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Call me Mary O. Everyone does. I'm a late-blooming Southerner who finally set free my outgoing personality and haven't regretted it for a second.

Originally from West Virginia, I made up stories for my own entertainment from an early age. I fantasized about places foreign to me, and warm, affectionate people. As the dutiful daughter I did what was expected of me, but with my head in the clouds. A college degree was gained with some stops and starts, tears and lots of laughter. Heart given, heart broken, heart healed. Pretty much everyone's story, isn't it? My life has been surrounded by music of all types, informing me, entertaining me.


I've been around since the early days of rock and roll. I fell in love with shred guitar before there was a name for it, but when I heard Joe Satriani and Eric Johnson come out of the eighties and into the nineties I fell into a hole from which I didn't wish rescue. Music evolved while I was down there. I kept up somewhat through radio, but it's only been over the past five years that my real hard rock education has proceeded, spurred in part by dealing with tragedies, and tutored by Eddie Trunk's That Metal Show. Thanks to Eddie, Jim and Don!  


I call what I write "hard rock fiction" because it involves musicians who play hard rock and follows them in their everyday lives, whether that's on the road, onstage, offstage, heartbroken, or in love.

In August 2018, I lost the love of my life, my companion for rock shows, festivals, and our Shiprocked Cruise. He made me laugh every day. The marriage had its ups and downs, as most marriages do, but I miss him profoundly.  We found our home in coastal South Carolina where I still live, love, write, and rock with our three dogs.


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