G. A. Kathryns...
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Carly Willis is a spunky, amateur sleuth at hoary old Miskatonic University. Up until now, she has been hired for comparatively trivial jobs such as finding lost pets and the occasional lost child, but when a decidedly fishy character named Marsh gives her a staggering fee in advance for locating a missing diary, our heroine finds herself embroiled in a Lovecraftian mix of supernatural killings, cursed (and cannabalistic) books, and unspeakable plots against Arkham, the city she has come to call home.
Her name is Echo Japonica, and she lives in Snow City. But she was not always Echo, and she did not always live in Snow City. Somewhere else, she was someone else, and it was to Snow City that she fled in order to escape a place and a self that had at last become intolerable.
For Snow City is a dream — Echo's dream — of a better place, an idealized place, a place of both anonymity and fulfillment. It is, for Echo, a haven of peace, a refuge, a sanctuary.
But Snow City remains, nonetheless, a dream, and dreams, being such fragile things, can so easily shade into nightmare...
...is the author of Poisson Pen, Snow City, The Borders of Life, and a number of novels and stories.
See the "About" page for up to date news.
There's not much to say, really. I grew up on the West Coast and later on moved to the Denver area, where I wrote a series of books (under a different byline) for which I became rather infamous. But I grew heartily sick of the machinations and smoke-and-mirror environment of the publishing biz, so I put aside my word processor and picked up my harp...thereafter spending an exceedingly pleasant seven and a half years playing a steady gig at a local restaurant.
When the gig evaporated, I rediscovered a hankering to write, and have been working steadily since then...with varying degrees of disappointment.
Being of a reclusive bent, I am not comfortable sharing anything more of my personal life other than that I am married, life comfortably with my spouse, and have the honor of the company of two small dogs.
The Borders of Life, though it dates from the time of my disillusionment with publishing, is a book to which I keep returning. There is something about its world that draws me, and it pains me to think of what it could have achieved in the hands of a more sympathetic publisher. As it was, it was more or less left to die on the vine.