Eventually, we moved away from the beach and into the mountains, and I spent the rest of my childhood confused, as most children do.
Whether it was the trauma of having to say goodbye to my best friends week after week, or the fallout from the frog incident, or the childhood confusion, no one really knows, but I ended up with an advanced degree in clinical psychology. This ensured that my imaginary friends were well-rounded, and if they ever had a problem I knew just how to counsel them.
Then, I ran away from school and became a writer.
S. L. Coney obtained a master’s degree in clinical psychology before abandoning academia to pursue a writing career. Currently residing in Tennessee, the author has ties to South Carolina, and roots in St. Louis. Coney’s work has appeared or is forthcoming in St. Louis Noir, Noir at the Bar Volume Two, and Gamut Magazine.
About the Author
One of the most important things to know about me is that I hate writing bios. I can write about fictional people all day long, just please, don’t make me write about myself.
My early childhood was spent in Surfside, South Carolina. I was the child of a biology professor and a stay-at-home mom. This combination often ended in peculiar, sometimes unfortunate events, such as The Curious Case of the Dissected Frog on the Kitchen Table. (The frog was already dead and soaked in formaldehyde. I promise, I did not kill it.)
I liked living at the beach. I could stand out on my front lawn, look to my right and see the ocean. This was my Eden. I spent my summer days in the water, playing with tourists which was both great and terrible. Great, because I had new friends every week, and terrible because I always had to say goodbye. In the winter, nobody was around so I found my friends in my imagination—sometimes, I still do.