I was born in Croydon and grew up in Surrey. I had a close enounter with death as a child when I was trampled by a horse and recieved thirteen stitches to the back of my head. An auspicious start.
My first success at writing a short story published in the school magazine and which was inspired by Warhammer 40k. Meanwhile, during my time riding the bus to school I read paperbacks of the Dragonlance Chronicles and Stephen King (all of which could be found cheap in charity shops)
At college my form tutor remarked of the Legend of Huma that “a bottle of whiskey, a type writer, and you could write this stuff.” By the time I finished college I had started writing scraps of ideas.
I started work as an aerial and satellite installer’s tea boy, and over the years I was in and out of work, never settling on a ‘career’. During this time I had written some shorts and attended a writing circle in Woking. Not long after I was offered a place at the University of East London to study Anthropology. I dived in and expanded my horizons, spending ten months on exchange at the University of New Mexico.
After graduating with a first class honours degree I was set for a fantastically well paid job only to find that the only job I was going to get was the same as the one I left to go to Uni.
But by this time I had built a foundation of material and wrote my first full novel during my time as a post room clerk for a civil engineering contractor. I eventually quit after witnessing my fair share of incompetence, and began to pursue a full time writing schedule.
Along the way I became an amateur musician, played with the King’s Drums at Avebury and Stonehenge, started a side career as a stay at home father and read people’s tarot cards for beer money.
With the submission of my first novel and the changes going on in the publishing world, I recently took to writing for my blog full time, placing my novels in the background until such time as they are ready for self publishing.
I currently live year round in a yurt with my wife son and our cat Hendrix in the curiously named hamlet of Mogador.