I grew up on a council estate and enjoyed the same parental neglect as everyone around me. This was fine for the most part, but my big brother was effectively my guardian, which was rubbish, because he was a highly manipulative narcissist, hated me, and became a heroin addict when I was thirteen. When I was twenty or so, and having survived some fairly hardcore adventures, I left town, never to return. I had a few years of trying not to think about it, a few more of thinking about it a lot, and then a couple more of writing about it. Consequently I've written a love-letter to my childhood that could also have made a very disturbing child-protection report.
I have loved reading and writing all my life, and have a PhD in ancient literary theory. My love of stories began with fantasy and has evolved to incorporate classics from Homer to Dickens. Mostly I'm outdoors, living in the woods, making shelters and foraging my dinner. I am married with two kids and very happy, with surprisingly few residual mental health problems.
