They call me The Pulp Writer General.
I remember who coined it — that drunk at the drive-in. I remember when I first wrote it — scrawled in red ink on the inside cover of a prototype paperback I had printed on demand, back when self-publishing wasn’t cool.
I’m a product of the tail end of Generation X, raised on VHS rentals and dog-eared horror paperbacks. I fell in love with motion pictures and the typewriter at an early age, always leaning into the shadows — monsters, murderers, midnight matinees.
My work lives somewhere between grindhouse cinema and gothic literature. I write with atmosphere, heart, and a twisted sense of fun. It’s horror with soul.
A lifelong struggle with agoraphobia shapes much of my perspective and my fiction.