One-time child. Sometime student. Long-time musician. Full-time husband. All the time scribbling.
Marty was born in an igloo in the frozen wastes of the far, far north. Santa was a close but stand-offish neighbour. Despite constant ridicule from the elves, Marty learned to play the Seal Rib Harp and the Steam-driven Naarba, a kind of northern tundra Stratocaster. His plaintive and forlorn warblings could often be heard by the other hunters, causing many of them at first to fling themselves into the freezing seas under the impression that some Kraken-like beast was stalking them from the deep. At a point in his teen years, Marty (and the tribe) decided that seal-hunting, wanton whale slaughter and eating indescribable portions of animals bodies raw was simply not conducive to the rock vibe and fled the igloo, ending up just a little further south in Sydney, Oz. The rest is history and about as far from legend as one could get...