I hate writing about myself, cause, let's face it, it's pretty hard to talk about your life and your accomplishments for three pages without coming off like a self-absorbed jackass. But it seems to be an essential part of all websites, and apparently it appeals to a certain voyeuristic segment of society, and so who am I to buck the trend? I'll tell you one thing, though, I am not going to write it in 3rd person. That's just creepy.

So let's begin at the beginning, shall we?

I was born in New York City in July of 1969, right smack in the middle of the first moon shot, which, of course, is why no one ever remembers my birthday. I'm told my older siblings couldn't even tear themselves away from the TV long enough to hear that they had a sister. Course, I probably would have done the same thing. What's a new baby compared to Neil Armstrong bouncing around on the moon?

Unfortunately, life pretty much fell into that pattern when I got home, too: me being all cute, and my brother and sister pretty much ignoring me. (Except those times when my sister used me as a Barbie doll. Wish I had pictures of the day she decided it would be fun to curl my hair.) In any event, all that alone time meant I had to find ways to amuse myself, and that, in the time-honored fashion of all misanthropic, book-fiend shut-ins, is how I came to love reading. And lucky me, my brother had a large collection of science fiction and fantasy novels to which I could become addicted. I should add that the key word in that last sentence is "had." Over the years, I think I've managed to steal most if not all of my brother's books. "Lord of the Rings?" Not getting it back, John. Sorry. The illustrated "Dune?" Nope, kiss that one goodbye, too.

Okay, now here's the part where I regale you with the obligatory "moment I knew I wanted to be a writer" story. Well, all right, to be honest, I'm actually being more flippant than I mean to be, because, in point of fact, I remember it like it was yesterday, it made such an impact. I was twelve and reading "The Fellowship of the Ring" for the first time. I was in my parent's bedroom, and I'd gotten to the escape from Moria scene, and, man, it was like everything around me just disappeared, and I was there in Moria with Frodo being chased by the Balrog, and when I got to the end of the chapter, I was actually out of breath as if I'd been running, too. And that's it; that's the moment when I said, "I want to be able to do THAT!"

And thus was another hack fantasy writer was born.

Yes, I'd found my calling. I knew what I wanted to do with the rest of my life: I wanted to write giant fantasy trilogies. I wanted to be the next Tolkien. I wanted to be the next McCaffrey or the next Herbert! I wanted to be A Writer!

Then I went to NYU film school.

And something...happened. I stopped reading fantasy and science fiction. Why? I'm not quite sure. I suppose part of it was because I was majoring in screenwriting and every fantasy movie I'd ever seen was terrible. (Think "Willow" or "Legend" *shudder*) I didn't want to contribute to that. And, if I'm going to be completely honest, I have to admit that I thought it wasn't "cool" to read fantasy. (I was a teenager and very into being "cool" at the time. What are you going to do?) So I started writing contemporary stuff--really bad screenplays about Italian Americans in New York that had the added bonus of being horrifically boring.

After I graduated, I accidentally stumbled into a career in television production, and, over the past twenty years, I've worked for HBO, Nickelodeon, MTV, Comedy Central and lots of other random networks and production companies. I still have people walk up to me and say things like "Hey, I saw your name in the credits of 'The History of Gravel'." Seriously, I don't even remember working on half this stuff. In any case, I stopped hopping around from show to show when I took a position at "Late Night with Conan O'Brien" in 1995. Aside from the soul-crushing stress, it's a cushy job. The checks don't bounce, and I have benefits through GE that most people would give their eyeteeth for these days. I can't complain, really, though I sure don't let that stop me.

I kept writing, of course, but around 2001, despite winning or placing in a couple of screenwriting competitions and despite a lot of positive feedback from industry people, I started getting bored with the form. Some of that had to do with the fact that most of the advice I was getting was "Well, keep writing and you'll definitely be selling soon, and, oh, you have to move to LA." Well, I know most people will think I'm crazy, but that was a deal breaker for me. I was born and raised here in Manhattan. I'm the consummate New Yorker. (And, of course, by that I mean I can't drive to save my life.) And, to be honest, I really didn't have the passion for screenwriting and for filmmaking in general that I think you really need. So after a bit of an hysterical crisis, I started trying to figure out what I did want to do with my life.

I should mention that, somewhere along that line, a friend introduced me to The Wheel of Time series, which got me back into reading fantasy. (Hey, the first five books were pretty good, and it did get me back into genre, so I don't want to hear it, okay?) And I thought, "Well, what about this?" I'd wanted to be a fantasy writer when I was a kid, so maybe I should give it another try. And you know what? I discovered that I'd spent so much time trying to write visually, that I'd forgotten how much I loved language, how much I missed internal thought, how much I enjoyed being so deeply inside a character's POV that I started to think and act like that character in my personal life.

Course, it had been a long time since I'd written fiction, and I knew my skills needed a little help, so after a lot of research, in 2004 I applied to the Odyssey Writing workshop. The fact that George RR Martin was the writer in residence that year also affected my decision, and I'll admit, at the time, I was willing to do anything (hard labor, sexual favors, etc.) for the opportunity to spend a week learning from GRRM. Lucky for me, I got in on merit alone and no humiliating incidents occurred. Well, not too many, anyway...

Seriously, though, the Odyssey experience really did change my life. It was great fun, first of all, and I made some really good friends that I'm still in contact with. But it was also the hardest work I've ever done in my life: six weeks of nothing but reading and writing and critiquing. And let me tell you, pound for pound, Jeanne Cavelos is one of the best writing teachers out there. She's a great person and she's supportive and her critiques are incredibly insightful, but she also kicks your ass and that's something I really needed. I'll always be grateful to her.

So, after that it was all champagne and chocolates, right? Well, maybe not. I've certainly gotten my share of rejections. And I really should submit more than I do. (I should write more than I do, too, but, hey, you try having a full-time, stressful job and cranking out the wordage, too.) But for all the obstacles in my path, my track record is pretty good. Of the four stories I've submitted, I've sold three. My first story appears this month in issue six of Fantasy Magazine and was well reviewed. I also found out recently that I'm the first place winner in the fourth quarter of the 2006 Writers of the Future contest. And if the hot fudge sundae of winning WOTF wasn't enough, Robert J. Sawyer, one of the judges for my quarter, put a cherry on top of it when he raved about my winning story on his blog. Yeah, that was a good week for me.

And that's pretty much it, folks: my speculative writing life in three pages. So what do you think? Am I fascinating? A visionary? A self-absorbed jackass?

No, wait. Forget it. I don't want to know...

Andrea Kail
March 2007