Rhys-Michael Silverlocke was born on the cusp of libra and some other horoscopic sign—the name of which temporarily escapes memory.
(Thank god that "astrology" is complete and utter rubbish or Mr. Silverlocke might have suffered a bizarre concatenation of celestial eventualities. [Thank astrology that "god" is also complete and utter rubbish.] Astrology and religions are just nice opportunities for people to say pretentious and superficial things like "Oh I would never eat sushi with someone who wasn’t born in the year of the Rat".)
When not speaking parenthetically or italically, Mr. Silverlocke is probably speaking pedantically, or possibly inaudibly and entirely for his own amusement. In any case, the operative concept is that he rarely stops speaking; when he gets a few hundred thousand words left over that no one in the immediate area desires hearing then he generally sets them down into novel form.
The topics and styles of his writing are too variegated to outline here but there is no theme to subtle and no issue too weighty to escape his notice. Mr. Silverlocke will take on any subject and does not believe in sacred cows or vegetarians—as the Mel Gibson movie recently proved, if you can stick a spear in something then you probably should… if only for ratings, or to spark meaningless controversies on the chat shows.
Mr. Silverlocke has written many novels; his short stories, pressed into hardwood, can be used to construct an elegant 18th century provincial armoire. He is a writer, pianist, guitarist, composer and chef… but sadly none of his creations to date have proved truly toyetic and thus are not available with a "value meal" at any local fast-food chain.
He lists among his passions: origami, demonic possession, and floral arrangement. He has founded a society dedicated to performing Civil War re-enactments using only garden slugs and recycled toothpicks. Recently, he authored a series for Instinct magazine entitled Blood & Brimstone which mades less and less sense as the artist cut each new panel from the script.
Mr. Silverlocke has met an actual Keebler Elf.