I’m not a normal writer

I’m an adequate writer, at best. My ideas are weird, not quirky like other people consider weird, like nihilistic, dark, unforgiving weird.

Everything I write has a sturdy foot planted in the remorseless lottery of natural selection. You may think you’re a nature lover, but when you point at a pretty flower, my brain wonders how many iterations of that flower had to parish before this one proved itself worthy to continue living in our hostile world. I love nature on an entirely different level than most people. The apathetic code that lies within the heart of every living thing on Earth fascinates me.

My book series, Ascension, embraces this fascination. It’s about a universe of Gods who despise mental and physical weakness in the sapient creatures of our anthropic universe. How did I come of with this god-awful concept? It came to me in a daydream while I wandered around Saint Augustine Florida on my lunch break. I like to think these Gods are real, and my writing is them using me as a tool to communicate with the human species.

The more you get to know the writer version of me, the more you’ll see that I’m broken by current Western Civilization standards. I don’t believe every live has intrinsic or even equal value. I don’t see empathy as a strength. If you spend enough time talking to me, you’ll realize, deep down, you are more like me than you’ll want to admit.

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