Hi! I have been put on this lovely planet to experience just three things until an eventual, listless death:
Write (and review) many varying novels from the heart.
Be judged haphazardly by others devoid of said heart.
Make pensive music for a small circle of ears.
It's a long road ahead...
Or is it?
As of this writing—7/15/20, to be exact—I'm just an author's author to the reader's reader, and here are my specific books in alphabetical order:
Cat Incarcerated
No Net
The Last Offender
P.S. When the date's no longer current, that means I'm probably dead. Future-cry for me.
