I was born in Dunnottar Castle in Grampian, Scotland, high upon the cliffs over looking the turbulent North Sea. And I was betrothed to my true love at the tender age of twelve. I remember the first time I saw him, riding across the plains upon his white charger, his armour shining brilliantly in the noonday sun...I swear, I feared my heart would leap out of my breast for the love he did instil in me...
(Insert record scratch here.)
Okay, the truth of the matter is: reality sucks, and I'm a story teller and have been since the moment I could talk, according to my Dad. Whenever he caught me in a lie, I had no problem coming up with a dozen reasons why I painted the cat purple with green polk-a-dots, none of them true of course, but at least they were highly entertaining. It was at that time he knew I was destined for greatness... I would become a writer, a story teller who actually gets PAID to lie. What more could you possibly want in a career?