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A short while ago there was a big block of text on this page that was stuffy and well worth ignoring because it was just a list and it even talked about me like somebody else was narrating. How strange.

I don’t want to be thought of as strange, in fact I would rather you disappear into what I love and love to write which involves the inexplicable. I love ancient stuff, like the map I found from the Age of Sail in a wonderful antique store here on my island.

(Good image to come. Right now all I have are bad images)

Honest, it’s hand drawn and inked and painted in the 1600’s and the sea captain who made it lived during the Great Fire of London. If like, me you adore sea adventure, stay tuned for more about that on my blog.

I write about dragons and entities that people call demons but are really pieces of anti matter that can suck the life out of everything.

And I write about ghosts. Probably ninety percent of the stuff I write has something ghostly or about to be ghostly in it. I especially like the idea of ghost dragons and am working on a series right now where there are those. When I was a kid, my mom told me she didn’t believe in ghosts but because gramma came from the Old Country I could possibly meet one. (So you don’t believe in ghosts, huh Mom?) Sure. I wasn’t fooled. She said if I should ever meet one I should ask it what it wants because ghosts haven’t finished something. After that, I swore I would make a real effort to finish stuff because I didn’t want to spend the rest of creation hanging out in graveyards. Item one, it isn’t ghosts that you find in graveyards (that is unless you’re Neil Gaiman and you’re writing the Graveyard Book). I find churchyards in England are some of the best places to write in or dream. I have found that ghosts always appear when you least expect them, and you are usually too surprised to think of asking one what it wants before it’s gone and you’re saying ‘yikes, what the heck was that’?

I leave swift thinking for my characters. Suffice it to say that I have met ghosts–most were relatively tame. I have discovered they can happen everywhere. I have been accompanied for a couple of blocks on a Victoria street by one that just seemed to want a buddy for a couple of blocks.

As said earlier I live on an island which everybody who isn’t from the Island thinks is tiny for some reason. The Gulf Islands are small, with the exception of one called Saltspring. Vancouver Island is as large as a small country. Definitely bigger than Monaco, if not quite so ritzy. We tend to easy living here and as I update my site, I plan to post pictures often of Island-related stuff. Quirky stuff about antique stores travelling through time, like Trove in the fictional town of Port Millicent. (A story I sold to the Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction.)

Why did I move to an island you ask when there is a perfectly good bustling city just a gorgeous ferry ride of an hour and a half away? Well I will tell you. I like having that huge bustling city of Vancouver on the Mainland far enough away that it feels like an adventure to visit. When I come home I feel glad I can toss off my shoes and hunt sea glass and remember I spotted a pod of whales in the middle of Active Pass.

I think the info in this bio will vary and change depending on my mood. I have done stuff. Some was even educational. I do workshops to prove it. Some involve visual arts and mapmaking. I helped found an arts school even, but that’s another story.

Mostly now I write and publish short stories and soon a bunch of books that have been waiting to explode on the scene. (ok well maybe not explode, because why?)