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I am told I didn’t start talking till I was three. Presumably, I was waiting until I had something to say. Further family tradition holds that I haven’t stopped since.

Somewhere in the elementary school years I decided I’d be a novelist when I grew up. Some—too many—decades later, that’s still the plan. But along the way I have been a zookeeper, a bookkeeper, a waiter. For one stint I took blood pressure door-to-door in Burbank, California. Tried college briefly but it wasn’t a comfortable fit. Managed a commercial photography studio. Landed in a grown-up job—later than most—as a technical editor and writer in environmental consulting.

In this corporate environment, my current incarnation (that is, my day job), I continue to fear that someone will discover my true identity and expose me for the impostor I am.

I live with my wife, Dana (the love of my life, wherein lies another story) in Rescue, California.