Rob Tyler lives in a barn with a cat on 30 acres of scrubby woodland in Upstate New York – land of the Finger Lakes, grape pie, and disease-bearing ticks. He wrote his first short story in fourth grade. It was well received and he rested on his laurels for the next 20 years. He eventually found his way back to writing for fun (short stories, flash fiction, and prose poems) and profit (a long career in marketing and technical writing). The profit part is over, but the fun continues. His writing tends toward the surreal, absurd, and weird, with the occasional nod to themes of love and loss, or vice versa. When he isn’t writing, he can be found digging rocks out of the ground and piling them nearby, pulling up knotweed by the roots, running his guts out in the hills of High Tor, or playing pool and drinking beer at the local watering hole. As they say, it’s all material.