I have always been a voracious reader, and for as long as I can remember aspired to be a writer.  For many years it simply wasn't an option, as work devoured all of my time.  But after changing jobs, I suddenly found myself with time to spare, be that crammed into the backseat of a Southwest tuna can, or sitting idle in a hotel room far away from home.  One night, after I was well into a bottle of Cabernet Franc, I realized I was out of excuses.  A couple of hours later, I had a new favorite hobby.

Fast forward a little more than two years; my first full-length novel (a legal/medical mystery) is written (and twice re-written), and being queried with agents.  I'm about halfway though its sequel.  My writing has improved leaps and bounds from those first Cabernet-induced chapters, and I find I'm learning something new every time I sit down to crank out a few hundred words. 

When I'm not writing, I'm tasting wine (and occasionally drinking some too), cooking good food, and flying around SoCal in little airplanes.