Name's J.C., last name omitted for my own sake.
27 year old Hack Horror Writer from the wilds of Kentucky, married with 3 kids, a lovely (and very tolerant) wife, a dog with three legs, a perfectly round beagle, one insane kitten, a laid back cat, and a high strung marsupial. Graduate of the University of Louisville, published author and short story writer in the world of pulp horror, where the pay stinks, name recognition happens 50 years after you're dead, and you try to avoid making eye contact with the people you once took courses on writing with.
Outside of that, I'm strange. I mean, STRANGE, with a whole lot of exclamation points. Love old country, blues, jazz, and folk music, as well as Irish drinking songs, but I do my drinking in a punk rock bar. Only man I know with a background in steamboat deck work, and my office at home is a collection of the macabre artifacts to set the mood and provider conversation pieces...mixed in with rocking chairs and a toybox.
Because writing isn't a profit industry, and because my wife scrapes by as an independent filmmaker, I also work in health insurance...no, not selling the stuff. I'm the guy who reviews denials or incorrect processing when you write a letter telling us you want to. However, as soon as I tap into the mainstream by getting a brain transplant from King or Barker, I'll drop that gig. Meaning that I'm already part of the company's 401K program and looking at retirement gifts, considering the likelihood. I drink good bourbon, bad vodka, and cheap beer, and when I smoke I tend to go for the Rex Brittania cigars (Mangy Bastards). Most of the time, though, a can of Ettans and a bottle of strong wheat beer sets me right, especially when trying to figure out another term for eviscerate that isn't "gut".
And you fine folks?
27 year old Hack Horror Writer from the wilds of Kentucky, married with 3 kids, a lovely (and very tolerant) wife, a dog with three legs, a perfectly round beagle, one insane kitten, a laid back cat, and a high strung marsupial. Graduate of the University of Louisville, published author and short story writer in the world of pulp horror, where the pay stinks, name recognition happens 50 years after you're dead, and you try to avoid making eye contact with the people you once took courses on writing with.
Outside of that, I'm strange. I mean, STRANGE, with a whole lot of exclamation points. Love old country, blues, jazz, and folk music, as well as Irish drinking songs, but I do my drinking in a punk rock bar. Only man I know with a background in steamboat deck work, and my office at home is a collection of the macabre artifacts to set the mood and provider conversation pieces...mixed in with rocking chairs and a toybox.
Because writing isn't a profit industry, and because my wife scrapes by as an independent filmmaker, I also work in health insurance...no, not selling the stuff. I'm the guy who reviews denials or incorrect processing when you write a letter telling us you want to. However, as soon as I tap into the mainstream by getting a brain transplant from King or Barker, I'll drop that gig. Meaning that I'm already part of the company's 401K program and looking at retirement gifts, considering the likelihood. I drink good bourbon, bad vodka, and cheap beer, and when I smoke I tend to go for the Rex Brittania cigars (Mangy Bastards). Most of the time, though, a can of Ettans and a bottle of strong wheat beer sets me right, especially when trying to figure out another term for eviscerate that isn't "gut".
And you fine folks?
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