It’s crazy to think about now, but when I was younger, I had no idea that one person could make a living building guitars. I’ve always built things—Legos, models, tree forts, bike ramps, bows and arrows—contraptions that both excited and mildly concerned my parents… yeah. But everything changed when I took my first woodshop class at 12. It just clicked. I was doing other students’ projects for them, and my teacher encouraged me to go deeper. I was lucky to have that head start—having a place to fail, learn, and build without limits set the foundation for everything I do now. Around that same time, I started begging my parents for a guitar.

When I finally got one, I saw it as the peak of craftsmanship—something built by white-haired masters in a faraway land where trees grew solely to become instruments. I couldn’t play it to save my life, but I was completely captivated. Soon, my whole identity revolved around two things: woodworking and guitars.

The First Builds

In high school, I started building electrics—a Tele, who doesn't love a tele? A Strat for my dad, a few of my own designs, and others. But every guitar I built came with a healthy dose of failure. My early guitars had their flaws—imperfect neck angles, finishes that didn’t quite land, action that needed work. They were playable, and I was proud to complete them, but I knew they weren’t yet the instruments I wanted to create. Each build taught me something new, revealing just how much I still had to learn. But I kept going, and dreamt of starting a company one day.

Eventually, I attempted my first acoustic, resurrecting a pawn shop wreck. The sides were mostly intact, so I salvaged them and built my first acoustic from the ruins. It looked… okay. But it didn’t play well, and it certainly didn’t sound great. I was no luthier, but I was hooked.

The Long Road to Luthiery

In college, I moved to Nashville, kept building when I could, and did repairs for friends. I thought my only path was working at Gibson or becoming a touring tech. But after bringing a couple of my guitars to town, my friends were impressed. An old idea, a dream I had almost forgotten, started to resurface: could I actually do this??

At the time, I was studying audio engineering and studio art, still unsure of my path. I took on odd projects—building a 3D printer, robot arms, model airplanes—realizing I had skills that others didn’t. I started doing repairs more seriously, then landed a job at a small recording studio design company called Music City Acoustics. There, I learned about small business ownership, product design, manufacturing, Acoustical physics and working with other people to create things. 

Then I found Make Nashville, a local makerspace with 24-hour access to a workshop. I spent every free moment there. It had just enough tools to build guitars again, and when I finished my first acoustic in Nashville, people loved it. That’s when I knew—I wanted to be a luthier.

The Moment Everything Changed

One day, I stumbled upon the Luthier on Luthier podcast. I had worked on guitars for nearly a decade, yet somehow, I had never really absorbed the word luthier. That moment changed everything. I began listening to Luthiers, soaking up their words and preparing for the inevitable. 

And then, something even bigger happened.

I was at the makerspace, setting the neck on my second scratch-built acoustic, when another member walked up. He had been watching my progress and asked, "Would you build me one? I'll pay you. Whatever it costs."

I was stunned. My heart was pounding. I checked out my online shopping cart before the conversation even ended.

A week later, my lifelong friend—the guy who had shaped my love for guitar more than anyone—reached out. He wanted one, too. "Do your thing with it," he said. Another paid commission. That one really got me. Writing about it now still brings tears to my eyes.

Then, maybe two weeks later, I was at Woodcraft, digging through exotic lumber to find the perfect piece of binding wood. A store worker asked what I was building. I showed him some photos. He was a player—a good one. He wanted to see the guitars in person. He came to the shop. Then he commissioned one, too.

In less than a month, I went from wondering if I could ever make a career out of this to suddenly having three paid commissions. It was unreal.

Going Full-Time

I was working all day at MCA and then building all night. Eventually, I burned out. I couldn’t give my all to both, so I quit my job to focus on guitar building and repairs full-time. It was terrifying, but I knew it was the right call.

At first, my “shop” was my bedroom. Yes, my bedroom. I woke up next to a drill press. Not exactly ideal, But it worked for me at first. After a few months, It got ridiculous so I started looking for a real space. After weeks of searching, I realized there was an unused attic room at Make Nashville. Low ceilings, OSB floors, sketchy staircase—but it was a space. After some convincing, Actually a lot of convincing, I rented it.

The day I moved in, I stayed until 1 a.m., sharpening tools, just soaking it in. That was December 2023.

Where I Am Now

Since then, I’ve built 22 guitars, refined my repair skills, attended my first guitar shows, and designed my TripleNaught acoustic model—my purest expression of what I want to create right now. I’ve taken my guitars to Carter’s, Gruhn’s, and Joe Glaser’s shop for feedback. To my surprise, they were not only accepted but encouraged.

Without an apprenticeship or formal training, I felt like an imposter calling myself a luthier. But after enough guitars, enough feedback, and enough hours spent at the bench, I know—I am a luthier. I’m no master, not yet. But I’m doing good work, and I’m growing every day.

Today, I still work out of the attic at Make Nashville—a place I lovingly call the Freakshow Country Club because of the wild mix of artists, engineers, and makers it attracts. It’s inspiring. I hope to stay as long as I can.

If you’d like to follow along, there should be a QR code somewhere nearby. That’ll take you to my Instagram, Facebook, website, and YouTube. I’m most active on Instagram—come say hi, let me know how you found me. And if you’re still reading this, bravo—you’ve got some serious commitment.

Maybe that commitment has earned you some money in life. Consider putting it toward an instrument built by someone who pours everything into his craft. I’d love to build one for you.

Thank you. Seriously.