The Least-Interesting Story on the Site
I live in the woods of Michigan with my wife and daughter, forty cats, and thirty horses.* I'm not quite sure why I love writing twisted fiction, but there's no stopping the strangeness once I sit in front of a computer.
Much of the blame probably lies with my mom. (I'm supposed to say that, right?) She's a retired archaeology professor, and when I was a kid, she read me Greek and Roman mythology as bedtime stories.
My dad's not innocent in the matter, either. He was a pathologist for more than twenty years, and he occasionally killed our dinner-table conversation with an offhand description of his latest autopsy.
Then, of course, there are the usual suspects: J. R. R. Tolkien, Robert A. Heinlein, C. S. Lewis, Isaac Asimov, (and more recently) Anne McCaffrey, Robert Jordan, R. A. Salvatore, and Jacqueline Carey. Their books should come with warning labels.
Anyway, if you read one of my stories, just remember it isn't my fault.
*Okay, so there are actually ten times less pets, but most days it feels like more.