About Me

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I’m a writer (fiction, poetry, non-fiction), child sexual abuse survivor-activist, and climate change activist, among other things, telling stories to catalyze personal and societal healing and enlightenment.

A significant portion of my writing – including my self-published novella, “Preludes: A Story of Child Sexual Abuse from a Child’s Perspective in a Middle Class American Family,” based on my experience of intrafamily sexual abuse as a child – is devoted to a thorough-going examination of child sexual abuse, including how children experience such abuse and the challenges faced by adult survivors attempting to heal from  their childhood trauma as it continues to affect their lives as adults.

My writing on climate change includes “Shopping Street of the Eternal Springtime Sun,” a light verse poem, published in The New Verse News, focusing on climate change and other social justice issues, and “Basho Would Cry, Then . . . ,” a contemporary tanka, also appearing in The New Verse News, addressing major Japanese banks’ continued funding of fossil fuel projects worldwide.

I hope you’ll check out my publications and social media, and if you like what you read, and see, I would be most grateful for your reviews and recommendations of my work.

And I would be most grateful, as well, if you would consider supporting me, for just one dollar a month, on Patreon, a 21st century incarnation of the traditional, patron-based method of supporting artists, enabling small-donation, crowdfunded support of artists like myself on an ongoing basis.

I also invite you to follow me on this site, my Facebook page, and/or, if you become my patron, on my Patreon page, for announcements of my new and upcoming publications.

What else to add for now?

– I was born in Athens, Georgia and, from the age of three, grew up in Nashville, Tennessee.

– I’m a graduate of Stanford University and Vanderbilt Law School.

– I currently live in Tokyo, Japan.

– The passion I experience for my writing can feel as necessary as the act of breathing; and so, despite having so far achieved little of external success in my avocation, I – like many other writers in similar circumstances – happily struggle on, grateful for whatever resonances of meaning and connection my work may hold for readers, and finding, in any case, fulfillment in the effort itself.

And so I write.