We’ll keep this section pretty short and get right to the point.
When I was six, my teacher wanted to hold me back a grade because I was struggling to read. My mother rolled up her sleeves, puffed out her chest, and prepared to get me whipped into shape over the summer. No child of hers was being held back a year – it was unthinkable!
After a couple weeks of trial and error we made a terrible discovery.
I didn’t have trouble reading at all. Evidently I looked my mother straight in the eye, wrinkled my nose, and told her ‘I don’t want to read those books. They’re booooring.’ I have no memory of this, but she swears it’s true. Thus diagnosed with chronic little-shit-ism, I proceeded to white-knuckle Thomas Locker’s Water Dance, Ursula Le Guin’s Catwings, and set up my personal altar to The Boxcar Children. I was blessed with a vivid imagination, the sort that turns pool noodles into lightsabers and molehills into monsters.
My love of literature has experienced some hiccups over the years. Probably the biggest was the dying gasp of the Satanic Panic. Harry Potter turned you into a witch. Dungeons and Dragons taught you to summon demons. The names of Pokémon were actually dark and ancient gods. (JIGGLYPUFF R’LEYH WGAH’NAGL FHTAGN!) Gratefully, even when things were put on the Great Taboo List, I was able to turn my chronic little-shit-ism into sneaky-little-shit-ism, and I read those books and played those games anyway.
I know. I’m such a rebel.
Nowadays I’m making my first sincere forays into writing full-length novels. It’s going to be a journey, and if you’re reading this, consider it your invitation to join me for the trip. I imagine it’s going to get bumpy. I have no idea what I’m doing (yet,) but hopefully my enthusiasm makes up for it. That and hours of research, but hey, who’s counting?
Feel free to follow this page for updates on my current projects!