As the youngest of four children and the only boy with three perfectly behaved, straight A-student sisters, I quickly developed a knack for doing things differently. Being a B student with a 970 SAT I had to think creatively. Like convincing my junior English teacher to let me write a screenplay instead of a term paper or writing and directing a Brady Bunch horror movie for Spanish 3. And for extra credit a short story about being reincarnated into a twenty dollar bill, but it was always just a little bit different.I was born in Cleveland in 1969 (which explains the tattoo of Chief Wahoo, the Indian's mascot, on my ankle), but moved to Kennebunk, Maine when I was only 7. Kennebunk is a nice place to visit and an even better place to grow up, which, of course, means I couldn't wait to get out of there.I graduated from Ohio University's E.W. Scripps School of Journalism in 1993 and then moved to New York City with one-month's rent to my name. I was going to be a journalist. I wanted to write. But one-month's rent isn't enough to become a journalist in New York, so I found out. It's not enough to become just about anything in New York except maybe a homeless person. Luckily, I guess, my uncle gave me a couple of phone numbers to call-his contacts on Wall Street.Though Wall Street wasn't in my plan, once I was there I figured what the hell? Let's make some money. So I set my sights on a trading career. But during those fifteen years of climbing the Wall Street money tree, writing would call to me, like a whisper somewhere in the back of my thoughts, but, never forceful enough for me to focus on it or sit down long enough to truly pursue.It would take nearly a complete disaster in my life, self-inflicted by city lights and fondness of cocaine for me to turn back to the page. But it took what it takes, and I'm grateful it did.Now I'm right back where I started with a month's rent saved up and an empty computer screen in front of me and I couldn't be happier. Oh yes I could. And am. When I'm with my eight-year-old daughter, Lola.