Michael didn't come to writing through a creative writing program or a quiet life with room to reflect. He came to it through forty-two years of living at the edge — and the painful, necessary work of finally looking inward.

From the age of fifteen, Michael moved in and out of the system. Jail. Circumstances that would have broken most people, and nearly did. What kept him wasn't optimism or resilience in the way that word gets used cheaply. It was something harder to name — a refusal, even when he couldn't explain it, to be finished.

His first encounter with spirituality came at eighteen, inside a jail cell. Not a conversion moment. More like a door left slightly open. Four years later, at twenty-two, serving time in prison, that door opened further. What began as survival became something else — a slow, decades-long walk toward faith, identity, and the question every man eventually has to answer: who am I when everything is stripped away?

He spent the next twenty years building toward an answer. And then, at forty-two, he got married — believing, finally, that he had arrived somewhere safe.

He hadn't.

What followed was the most painful period of his life. The unaddressed trauma of a lifetime, long buried, surfaced all at once. His marriage fell apart. And in the wreckage, he faced the loss that undid him most completely: losing his relationship with his daughter, Lila.

It was in that collapse — not before it, not after it had healed, but inside it — that the principles behind his writing took shape. Not as comfort. As clarity. The kind that only comes when you have nothing left to protect.

Freedom From Self is what he found when he stopped performing. When the identity built from survival, from image, from what the world expected of him, finally gave way to something truer underneath. It is a book about the man beneath the armor — and what it takes to live as him.

Letters to Lila is what remained when everything else was gone. Letters written to his daughter. The things a father wants to say when he doesn't know if he'll get the chance. About love that doesn't negotiate. About what it means to show up for someone fully, even when you're broken. About the kind of man he was still becoming.

Michael didn't write these books because he had the answers. He wrote them because he lived the questions — for decades, in the hardest possible conditions — and found that the questions themselves, held honestly, lead somewhere worth going.

He is based in Greenville, North Carolina, where he continues to write, build, and begin again.