When a receptionist asks for Terry’s name, he says, “Terry Bacon and Eggs.” It cuts to the chase and lets people know he has a sense of humor—and has heard the joke a thousand times. Not that anyone cares, but Bacon comes from the Proto-Germanic word bakkon, meaning “back meat.” If you can think of a sillier last name, please submit a comment.

He was born in Kansas and grew up in Missouri and Iowa. That’s as Midwestern as you can get. But he escaped and now resides in the mountains of Colorado. He began his writing journey at nine years old when he started a neighborhood newspaper. His mom mimeographed each issue, and he delivered them to their neighbors. That was his first unpaid job—but hardly his last.

In his life, he has been an actor, a musician, a soldier, an intelligence agent, a theatre projectionist, an entrepreneur, an investment manager, a world traveler, and a philanthropist. He has sailed, scuba dived, hiked, climbed, played linebacker in his youth, flown powered parachutes, and driven a motorcycle on the Zandvoort Grand Prix racetrack. Mostly, he’s a storyteller, which is really just a word for someone who never stopped writing newspapers. He has written many nonfiction books, as well as plays, poetry, articles, white papers, educational programs, and novels.

He’s failed the requisite number of times but triumphed enough to have enjoyed the journey. He loves science, the arts, and any food with lobster in it. He is allergic to politicians, liars, egoists, crooks, and others who are morally corrupt.

He is a husband, father, brother, grandfather, and friend to many. His idea of a good time is writing at his desk, which means he finds good company in a keyboard and a screen. He thinks life is fascinating, odd, joyful (and occasionally tragic), and tries to be kind to all and an enemy of none. He finds absurdity in much of what others dismiss or take seriously, and he loves thinking about how inconsequential we are in this vast universe we call home.