Mike writes from a folding chair on a porch that faces the Gulf, where the wind carries more stories than he could ever put on paper. At 83, he’s lived a life most folks wouldn’t believe even if he wrote it straight — Vietnam veteran, wanderer, beach bum, farmer, and accidental storyteller.

Mike’s fiction is built from a lifetime of truth. Not polished truth. Not pretty truth. Just the kind that sticks to a man after decades of mistakes, forgiveness, love, loss, and getting back up again.

He writes for people who feel more than they say — the quiet ones, the wounded ones, the ones who carry their stories tucked under their skin like the translucent believers in that abandoned saloon he once imagined. Behind those swinging doors, he found kinship among misfits. On his porch, he finds the same thing in the readers who show up.

He writes now with an iPhone, a lifetime of memories, and the Gulf breeze at his back.