Paul Anderson

Paul is the living, breathing embodiment of the writing cliché. Unemployed, possibly unemployable, sitting in a cold dark room with fingerless gloves on, struggling with the muse and writer’s block.

It wasn’t always that way. Paul was originally going to be a lawyer. That didn’t turn out so well. Too escape from the imploding legal market, Paul jumped ship and decided to become a writer. Just as the publishing business began to fold. Smart.

Paul writes down the maelstrom of thoughts that populate his mind. Which means a lot of what he writes is strange, disturbing, violent, or all three at once. Sometimes he wonders whether he should have stuck with a legal career. But on considering the unrelenting misery, evil characters of questionable morals and unhappy endings that come with law, maybe writing about mass-murdering demons is slightly more ethical.

Paul lives in west London with his wife, his dodgy typewriter, and a chubby little leopard gecko called Jabba. You can follow his foul-mouthed opinions on Twitter @panderson1979 or visit his marginally more sanitised website Once Upon a Time in the West of London (


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