Who am I?

Not Jean Valjean. But, maybe not quite who you’d expect, either. 

On this blog I have assumed a certain persona, centered around my various interests, which you can deduce through my posts. A guy who loves sword-and-sorcery, heavy metal, horror. All true, and I will remain a fan of these things until the day I die. A published author, recently, of Flame and Crimson: A History of Sword-and-Sorcery, a book I’m glad I wrote, and that I believe my favorite subgenre needed.

 

But then I realize, from that esoteric online profile you may deduce I’m some long-haired tattooed buff dude, or maybe a basement dwelling nerd trapped in the 80s. For the record, I claim just a little bit from each of those descriptions. But my posts here would likely lead you to an inaccurate perception of the man behind the keyboard.

 

The truth is a lot more prosaic. The truth is, I’m just an average guy.

 

Sword-and-sorcery is maybe 2% of my story. I live a full life as a knowledge worker, a dad, a homeowner, and all the other trappings and commitments typical of a middle-age (48 year old) dude living in 21^st century suburbia.

 

So, feel free to stop there, but if you want more, here’s a little about me.

I am a lifelong writer, and reader. My mother claims I was reading birthday cards at age 2 or 3. I’m not sure about that, but I was pronouncing the names of dinosaurs with great faculty in kindergarten. I wrote some fiction back in the day, horror and S&S, awful stuff that upon reflection shall never see the light of day. It was bad, because I found it a chore, even though I wanted to be a writer. Only years later would I discover that my passion for writing lay in non-fiction. I went to college not knowing what I wanted to do and for at least one semester was enrolled in criminal justice, thinking that I might pursue police work like several members of my immediate family. But I ultimately decided on English after realizing I loved the reading and writing assignments we were given. In college I fell in love in with Shakespeare and Keats and Thoreau and Hemingway and Matthew Arnold. I loved going to class, and engaging with teachers. I loved writing critical essays, and went from Bs and Cs to straight As. My junior year I joined the staff of the student newspaper and began covering news and the arts for The Comment. This was a good move. Can you imagine me as a cop? I can’t.

 

I’m a failed teacher. After graduating from Bridgewater State I was still unsure of what I wanted to do, and so enrolled in post-graduate school to obtain my Master’s Degree in education at Tufts University, with the intent of pursuing high school English teaching. I taught a couple of classes—American Lit, and short stories—before deciding academia was definitely not for me. That was a hell of a time, and a difficult, painful source of self-discovery. I could not handle a classroom, and I lacked the self-confidence to manage the various personalities and dramas that have been part of high school since time began. I got married around this time, in August 1996, and spent a year working odd jobs in Burlington, VT, living in a second-story apartment with my new bride, who was enrolled at UVM. The jobs I worked as an insurance salesman and security guard are stories in and of themselves. Maybe another day.

After we moved back to Massachusetts I found work stringing for a local newspaper, covering small town politics, the police blotter, school committee meetings, and the like. As a freelancer I was only getting paid by the story, but met with some luck when a longtime sports editor jumped ship and left the paper. I was offered the job and in 1997 became a full-time sports editor for a small, family-owned, five day a week newspaper, The Daily Times Chronicle. It’s still in operation today, somehow, and up until this past year I was still covering high school football for the DTC.

 

I had a very interesting career at the Daily Times, where I literally bridged two completely different worlds. When I started full time in the spring of 1997 we were still laying out the newspaper using X-Acto knives, cutting news stories into columns, running them through a waxer, then affixing these strips of paper and hot wax to blue boards. We had black-and-white print photographs dropped off on our desks, that we would get sized, shot in a camera room to print-ready screen, then also lay out on the blue board. We used rolls of fine black tape to box off sidebars. It was a weird art form, a sort of throw-back to the medieval, hyper-local, small-scale artisan labor so favored by the likes of William Morris.

 

But, within three years we were being introduced to electronic layout, doing all of the same work on a computer screen with imported digital photos and digital layout. Sports stringers who once had to come into the newsroom to write their copy on computers could now “email” their stories remotely. It was a total sea change, and a few old timers who didn’t know how to turn on a computer failed to make the transition. I saw the internet come of age as a business tool in my lifetime, and later saw it tear the heart out of journalism as we’ve come to know it, in many respects. I love my internet, but to paraphrase J.R.R. Tolkien, progress often comes with a cost. 

