Meet Harry Hogg —

a storyteller shaped by coastlines, long journeys, and the quiet places where a person finally hears their own thoughts.

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Born in England, raised among the wild western isles of Scotland, and eventually pulled across the ocean to Northern California, Harry has lived the kind of life that naturally turns into stories. At fifty, he chose the Mendocino coast as home — drawn by its wind, its rugged charm, and the promise of a new beginning.
 

Harry is a stout, gentle man with a grin ready for trouble and a heart tuned to grace. He jokes about shorts, stubborn English pride, and the tragic impossibility of finding a proper bowler hat on the California coast. His humor disarms, his honesty settles, and his warmth shows up everywhere — even in the chaos of his famously unruly writing desk.
 

In conversation, he’ll offer tea, apologies for the avalanche of loose pages, and a wink to make sure you know he’s perfectly at ease in the disorder. But underneath the laughter is a man who feels deeply. When the talk turns personal, he grows careful, guarded — a reminder that even the brightest storytellers carry a few shadows of their own.
 

Harry’s influences are stitched into his voice: the fisherman’s patience of his father, the quiet wisdom of a Paris poet named Leonard Laconte, and the curiosity that’s carried him across countries and heartbreaks. His stories hold that same blend — a soft edge of humor, a streak of truth, and the sense that something tender is being offered without fanfare.
 

As a writer, Harry invites readers into a world of wanderers, memory-keepers, and souls trying to make sense of the beautiful mess called being alive.

Some stories lift. Some ache. All of them carry a pulse of honesty you can feel.

Welcome to the world behind the words.