Welcome, friend

She works at night. Only the glowing screen keeps her company. She is 41. A mother of a teen.  She is a tough minded broad with penchant for fried egg sandwiches and bad movies. She is….a fledgling author & student. Or she solves crimes. I can never keep those two clear.

My name is Bonnie Steele. You can call me Bon. Most everyone does. I write. I write a lot, in a lot of different genres. For instance, I write horror, SF, fantasy, comedy, gaming modules. I blog. I tweet. I have character biographies by the dozens in my head. (And just what IS the term that exists between “dozens” and “hundreds”, anyway?)

The only thing I do more than write is read. Which is a somewhat scary thing to consider.

I love a great many authors. Some of the really good, masters of their craft. Some, not so much. However, they have all influenced me in some way or another. Stephen King comes to mind. So does George R.R. Martin. Dave Barry. Tracy Hickman & Margaret Weis. Susan Albert Wittig. Robert Kirby. Neal Stephenson. William Gibson. It is hard for me to point at one and say, “That person! That is the one that most influenced me!”  If I had to point at just one of them that I would like to emulate, it would probably be Martin.  Maybe with a quicker turn-around time between novels. Of course, while we are wishing – I’d like a pony, too.

There are very few authors that I just out and out despise. In fact, I can think of only two. One is Hemmingway. I am just not a fan of his writing style. It makes. Me want. To kill. Something.  While sweating. The other one is Stephanie Meyers, whose writing I can sum up as “poorly written, misogynistic tripe that sets back feminism 100 years”. Not that I have a strong opinion on this, or anything.

I grew up all over Texas, with the majority of my time spent in the DFW Metroplex. I left for Austin in 1998, and have never looked back. I love that town, the people, the style, the verve.  This is a place where a Mom with blue hair and tattoos could show up for the PTA meeting and garner nary a withering glance.  Now, Kyle – where I live now – is perhaps not so open-minded.

Yet.

Well, we’re working on it.

That’s it.  Its just me, the glowing screen and darkness. A cast of thousands in my head. And a fried egg sandwich next to the keyboard.

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