In my younger and more vulnerable years I was drawn to the flash of light sabers, superheroes in capes, and the occasional sword-wielding barbarian. I was raised on a healthy dose of He-Man, Thundercats, Knight Rider, and The A-Team. I’ve always been a lover of science fiction and fantasy and didn’t really come around to mystery until later in life.

But I should’ve known mystery was where I was headed when I I never missed an episode of Scooby Doo. I really should’ve known when I continued to watch the Harry Potter movies over and over, enjoying the wizarding magic, but constantly trying to piece together the little pieces laid out to reveal how the basilisk was getting into the school or who the half-blood prince was.

It wasn’t until I discovered Monk and Psych that really sealed the deal for me. Now, while I still enjoy fantasy and sci-fi, and occasionally write stuff here and there for that, I have the most fun when I’m writing about some poor soul who’s been murdered. Okay, that didn’t come out right, but you know what I mean.

“As far as I’m concerned, you can’t beat a good whodunnit: the twists and turns, the clues and the red herrings and then, finally, the satisfaction of having everything explained to you in a way that makes you kick yourself because you hadn’t seen it from the start.”