Words don’t come easy to me. That’s a pop lyric from the 80’s, not a confession. If you’re a Gen Xer like me, chances are that little tune just bubbled to the surface of your brain. It’s got you by the hand now, and it’s tugging you down memory lane.

To your first disco, perhaps.

Not yet a teen, you barely made it past the bouncer, and you’re drunk on the criminal thrill of it. Inside is a throbbing maelstrom of sound and smoke, dark as a summer storm and deliciously dingy.
Words…duh, duh, dahh, don't come easy…to me.

Apologies for the earworm. Such is the power of words. Which is why I love them. They're the bridges between us. Between the past, the present, and the future. The written word has been a defining feature of my makeup throughout my school, university, and corporate life. Even more so, now, since going rogue as a writer over ten years ago.

I was lucky enough to be born in Durban and raised in Zululand. My books Zululand Snow and Zululand Gold are my way of paying homage to the exquisite nature of that life and landscape, at an age when a boy’s imagination still held sway. Set in the early 80’s and featuring coming-of-age protagonists, they’re tales of history and imagination, of folklore and legend, and the gravitational pull they exert on a boy’s bones.

After several stints in London, home for our family is now the seaside town of Ballito, on the east coast of South Africa. It’s where I write narrative non-fiction by day, and speculative fiction by night. I write for others, and I write for myself. I enjoy the coaching as much as the crafting.

Outside of writing, you’ll find me either on a mountain bike trail, in the bush, in the ocean, or on the squash court.