I was born in quite a small town. At age eight, I moved to another small town; however, this had a nice library with a huge science fiction catalog nobody had yet read, except for the librarian. The books were new and I was falling in a new world I never thought could even exist. I owe that librarian a lot (Mr. Cosmo in my "The Librarian" is shaped quite a bit around him, whom I loved dearly.) In the basement of that library I was introduced to almost all the classics -- Bradbury, Simac, Asimov, Heinlein, Wyndham, Clarke (not yet Philip K. Dick -- I discovered him later on.) I can remember the long summers reading about Rama, or the Illustrated Man from Something Wicked This Way Comes, to Asimov's mysteries about robots. I can still picture that kid falling through all that!

I guess the fact that I was never been able to build a stable friendship with friends at an early age pushed me to explore other avenues of entertainment, one of which has certainly been reading.

I used to write small poems since I was eight or nine. I wrote stupid little things for my friends at school even at a later age. I wrote my first nonsense vomit draft (nobody is ever going to see that, I promise you) after a four-month session reading some of Stephen King's early works, from Shining to It, to Cujo, to Pet Sematary, to Carrie (being horror another genre the library was quite stocked up with as well.) But it wasn't until 2005 when I dared write something longer. It all started with another awful piece of writing -- a screenplay. Then I wrote another. And another. And Another. I started to place in a couple of screenwriting competitions, all the while beginning to know how a story should be told (if there ever was one way only.) Credence became a finalist at the Page Awards Competition in 2011, a year after The House of the Sun also placed, in 2010, a year after Etruscan won a bronze in the historical genre. All in all, the two early stories still need a bit of work, while I think Credence hits all the checkmarks for a good story.

I should say my latest book still is Credence Foundation, since I'm now head down into writing novelettes, in the attempt to gain a larger audience and develop a steady writing routine.

Credence is based on what I think is a great premise. What if mass beliefs could change reality? What if mass beliefs could flush spaceships on the other side of the universe? What if, by harnessing those mighty powers, someone was able to commit an impossible crime? What if a hardboiled investigator was tasked with solving the case?

I think it's a great story, told visually in the extreme. I'm sure it will make for a great movie and I hope to see it one day on the silver screen!

I only sent Credence to one agent, who turned it down. But I had a great deal of experience with screenplay rejections. I spent a couple of years submitting them with little success to agents, managers and producers. It's a task which can wear out even the strongest workhorse, so when I saw the chance of publishing basically for free, I jumped on the indie bandwagon at once.

I'm not much of a marketer or a publicist, but it's quite clear one of the rules to bringing your work in front of readers is exposure and availability. If people can't find your work... I owe so much to Mark, his staff and Smashwords for allowing that.

To tell the truth, I hate the mechanical part of writing. The physical act of hammering down sentences and rearranging words for maximum readability is a daunting task. Even coming up with a decent story is a painful process. Finding the right opening, an engaging hook, coming up with interesting yet identifiable, human characters who will carry the story to its conclusion, is quite a complicated alchemy. To me, this overly long process offers little pleasure. However, on rare occasions, story, plot, subplots, dialog, theme, symbols, love story, all that comes together and melts into a sublime moment which pulls you out of yourself, out of time and space, and makes you all eyes, mind and emotion, and you are able to elevate yourself to a state of pure revelation -- that's when, hopefully, the fire the author has stolen from the Gods passes on -- to mankind.

A fan is different from a reader in that he/she doesn't only read but actively seeks a given author personally, following him through the downs and ups of hardship and glory.

I think every fan is a "seer," someone who is able to enjoy and experience emotionally or rationally something the author first envisioned -- every single one of my fans belongs with me to a netherworld of chance.

As I previously said, I'm now working on a series of science fiction novelettes, expanding my reach to readers as much as possible. I'll be hacking away at 13,000 / 15,000 word stories for a while, until I have a decent volume of ideas, variety of sub-genres and themes to stir a whole new generation of thought-provoking storylines, crazy characters, unheard-of situations and engaging worlds.

