M.A. Harper

"Here's where an author is supposed to say flattering things about herself in the third person and at least wear makeup for the camera. But no, I've been photographed by my sister on my own front stoop with the Katrina X faintly visible on the wall behind me, my hair still wet, on my unvarnished way to my day job the morning after Christmas, 2011. Is this any way to package a writing career? Probably not. But in these publishers-running-scared-of-ebooks days of literary upheaval, I'm beyond games.

"I'm a plain ol' farmer's daughter who was supposed to be a painter but got sidetracked. I lived in New York City during the 1970's and survived it. All three of the men I once loved are dead, but so are a lot of other people. I've never done reality TV but a total stranger once played me in a musical revue staged in San Francisco, which is interesting because I can't sing. I like cats and refuse to apologize for it. They know how to be quiet.

"Since writing is no way to make a living, I work in a gift store. I've held lots of day jobs, most of them tolerable. Yes, I'm at work on a new novel which may or may not see print, depending on the current state of publishing and how soon I can get my own reality show. No, I have no agent and have sold all three of my books myself. No, I have no idea how to get your novel published. Maybe you should go directly to Kindle. Maybe I should.

"Writing is how I try to understand the world, and has nothing to do with packaging or even publishing. I wrote for thirteen years before my first book came out and I'll keep on doing it until I lose all necessary faculties. If you ever stop long enough to really think about it, life is a damned bizarre way to get through an eon or even a day. It seems so...so...so UNNECESSARY, in the Universal scope of things. I mean, does the Cosmos exist only to manifest minivans?

"My fictional characters are normal people and whenever I begin a novel, I have every intention of allowing them to remain so. But inexplicable stuff frequently happens to them. I have to view that as just part of the human condition. It happens to me.

"If there are two single threads connecting all of my books (and everything else I've written, for that matter), I'd have to say they're Time and Love. One never defeats the other, and they're always at odds. I so want to go back in time to the people and places I loved, and can't, but my imagination keeps trying. And just when I start to get all overly sentimental, Time reminds me of who and what I currently am and just totally kicks my ass.

"Ain't life grand?"