I was a quiet, shy, bookish child, but from an early age, I had a dream. When I grew up, I was going to be a waitress. I would design menus around Ritz crackers and ask my parents, “What can I get for you today?” Because she loved me, my mother bought me one of those little green order pads, which I covered with my illegible scrawl.
At nineteen, I fulfilled my food service ambition only to discover that I am easily flustered and incapable of multitasking. Also, I tend to drop things. By my early twenties, I realized that I actually wanted to be a fiction writer. However, being a practical sort, I recognized that nobody makes it as a novelist, so I turned my energies instead to office work, marketing, and teaching. I did get an education along the way (it’s really quite useful) — a bachelor’s degree in psychology from Brown University and and a master’s in teaching from Boston College.
Eventually, I decided that I could accept failing as a writer, but I couldn’t live with myself unless I at least gave it a shot. I wrote nonfiction for awhile: articles for Park City Magazine and essays for Salon. One of my essays, about a night spent with my vomiting toddler, was nationally syndicated. If you Google “Carol Snow” and “puke,” you can still find it. Finally, I finished a novel, found an agent, and landed a publishing contract. That was eight years and eight books ago.
I grew up in Madison, New Jersey, and spent my childhood summers on Cape Cod. I’ve lived in (way too) many places as an adult: Massachusetts, Connecticut, Utah, and Arizona, to name a few. Now I live in a cat-fur-coated house in Southern California with my husband and two children.
In my spare time (which is in short supply) I like going to the beach, taking photographs, reading (of course), and cooking. I also like going out to restaurants. Things go much more smoothly when I’m the one placing the order instead of trying to remember it. And I always leave a good tip.
(Still need more information? Click here for my “official” bio.)