ABOUT

I had an ordinary job. Every day was another round of phone calls, emails, and appointments. Same thing every day. But co-workers, clients and customers all have stories. Everywhere there are great stories disguised as the simple lives of average people. I write them down. I steal them.

If you're standing in line for coffee in your stretch workout pants, carrying a terrier and a laptop, you'll be in one of my stories, especially if it takes you forever to order and then you pay in loose change. But I'll alter you just enough so you don't know it's you, so you can't sue me.

When I go to a party I don't stand in the crowd with the exciting people. I find the most boring-looking person on the corner couch, sit down, and ask a question. In minutes it turns out he climbed Mount Everest or invented the Frisbee or something. There are countless stories walking around in corduroys and loafers, not even knowing how interesting they are.

When I sit in a doctor's waiting room I imagine who has what disease, how they're in denial and hiding the truth from family and friends, who think they're at yoga, even though you can tell they never did yoga.

When I'm in line in airport security I just know the guy in front of me is smuggling and the woman behind me is fleeing justice, but I will be the one who gets hauled off to an interrogation room somewhere because I accidentally left a scary letter opener in my carry-on.

So I had a boring, ordinary office job and I quit, or maybe I retired. Then I started writing down all the stories that were hidden in the mundane things around me. Or maybe I was fired. Maybe I was framed for embezzling by the administrative assistant who was skimming to pay the blackmailer in accounting who she had an affair with. You see where this is going.

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