T. Straker was born and raised in Cornwall England. Her parents first knew they had a strange child on their hands when she turned matchboxes and bath crystals into little graves, on which she wrote morbid epitaphs.

Instead of locking their little psycho in the closet, they allowed her to roam free, exploring the rugged Cornish coasts and haunted castles until, at fifteen, they whisked her out of her paranormal paradise and kerplunked her into an ugly place called Hamilton, Ontario.

Traumatized, she escaped as soon as she could to the nearest civilized city, Toronto. As recompense her parents bought her a very nice electronic typewriter. She has written every day ever since.

Starting her writing career in TV – where people didn’t sleep, gave endless notes which were largely ignored, and had heart attacks over episodes that never seemed to be completed on time – she fled yet again, this time in order to write in peace, solitude and sanity. She changed her writing name and soon started to write books.

T. Straker is still obsessed with the weird, the macabre and the sociopathic, though she’s not keen to have them as friends – or boyfriends. She’d much rather kill them off in stories, which she does frequently and deliciously – painfully, with much feeling.

She has a black belt in Shotokan Karate, which she prefers to leave at home, and thinks severely dysfunctional is the new normal. Her books and stories usually fall within the thriller and horror genres, but she is a very nice person – unless you disrespect her dog. Grrr.

For freebies and updates on T. Straker’s work, please subscribe here

T. Straker was born and raised in Cornwall England. Her parents first knew they had a strange child on their hands when she turned matchboxes and bath crystals into little graves, on which she wrote morbid epitaphs.

Instead of locking their little psycho in the closet, they allowed her to roam free, exploring the rugged Cornish coasts and haunted castles until, at fifteen, they whisked her out of her paranormal paradise and kerplunked her into an ugly place called Hamilton, Ontario.

Traumatized, she escaped as soon as she could to the nearest civilized city, Toronto. As recompense her parents bought her a very nice electronic typewriter. She has written every day ever since.

Starting her writing career in TV – where people didn’t sleep, gave endless notes which were largely ignored, and had heart attacks over episodes that never seemed to be completed on time – she fled yet again, this time in order to write in peace, solitude and sanity. She changed her writing name and soon started to write books.

T. Straker is still obsessed with the weird, the macabre and the sociopathic, though she’s not keen to have them as friends – or boyfriends. She’d much rather kill them off in stories, which she does frequently and deliciously – painfully, with much feeling.

She has a black belt in Shotokan Karate, which she prefers to leave at home, and thinks severely dysfunctional is the new normal. Her books and stories usually fall within the thriller and horror genres, but she is a very nice person – unless you disrespect her dog. Grrr.

For freebies and updates on T. Straker’s work, please subscribe here

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