Just who do I think I am, writing all these dark and urban fantasy stories about boys, ghosts, and afflicted souls?

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I was born in Philadelphia with the heat of late August, just before the month turns to serene autumn. After five years my folks abandoned the city for the suburbs of New Jersey.

Remember that sheltered precocious child on the block? That was me. Both my folks were avid readers and I emulated them. By third grade, I knew more about monsters and myths than anyone at school, including the teachers. I would feign sickness so that I could spend time in the nurse's office who brought me comic and roleplaying books and fantasy novels from her son's library.

My fate was sealed when my mother sat me down to watch movies on television with her. Her favorite were the old black & white horror movies from Universal and the color mayhem of Hammer films. To this day, watching any of them brings back warm feelings.

Best not mention the torments of junior and senior high school. Let's just say I kept mostly to myself and hid my secret desires to kiss the pretty boy whose locker was next to mine. Senior year I sold my first short story, a fantasy tale for children to a Midwestern literary magazine. A year later, when I received my copy, I discovered they had changed the story without permission, deleting any reference to magic.

The next chapter in my biography changed me forever. I went to college in New Orleans. Four years in that city leaves a mark upon you - some might claim it a stigmata. So many firsts, including love and sex - unfortunately they never crossed. My nights were spent exploring the French Quarter, my mornings trying to recover from lack of sleep while pursuing an English degree. I sold a few more stories, all awful horror tales that should never see the light of day.

From undergrad, I went to the City of Angels (which I learned to detest) to pursue a Masters in Professional Writing. It seemed important at the time. Disaster struck, my first love died, and I really saw little purpose in listening to the prattle of has-been writers trying to tell me what was important on the page. So I returned to NJ.

I tried to find a day job that would suit me, all the while writing. I had my fingertips blackened to check if I had a criminal past (believe it or not, I don't). A friend of mine started a gaming magazine and I stole the editorial job from this girl I never met. Two months later I quit and somehow ended up in New York City working for a now-defunct publisher. There I met Holly, coincidentally the very same girl I had wronged, and we became the best of friends.

Working for two editors was a difficult task, made even more so by spending most of the work day writing stories and magazine articles instead of the work I was hired to do. So I was ousted and found a new and much more interesting career as a book buyer. It's the most amazing job in the world - to be paid and fawned over by sales reps just to purchase books of all sorts. I gladly accepted the free lunches and (more importantly) free books. My library of strange volumes soared. Who else did I know that had a book on pirates in the Classical era next to a treatise on sodomy? Sadly I relocated from northern Jersey and left the job. I have since worked with three other publishers but have left that industry and have since return to school for more nonsensical degrees.

On a trip to LA to seal a deal to ghost write the autobiography of a gay porn star (which fell through), I had the most amazing romp with a little goth boy. My mind and senses have never forgotten and I began work on Vintage as an ode to that lost boy. It was immediately picked up by the Gay Goth Network and chapters were serialized every 2 months. Since then the story has changed a little and now, finished, awaits some brave editor's notice.

In between work on that book, I began to think of selling a collection of my short stories, which I had written and published over the years. A few of my creative (and wealthier) friends had decided to create a publishing company that would release books of gothic interest and during an afternoon of alcohol-laced hot choc in the city, it was decided that Lethe Press would publish Trysts.

So for the past couple of years I have been back at school, at Rutgers University, working towards my second bachelors degree in History and a Masters degree in Liberal Studies (which I should have by mid-2006). I'd be re-entering the working world, hoping to find something to help pay off my student loans among other things.

During Winter of 04/05, I learned that a publisher was interested in Vintage. So I finally became a novelist. Since then, I've managed to bamboozle a few publishers into believing I could edit anthologies. It may seem easy but writing has become harder than ever.