Meet Cynthia St. Aubin
My friendship with Robyn began the way all the good ones do: with accidental motorboating. I mean technically we’d been friends before this (and by “friends” I mean, I totally stalked her on Facebook), but that all changed when we met in person at a reader conference. Picture it—me: tall enough to be commonly mistaken for a yeti. Robyn: as petite and adorable as she is talented and funny. I go in for a hug, and bam! Her face ends up right between the Ladies. For some reason she kept talking to me after that incident, and even cooler, now I get to play in her universe. YOU GUYS. How freakin’ cool is that!?
As for me, I wrote my first play at age eight and made my brothers perform it for the admission price of gum wrappers. A steal, considering I provided the wrappers in advance. I never quite gave up on the writing thing, even while earning a mostly useless master’s degree in art history and taking my turn as a cube monkey in the corporate warren.
Because the voices in my head kept talking to me, and they discourage drinking at work, I started publishing books instead. When I’m not standing in front of the fridge eating cheese, I’m hard at work figuring out which mythological, art historical, or paranormal friends to play with next. I live in Texas with a handsome musician and one surly cat.