I was born in 1977, on March 4th—the only day of the year that’s also a sentence, so I may have been predestined to be a writer. (Okay, I admit, any day in March is technically a sentence, but March 4th is the only non-numeric sentence. So there.) My parents were avid readers and SF/Fantasy fans, and they began my education early: I saw Star Wars in the theater when I was four months old, my dad read me The Hobbit when I was six, and I’ve been hooked on everything like it ever since. In second grade I announced to my parents that I was going to be a writer, and promptly wrote a Choose Your Own Adventure book about a maze that was literally impossible to escape—no matter which options you chose, you just kept going around in circles. I’d like to think I’ve come a long way since then.
I grew up in the US, in the state of Utah, and spent my childhood reading, writing, and learning everything I could. I thought for a time I was going to be a poet, and I still have a strong love of poetry. I’d like to think that, some day in the far-flung future, I’ll retire and teach British poetry in a college somewhere; I’ll find a way to combine John Keats, Emily Bronte, and A.A. Milne into a cohesive curriculum. I imagine that I will do so while wearing a tweed suit, ideally with elbow patches. My assistants will be a pair of hunting dogs named Cecil and Percy.
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