Originally from Lone Pine, California, Bob was mostly raised, and now resides, in Canada. He has studied piano and organ at Royal Conservatory of Music but only wants to read fiction, which he does so continuously. He is the author of Deadly Kiss, due out in the spring.
Bob in his own words:
“My father was a psychologist who grew up in the slums of Boston. He was a tough guy who got an education on the GI bill and pulled himself out of his birthright. He married twice; the first time to a much older woman who left him a widower. Alone with a five year-old daughter, I suppose he was determined that it wouldn’t happen to him again, because the second time he married a much younger woman.
She was the product of a Southern family; royalty that included the same Duke family that bought a university and named it after itself. Wilful and rebellious, she scorned Southern convention, rejected the closeted skeletons and wide streak of alcoholism that hid behind decorated formality. She disowned the family, converted to Catholicism, marched with MLK, and married the older man from a poverty-stricken background. I am the oldest of the seven children she bore, one after the next.
We were brought up in curious contrasts. There were the economies that so many mouths to feed on a middle class income made necessary; (hand-me-down clothes, Tang and powdered milk, peanut butter for ten thousand consecutive school lunches), but my mother’s background dictated private schools, music and dance and art lessons.
I attended St. Michael’s Choir School, studied piano and organ at Royal Conservatory of Music. I hated studying anything at all; my mother was determined that I should be a doctor and despaired over my future. I only wanted to read fiction, and did so endlessly. The library was my favourite, enchanted place (still is). I didn’t realize I was in fact studying for what I wanted to do most.
My father’s plan to not be widowed again fell through, and my mother was suddenly gone when I was 16. He had been ill equipped to raise one child the first time, and now there were seven of them; the youngest only three years old. He folded his hand and moved away; we essentially lost him, too.
Life changed, just like that. My behavior guaranteed me a quick expulsion from my exclusive school. I did manage a high school diploma (by the skin of my teeth) but I was mostly happy to leave school for good. I wandered to Los Angeles. I learned about the streets, and about living in the places that cause most people to lock their car doors when they drive through. I was blessed with the same genes that took my father through life in the mean part of Boston, and survived.
Eventually, I grew up and moved, first to Atlanta and then back to Canada. I made a living as an automobile mechanic. I live in a very old house on a wooded lot that is infested by dogs and turtles and parrots, and perhaps the ghost of a young girl. I have one teen-aged son, a light in my life who wants to be an author and a professional football player. I never tell him that both are nearly impossible, because they aren’t.
The library has continued to haunt me, and although the possibility of a university degree was long past, I decided in my late 40’s to try my hand at a novel. Somehow I finished it, and have produced one a year since. I’m working on my fifth.
P.S. My first novel was read by British/Canadian author Anthony Hyde, who was extremely supportive in the early going. Portions of ‘One Kiss’ were read by Mary Higgins Clarke, who is intensely reluctant about overtures from aspiring writers… she has been betrayed in the past. Though she said I write beautifully and will sell, she is fairly adamant that I not use her name, and would be unlikely to endorse me.”
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