A rare breed, Maeghan Jo Kimball was born and raised in Alexandria, Virginia. Growing up she spent summers in the mountains of Virginia and school years in Northern Virginia. Diagnosed as dyslexic at a young age, many people tried to dissuade her from her dream of becoming a novelist. This did not deter Maeghan, but made her declaration louder and prouder. The battle cry, "I will be a novelist," became a basic mantra of little Miss Maeghan.

Her childhood was filled with bike riding, an annoying little sister, and lots of hard work in her part. While school was a haven where she could learn and thrive, it never came easy to her. Stories on the other hand, always did. She absorbed stories in all media, dreaming of the time when it would be her turn.

As many young writers do, she turned to fanfic, the content of which has been lost to the ever changing technology it was written on. It was awful and should never see the light of day, but it's where she learned how to tell stories like her idols did. A notebook for writing ideas was always close, even when her nose was stuck in a book. She graduated high school and headed off to college, ready to seek her fortunes.

Maeghan was in her element in the English department of Christopher Newport University, enjoying the unfettered access to books, stories, published authors, and the freedom many find at college. Instead of becoming a wild child, she become a book worm, spending endless hours reading and writing. Like seriously. She never did anything else. She was never lonely, finding friends and confidants among her books. She would have stayed happily in the cacoon of college, but alas, she had to join the working world and get A JOB.

If you're interested, her resume can be found online, so her job details aren't pertinent. What is pertinent, is she found her way to NaNoWriMo and for the first time in her life, believed she could write a book. With cheerleaders behind her, she wrote and publsihed Harvey, the story of an one-hit wonder as she turned 30.

Honestly, it's not her favorite book. And she will tell you it's not worth reading. She will also yell at whomever wrote this for starting a sentence with "and." She very particular about that. If you doubt that, pay her to edit your work and she'll give you the rant about starting sentences with conjunctions. You've been warned.

Her second book, Burnt, was a long labor of love and the closest she got to a book deal. She walked away from the deal in the end, with valid reasons, and decided to stay independent. It's not hard to get her to tell the story, she loves to tell stories, and she's a cheap date (or not - see below), not that you have to buy her anything for her to tell the story, but if you do, buying her books or chocolate helps. And that is a run on sentence and she's going to ding me for that. And starting a sentence with a conjunction. Aaaahhhhhh. Where was I?

Ashes, the second book in the SAPP Trilogy following Burnt and Phoenix, crashed and burned. It's still stuck in development hell, but Maeghan keeps promising she's going to fix the broken fake science and finish the book. I don't believe it, but she does.

After Ashes, Maeghan started working with other writers and developed a love of developmental editing. Seriously, the woman is vicious with a red pen and writing lessons and stop hounding me, I'll fix it!! Ahem, I got carried away again. Once again she decided to stay independent and began offering her developmental editing and writing coaching services. She has worked with dozens of authors and helped get several books traditionally and independently published. She's cheap as a writing coach and editor, not in anything else. She has expensive tastes and likes to eat seafood. She's not cheap, except for editing and coaching. There! Saved it!

Somewhere between Ashes and Incident Zero, her most recent book, she met a man, fell in love and got married. It's all horrible kissy faces all the time and horrible llama and ramen jokes. It's sickingly cute. And she's happy, which is what really matters. There is also a puppy, who may or may not be a chihuahua. He's not. I mean, he's really not at 65 pounds, but the husband insists. It's a strange thing. He also declares they aren't keeping the pool table. There isn't a pool table. Love is weird.