Bio

Me? Really? I have to write a Bio about me? Do I really have to? Does anyone really need to know what school I attended, what College I attended, or what qualifications I have? Let’s save everyone a lot of time here – I wasn’t a fan of school and there was no way I was going to stay on any longer than I was legally obliged to. College? Absolutely no way was I going to College…

Everyone wants to know where you come from don’t they? I used to write ‘Bios’ and ‘About Me’ pages for bands. It was all about the ‘4 G’s’ – making the band seem Grandiose, Glitzy, Glamorous, and Genuine. You had to make people believe that the bunch of teenagers rehearsing in their parent’s garage was actually an established band who knew what they were doing. It’s all bullshit. You wanna know what’s important about a band? It’s how they sound. You wanna know what’s important about a writer? It’s how they write. You see we all wanna know where everybody comes from and we all wanna know the ‘backstory’. My truth is that ‘where I come from’ isn’t really that important. But where I’m coming from? Now that’s a different story…

Where I’m coming from is a very dark, complex place, with scatterings of light and lashings of humour. Where I’m coming from is going to be embedded in every word and every Blog that appears on this site. You wanna know me? Read me. You wanna know if I’m worth paying attention to? Read me. You wanna know if I can turn a phrase or two? Read me. You wanna know if I’m talking from experience or just regurgitating bullshit I’ve read somewhere else? Read me. You wanna be scared and amused at the same time? Read me.

One of my favourite writers is Stephen King. His books were the first ‘big boy’ books I started to read, back when I was just 12 years old. ‘Misery’ was the first one to slightly terrify me; ‘It’ was the first one to make me afraid to turn the lights off before bed; and ‘The Dark Half’ was the one that cemented my adoration for the literary penmanship and imagination that Mr King always had to offer. I was hooked from the start. Fast forward a few years to when my 15 year old self discovered the joys of Calvin & Hobbes thanks to the genius that is Bill Watterson. Fast forward a decade or so when I’m in my thirties and I could still be found scaring the shit out of myself by reading Stephen King books. By then though I had learned the joys of talking myself off the King induced ‘terrified insanity ledge’ by reading some Calvin & Hobbes straightaway. It was a surefire way to ensure the potential for nightmares (and shitting my pants every time I heard a strange noise) was completely minimised. Fast forward to now, my early Forties, and I still love Mr King… and I still love that little boy and his tiger… and I still love the perfect balance that those two polar-opposite authors bring to my bookshelf. Writing is a powerful way to connect with people – and that’s what we’re all here for right?

So the ‘odd sock’ thing? It started out with the simple act of wearing a pair of odd socks, on purpose, every day… a simple zany thought that just appeared to me in one of my many many head movies… one late night…possibly under the influence of something… possibly but not definitely… I couldn’t be sure… It was this goofy ‘self help’ mechanism that just appeared in my head, along with the feeling, a ‘knowing’, that this one ridiculous sounding habit would fully rid me of my ever increasing OCD ‘tendencies’ and that this was the key to saying a heartfelt “adios!” to all of the ‘One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest’ inmates who had been keeping Mr OCD company for all these years. It worked… like a charm. I haven’t looked at the world in the same way since. So this is my Blog. A space for me to write freely; clean out the crazy-cupboard; release the demons; be creative; and maybe brighten somebody’s day up along the way…