From Custom Cabinetmaker to Author: Rebuilding Life One Story at a Time

Author Known — About Me, Part 3

Read Part 1 here | Read Part 2 here

The Hands That Built What Others Couldn’t See

I used to be a custom cabinetmaker. A carpenter. A home improvement craftsman. And I very good at it. In fact, for 25 years, I made a living doing it—and I made it well. My hands knew how to listen to wood. My eyes measured with a glance. I built things people lived around, raised their kids in front of, and made memories with. And I measured twice, cut once with a tape measure.

The Creativity Didn’t Retire—It Rewired

Eventually, my body started talking louder than the wood. Years of wear, tear, and time took their toll. I started hearing the same words I’d heard from others in the trades: “I used to do what you do, but I had to stop.” For some, it was injury. For others, age. For me, it was both—along with a growing sense that if I didn’t shift gears, I was going to stall out for good. Think aboit that is you just never think about the actual time the halt takes place and the clock keeps ticking.

And here’s the strange twist no one warns you about: just because your body gives out doesn’t mean your creativity does. In fact, mine exploded. The less I could express it physically, the more it started pressing at the walls of my mind, looking for a new way out. So, I gave it one.

From Measuring Cuts to Crafting Chaos

I wasn’t necessarily new to writing, I had written a lot over the years. I even turned some of my entertainment center projects into plans that other makers purchased and built themselves, or they adapted my plans into their own unique creations. Neat thing about that experience is those plans are still online and can still be purchased.

I started writing. Custom cabinetmaker to Author, this time it was different. I sensed it would become my new creative way of life. I started creating characters, building ideas, dreaming in plot lines and punchlines instead of blueprints and bevels. I went from measuring cuts to crafting chaos with a keyboard. And then I did something kind of ridiculous, mostly to prove I could: I wrote, edited, formatted, and published my very first book—in seven days. I called it the 7-Day Author Challenge—and I lived it. The result? A finished book, up on Amazon, out in the world.

Now, I’m not saying that’s the ideal timeline. It’s the exception, not the rule. But that book isn’t just a book—it’s a turning point. It’s the first visible mark of a new kind of craftsmanship.

The Work No One Drove Past

And here’s something I’ve been thinking about lately. For most of my life, the work I did was invisible to the world. Unlike landscaping—where passersby witness the transformation in real time—my art was built behind doors. On the inside. In kitchens, living rooms, dens, and bedrooms. My work was personal, one-family-at-a-time craftsmanship, not roadside spectacle. No one drove past and marveled at what I’d done. The only way I could show the world what I created was through photos, my website, or a social post here and there. Even then, I didn’t blast it everywhere. I didn’t flood the market. I put myself out there just enough for the right people to find me—the kind of people who did their homework, saw my work, and said, “That’s who I want in my home.”

A Digital Workshop with the Same Heart

That digital workshop—those subtle showcases—required just as much creativity as the physical builds. And while I never loved “selling myself,” I respected the art of letting my work speak for me. The reviews, the referrals, the quiet trust built from real homes and real hands—those were the true sales pitches.

So maybe what I’m doing now isn’t so different. Maybe writing is just another kind of inside work. Maybe the words I write now are cabinets for the mind—spaces to hold something meaningful, to make life a little more beautiful on the inside.

Author Known, Still Building

So here I am—Author Known. Not because I’m famous (yet), and not because I think the world owes me attention. I’m Author Known because I choose to be known—for what I create, what I challenge, what I uncover.

This is where the story shifts. From sawdust to storylines, from callouses to characters, from what I used to be to what I’ve only just begun.