Dan Conover is this guy who lives in Easley, S.C., and he’s the author of four novels, a bunch of short stories, a crop of essays and more magazine and newspaper articles than he cares to think about. If he’s learned anything over the course of his lengthy career as a writer, it’s that practice improves typing speed.
Along the way, this guy has driven tractors, cabs, buses and tanks, fixed bikes, run news staffs and websites, taught seminars and pulled down stupid-good money as a consultant. He’s a husband and a dad and a lucky guy with some great friends.
But what he does, when left to his own devices, is write novels. The problem with the whole “writing novels” business plan, however, is that despite years of effort, it turned out that Conover sucked at the whole “getting agents and publishers to look at his books” side of the operation. And that’s despite winning two Phobos fiction awards and earning the credits for membership in the Fantasy and Science Fiction Writers of America.
His first two novels, A Madness and Siobeth, comprise the first part of something called The Darbas Cycle. His third novel, Bokur, is about voodoo, sex, possession and murder. And, of course, bicycles. His fourth novel, Another Goddamn Novel About The Collapsing Quantum Multiverse, is a romp across multiple realities.
There’s more about him than anyone would want to know over at his website, danconover.com. And you can write to him at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Oh, and one last thing about Conover. He thinks it’s really kinda creepy to write about himself in the third person like this. And he apologizes.