R.M. Lagman

My desk is a mess made up of good intention and poor attention. Every so often, I go through every piece of paper on it and I can actually see large sections of my desktop. Once I even found my stapler. Such results bring about a euphoria which begs the question why I don't just keep a neat desk. If I sell enough books, maybe I can hire someone to stand over me with a bat and force me to be better organized.

I grew up in a very small town in Southwest Wisconsin. I couldn't imagine a better place to have grown up. People there are kind, considerate and loyal. Many of my friends lived on family farms. My brothers and I would spend hours doing their chores, which we thought were fun. They were fun, compared to doing dishes, which was out most hated chore. In a family of eight, there were a lot of dishes. We learned a solid work ethic working summers in the corn fields and after school at the local meat packing plant. My home town was rich with a sense of whimsy, curiosity and wit. I think those characteristics influence me daily in everything I do and in my writing. Some of those experiences have literally found there way into Beautiful Lies. I think you'll recognize them when you read them.