A little late, but...

It occurred to me that I've been on here for a couple months now and, now that I'm contributing more, I haven't even casually introduced myself.

Here goes...

My name is Chris.  I am a father of three, a husband of one, and a self proclaimed "low to mid level bard."  To explain briefly, bards, especially in the Dungeons and Dragons universe, excel in manipulating emotions through their art of choice, whether it be song and dance, competency in musical arts, or storytelling.  I can't sing (aside from the growly stuff), dance, play an instrument, or draw, so storytelling is my weapon.  Through writing and reading, especially here, I am learning new ways to hone my skills to horrify, inspire, disgust, and otherwise entertain readers and fellow writers.  

There's also a very, VERY slim chance (read: I'm not, but the resemblance is uncanny) that I'm a distant relative to Howard Lovecraft, but that's a tale for another time.

What got me into reading and writing?  Much like many twenty something's in my area, I was drawn to the softcore "horror" of RL Stine in my youth.  Fantasy/horror remained the genre of choice as I wandered the endless world of published fiction, but my ten year old mind was enthralled by the art on the cover of a book I spotted at the library.  The title, author, and meaning of the words inside were all beyond me at the time, but fate ensured we would meet again in adulthood.

*skipping the awkward teen years and fast forwarding to 2011*

A stranger offers me a book to pass the time.  Unknowingly, he created a lifetime fan of the writer.

The book? Abarat.  The author? Clive Barker.  After quickly consuming this story (along with book two and the recently released book three), his legacy came clear to me.  The insatiable hunt began.

One day, recently, I was reading about progress on book four online and came across the crippling news that Clive wasn't doing well.  In fact, he was quite ill.  I can't explain, but I think the realization that my muse was only human was the catalyst for deciding to learn to write in a serious manner.  My oldest son asks about him often, referring to him as my buddy, and inquires if he is going to come visit.  My five year old is more excited about the extremely unlikely prospect than I am.  

I intend to continue learning and improving my own style.  I think everybody who writes would love to meet or exceed the abilities of their idol; in my case, it's a longshot, but not unattainable. 

P.S. my wife's favorite movies growing up were notably Candyman and Nightbreed.  She wasn't aware they were his works (nor did I, until we were married). And that book that troubled me in my youth? It's called Weaveworld.  I have two copies now.  Oddly enough, the story begins with a man obsessed with the art drawn on a carpet (the specific cover I saw/now own features that art).  CRAZY! Lol