The Literary Journey
I write about people no one thinks to ask - Ellis Island descendants, people in nursing homes, horseplayers, flight attendants, nurses, people of mixed races, doctors, construction workers, consultants - regular people who have one thing in common: They like to think for themselves.
What I don’t write about is what is far too prevalent today - stories with their minds already made up - that hands you a conclusion gift wrapped - so you can applaud yourself for agreeing. I’d rather give you the argument and trust you with it. If I’ve done my job, you won’t always be able to tell which side is mine. I owe all my characters a soul, and I work hard to give them one.
If you like to think for yourself, welcome. If you prefer to go along with the crowd, there is plenty of that elsewhere.
If you decide to give my works a try, please know that I know your time is valuable. I sincerely hope you’ll find these pages thought-provoking and worthwhile as you navigate your own journey.
From the Preface of Room to Breathe
I write about people at the end of something — a shift, a career, a marriage, a life, a flight that isn’t going to land. The people I’m drawn to are the ones nobody thinks to ask: a horse trainer, a male nurse, a man who reads the Racing Form like scripture. They’ve worked the loading docks and the acid vats and the costume‑jewelry presses, and somewhere along the way they picked up Shakespeare and Saroyan and an opinion about everything. In these plays, the room is running out of air. Somebody is dying, or forgetting, or saying goodbye, or circling an airport that will never let them land. So they do the most human thing I know. They laugh — not because nothing matters, but because almost nothing else holds up at the end.
Featured Works
Room to Breathe
The point was never to win. The point was the room. Plays that tell stories of people at the edge of life's transitions.
