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Marc Richard was born on May 14th, 1975 in a picturesque, yet at the same time crappy, town called "Rumford". The name alone says it all, doesn't it? "Rumford." It was a Maine mill town, and there wasn't much to do but drink, get pregnant, and tip over cows. Marc did none of these. He was much too busy writing stories. He decided to write horror tales, but failed miserably. He read these stories to his cousins in his grandmother's attic, and they seemed to get a kick out of them, but they were much younger than he was, and in his opinion, the tales stunk. Much like the mill town they lived in.
After graduation he decided that he would go to college and major in medicine. He never got the hang of chemistry and physics, however, and he soon realized that if he were a dying patient, he would not want to be treated by someone with a C average.
He briefly moved to Wisconsin, where he was soon arrested for consuming way too much cheese.
Marc moved back to Maine and continued his education at the University of Southern Maine, where he studied psychology. He grew himself a fly mustache and got near enough to a 4.0 average that he felt comfortable diagnosing himself at that point. He found he had acute schizophrenia, and an adorable bipolar. Acute schizophrenia, he found out, was any schizoid disorder that was less than ninety degrees.
He did not major in English. He took one Creative Writing course and now he fancies himself a writer. That one course really helped him discover that you don't have to write like anyone else. Once he broke free of the notion that you had to follow guidelines, and developed his own free-form surrealis style of writing, he was happy. And if other people found him a little off-putting, well, at least he was amusing himself.
Of course, he was happiest when he shaved off his mustache and instead grew a full goatee.