IBrett Gadboiswas born in the middle of the United States,

middle of the 20th Century, the middle of three boys,

in the middle of the night.

That’s where the middling stops.

Born in Kankakee, Illinois, I grew up in Minnesota. My childhood was idyllic. I chased
Monarch butterflies, caught painted turtles and tiger salamanders. Searched for arrowheads,
agates and fossils where bulldozers dug foundations near our suburban home. I roamed
green hills with my brothers in search of adventure. We always managed to find it.
We’d walk for hours down railroad tracks balancing on steel rails on a blazing summer day.
Or slip into a cool glade by a swamp, lift rotten logs and surprise a colony of ants or a
blinking brown toad.

Brett Gadbois young ladAt eleven, I began to read in earnest, devouring any
book that crossed my path no matter how obscure. When I was thirteen, my father paid me to read.
I ended up reading The Ugly American (an eye-opener for a patriotic boy) for a quarter and A Tale of
Two Cities for fifty cents. I kept a journal during my early teenage years and filled it with pages of
awkward yearnings and unrequited love.

As a young man, I plunged into music; learning saxophone, clarinet and piano. I played western
swing, R&B, rock and roll, folk, jazz and even hand drum and clarinet in a belly dance troupe.
I began to write songs, eventually over three hundred of them. I had some frustrating near-misses
trying to place them. Joe Cocker’s manager, Carlos Santana and Screamin’ Jay Hawkins were all
interested but eventually passed.

I poured my writing energies into fiction and wrote an adult novel and over fifty short stories.
Seven of these stories have been published in various literary journals. My story, Perfect published
in Lalitamba, has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize.

WebsterAfter putting off having a family for a number of years, my wife (now ex) and I had a son.
This changed my life in profound ways I can’t put into words. I began to read to my boy,
lying on the carpeted floor of my house, cups of hot cocoa at our sides. We worked our
way through the classics; Wind in the Willows, The Wizard of Oz, Huckleberry Finn, The
Chronicles of Narnia and Alice in Wonderland. A strange and wonderful notion occurred
to me as I did this—why not me? I decided to write The Cellar Door and its sequel Into
the Painting.

Besides writing, I make a living as a graphic designer, love to garden and cook and spend
time with my son and girlfriend. I am a practicing ordained zen monk and still play piano
and read aloud to my boy. These days he reads to me too. And once in awhile we head out
to a local coffeehouse to sing and play our original musical compositions, father and son.

The photo upper left is me as a young lad. Above is my son Webster reading, you guessed it, Harry Potter.