Richard Herron

When I fell into reading fiction, I fell hard. I was fortunate to have an English teacher in high school (Thank you, Mr. Blake!) who taught fantasy and science fiction, and introduced young readers to a wide world of imagination. Edgar Rice Burroughs, Arthur Clark, Ray Bradbury, Isaac Asimov and others soon filled my time with swashbuckling adventures and worlds that existed out there, beyond the day-to-day, "normal" spectrum.

As I expanded my sources, I found Stephen King grabbing my attention. Talk about character development; there's a writer who builds believable actors, then places them into realistic scenes that are only visible to minds willing to suspend disbelief!

In early years, I wrote a slew of poetry, and it still trickles out. It is largely inspired by my personal experiences, as I suppose is true for most poets. Jumping tracks to write a novel wasn't 'scary' per se. It was more like walking on the casual trail through the woods of my poetry, then coming into an opening meadow and discovering a huge mountain standing before me. I only needed to tighten my boot laces, and then keep on walking. Progress slowed to a crawl, compared to cranking out a poem, but inch by inch, it took form.

I moved to Alaska in my mid-twenties. No job lined up, no contacts established, but I knew one thing for sure. Alaska offered one of the few remaining wilderness locations on the planet, and had been calling my name since I was about twelve years old.

I jumped into fantastic outdoor adventures and experiences, in between working here and there. One day, in exploring offerings by ACC (Anchorage Community College), I was intrigued by an ETT (Emergency Trauma Training) course. That was the open door to what would become a thirty-five year adventure in the medical field. I remain an R.N., however I have drifted away from that path now, in exploring further writing treks.