I rocked that 70s velour.
I grew up just outside of Philadelphia, the lucky recipient of a rather boring childhood, which is probably why I spent so much time reading about other people’s lives. Grad school dumped me in New Hampshire. After five years working toward a doctorate in psychology, I graduated, got a job locally that didn’t involve my degree, and married one of my closest friends from college.
Still boring, isn’t?
I took up writing seriously after graduation. I had no job lined up at the time and a dwindling cash supply. Writing filled the hours and distracted me from the bank account. And even when I did get that job, I couldn’t quit.
No velour these days.
When I’m not writing, my needs are few. I like my coffee simple, my music epic, and my movies to contain explosions. I like my books however I can get them. You can find me in the White Mountains, lifting weights, or mostly likely hunched over my laptop and chatting it up with other writers on the forums at Absolute Write.
If that still sounds boring, now you understand why I spend so much time writing about people whose lives are anything but.