My second book, More Than a Game, was released today!

Here’s where you can buy it (while you’re at it, pick up a copy of my first one, The Last 18, too:




It will be available in Barnes and Noble and wherever it is you can buy books soon.

If you could do one, or all, of three things, I would be immensely appreciative:

  • Buy the book!
  • If you don’t want to buy the book, which is totally fine, you would be helping more than you know if you could at least review it on Amazon and GoodReads, taking it on faith that it’s actually somewhat decent.
  • Tell your friends to buy it and review it!

I’ll be doing a little blog series on how the book came to being, and on just writing books in general. It’s both for marketing purposes and because a lot of my writer friends ask about it. So here’s the first:

Writing on the shoulders of giants

I’ve been told that writing is a lonely task. I guess that makes sense to those who don’t write. On the surface, I suppose we do look like lonely creatures, burrowing into a nook at Starbucks, drowning in dark roast coffee, treating our laptops and manuscripts like they’re our children. And, in many ways, writing can be sort of solitary, but it’s good, being by yourself, getting comfortable being alone, just you and your words, spilling onto the table.

But the writing process itself? It’s an extraordinarily collaborative, team-driven effort, even if many members of the team aren’t even aware they’re on it in the first place.

Yes, it’s my name listed as the author. Yes, that’s my bio at the back of the book, and my picture, too. But I can assure you that I stood on the shoulders of my own personal giants for that to happen.

I stood on the shoulders of Alex Cook. Those who know him would think he’d be one of the last people on the planet who would be my first editor. He was a lacrosse player in college and works at T-Rowe price and hates writing and reads precisely one book every two years or so, which happen to be my books. He sees the raw, unedited, piece of garbage manuscript I send him, and he tells me it’s the greatest goddamn book he’s ever read. I guess he’s not lying. He’s only read, I don’t know, my two books and the Wolf of Wall Street (I’d venture to guess that the latter was better than both). So yes, Alex, one of the greatest people on the planet, gives me the confidence and assurance I need to move forward with it, which is more important than any grammatical fixups and technicalities the real editors look for. But he does add legitimate feedback. He tells me when the plot doesn’t make sense, or when a character isn’t fully developed, or when I misspell something a second grader would spell correctly. All of these happen often.

He’s my first line of defense. And he’s perfect.

Without him, this book does not come into being.


We like whiskey, crabs and the state of Maryland. 

I stood on the shoulders of my brothers, Cody and Tyler, who have easily taught me more than any coach, teacher, professor, or boss I’ve ever had.

Without them, this book does not come into being.


The Mewhirter women = stronger than the Mewhirter men

I stood on the shoulders of every editor who has dealt with my stubborn writing and ability to force a 500-word limit to 1,500 because I said so. I stood on the shoulders of Brandon Walker, who took a shot on a cocky 20-something from Maryland to cover sports in Florida and gave me free rein to write as many features as my fingers could type. I then stood on the shoulders of Seth Stringer, who took that free rein and gave me an even longer leash, forming a wonderful friendship in the process, full of nights of whisky and cigars and beers and the wonders of high school football in the South.

Without them, and every other editor and professor, this book does not come into being.


We took work very seriously at the Northwest Florida Daily News. Seriously, this is what we wore to work. 

I stood on the shoulders of Jason and Jenny Wheatley, who are the reason I am living in California. Without Jason, my lifelong, unbelievably loyal best friend, I wouldn’t even consider moving here. Without Jenny, his brilliant, amazingly accomplished wife and soon-to-be mother of a son I will corrupt by forcing him into fandom of awful Maryland sports, I wouldn’t have an awesome job in a field I’d have never thought to get into. Together, they’ve opened dozens upon dozens of doors, revived my love for learning to an obsessive level, and gave me a chance I don’t know if I was really qualified for.

Without them, this book does not come into being.


Jason and Jenny: The two biggest reasons I’m in California. 

I stood on the shoulders of my girlfriend, Lakaylah, or Lake, or Pond, or By The Riverbank, or Estuary, who took a massive risk few 20-year-olds would do and moved 3,000 miles from home to come live with my goofy ass. Upon moving, she had nothing but me – no job, no friends or relationships in California, no familiarity. And she’s made it work and then some, to the point that she’s 21 going on 40 in terms of success and overall life experience.

Without her support, this book does not come into being.


She thinks my writing and cooking is good (I’m not sure about either), so she’s ok in my book.

I stood on the shoulders of my parents, who will get their own post, and my friends’ parents, and my friends from the East Coast and the Gulf Coast and the West Coast. And yes, I stood on the shoulders of Starbucks, and large coffees with a double-shot of espresso.

Writing isn’t lonely, you see.

Writing is simply hanging amongst giants.