I’m writing a dystopian science fiction novel that takes place in a world where reading is on the decline, where real and fake are getting harder and harder to tell apart, especially online. The protagonist is this guy Bill. On the one hand, he’s profoundly lost. On the other, he’s living the dream. Like I said, it’s all very hard to tease apart.

It might be true that everything is storytelling — writing a book, running a company, being alive — but I actually do live in an old, beat-up RV, equipped with little more than a propane stove, a gas light, and a solar panel that I bolted to the roof.

Meet Sputnik, my pride and joy, a 1987 Travel Villa, exactly my age, that sits on a rusty, yellow Ford F-250 Super Duty 2007 with almost 120 thousand miles on it.


It took six adventurous months to get from the Atlantic Ocean to Kansas. I’m not exactly sure where I’m going, just that I’m heading west and taking my time. I work long days at public libraries and hang out at independent bookstores. I have very little money, which is mostly liberating but sometimes stressful.

I practice minimalism and frugality. I love going to flea markets, thrift stores, and farmstands. I’m big on gifts and trading. I love being outside, communing with trees and taking 35mm photos.

I love solitude. And nature. Especially at the same time.


Eventually, I want to build my own house from scratch. Imagine a small home on a very large property with fresh water running through it. Now chop the home in half and discard one side without closing up the open part. And triple the size of the property. That’s what I want. That’s still where this story is heading. I hope.

Subscribe below. I blog whenever I can about whatever’s on my mind. I’ll always respect your privacy. I’ll always respect your time. Time is all we have.