About Jean Johnson
Or, a four-leaved clover saltirewise slipped vert
Scripto Ergo Sum
(I write, therefore I exist)
Jean Johnson lives north of Seattle, in a house with zone heating, decent plumbing, internet access, two fantastic roommates, and 3 cats. War may break out at any point between the cats, but most days there’s merely a somewhat impolite armistice between the trio. Oh, and she finally got her very own castle! It’s not even half a cubic yard (or meter), but it’s hers. Here is a picture of it:
...Isn’t it gorgeous? Okay, it’s not the absolute best picture, but the hands do show you the scale of the piece, and the intricacy. It’s made out of 13,959 hand-crafted pieces of dozens of types of wood, patiently assembled by the very talented Craig Allen, and each one of those 13,959 pieces (yes, he kept track of the total count) was carefully cut, hand-sanded, and patiently assembled. Pretty good score for a lady wanting her very own castle, eh?
Beyond that, she has parents who love her—and her mother actually read and enjoyed one of her stories!—a blood sister and innumerable honorary adoptee siblings, a late famous uncle (Nunnally Johnson, screenwriter/producer/director), and is enjoying an ongoing love-affair with the written word. She can sometimes be found waxing wittily at conventions, loves talking shop with fellow writers both published and un-published, and occasionally plays World of Warcraft. (On an RP server, naturally.)
As of April 2013, she is happly 41 years old, her eyes are green but look dark gray behind her glasses, she hasn’t figured out what to do with her longish ash brown hair for several months now, and still wants to be a writer when she grows up. Oh, she’s already a writer? ...You sure? Wow, that's a lot of books. Okay, then...um... Hmm.
Okay—she still wants to be a writer when she grows old; yeah, that’s it! And yes, don't worry, she’s still “...mostly harmless.”