Greetings! I typically write fantasy fiction of many shades (urban fantasy, high fantasy, historical fantasy) but have been known to dabble in other spec fic genres (science fiction, horror) and dip my toe in cross-genre work. The current novel-project is a high fantasy buddy cop story with blood-magic, memory-trading dragons, and serial killers. My short fiction tends to fluctuate, but lately, there’s been a lot of dead people—ghosts, zombies, vampires, and the like, and I have a soft spot for dragons and immortals of any kind.
I live in Chicago (and the city forms a base for much of my urban fantasy) and I just earned (as of July 1st) my MFA in Popular Fiction from Stonecoast!
Current New Thing(s):
I thumb-printed my signature and held the screen pad up for the retina scan. It pinged with a signature complete and I handed it back to the tech, a young man with the gawky air of a teenager, not a grim, stoic GACAC contact technician.He tapped at the screen, then tucked it away in the holster hanging from the belt of his navy-blue facility uniform.The other tech, a woman about ten years older than me, asked, “You’ve gone over the dossier and handbook we sent you?”Of course I had—four times over to make sure I hadn’t missed some detail that would get my negotiation suspended, rescheduled, or, possibly, even terminated, and I could wave a sad farewell to my chance at a once-in-a-lifetime career-making bargain. But I just nodded.“Good. Don’t touch him and don’t let him touch you…”— “Curiosity”Beyond the Stars: Rocking Space, pg. 174
“Fine,” Ellie said, making a show of looking at her bare wrist. “I was supposed to clock off fifteen minutes ago, but I guess I can spare five, so let’s see this ‘magic corpse’ of yours.”
At home was a couch, leftover egg foo yung, a Guinness, and four episodes of The Walking Dead begging for her attention, and if this was another one of Shawn’s damn practical jokes…
Shawn threw a scowl her way but didn’t break his stride, his heels clicking on the linoleum tile even through the blue disposable booties covering them. “It’s not my magic corpse. There was a fifty-fifty chance you could’ve been scheduled to autopsy him.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She shoved her hands in her coat pockets. Her winter boots squelched and squeaked in his wake…
— “Matchmaker, Matchmaker”
Vampires, Zombies, and Ghosts (Vol. 1), pg. 49
Still chugging away at the current novel, a high fantasy buddy-cop story that’s getting long and cumbersome. The editing phase will be fun. According to the outline, I’m in end-game (well, beginning of end-game). I have *consults notes* nine more scenes to go, give or take.*
Querying the previous novel, In Blood, a very noir-ish urban fantasy set in Chicago with blood-drinking, marrow-eating immortal draugr, shapeshifting werewolf-esque people, secret societies, humans with sucky superpowers, assassination plots, and political backstabbery.
(ON BACK-BURNER) Editing an urban fantasy novella (the companion story to “Fragarach” (published in Neon Druid)). More ankou, magicians, and ghosts in the near-northwest suburbs of Chicago.
*Hah. Been through this before, new novel! I’m wise to these tricks! The outline lies. You will grow exponentially and I will be forced to cut you back in edits.
- Windycon 2019: Lombard, IL, Nov. 15-17.
- Capricon 2020: Wheeling, IL, Feb. 13-16.
- GenCon 2020: Indianapolis, IN, July 30-Aug. 2. –tentative-