I began crafting the Anarkand universe by drawing on my technological background, the knowledge I had gathered from years of studying the occult, and the countless pieces of information I had collected along the way. At first, Anarkand was something small — online games, books, and light-hearted adventure games I created for my friends and guests. It was a playground of ideas, a space where I could weave together my curiosity with imagination.

But after a few years, I realised that what I was creating deserved more than just a handful of players or readers. These stories weren’t meant to stay hidden among a small circle — they needed a wider audience, a global one. That’s when I made the decision to take the long, often gruelling path of planning, developing, and writing for something far greater.

The Anarkand story has always been rooted in real-world concepts, reimagined through the lens of my research into the occult and the strange experiences I had growing up. For me, it’s not just a fantasy world — it’s a mirror, reflecting hidden truths about the reality we live in. I’ve long believed there is a hidden hand shaping the world around us, and Anarkand gives me a way to explore and share those ideas. The story is still unfolding, but in time, I believe the work will speak for itself.

The question for me isn’t really a what — it’s a who.

When I was young, I spent a lot of time in libraries and museums with my dad. Every Saturday, without fail, we’d head to the local library and bring home three or four new books for the week. My dad was deeply into science fiction, and he passed that love directly to me. While he searched through his sections, I gravitated toward books on ancient mysteries, physics, and science — anything that spoke about planets, stars, and the solar system.

It wasn’t long before my dad had me wandering through the same shelves he did. Those moments shaped me. I discovered the wonders of ancient Egypt, the secrets of Easter Island, the Nazca Lines, the mysteries of the Mayans and Sumerians, and the beauty of Chinese history and culture, which has always fascinated me.

Even then, I was already writing. I used the knowledge I gathered to create little stories, which I cheekily sold in school for 20 pence each. On the back, I’d write that they were limited editions, and if anyone brought one back to me in 20 years, I’d give them £20. Needless to say, no one has taken me up on that yet!

As I grew, I studied religions, history, and the myths of different cultures, and I started to imagine how all of these threads could be woven into a story that spanned across ages. I experimented with short stories, homemade games, and even rough attempts at comic books (despite never being much of an artist). Over time,

In 2014, not long after my daughter was born, I began laying the groundwork for the Anarkand series. She became my greatest inspiration. I wanted to build something lasting, a legacy she could hold onto and learn from when I was no longer here. My vision was to create a series that reads like science fiction on the surface, but beneath it carries fragments of autobiography — lessons, experiences, and truths I’ve gathered along my journey.

Most of all, I wanted to ensure that through these stories, my daughter — and hopefully many others — could learn from the choices, the behaviours, and the struggles of the characters. In that way, Anarkand is more than just a series. It’s a part of me, my history, and the message I want to leave behind for the future.

Thank you for asking. For now, though… that must remain a mystery. The answer does exist, but it isn’t something I can hand over in a sentence or two — it’s woven throughout my work. To truly understand the name, and why it matters, you’ll need to look deeper into the story itself. All I can say is this: when the moment comes, the meaning will reveal itself.

I was born in Glasgow, Scotland, a city that has always carried a certain energy — rugged yet full of life, grounded yet brimming with stories waiting to be uncovered. Growing up there, I often felt both connected to the world around me and yet somehow apart from it, as though my mind was always reaching outward, searching for something beyond the horizon.

From an early age, I found myself fascinated by the mysteries of the universe. Cosmology in particular held me captive; the thought of endless stars, galaxies, and unseen worlds stirred something inside me that I didn’t quite understand at the time. While other children were content with games or toys, I was more often lost in thoughts about what lay beyond the Earth — what forces shaped us, and what secrets had been buried in the past.

That curiosity soon grew into a passion for ancient mysteries and the occult. I wasn’t drawn to them for shock value or rebellion, but because they felt like keys — small, hidden doorways into bigger truths about existence. I wanted to know more, always more, and that hunger shaped so much of my early life.

One of the most defining moments of my childhood came when I was about eight years old. My father, seeing the spark of curiosity in me, took me to the local library. He led me to the mystery section, and I remember scanning the shelves until my eyes landed on a book about the Nazca lines. The moment I opened it, I felt something shift. Those strange, sprawling geoglyphs etched into the Peruvian desert filled me with wonder and questions I’ve been chasing ever since. That book didn’t just teach me about a mystery — it opened a door in my mind that has never closed.

From that point on, the thirst for knowledge became part of who I am. It’s never left me. Even now, I’m always studying, questioning, and learning. In time, I began to see things differently. The very systems and ideologies that first introduced me to esoteric ideas eventually felt limiting, and I moved past them. I wasn’t interested in simply accepting someone else’s version of truth — I wanted to find my own.

