Carl Gregory

Carl Gregory is an eighth-generation Floridian, writer, musician, designer, and artist. He lives where the shadows of what used to be Florida still hang with the moss in the oak trees. In his second novel, "Approximately Moonlight", he explores memory, longing, and desire in a hidden corner of the tropics.

His first novel, “Catching Memories”, was inspired by his father's struggle with Alzheimer’s disease.

It is the story of a cross-country trek to learn the fate of a horse that becomes a supernatural journey, ending in self-acceptance and healing, and in memories beautifully preserved forever. As they journey from the east coast of America to the west, Blake realizes that the butterflies he sees are the keepers of memories of those near to death, and they can transfer those memories to others.

Blake and his father encounter people along the way, including a drag queen named Seth who shares Blake’s ability to see the butterflies. Seth joins them on their quest, and as they delve deeper into the mystery of Chief’s fate, with Seth’s help, Blake begins to understand the true power of his abilities.

In his second novel, "Approximately Moonlight", he explores memory, longing, and desire in a hidden corner of the tropics.

The seed for "Approximately Moonlight" grew out of the time he spent living on the strange and beautiful island of Key West. Beneath its postcard sunsets and seductive lifestyle lay a world that can be intoxicating, lonely, and sometimes dangerous—a place where outsiders arrived in search of freedom, love, or escape, and often found something far more complicated.

Those years introduced him to a landscape of sensuous nights, whispered rumors, island superstitions, and people searching for connection in ways both tender and destructive. The emotional currents of that world—longing, desire, alienation, and the fragile hope that someone might stay—became the heart of "Approximately Moonlight".

Though the island in the novel is fictional, its atmosphere was shaped by real experiences and the sense of dreamlike intensity that places like Key West can hold. On what most of us would consider an island paradise, the undercurrents of darkness and decay run strong — it’s heaven, and it’s hell.