I am a boomer (someone born between 1946-1964, not a kangaroo) with a wife, two adult children and a manic cat. I often also look after my son’s Australian Shepherd – a dog that is somewhat gender confused and pees as a form of greeting when meeting anyone new. For my part I am nationality confused; I was born in England, but never really fitted in somehow. This was confirmed when, during my career in the book publishing industry, I met many bestselling American authors who assured me that I was the most American Englishman they had ever met! Of course immigrating to the United States from England is a tricky business so I found myself in Canada where I donned the maple leaf with great alacrity. Canada is a bit like North United States except we say “Eh?” an awful lot and we’re rather too polite for our own good. To this day however, as soon as I step across the border I feel immediately at home in the U.S. I swear I must have been an American in a previous life. My house looks across at the Olympic peninsula so I can gaze on the land of my former life whenever I choose; even at night the twinkling lights of Port Angeles in Washington State beckon to my subconscious soul.

It’s not that I don’t like being Canadian, I do; it’s a wonderful country full of very nice people, and every time I return from foreign climes it feels marvellous to be back home. It’s just that I'm a little too assertive, a little too much of an extreme A-type personality with that sarcastic, irreverent sense of humor Brits have, to fit in completely – I’m just not nice enough, I suppose.

 

When writing I tend to don my American persona and I closely follow the social morays of my friends south of the border. This is not as difficult as one might think as I live in Victoria, BC, which is south of the 49^th parallel and would be living on US soil if it wasn't for some rather hard bargaining by England in 1846. And, of course, at some stage I was American - just not in this lifetime.

I suppose anyone that has bothered to read to this point might be interested in what I do besides writing. I don’t have too many hobbies, as a writer’s life is a lonely one (listen, I hear violins) but I love to cook complicated gourmet food and entertain friends; I love red wine, much to the chagrin of my doctor; I am addicted to good fiction, love to travel and of course write books for very nice people like you.