Elaine Quartermaine’s life was never much to talk about. Growing up in pre-Victorian London had made her a survivor if nothing else. Until she died!!! Or… thought she had died, and then she woke up somewhere else in someone else’s body. It’s funny how Mary Shelley never mentioned that part of the story in her novel, Frankenstein, let alone her part in Elaine’s demise… Yeah, about that. My name is Samantha Holcombe, and I am a Pulitzer Prize winning investigative journalist. Well, I was, but… this story isn’t about me. It’s about someone else. This mash up of notes, transcripts and musings are all a part of Elaine’s story, and an honest telling of… Wait a minute… I’m getting ahead of myself. More on that inside. I had no idea what I was getting into when I was hired to tell this… I mean her story, given the things I’ve seen over the last two years! But, it’s been one hell of a ride, and if you can overlook the body count, it’s really not so bad!!!
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I have always loved books.
Ever since I learned how to read, I could not get enough material.
I was/am a voracious reader, and by the time I was in fourth grade I was at a twelfth grade reading level!
Problems on the home front edged into my studies though and I began to rebel against authority at a young age. Which is a sanitized way of saying that I was definitely a troublemaker and no stranger to the law. Nothing serious, mind you, but it was definitely “gateway” trouble.
I think there some subconscious policing going on in the back of my mind, because at the age of 17, I was done with the broken home life. I dropped out of high school and joined the military in search of something that I wasn’t quite sure of as of yet, but whatever it was that I was looking for, I would not find it within military life.
After I left the Army, I moved to Missouri, where my mother and step father had moved during my stint in the Army. I quickly discovered that time does not always heal all wounds, and after a couple years in Missouri, I packed all of my necessities into a duffle bag and thus began a three year hitchhiking odyssey that would take me across the continental United States, Canada and Mexico. I met a lot of people, some interesting, some not so much, and others who were just plain unsavory.
I should be dead by now, but somehow, I survived all of that, and it was during my travels that I began writing poetry.
I kept my scribbles in a binder in which I would fill with thoughts twisted into a dramatic monologue that finally gave me the outlet that I had been searching for. I still have that binder to this day and I am working on a trilogy set of the poetry that will see the light of day at some point.
It took me 10 years to tire of writing poetry. I felt like I was being lazy with myself, and whenever I find myself getting a bit too comfortable, I tend to push myself into a “point of no return” position.
So, since I felt that my writing was ready for more of a challenge, I began writing some of the ideas that had been bouncing around my mind over the years. Over the next 15 years, I would pen screenplays, short stories and novellas before eventually writing my first novel, Mr Mann.
Until I became that full time writer that I have always dreamed of, I had to work. You know… money and that kind of stuff. Eventually, I found a career in the industry of Information Technology. I am “basement taught” as I like to put it. I learned my computer and networking “skills” using the break/fix method at home and eventually landed myself a position at a firm in Minneapolis, Minnesota, where I have been for going on 20 years now.
I live in Minneapolis, Minnesota with my wife, Brenda and two insane cats.