“Men of broader intellect know that there is no sharp distinction betwixt the real and the unreal…”
H.P. Lovecraft – “The Tomb”

Ethan Reid. Just a name. The other. The doppelganger. The one who looks like me, but doesn’t walk like me. Ethan dresses in black and drinks Bourbon. Ethan lives in Prague, Paris, Seattle and Seoul. His hands won’t ever hold my son. I’d never let Ethan Reid past my door. Ethan lives in my study.

Ethan was born on September 11th, 1970. His father was military. His mother is an artist. He grew up reading: Poe, Lovecraft, Matheson, King, Barker, Lansdale. For every book, there was a comic book. Gaiman. Miller. Claremont. In Los Angeles, he studied under writers Sid Stebel (Spring Thaw), Sy Gomberg (Bullets over Broadway), and Oscar winner Frank Tarloff (Father Goose). He was first published under a different name. Now he lives in Seattle. His wife is a television reporter. One of the good ones. They have a young son. Also one of the good ones. And while the book industry keeps changing, the writers keep inspiring. Cormac McCarthy. William Gay. Joe Hill.

Ethan has always written. Always horror. Even in the way back machine. He’s finished two novels, a paranormal thriller, Samsara, and a commercial horror novel, She. You can read more about them on this website’s BOOKS page. He is currently working on his third, another paranormal thriller — Les Moribund.

They say if you love a man’s garden, you have to love the man. It’s just a saying. But if you read Ethan’s stories, you’ll start to understand why his soil needs feeding.

Of the six feet under type.

– Ethan Reid, April 21st 2008