I am, for want of a better Linean-type categorisation for my own peculiar sub-career, a science fiction journalist, and now a writer of the same. The principal difference being once I interviewed people about making stuff up, now I make my own stuff up. The latter is more fun.
I was born in 1973, the eldest of five boys, all of whom are arty media sorts, if short-tempered and, well, short (all except number 4, who is genuinely large enough to ride a horse). We were raised on the moors of Yorkshire, where we all survived to adulthood despite freezing temperatures, angry boggarts and proximity to the volatile Lancastrian border.
I began my career on SFX Magazine in 1997, where I eventually became deputy editor, before leaving to edit notable gaming magazine White Dwarf at Games Workshop. Three years later I ran away to be involved in the launch of the ill-fated, if bold, SF magazine Death Ray, which I also edited. Since its demise in 2009 I have been wandering the media hinterlands as a sword for hire writing and editing magazines, as well as penning the occasional novel.
I live in Somerset with my wife Emma, young son Benny (yes really, and no, nobody under 107 years of age remembers Crossroads now), a Malamute called Magnus, and an enormous, evil-tempered Norwegian forest cat called, ironically, Buddy. Don’t touch him, he really does bite.