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Chris Owen lives and writes in eastern Canada,
where the winds blow cool and calm on the good days, wicked
and fast on the bad. There's rain and sun, and in the winter
there's snow... a lot of snow. A nice fire to keep warm,
a nice pen with good flow, and a decent notebook are all that
I really requires, which is not to say that the MacBook Air
isn't the best thing ever. I went to a bunch of schools,
learned a lot of things, and now makes stuff up because not
to do so is unthinkable.
I'm inspired by the day to day minutia of life,
and find beauty in the way words go together. I've written around
sixty titles to date, and I doubt there will ever be a dearth
of ideas to play with, and the real secret of the universe might
just be how to find the time to tell all those stories.
I have various people, a dog, two bettas, and
a gecko all living in an old Victorian house under constant
upgrades, and an in ground pool which is filled with gravel.
It's much more interesting that way, although it makes it tough
to swim.
I like
Star Gazer Lilies, micro-brewed beer, and Australian wines.
Granny Smith apples and slice of sharp cheddar are the foods
of the gods. Don't ask me to choose between mountains and the
ocean, because I will be locked in an impossible choice forever.
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