Domenick Venezia

There are people and stories in my head clamoring to get onto the page. Sometimes they wake me up at night. Sometimes I can't write fast enough. A late bloomer, I’ve bounced around. Along the way I became a pilot, fisherman, mechanic, carpenter, scuba diver, photographer, ranch hand, beekeeper, homebrewer, competitive shooter, bioinformatist, IT exec, consultant, coffee roaster, cigar and bourbon afficionado, kayak angler, and husband—twice—one stuck. My varied experience, meticulous research and imagination, bring authenticity, accuracy, emotion, and action to my storytelling—or so I am told. Cursed with a restless, ranging, and raging mind—and a penchant for alliteration, I started writing at an early age. In elementary school, I read every available How & Why Wonder Book, started a lab notebook, and to my parent’s chagrin, roamed the swamps, fields, woods, and ravines of western Washington filling my room with rocks, bugs, plants, and fossils. I built tree forts, hung rope swings, and dug holes to China. I kept a pet bullsnake and a chipmunk. My bedroom had a wall of bookshelves. One entire row was dedicated to the Colliers Encyclopedia. I made it about halfway through before I discovered girls and motorcycles. With the precarious state of the Cold War, I never expected to see thirty, and I descended into what my parents termed, “The Decade from Hell,” an anger and angst fueled haze of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Somehow, through the haze, I managed to stumble through a Bachelor of Science degree in biology. I made many, many mistakes. Did too much of this, too little of that, and have the scars to prove it. ne afternoon in my late twenties, I woke up hungover and dehydrated realizing I might actually make it to thirty. With this epiphany, I put the nonsense behind me—except girls. Even walked away from motorcycles after a horrendous, ball-busting crash. Took a risk, got a loan, and started over. Another BS, this time in computer science, and together with my biology degree, I was in the right place at the right time with the right knowledge base to deep dive into Seattle’s burgeoning biotech revolution. These days, when not writing, I may be flying my tiny airplane above the Pacific Northwest and beyond, fishing Puget Sound from a yellow Tupperware kayak, baking, homebrewing, or roasting coffee. On occasion, I may stoke a fine cigar, tip an old bourbon, or quaff a young, robust stout. I hope you enjoy my work. Domenick Venezia