Paul Wattie

There’s something in Tad Trenton’s cupboard. In the light of day, it disguises itself as a shirt draped over a hanger or a pile of freshly cleaned clothes that his mother has left sitting on top of the draws, waiting to be folded and put away.

But at night, its true nature is revealed. It menaces Tad from the shadows, mocking him with its silent stillness. Watching, waiting.

It’s always there, and it always will be.

At least in my mind.

When at the tender age of 9 I picked up a copy of Cujo and foolishly began to read, I didn’t get far. The first chapter filled me with a terror that will stay with me for the rest of my life, and made me too afraid to even sleep with the book in the same room for months.

But the fear faded, at least at the time I thought it did, and curiosity got the better of me.
After time I picked up that dreaded tome and began again.

And although the fear shook me and haunted my dreams and my waking hours, the thrill of it all held me, and bore me through to the end and out the other side.

And in that triumph over fear, I found a passion.

Maybe not as a writer, but as someone who cannot help but search the dark places for stories that reach into your mind and knock over the furniture.

Reading became a passion for me, it wasn’t always a Stephen King novel, but the first one was.

And you never forget your first time.

Currently I’m filling in my days wondering what I’m going to do with the rest of my life. At the age of 43, all I’ve done with my life is work with books. It has, unfortunately, not been from a creative perspective. I’ve been the guy at the very end of the path, as far from the creative process as possible. Selling books to the general public in the family owned book store that I’ve worked in nearly all of my adult life.

I’ve travelled, lived in foreign lands and seen the sun rise over strange horizons. I’ve met my wife who I love and cherish and have friends whom I consider to be family.

I have two beautiful children who shape my world and make me want to do something with my life that will make them proud.

I’ve never shaken the wonder I found long ago in the way that words can be shaped in such a way that they can change a life.

I hope one day that I am able to do the same.

I’m currently working on my first novel, and have been for the past 15 years.

When I’m not doing any of the things listed above I can be found in the dark, with the covers pulled up to my chin, and my eyes fixed on the widening gap in the cupboard door, terrified of what I’ll see, but too frightened to look away.