Jason Ramshaw

I'm a single father in Springfield, Missouri. I have full custody of my daughter, who is thirteen and handling all of this better than I am.

I've written nine books. The first three were the Still Noticing trilogy, which started because I couldn't stop pointing out things that didn't seem to bother anyone else — the self-checkout asking me to verify my own honesty, the airline making me remove shoes from a suitcase on a terminal floor, the neighbor I've waved at for six years whose name I do not know. My daughter once asked me why I write so much about normal stuff. I told her it wasn't normal. She said that was the problem.

Before the books, I published a neighborhood newspaper when I was nine. Eleven subscribers, a quarter each. It was called The Ramshaw Report. Circulation was modest. Editorial standards were high.

I built a haunted house in my parents' basement and charged admission. I performed magic shows in the living room. I worked booth demos at county fairs selling waterless cookware to people who had not asked to be sold waterless cookware. I won a spelling bee. I won a state essay contest at eleven and marched in the event that followed without understanding what I was marching for. I had strong opinions about winning. The cause was secondary.

I was hit by a drunk driver and woke up in a hospital. They asked me to rate my pain on a scale of one to ten. I said seven. I have thought about that number more than any number I've ever said out loud, including every number I've said to the IRS.

My daughter will need to learn to drive soon. I am not ready for this. I am not ready for most of the things that are clearly coming. But I keep writing about them because I've found that noticing something before it arrives doesn't make it easier — it just means you have notes.

I live in Missouri. I work too much. My daughter is the funniest person I know and she is not trying to be, which is exactly why.