I'm 36 years old, born in 1963. I'm 6'3" and weigh 360 pounds. In some circles I am mistaken for a professional wrestler or a biker. Appearances aside, I'm actually just a late bloomer who is only in early middle age coming to terms with his innate strangeness.
I write in Associated Press style all day at the paper. None of the stuff that I do for money can be posted here, because the copyright on it is owned by the paper and the company that owns the paper and the company that owns that company and so on. This is not necessarily a bad thing, as in exchange for occasionally being able to write about something I really care about and get paid for it, I have to write about a lot of things I don't care about at all, and making myself do the work is good practice.
As Anna Quindlen observed, newspaper writing is good training for a novelist, because there's no time for writer's block when you're a reporter.
This will be where I throw stuff I've written that doesn't fit in the paper.
Don't expect consistency or rationality.
For less work and more fun, go here instead.

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And now for the madness.

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March 18
March 17