Long before we began writing for a living—while still serving as Naval officers on the pointy tip of the spear—we already believed in the power of storytelling. Since the days of early humanity, stories have helped us share who we are, what we do, and why. They teach, inspire, and connect.
Today, we write fiction, but the truths we strive to capture are deeply personal to us. Our stories honor those we’ve served beside and offer a glimpse behind the curtain for those who haven’t worn the uniform. We want readers to better understand the commitment and sacrifice of service members, and of the families who stand behind them, and too often carry the burden of their absence.
For us, and for many who’ve worn the uniform of our great nation, storytelling is a form of remembrance, connection, and service. As fewer and fewer Americans have a direct link to the military, stories must do more than entertain—they must build bridges and promote understanding.
Currently, less than 1% of Americans serve in uniform. That statistic alone tells us we can’t rely on proximity to create insight into the world we served in proudly. Authentic military fiction offers more than action scenes or technical jargon. It reveals the human beings behind the job titles: the quiet leader, the teammate with a hidden wound, the one who stays calm when everything goes sideways. If our work seems unusually character and relationship driven in a genre where high concept plot is what excites our imaginations, then we have done our job well, because to us, that is the part of the story that really matters.
We want readers to feel the adrenaline of a mission gone wrong, the burden of command, the sting of loss, and the unshakable bond of brotherhood. We can’t evoke those emotions through invincible superhero characters who always win and defy every odd. Instead, we aim to help readers walk a mile in boots they may never wear and to see that what makes our real-life military heroes so extraordinary is how profoundly human they are.
These are men and women who answer the call and risk everything for their neighbor. But, because they are not superheroes, that risk is very real, and too often ends in a devastating loss for the families they leave behind. What makes them remarkable is not superhuman strength, but their willingness to stand beside their brothers and sisters to the end, no matter the cost. The more people understand the human side of service—the fears, the loyalties, the stakes, and the sacrifice—the more likely they are to truly respect and support it.
A well-told military story doesn’t just entertain. It closes the gap between those who serve and those whom they protect. We’ve seen how the right story, told with heart and truth, can shape how people think about service, and in an era of instant gratification and fleeting attention spans, service can be a radical idea. It is a choice to put others first, to do hard things without expecting applause, and the quiet strength to carry on when the world goes dark. These are people for whom “Team and Mission before self” is a way of life, not a bumper sticker. That is a message worth repeating and retelling.
Storytelling connects, teaches, and carries forward the values that make America’s military unique: duty, integrity, resolve, and an unshakable commitment to one another. Some heroes are never mentioned on the news. They don’t go viral. But their character shaped this nation, and it’s worth preserving. So, we write for the families who live with the legacy of service—for the spouses who carry the load at home, the kids growing up with a folded flag, and the Gold Star parents who deserve to know that we will tell these stories with care. We write to honor the people who shaped us and continue to keep our families safe.
If we can keep the spirit of their service alive, then we’ve done more than tell a story. We’ve borne witness. We’ve passed on truth. And maybe we’ve reminded a few people not just what it means to serve, but why it matters.
Team and Mission before self…
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