I wound up studying art and design, got a job at Lonely Planet Publications as a designer, cartographer and illustrator.



Great. She shook her head. Not only am I having conversations with myself, but now I'm refusing to talk to me. This has got to be the first sign of madness.

Tayend nodded. “I know it won’t. I admit I was worried about you, but you are still your old self, underneath.” Dannyl straightened in protest. “Underneath what?” The Elyne stood up, waving one hand in Dannyl’s direction. “All…that.” “I’m reeling at your descriptive clarity,” Dannyl told him.

Inspiration comes from so many sources. Music, other fiction, the non-fiction I read, TV shows, films, news reports, people I know, stories I hear, misheard words or lyrics, dreams

Wisdom and knowledge is everywhere, but so is stupity.

The Magicians Apprentice was about someone from the low end of society manifesting magical power and how that completely messes up the balance of the whole system.

What was I thinking? Of all the assistants I could have wound up with, why did I have to choose the one with the scary mother and troublemaking in his bloodlines? I am doomed.