All Who Wonder Are a Little Bit Lost
I am a full-time wonderer. The world is such a mystery! There are puzzles to solve, hidden codes to crack. I want to know What if? How does that work? And above all, why? In an attempt to answer these lurking questions, I write stories. Stories about thorny encounters with gods, faeries, ghosts. and devils. Alternate histories. Echoes of the apocalypse. You know…stories about the uncanny.
I live in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. In case you didn’t know, Pittsburgh is known as the “Paris of Appalachia,” and as such is a deeply weird place. Rife with bridges, tunnels, stairways, with cliffs and streams and wooded ruins, it is something like a model train set come to life. You should come visit. Just know that you'll get lost.
I grew up in the blue mountains of Pennsylvania, the eldest of eight children (No, not Catholic, Mormon, or fundamentalist. My parents just liked kids). My siblings are artists, musicians, linguists, and programmers; they are eccentrics, unrepentant punsters, and my best friends. But growing up, life was really, really loud. At age twelve, in order to concentrate, I made a desk in the closet. Kneeling there beneath a purloined lamp, I began to write a gut-wrenching saga about the Civil War. Alas, that particular tale never saw the light of day, but I had started down the path of storytelling.
Today I write at the dining room table, ignoring my husband's doom metal drumbeats, my cat's yowling to go out, and my children's tearful pleas for more snacks. I write during Covid and not-Covid. I write with the Gravity Falls theme song blaring in the background. I write when I'm supposed to be cooking.
In addition to short fiction, I am in the last drafts of a full-length fantasy novel and early drafts of a steampunk novella.