Author Ken L Gould
Author Ken Gould
There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed. ~Ernest hemingway

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Past Sins

The biography of Ken L Gould


Ken Gould (Kenny to those who knew him growing up) was born in Omaha, Nebraska in 1969, that strange year when humans walked on the moon, Nixon was sworn in president (while Vetnam entered its second deadliest year) and the same counterculture that produced Woodstock came to a violent end in the form of Charles Manson and the Rolling Stones' concert at Altamonte (where one of the attendees was knifed to death by a member of Hell's Angels.) Now, none of that may have influenced Ken's writings, at least not until much later, but they are the sorts of stories he's been drawn to ever since: the best and worst that humanity can produce.


At the age of three, his parents kidnapped his sister and him and took them to Little Rock, Arkansas and from there across the river to North Little Rock, where he lived out his formative years in less luxury than he would have preferred, which is to say, not much. He quickly became bored with the world and disappeared into those magical things called books, which made him very difficult for his parents to punish, since going to his room was actually what he preferred. His impulse to create stories of his own must have come from Tolkien's The Hobbit, though it could have come from any number of places his imagination inhabited in those days.


When his parents kicked him out of the house (not really), he took his incredible mind to Hendrix College in Conway, Arkansas, where he began his long, successful career of drifting through life with no direction. Yes, he committed many dreadful sins during his high school and college years (they weren't really that dreadful), and much to the reader's annoyance, they won't be related here (or anywhere). Thankfully, there were no camera phones back then, and, thus, no photographic evidence of any kind that might require repeated and useless denials from Ken Gould himself. If anyone has invented a time machine and is considering returning to the time and place of his youth, and is condering bringing along a camera phone, contact Ken Gould, and he will bribe you not to use said time machine or at least not to take the camera phone. And if you screw up the space-time continuum thing, that's on you.


He did commit one greivous sin which he deeply regrets. He gave up on his writing. Dreams born in the boredom of suburbia do not long outlive it; dreams not constantly nurtured die of being ignored. Or at least they go dormant until revived years later. Some people will try to convince you that anyone can achieve their dreams. As Dennis De Young says before Come Sail Away (at least on my live version) "dreams do come true". What they don't tell you is that dreams are a hell of a lot work. If you want to achieve your dreams, be prepared for a lot of blood, sweat and tears, because that's what dreams are really made of, and even then, they fail all the time. Yes, passion matters, but passion without obsession will never go far.


The series he would most like to have written--but didn't--is G.R.R.Martins' Game of Thrones, because it rewrote the rules of fantasy in many ways. Instead, he bided his time and collected ideas, which would one day burst forth when he could no longer contain them. To paraphrase Lin-Manuel Miranda, the creator of the awesome musical Hamilton, "what a shame to die with stories in your head." Death's Grip is his debut novel and is the manifestation of some of those ideas (though he promises there are many, many more where that came from.)


Whatever doesn't kill you, gives you something else to write about.

Ken's Story

Ken Gould (Kenny to those who knew him growing up) was born in Omaha, Nebraska in 1969, that strange year when humans walked on the moon, Nixon was sworn in president while vietnam entered its second deadliest year and the same counterculture that produced Woodstock came to a bloody end in the form of Charles Manson and his family and the Rolling Stones' concert at Altamonte. Now, none of that may have influenced Ken's writings, at least not until much later, but they are the sorts of stories he's certainly drawn to: the best and worst that humanity can be.