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Tag Archives: A truth more real than reality

Ideas, Ideas – The Temple of the Dreamers

When Orah and Nathaniel enter the Temple of the Dreamers, high up on the mountain, I didn’t want them to immediately barge into the chamber holding the cocoons, a sterile room dominated by technology. Beyond needing to build anticipation, I felt the haughty dreamers would have embellished the place where they strove for immortality by creating spectacular anterooms as the approach to where their science worked

Why do I write?

I recently did an interview where a book blogger asked the following question: “What’s the reason for your life? Have you figured out your reason for being here yet?” I’ve done a number of interviews before, both in my prior life as a technologist and in my current role as an author. Some questions are professional. What do you think of a certain technology trend? What's your

Ideas are everywhere

What do the following have in common?

[jcolumns model="4" halign="center"] [pb_slideshow group="1"] [jcol/] [/jcolumns] A rustic stone church in Boothbay Harbor, Maine, Mt. Etna, the Temple of Zeus in Agrigento, the old merry-go-round in Oak Bluffs, the Chihuly Glass Museum in Seattle, and the Palantine Chapel in Palermo. All of these are sources of inspiration for my next novel, the sequel to The Children of Darkness. I've always believed that the difference between the creative and non-creative person is not the

Role-playing games and the trauma of war

I’ve always been fascinated by how we perceive reality, each of us bringing our own experiences and biases into play. But it's when we’re ripped from our normal lives and placed in extreme circumstances that our reality becomes totally fragmented. Such is the case with hospitals and war. A couple of years ago, I became engrossed in the online game, World of Warcraft, thanks to my son. I’m on the east coast and

The box has arrived

My smart phone beeps and the tracking text from UPS appears: Your delivery is at the front door. I go to the entrance of the house, open the door and gaze too long at the shipment sitting on the stoop, then carefully bend at the knees and lift it up. I lug it into my office and rest it on the desk, the place where I’ve spent all those hours writing. Then

A Celebration of the Human Spirit

The Boston Marathon course ran past the front steps of the apartment building where I grew up in Brighton. We lived a bit after the twentieth mile, just over the crest of Heartbreak Hill. Since Patriot’s day was a holiday and we had no school, we’d go out every year and watch, a rite of spring, along with opening day at Fenway Park. Back then, there were a paltry two or three

Why I write speculative fiction

I’ve always been suspicious about reality. Is what we believe merely a reflection of how we’ve been raised and what we’ve been taught. Anyone who has traveled knows other cultures see the world differently. And anyone who has spent extended time in a hospital or war zone has learned the hard way that one’s sense of reality can be easily fragmented. We conveniently construct a world view that suits us—at least until something challenges it.

The Greatest Thing I learned in School

In the seventh grade, I began a six year college preparatory school, the elite school in the city and accessible only via an entrance exam. Ninety-nine percent of its graduates went on to college, many to Ivy League schools.  But only one in three graduated. I felt pretty confident. I had a good education to date and all the skills to succeed. But I had never read for pleasure. The kids
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