ABOUT

…Christopher Joseph embodied on a writing quest once a mysterious typewriter appeared on his hometown’s porch in Ohio. It’s in his biography.
There’s more to it.
It was late winter, circa 1991 or ’92. A cold but sunny day at the cherished home where he grew up. The daffodils were creeping up in the yard which is a relief that winter is ending. The weather here is “Wait an hour, see what comes next.”
This particular morning, he found a Smith-Corona typewriter tucked away inconspicuously in the corner flanking the welcome mat. One of those lightweight portable ones in a plastic case typical for the late 80s, early 90s.
Half-asleep, in his old blue robe, before discovering fresh java, he stood dumbfounded. He peered up and down the deserted street not to see a single neighbor. Usually, it would be covered with positive neighborhood energy, but this time of year people hibernated.
He brought it inside and stared, lifted the cover, plugged it in, and watched the mini word processor come on, it was alive.
He was home that winter after failing evil algebra the first year of college, which has long been his crutch after barely escaping high school. Years later, still minus a degree, despite several attempts.
With counseling, there were two outcomes; high algebra anxiety, hereditary A.D.D.
Alas, he couldn’t put all the blame on evilness, or his father who passed when he was fifteen.
Dad was his first hero, working his way up from a mere janitor to an engineer at retirement, he excelled in what Christopher felt he failed. Longing for his guidance keeping the anger and sadness of his departure inside internally.
Like his mother, he veered towards the arts, dad was sports and working on vehicles. Having had problems with grammar but English teachers encouraged him as he had a nice repertoire of drawings and short stories.
With a core group of friends, they developed a variety magazine called ‘WBIZ’. It was sold at school, the local comic store, and even had subscriptions! Where his mother supported and encouraged, dad, scoffed.
Summer of ’85 he felt his father finally recognized his drive at dinnertime announcing, albeit indirectly to a visitor, that he would be supporting his son’s little comic strip helping him get published.
He was gone in less than six months.
Friends were moving on, growing up. He was offered an opportunity to publish in Ohio magazine the next year, but never submitted it.
Immersing himself in disc jockeying he was determined to succeed in post-secondary education despite deficiencies. Until being booted.
Enter mysterious typewriter.
Motivated, he hammered out his first manuscript, margin to margin, no paragraphs. Doing it again and again, gaining skills, developing his craft, overcoming faults.
No degree, no support, self-publishing his first novel in 2015. Second in 2018 is dedicated to his father.
Unbeknownst to whoever donated it, probably clearing out clutter, they have no idea the impact this little machine had on him.
Join Christopher on his writing quest as he debuts his latest novel Roadkill Pt. II Crossroads in early spring 2022.