Around the age of twelve, another great passion entered my life: computers and technology. While the mysteries of the past and the cosmos fed my imagination, technology gave me a way to explore, create, and connect in the present. I would spend countless hours in front of a screen, not just playing, but digging, learning, and experimenting. In many ways, the computer became my telescope — a tool that let me peer into other worlds through the knowledge, creativity, and experiences of others.

It was during those years that I began to feel a sense of identity forming. I wasn’t like everyone else, and I didn’t want to be. My world was shaped by questions, by mysteries, and by a drive to understand the unseen. Looking back, I can see how those early experiences — Glasgow’s streets, my father’s encouragement, that library book, the glow of a computer screen late into the night — all became threads weaving together the fabric of who I am.

At sixteen, in the year 2000, I accepted a position at Compaq Computers. It was my first real step into the professional world, and it gave me a chance to dive deep into I.T. I spent my time working through countless hardware and software programs, building a foundation that would serve me for years to come. Those early days were a blur of learning, problem-solving, and realising that technology wasn’t just a job for me — it was another gateway to understanding the systems that shape the world.

When Hewlett Packard acquired Compaq, everything changed. I decided it was time to move on, to broaden my knowledge, and I threw myself into further I.T. training. Over the next few years, I earned no less than five additional qualifications. In 2004, I was honoured with a Microsoft Global Merit award for implementing a worldwide network configuration change. At the time, it felt like validation — proof that the hours I had poured into learning and applying myself were paying off.

But my journey wasn’t confined to technology. In 2014, I branched out into life coaching and even pursued mystery school studies. Looking back now, I see that period as a darker chapter in my search for knowledge. Those schools promised enlightenment but, in my eyes, delivered nothing but dated concepts, false belief systems, and outright lies. The only real mystery was how they managed to convince people to buy into such nonsense. Still, even in disillusionment, there was learning. Those experiences sharpened my understanding of truth and deception, and they pushed me to think more critically about the paths I chose.

Alongside that, I completed a business studies course, as well as training in TV production, graphics, and sound engineering at college. These pursuits kept me creative, gave me tools, and reminded me of the curiosity that had first guided me as a child. All of it — the technology, the study, the mistakes, and the small victories — pointed me toward the same conclusion: it was time to build a better future, one shaped not by illusions but by truth and the wonder I had always carried within me.

In 2018, I made a life-changing decision. I stepped away from the mainstream world and dedicated myself to teaching others — not about technology or business, but about themselves. I began to focus on what I call the human emotion engine: the way our minds and bodies often control us, when it should be our truest selves steering the wheel. I declared openly that most people live dictated to by their own unchecked thoughts and impulses, never realising the power they hold if they would only take back control.

That has been my path ever since. Today, I continue that work while also studying for a degree in Forensic Psychology — a field that allows me to explore human behaviour in an even deeper and more structured way. Looking back, every step, from that sixteen-year-old at Compaq to where I stand now, has been part of the same journey: a relentless pursuit of knowledge, truth, and a better understanding of both the world and ourselves.

I’ve never married. The closest I came was in 2011, when I got engaged to my long-term partner at the time. Life, however, had other plans, and the relationship didn’t last. What did last — and what has become the most important part of my life — is my daughter.

I’ve raised her on my own as a single father, and I often say she’s the one who has kept me grounded through everything. No matter how far my mind has wandered into mysteries, philosophies, or the worlds I’ve created, she has always brought me back to what truly matters. Being her father has been the greatest responsibility and the greatest gift of my life.

The future cornerstone of my work will be centred around the many initiatives of the charity I plan to launch in the coming years. Among these are the #humanbeinghuman initiative, a loneliness support network, and a single parent support hub. My mission is to help people reclaim control of their minds and bodies, to use them as tools for growth and empowerment, while also supporting those who have been trapped by the false economic constructs and geographical laws that divide us.

We have so many creative minds on this planet and it never ceases to amaze me just how incredible human ingenuity can be. We have so many wonderful, amazing and beautiful people capable of so much, yet, countless millions remain unheard — unable to share their gifts with the world simply because they lack financial resource, connections, or opportunity, despite all the advancements of our time.

My aim is to connect these people with one another, to create a vast, non-corporate engine of imagination, creativity, and global change. I am driven to seek out the very best in talent, intellect, and problem-solving ability, and to build a system that protects and strengthens the integrity of the human race. For me, it’s about laying strong foundations — platforms that allow this connectedness to grow into something powerful, something capable of accomplishing truly great things.

At the heart of it all, my belief is simple: each and every one of us deserves to be happy. That is what I strive for. That is what all of this is about.