My fascination with story telling started at an early age. My father would recite from memory old Irish tales his mother had told him when he was a child. One of my fondest memories of writing was working on Bank Street Writer for the Commodore 64. My father was an elementary school teacher, and would often grade his student's stories on it. While my younger brother sat beside me, I rewrote one of his student's writing assignments. It was morbid and filled with flatulence. My brother loved it...my father was not amused.
Fast forward to high school, where my 11th grade English teacher made us have to read aloud a story each week to the class. Why someone would subject young people to such a trial of terror by their peers I'll never know. But rather than cower behind flushed cheeks and whispered ridicule, I intended instead to grab my classmates by the scruff of the Max Headroom tee-shirts and entertain.
Then I lost the will to write when the need to make money arose. Now I'm back to writing, hopefully to someday make a living at it. It's a tough racket. A lot of work. The potential for reward? Minuscule. But here I am, and there you are. If you like my work, let me know about it. Hate it? There's lots of other writers out there to choose from. Have an awesome afternoon of reading!