I was born in Guisborough, North Yorkshire in 1987 and have lived in various places around Britain, including Newcastle and Glasgow.
My writing is inspired by various writers, including the vivid characters of Charles Dickens, the imagination of Stephen King, and the gothic imagery of Anne Rice.
My love of horror began at an early age, when I was only three or four. I could read proficiently at the age of three, and devoured fairy-stories, but I always had a bent towards the darker stories, such as the Brother's Grimm's tales...Red Riding Hood was always a firm favourite, although I always felt sorry for the wolf, despite him having tried to eat everyone!
I also had an incredibly vivid imagination, leading me to believe that the noises that the radiator in my room made, were in fact the noises of monsters hiding behind it. This led to me having terrible nightmares, in which I believed I woke up and would see them sat in my room, doing nothing more extrodinary than playing cards or reading a book.
As I got older, my love of tales about unknown creatures persisted, always wanting to devour tales about ghosts or other beings. Being born in Guisborough was also a coincidence, as it is a town rich in folklore and ghosts in various places, such as the Black Monk of Guisborough Priory...whether or not any of these stories were true, I still don't know, but I love the tingle of imagining whther or not they might be.
As I began school, I began to read more books, and became enraptured with the tales of ancient Greece and Rome, loving the explanations for simple things around us turned into figures and gods. To this day, I still have an avid love of ancient customs, and I have especially fallen in love with Celtic symbolism and myths, winding them into my novels whenever possible.
As I got older, about ten or eleven, I had moved, to a small village, with only about 80 children or so. I quickly became the main story-teller of my friends, my favourite one being a story about a girl who buys a porcelain doll, only to hate it after a few days and lock it away in her family's garage. The doll of course, is haunted, and breaks back into the house, calling, 'I'm coming, I'm coming...!' until she reaches the little girl, who is hiding under her cover, where she whispers, 'I'm here, I'm here...!' The poor mother of course comes into her daughter's room in the morning and finds her daughter dead, with the doll sat on top of her. I have a vague memory of telling a wide-eyed group of peers one morning, and one of them running off crying...I think I got told off for telling stories that were too scary at school.
At the age of seven or so, I was given two books by a relative; one of them was a large collection of Lewis Carroll, and to this day my favourite poem is 'Phantasmorgoria'. The other book was a collection of weird tales, all involving fair maids and witches, devils and wicked spirits in some form or another, a lot of them derived from eastern story-telling, where children and evil witches costantly collide-usually with awful consequences. This persisted with a series of magazines and music called 'The Magical Music Box'.
At this point I began to really get into more horror books, watching all and any horrors on television, even ones that were far too cheesy to watch without laughing. Point Horror stories became a favourite on my shelf as I went into my teens, alongside my classic favourites such as Dorian Grey and Great Expectations (still my favourite book to this day). I got hooked onto Anne Rice novels as well, loving the combination of a typically monsterous creature who had redeeming qualities akin to human ones.
The most terrifying book that ever made an impression on me has to be The Exorcist. The film is nothing compared to the book-I don't believe I slept the night after finishing it, waking up at everynoise in my room, imaginging it to be a voice or whispered giggle.
