Growing up in Shelton, Washington, a small mill town, I never dreamed or desired to become a writer. My dad was a teacher and my mom worked for the forest services. My life revolved around getting into trouble with my best friends and picking on my little sister. I didn’t love school, but I didn’t hate it. That said, I did NOT enjoy reading. I never read books for fun, avoided reading for school, and never willingly ventured into a bookstore. Writing, however, was my true nemesis. I was horrible at spelling and any attempt at writing left me frustrated. I preferred spending my time on the basketball court and baseball diamond.
Two years at community college served to develop my passion toward sports, but did not alter my feelings toward reading and writing. I graduated and headed north to attend Western Washington University, excited to move closer to the slopes. My six roommates always talked about the amazing books they had read, and suddenly, I found myself jealous of their experiences in literature that I had deliberately missed out on. My spare time was slowly taken over by paperbacks. It was only a matter of time before I became addicted to hardcovers. I traveled with Frodo as he struggled with the ring, I went to school with Harry Potter as he grew into the chosen one, and I walked with Scout as she experienced hard life in the South.
Now, at the age of thirty-seven, and hundreds of books later, my wife, daughter, and I reside in Olympia, Washington, where I teach third graders.