A fan of nature, he spends as much time outside as possible.
His latest book is the horror/action novel, Luna’s Veil.
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When did you first call yourself a writer?
I actually prefer the term “lexical engineer,” but I’ve been doing this pretty much for as long as I can remember. In 2019, I started the notes for what would become my first novel Jalopy but before that, I printed, stapled, and shared copies of some zombie action horror around my middle school. But to answer your question, I didn’t know the word “lexical” back then so I might have called myself a “writer” at the time.
How did you come up with the idea to write your book?
I’m fascinated by history in general and the period of the 1920’s in particular. Probably because this time was either neglected during my formal education or otherwise glossed over as Prohibition and ragtime music, culminating in a stock market crash. But that decade was also marked by a kind of spiritual revival across the US, and not just for the established religions. One of Harry Houdini’s favorite games was debunking psychics and mediums, suggesting there were enough of them at the time for this to be feasible.
Aleister Crowley was one of several individuals who gained a following by describing occult knowledge and having esoteric visions – likely a charlatan, but who really knows? Then there was a series of attacks along the Jersey Shore in 1916 attributed to a shark attack, and that kind of planted the seed in my brain for a monster story.
Around the same time, my kid asked me about eclipses and that found me going down a rabbit hole of historical accounts of eclipses being attributed to calamity. And from there, I had this idea for an eldritch being whose influence on Earth was tethered to the cycles of the moon.
What was the most difficult part of the writing process for Luna's Veil?
Hands down: sitting down to actually type. Whatever time I can get is scraped together while the rest of the house is asleep.
Which of your characters do you relate more to and why?
Lenny Burton is the M.C. He’s a returning veteran, trying to pick up his old life where he left off, but then his entire world is turned upside down. In that sense, I don’t have much in common with him, but I probably relate more to Cecil Gainor, the enigmatic investigator who comes to his aid.
Cecil is thoughtful and empathetic, until it’s time to deal with wicked men and their dark hearts, then he means absolute business. He also has an unfortunate habit of getting too much into his own head, often when he really shouldn’t, and that’s just me all over.
If you could spend a day with your main character, where would you go and what would you do?
One day? We’d probably go sailing around Delaware Bay. Perhaps as far as Cape May if we had the whole day for it. Lenny shares my affection for the water. While I currently lack a boat, he has an uncanny ability to acquire one; I just won’t ask where he found it if the cops ask.
Can you share the very first page with us?
“Wait here, please.”
It was a simple enough request, if unexpected. They had invited him, why make him wait now? Lacking for other options, he complied, but kept still to avoid appearing nervous. Much was at stake.
After several minutes of nothing, it occurred to him that impersonating a statue for this long might arouse suspicion in itself. And so he began pacing. As more time passed without any sign of his host, his feigned boredom became genuine and he took account of the vestibule.
It spoke of wealth. The immaculate white tiles were surely mopped following the passage of each visitor. Damask wallpaper with raised patterns that might have been real silk covered all four walls. The doors leading to the house proper were intricate and solid and – to this visitor’s mild discomfort – locked for some reason. He could not say for certain that he was trapped since he had not attempted return to the street, but such an act might have tipped his hand.
It mattered little. He would not allow himself to leave yet.
As his nerves got the better of him, he touched his cheek, recently shaved for the first time in months and the smooth skin felt foreign. To make matters worse, it occurred to him that in his haste, he neglected to put the razor away back home. At least he was confident the other parcel was secure.
This was all wrong. Really, he shouldn’t be here alone, but there had been no time to send for Cecil. Events were happening quickly and so he had been forced to act.
His discomfort notwithstanding, they needed this lead. The missing persons were a matter of concern unto themselves, but the reason behind the disappearances was quite another.
For want of better options, he examined the room’s central feature in more detail and quickly decided that he would never understand art. The clever drawings advertising soda pop or ice cream were about the extent of his appreciation.
This piece was something beyond. It was possible, he supposed, that he lacked the ability to comprehend the subtle nuances or else it was exactly as it appeared.
The room’s only piece of furniture was a table that might have cost more than a modest car, but atop it was a sculpture of a man. Or at least, it was a human of some kind. That was part of the confusion. While skillfully executed, the figure was twisted into a shape that no circus contortionist could possibly get into without snapping one’s spine.
How would you describe your book’s ideal reader?
If you enjoy following clues, secret societies, monsters, and explosions, you are in for a treat.
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