 

I saw the writing on the wall. I was a new dad with one daughter and a second on the way, and our retirement plan was cut and wages frozen, as online news changed the newspaper business paradigm. In 2004 I applied for a job at a healthcare publishing company, and in June of that year embarked on a new career writing newsletters in the esoteric world of medical coding and billing. Later I transitioned to audio seminars and webinars.

 

Today I lead a specialized healthcare association for the same company, albeit one that has been acquired and looks very little like it did 17 years ago. We provide digital and live training, resources, and community, for a niche healthcare profession called clinical documentation integrity (CDI). I run this association with a small staff of editors and product developers that report to me. My job is a huge time commitment, and dominates much of my waking hours. I am a salaried 40 hour a week employee, but I work probably closer to 50 hours/week, and come 5:30 or so I’m drained from making a multitude of decisions during the average day, or getting on camera to record programs and run meetings. I run a diverse advisory board that includes nurses and MDs, help plan large events, and deliver conference speeches in front of crowds as large as 1900 attendees. Which is nuts, as I’m a confirmed introvert, who recharges his battery in solitude, typically in the pages of books. As my part of my job I still get to write, and I host a podcast. I have traveled to most of the major cities of the United States, including Vegas, San Diego, Nashville, Orlando, Chicago, D.C., Baltimore, St. Louis, New Orleans, Seattle, Austin, San Antonio,  on and on. I’ve endured panic attacks and disappointments and layoffs, and unending drama. I get paid pretty well to do this. It’s not so bad.

I am a dad. I have been married, largely happily I’m pleased to report, for 25 years. I have two daughters, ages 16 and 19. My oldest is a sophomore at Colby-Sawyer in New London NH, a small, quintessentially New England college specializing in liberal arts and nursing. Colby-Sawyer is only a few miles from our family’s lake house, which my grandfather built after his WWII service, and so it feels a lot like home when we go to visit. My youngest daughter runs cross country and is an AP student with a bent toward math and chemistry. They’re both unbelievable, and raising them is my greatest achievement. I am already sensing an empty nest in my future, and can weep at the thought.

 

I am an ex-gamer, who got tired of D&D after a first stretch through early high school and a second run of a dozen years (2000-2012). My longtime GM passed away from cancer, far too young, and I have faded from the scene. Maybe I’ll sling the dice again some day.

 

I lift weights. I’m too soft around the middle and need to drop 30 pounds, but I’m stronger in the weight room than most people you will meet, and can deadlift north of 500 and bench press more than 400 pounds. I don’t brag about this, I would probably be better off running on a treadmill or taking up jogging, and I’m never going to need to press 400 pounds off my chest, but it’s what I like to do. I got hooked on weight lifting while playing high school football and it never left my blood. I love sports, the purity of competition, and believe they remain a rare refuge where there is a clear winner and loser, where hard work pays off, and life lessons forged through hardships. I’ve got an arthritic hip likely from my high school and college playing days, but like the slight hearing loss I’ve suffered from too many loud metal shows, it’s been Totally Worth It. We all accumulate scars over our lives, and you should—or you haven’t really lived.

 

I like craft beer (which largely explains the spare 30 pounds), and hanging out with friends, when I can. Combine the two, season with heavy metal music, and it’s a great night.

 

And of course, I enjoy reading sword-and-sorcery, sword-and-planet, some mainstream fantasy, historical adventure, horror, old pulps, non-fiction, or whatever else happens to cross my transom. And write it about here, and elsewhere. I watch very little TV, save for the occasional football game or classic horror film or evening news. I’d rather read and write, and started this blog in 2007 as an outlet for my interests. From here my stuff has appeared on places like The Cimmerian (RIP), SFF Audio, Black Gate, DMR Books, Tales from the Magician’s Skull, various small print journals and zines, places I’m forgetting.

 

All presented here without comment, just to offer you some context for the man behind the Silver Key.