Paul Roberge writes speculative fiction in southeastern New Hampshire. He and his wife live in a house that’s ancient even by New England standards. One would expect it to be haunted by something more sinister than orange-colored ladybugs that appear out of nowhere at the change of season, but no such luck apparently.
Paul Roberge is a former monk who spent some of his youth in a medieval Belgian abbey where he learned that a low, vaulted XIIIth century crypt produces uncanny echoes when the ping-pong table in the middle of it is being used. After returning to the US, he went on to earn a doctorate in Middle English literature, and that led by strange twists to an eventual career as a software engineer at IBM. Paul studied fiction writing while in graduate school and has spent the past few years working on a fantasy trilogy and writing short stories. He mines material from a life of an enthusiastic jack-of-all-trades: clam-digger, math geek, monk, home brewer, webmaster, hiker, medievalist, boatyard carpenter, knitter, Java programmer, kayaker, technical writer, traveler, oysterer, artist (analog and digital), grandfather, RPG gamer, tin-whistle player—but a life-long pathetic failure at sports.
Paul now lives in New Hampshire’s seacoast region with his wife, their terrier, and a rarely seen cat (fault the terrier). Their three hundred year old farmhouse features a spooky basement straight out of Lovecraft, but if any ghosts haunt the place they’re too well-behaved and shy to say boo to anyone.