Robert Mangeot is a writer, teacher, and sandwicher. A counter of things. He lives in Franklin, Tennessee with his wife, a cat-beast named Zelda, and this other ginger cat with plans all her own.
His work appears in various anthologies and journals, including Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine, The Forge Literary Magazine, Lowestoft Chronicle, Mystery Weekly Magazine, The Oddville Press, and in the print anthologies Mystery Writers of America Presents Ice Cold: Tales of Intrigue from the Cold War, Not So Fast, the Anthony-winning Murder Under the Oaks. His work was named a finalist for the Derringer Awards and also won contests sponsored by the Chattanooga Writers’ Guild, On The Premises, and Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers. He proudly serves as the outgoing president for the Middle Tennessee Chapter of Sisters in Crime and as the current Vice President for the Southeast Chapter of Mystery Writers of America (SEMWA). He teaches short fiction and will happily debate its whethers over beverages of choice. When not writing, he can be found counting things or wandering the snack food aisles of America or France.
Or I could tell you:
Skidding into our world half-Irish and half-Southern, clearly some brush with writing was inevitable. So it was. Also part-French, and this part has come Mais oui, the fiction brush would come with savoir vivre. In my college days I wrote a humor column and some this-and-thats, but not much thereafter. I was, you know, counting things and wandering snack food aisles. Eventually This Whole Writing Thing rediscovered me, and I’ve been fortunate enough to have work appear in some excellent places.
I love all things dog, and many stories were crafted with not horses but a trusty Pomeranian nearby. Lately cats have discovered my lap. I’m fine with that so long as they keep the claws in, damn the Bond-villain parallels. Maybe I’m cool with it because of the parallels. Blofeld is over-the-top cool, that’s what I’m saying. Blofeld would be cooler with a dog, though. A Pomeranian.
I dig the English Premier League, Predators hockey, University of Louisville athletics, Dashiell Hammett, poetry, most any kind of music. The “most any” part is minute-to-minute. I used to have mad song trivia skills–used to–but I can still name the starting nine for the 1970s Big Red Machine and many of the subs. Merv Rettenmund. Ed Armbrister. See? Ooh, Mike Lum! I graduated from Bellarmine University–go, Knights–and they haven’t tried to retract that or anything. So everyone seems cool with that. Liberal arts. Veritas, yo.
Counting things. It’s not all spreadsheets. There are weights and measures. One time they asked me to count a colorless and odorless gas. And I counted it. Boxcars of it. Another time they had me counting mock turtlenecks in subzero warehouse conditions. Once for several weeks I was a regular on television auditing the nightly Lotto drawing. Such was my counting-related brush with stardom.
My other great joy is travel, which often seeps into my stories. Look for me in a Belgian friterie or a Caribbean market or in any international snack food aisle. Otherwise I’m at my writing desk dreaming of stories, or more likely, editing the dream to ashes.