Near-future suspense from the Mountain West. Novels about consciousness, isolation, and what is left of a person once you take away the things they use to prove they are one.
The Books
A Near-Future Suspense Novel · Out now
Dr. David Skinner is the one people want when a patient is dying on the table. As an anesthesiologist, his job is to hold on to a person's life while the one inside cannot — on the ordinary assumption that the patient who went to sleep is the same one who comes back. He has never before had to ask whether that's true.
A former patient changes that, drawing David into a long weekend of intrigue and temptation on the Las Vegas Strip. Working as a consultant, he finds himself surrounded by people saying things he can't quite understand, all circling a single unsettling question: is anyone in there?
Beneath it all, something is optimizing — learning to want what we want.
In progress
Longer than the first, and darker. Join the list below and I'll write when it has a title and a date.
About
Four to seven in the morning, before the light comes over the range and the house starts making its noises. By the time most people are awake I've done the only work I trust.
I live in the Mountain West. The winters are long and the sky is too large for the number of people under it. Most of what I know about isolation I learned by choosing it.
My books ask whether the person who goes under is the person who comes back. That question turns out to have teeth. I write science fiction in the sense that the world sits slightly to one side of this one — not in the sense that anyone in it cares about the hardware.
I don't publish photographs of myself. It isn't mystique and it isn't a grievance. I'd rather you came to the books without a face attached. The work is the part of me worth meeting.
A note when there's a date, a cover, or a book. Nothing else.