As a Floridian since the age of 12, I enjoy perpetuating the myth that we're all crazy down here. I love snarky, smart-mouthed heroes, twisted humor, and watching the underdog beat the snot out of his tormentors. I'm told I do my best writing when I'm on a rant, and since I seem to be perpetually in that state, there's no way I'm not the next (female) Stephen King. Unfortunately, the universe doesn't seem to be aware of that yet. But then, what does the universe know?
