Stonehenge, bold sentinel of the Cotswolds, the Shire, nestled in the endless gold-green hills of New Zealand, and all the Pantheons older than God . . . these things, among countless others, took hold of my imagination, but it was all the quiet stories between that stole my heart. The whispered tales of an abandoned hotel perched on a lonely Japanese cliffside, all the memories written along a baker’s tired hands, the paths unseen and the steps untrod . . . these places are where I make my life, where I find the beautiful stories between the edges of things. I do not claim to be the only person to see them, but I do claim to be one of the only few who take the time to truly seek them out.
All of this, the way I try to see and view the world, has given me an interesting outlook on people, and on the places we inhabit. It is a huge part of my writing style and how I develop my characters. I think not just about what they look like on the surface, but about each scar, each crease in clothing, each glance and smile . . . and I dive into what they really and truly are. I try and find the spaces between.