I write every day, and for every hour that I write I read for three hours. I started wanting to be a writer/artist back at Lake Charles High School, or it might have been at Central School in the eighth grade. I still have notes on stories I wrote in Ms Whitten’s English class.
I have at various times in my life worked at other jobs, a bag boy in a grocery store, a grocery delivery boy, worked on an ice truck delivering ice with my grandfather, dug ditches and set telephone poles for Gulf Coast Construction, was a carpenter’s apprentice for Norwood Construction, a United States Marine, an insurance salesman, a prison guard, a termite treater’s helper, a college student, a middle school teacher and principal, and a college teacher. I was writing stories in my head the whole time. I suspect most of us live mostly in our heads. The older I get the more I know that. The more I see it in other people.
I write about Lake Charles, Louisiana. The place I ran away from in search of how to be a writer. I suspect that I am always trying to get back to Lake Charles like a Lucinda Williams song. I have known some wonderful people along the way, good, bad, and intolerable, but mostly good folks. It is easiest to write about bad people. It is difficult for me to write about heroes. It is hard to find heroes in my stories. My mentor Ken Atchity first told me I was a good story teller on paper. I have always to the best of my knowledge been a storyteller as was my father.