Why I write: When people ask me why I write, I often pause--not because I don't know the answer, but because the answer is layered with love, loss and something deeper than words can easily contain. Writing, for me, began as a way to remember. Overtime, it became a way to live again. "You should write about all that stuff." Those could be viewed as her dying words on writing about my life in Africa. That southern girl convinced me that my voice and story were fascinating and

For years, I worked as a corrections officer. I spent my days walking the line between order and chaos, watching men live their lives in a six-by-nine cell. Now, as a counselor in human services with a Master’s degree, I look back on that time differently. I realized that the prison environment teaches us profound lessons about mental fortitude that apply to everyone—even if you’ve never been behind bars. Routine is Your Anchor: In chaos, structure saves your sanity. The inm

There is a difference between imagining a high-stakes situation and knowing what it actually feels like. As a veteran of the U.S. Air Force, I have always been fascinated by the machinery of war and the psychology of the people who operate it. When I sat down to write Antonov-225 , I didn't want it to just be another thriller. I wanted it to feel authentic. I wanted readers to hear the roar of the engines and feel the tension in the cockpit. Transitioning from writing memoirs

People often ask me where I find the inspiration for the intense situations in my books. The truth is, before I ever wrote a word of fiction, I lived through a story of survival. Growing up in West Africa during a civil war, I learned early on that life can change in a heartbeat. I learned that safety is a privilege and that resilience is the most valuable currency a person can hold. When I later came to the United States and joined the Air Force, those lessons were reinforce