A practicing writer and architect, he is now engaged full time in making a living from writing. Born in Sumter, South Carolina, he graduated from Clemson and earned a Master of Architecture from Yale in the mid-70s. He did a five year stretch in Miami, learning to love the tropics or what tropics still survived . He moved to Northern Virginia to further an architecture career, pursuing writing on the weekend.
He’s come to realize that writing has parallels to architecture. Both are arts of composition and resonance in their rhythms, their symmetries, balance and proportion.
His architectural career has focused on developing the urban environment. Evans is proud of the buildings he’s designed, particularly the libraries, though he has always looked to writing to uncover purpose in his own existence.
The father of two sons, and the barest survivor from losing one, he’s found it difficult to see meaning in life after losing someone who from his earliest years grew intellectually in geometric leaps . Four books of poetry on, Evans isn’t sure he’s done with writing about Ryan. But if his belief—that life is strange and beautiful—can ever be proved, it will be through his fiction, if only because he wants to write of things outside his own life.
Brick and glass are cultural markers, but what makes writing fascinating is how stories can survive in spite of existing only as a gathering of pen strokes. These are veins that need to be mined—urgently—until our star grows dull and cold.