my brother and me across a field and told us we would be better off with our mother. I was ten years old. My brother was twelve. Our mother was terrified. And we were living in Dairy, Oregon. Population fifty-five. Where divorce was something you whispered about, not something that happened to your family. When Everything Changed One day we had food on the table. Clean Toughskin jeans from Sears. A father who came home at night after a long day of work. The n

It has been three years since my father died. Two and a half since I first walked into his workshop and stood there, stunned by the sheer volume of stuff he had accumulated over a lifetime. I thought I would have it cleaned out by now. I was wrong. What I Thought This Would Be When I started this process, I figured it would take a few months. Maybe a year if I really dragged my feet. Sort the tools from the junk. Keep what mattered. Trash the rest. Simple. Turns out there is

What a Grants Pass Brewery Taught Me About Being Present I am sitting at Weekend Brewery in Grants Pass with a cold beer and nowhere I need to be. This does not happen often. The being nowhere part. I am usually somewhere, doing something, thinking about the next thing I need to do. But today I am just here. Watching people. Listening. Letting the noise wash over me without trying to make sense of it. There is a table of hikers still wearing their trail dust like badges. A co

There's a particular kind of freedom that belongs only to childhood in a small town - the kind that doesn't come with a manual, a warning label, or a responsible adult anywhere in sight. I grew up in Dairy, Oregon, population small-enough-that-everyone-knows-what-you-did-before-you-get-home. What I didn't know then, running wild through the dark Oregon nights, was that every stupid, dangerous, smoke-producing, federal-agent-attracting thing I did was quietly building the pers

I grew up in a time when you were allowed to play outdoors all day. Not supervised. Not tracked. Not tethered to a device that let your parents know your exact location at all times. You just went outside. And you stayed there until someone called you in for dinner or the streetlights came on. Bathroom breaks? Glad you asked. Nope, all outdoors. We explored on our bicycles. Rural routes. Ditches. Empty barns that probably should have been condemned but made for excellent hide

The garage doors were open at Claremont Craft Ales, my favorite local Southern California spot, and the warm evening air mixed with the din of voices that somehow made our conversation feel private despite the crowd. My son and I had fallen into that comfortable rhythm that reveals itself after a few beers and the kind of distance that forces you to see each other as people, not just roles. It had been a couple of years since I left his mother, 22.5 years of marriage that end

I watched a Baseball Zen video the other day. You know the ones. Those slow-motion MLB clips with amplified sounds. The crack of the bat. The spray of dirt. The steady trickle of sand in the batter's box shaped like a baseball diamond, filling in slowly while you breathe and remember why you love this game. It is designed to let you reflect on the season that was. To savor what the game gave you. To remember why it mattered. It worked. But not the way they probably intended

This past week, I crossed something off my personal bucket list. I finally visited my 50th state. Maine. I have been to a lot of places over the years, but stepping foot in that last state meant more than just completing a checklist. It represented a lifetime of curiosity, a desire to explore, and a reminder that every corner of this country tells its own story. Wow, what a welcome. :) This time, I was not traveling solo. I was with my mother, my brother, and my sister-in-law

When it comes to novels that leave a lasting impression, emotional storytelling books hold a special place. These books dive deep into...

I picked up Mrs. Quinn’s Rise to Fame because of an unexpected email and my fascination with The Great British Baking Show. I hoped for warmth, kindness, and quiet competition, like the real-life contestants in the show.