I’ve been a writer for a long time. Chances are that if you live in the UK, you’ve seen or heard my work on TV, Radio or the internet. Most of what I’ve written is funny and frivolous – mass media light entertainment, comedy podcasts and bright and breezy websites for international brands. The rest has been serious and technical, as I’ve used my creative skills to communicate complex information to general audiences for charities, institutions and private companies. I’ve even occasionally lectured in how to make technical writing more engaging. Some might say that writing horror is a departure from all that. I say, it’s a homecoming.

I’ve always stood half in shadow. And I’ve always heard the whisperings from the darkness… “What if there’s someone living in your mirror?”, “What’s moving behind that curtain?”, “If you fed off fear, a hospital would be a great place to work.”. But aside from a couple of years in the early noughties working with a small film company writing horror scripts, I’ve never had the time or the absolute need to let the stories out of my head. Until now. Now, the stories are shrieking to get out. Like it or not, they’ve chosen me as their channel into our world, so who am I to stop them?

And who am I? I’m the anchor parent in the family. Since I’ve been working from home most of my life, it made sense that I should do most of the domestic stuff – except other people’s washing. I was banned from that long ago. Our household includes me, my wife, our daughter, my wife’s mum and two ridiculous cockapoos. I work in between organising all that. I love music and have very wide tastes from heavy metal to choral church music to jazz. I am a DeadHead. We live in South London where you might find me walking the dogs or in the gym. I enjoy sport, and love sea kayaking and snowboarding best. I get twitchy if I can’t get up and do stuff.

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Although I can write, I’m useless at drawing. The writing demon emerging from a man’s head is by Eddie Hildred.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, something is calling to me from the dark and it wants to tell me its story. I hope it’s not a long one, because it smells like it’s oozing.