I read. A lot. I own a huge number of physical books, and almost as many digital books. I have both a Kindle Fire and a Nook.
I also write. A lot. I have a compulsion for blank notebooks: composition books, single-subject, 5-subject, almost any shape and size. I like leather bound journals, and cloth covered sketch books. I have a stack of notebooks – some with story fragments in them – from nearly 40 years ago.
But I must sadly admit – I neither read nor write as much as I’d like. I read a metric crap-ton of books related to my day job, and not nearly as much fiction as I’d like. I also write a lot (including five books so far) for my day job.
I started kindergarten reading at a 3rd grade level, and I dictated my first “story” (really, just the description of a haunted house) at age three. By age seven, I knew I wanted to spend a lot of my life writing, creating narratives for people to lose themselves in. But, as they say, “life got in the way.”
Flash forward several decades. A lot of what I do involves writing, but I decided I needed to get back to my roots. I needed to get back to writing fiction. I’m writing stories for me, and if you happen to like them as well, then so much the better.
Some other quick info: I’ve been married to my wife for over 35 years. We live north of Syracuse, NY on six acres of land with our two cats. I’m across from the town cemetery, and my neighbors are very quiet. Most of the time, anyway.