I loved all science fiction authors I met in my youth. From Verne, to H.G. Wells, to Bradbury, to Asimov, to Clarke, to Simak -- but even King, Lewis Carrol, Mary Shelley and Bram Stoker belong on my golden list. They were all giants and they will always be there, for me to look at and to learn from. But I think there is one author I discovered quite late, who WAS science fiction during all his life. The same way the characters at the end of Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451 somehow BECOME the books they read, this author was both, undivided reality, dream and all the schizophrenia to be found in between. He was a great, torn thinker. A man with unsurpassed imagination and unparalleled love for mankind. He was a genius and a creator. He was Philip Kindred Dick.

Well, Ray Bradbury reportedly never woke up from his bed until something played in his "theater of the mind" long enough to stir an idea worth writing. Only then would he sit up, throw away the blankets and dash to the typewriter.

As for me, I'm not nearly good enough, of course. It's not inspiration which drives me out of my bed -- it's the realization that without a fight, no story will be pulled out. The sooner I begin, the sooner I can hope to get it alive and kicking in front of my eyes.

It's hard to believe, but when I'm not writing, my brain never stops whirring, turning inside-out the stories I'm working on at the moment, those which I'm stuck on, as well those which have yet to be put to paper, always trying to make them better, more streamlined, more scary, or thoughtful, or human, or humorous, or crazy.

Most often that not, the ebooks I read are the same old classic which have now been released in the electronic format.

The very first thing I remember writing was this tiny poem dealing with crickets hiding in the grass, when I was nine or ten.

There's a bunch of talented writers, like Ann Rice (Interview with a Vampire,) who can pull out a story writing it from scratch, going on just basically by following the characters, with very little plotting.

Not me. I must have a given framework, a theme, a known beginning, end, a few scenes in the middle, an emotional turnpike, an emotional meltdown, a lot of eye-openers, a couple of major whammos, and a big surprise by the end. All this is no guarantee for a decent story, but all my best stories have all that.

I might change this approach once I get more confident with my writing... or not.

I think one of the first stories I've ever read was by Gianni Rodari, an Italian writer. I could possibly've read it in my first or second year -- a story about a tiny man lost in a big city.

As many writers starting out (an many in the making) I'm totally broke. I design my covers myself, using stock photos.

1) THE MARTIAN CHRONICLES, by Ray Bradbury.
Written during the golden age of science fiction, it's a superb collection of humanity, science fiction romanticism, and a rare champion of hope for mankind.

2) UBIK, by Philip K. Dick.
This novel, which is often overlooked and belittled by new science fiction readers, is, in my opinion, Dick's masterpiece. Don't be fooled by the pretend humor, the supposed lightness, or the scatter of "pop" motifs like the all-powerful spray introduced at the beginning of each chapter with an ad jingle. This is one of Dick's most touching and autobiographical novels.

3) THE NAKED SUN, by Isaac Asimov.
Asimov had a weak spot for non-human characters. Beginning with a fantastic premise, he gets away with one of the best science fiction detective stories I've ever read.

4) THE MAN IN THE HIGH CASTLE, by Philip K. Dick.
This book won Dick the Hugo Award for year 1963. Again, a fantastic premise developed along the lines of a solid, far-reaching literary novel. It has very little of the classic science fiction elements like space battles, spaceships or exploration of far-away planets, yet it's an alternate reality masterpiece. For all Philip K. Dick's scholars out there, I think there is a parallel between this novel, written in 1962 and The Left Hand of Darkness, by Ursula K. LeGuin. In fact, they both explore oriental themes and philosophies, namely the Chinese I-CHING and Dao. A few will remember that K. Dick and K. LeGuin were both at Berkeley in 1947, when they graduated (they didn't know each other, though.)

5) THE THREE STIGMATA OF PALMER ELDRITCH, by Philip K. Dick.
Probably not the most visionary of his works, this novel returns a nice cross section of Dick's point of view about sex, society, religion, and politics.

Again, Philip K. Dick's collected stories are just unrivaled. It's no wonder so many movies have been made from these.

As old-fashioned as it may seem, I still read them on my laptop's screen.

I'm still groping in the dark, here. But I've got a convenient mailing list you might want consider subscribing to.

a) Cheap design lamp shooting up, toward the ceiling, on the left.
b) MouseRug mouse pad in the colors of a real Turkmen rug, also on the left.
c) Laptop on a cooling stand, with additional keyboard and mouse.
d) Pilot C-4 gel pen, red color.

That's all I've got.