Rebecca is a vampire novel on its surface, but for me it was a look into human dysfunction ... why can't we have nice things? What is it about human nature that we can't just seem to shut up and be happy when our dreams come true? The little flaws and insecurities that we all have, that insert themselves into our personalities over the years and piss off our partners and friends now and then, what if those traits had centuries to grow and fester, how long until we'd be forced to deal with them before they consumed us. - Plus, horror and action and sex is just fun to write.

I've always enjoyed writing and reading. It feels good to be able to take something that only you can see and find a way to share that with the world around you. It's kind of like taking your turn around a campfire, whether you sing a song or tell a story or act a fool, it feels good to contribute, almost therapeutic.

I love the freedom it gives you, you can go as far as your imagination can take you, and still be safely home in time for supper. There's a feeling you get when you've done it right, when a paragraph or a chapter or even just a single sentence nails it, gets the point across exactly how you wanted and you can see it in the eye of your poor victim ... um ... proof-reader. There's nothing like that feeling.

. um ... maybe I should come back to this another time ... when I actually have some.

My next novel is still in the horror/adventure/romance line but not vampires.

As a child I was read Edgar Allen Poe for bedtime stories, so the first would be him. Steven King, Clive Barker, especially Weaveworld, I loved Ken Follett's Pillars of the Earth, I read that one about every 3 years or so. Any thing by Oscar Wilde is always an amazing read, I think Byron's When We Two Parted is one of my favorite poems. Too many to list.

The smell of coffee and bacon ... and the whole have to go to work thing, but mostly coffee and bacon.
My wife inspires me to stay in bed each morning, but again, the whole 'have to make a living and pay bills' thing eventually gets me moving.

Living.