I write from the ache between stars, where memory and longing braid into story.
TOMMI — in earlier chapters of my life, I lived as Tom Charles. Born From Stardust carries that truth on its final page. Today, I write as TOMMI — the name that aligns with who I’ve become, the name spoken by friends, readers, and the people who anchor my world. I previously published as Carol Lyle, and I now self‑publish under my real name, which appears in Born From Stardust (published early 2026).
He is a writer shaped by sea crossings, fractured silences, and the flickering traces of half-held memories.
Born in South Africa and raised in England, his early life wandered between continents and classrooms.
At the age of seventeen he escaped from a claustrophobic home life to begin a career at sea as a cadet navigation officer. He travelled the globe, yet still felt a yearning to do more.
After studying education at Scraptoft, JCE, and UNISA he began a long and rewarding career in all levels of education.
Between formal roles in education, he took breaks—pauses that allowed for reflection, recalibration, and quiet work in varied settings. A few months working for a large road transport company, a few weeks as a sales assistant, two years as computer operator with IBM. These interludes, far from empty, deepened his empathy and gave space for music, writing, and the slow unfolding of stories. Each break became a quiet chapter, shaping the emotional clarity that now breathes through his fiction.
In life we really just want to walk home with somebody close to us…occasionally we find some who will walk part of the way with us, and, if we are fortunate , we might find someone who wants to walk the whole journey to the end…will you walk a little way with me?
No matter where the future may take us in this fermenting world, we all need to know that we are not alone on our journey. We may be divided by those in power, but most of us share common values of decency, truth and justice.
When choosing a book you are taking a chance — a brave leap into the unknown.
It also takes a special kind of courage to write, because when you read, you are in somebody else's mind....and they invited you to be there.
I write to gather the scattered pieces—of lives, of histories, of selves fractured by time and tide. I write to listen for the echo of vanished homes, for the hush between bird calls and the creak of old floorboards. I write to hold space for longing: the kind that stretches across continents, across generations, across the quiet ache of being. I write because words are the only way I know to touch what cannot be touched—to name the stardust we bleed, the love we almost lost, the fate we still believe in. I write to remember, and sometimes, to forget. I write to find others who feel the same silence. I write because somewhere, in the wide burning silence, someone is waiting to be seen.