Q: What kind of books do you write?
A: All of them. If it has words and a questionable target audience, I’ve probably tried it—novels, trivia booklets, coloring books, and at least one experiment involving goats and philosophy. I contain multitudes, mostly unedited.

Q: Why so many different genres?
A: Commitment issues. Also, boredom. Horror and humor share a border fence; I just keep climbing it.

Q: Are your activity books for adults or kids?
A: Yes. If you can hold a pencil and tolerate mild existential dread, you’re qualified.

Q: What’s your writing process?
A: Controlled chaos, powered by coffee and a vague sense of competition with my past self. Most of my outlines are just apology notes to future me.

Q: Where do your ideas come from?
A: A small hole in reality near a Waffle House off I-80. Sometimes I just make them up, but that sounds less mystical.

Q: Which book should I start with?
A: The one whose cover makes you least suspicious. Or flip a coin—statistically, it’ll land on “something involving sarcasm.”

Q: Are your books funny or serious?
A: Like life: mostly funny until it isn’t. I write jokes that accidentally confess things.

Q: How do I support your work?
A: Buy a book. Tell a friend. Or start an internet rumor that I was robbed of a major literary award by a raccoon with better marketing. Any publicity helps.

Q: Do you ever get writer’s block?
A: Constantly. I treat it like an unwanted roommate—ignore it, talk behind its back, and eventually it moves out.

Q: What’s next for you?
A: Depends on which personality wins the coin toss. Probably another book no one asked for but everyone vaguely recognizes themselves in.