Myka Baker appeared in a flash of light near Cape Canaveral, in the shadow of a rocket launch.
When she was three, her father left his engineer job at the Cape, and the whole family moved to a small town so her mother could run her grandfather’s fernery. Fifty miles from the future, her childhood consisted of the staples of rural life: lake swimming, church revivals, train-truck-tractor tragedies, and obsessive reading.
She wrote her first novel in Cornwall where she worked in a newspaper darkroom. She got a master’s degree in Tylenol and did stints as a teacher, graphic designer, marketing flunky, stage hand, tech writer and owner of an indie bookstore.
She lives on a few acres in a funny-looking house near Canaveral Beach with a beta reader spouse-type person and a milling herd of rescue turtles and cats.
She writes science fiction and mysteries in which you’ll find fallible folks, dreams, magic, and happily-ever-afters. She also writes poetry, short stories, and essays containing much of the same, though the endings are less well-known.
Many of her stories revolve around the future, science, and magic—after all, a rocket flew over her cradle!
All of this is mostly true.
