Patrick Dodge grew up in Afton, New York, a small town east of Binghamton and a little north of the equator.  In his baby book, someone wrote that four-year-old Patrick was “impressed by the idea of crucifixion.”  Things haven’t changed much.  His imagination is drawn to twisted and dark tales, and now he wants to share some. Lucky you.

 All the baddest Draculas have red bow ties. 

All the baddest Draculas have red bow ties. 

The youngest of four kids, he grew up a prototypical latch-key kid in the eighties:  He watched a lot of HBO, and, when inspired with a paper and pen, he made shit up.  He started by drawing his own comic books, eventually progressing to written stories.  At nine years old, he scripted, acted, and produced two homemade movies with family and neighbors.  His father, Dave, shot the films on the family Super 8mm camera, and the dialogue ran on a cassette player that had to be played back in perfect synchronicity with the film.  It rarely worked exactly right, but God it was fun!

In his teens, Patrick discovered two things that can just ruin a young adult -- The Doors music and existential philosophy.  For years he skulked around with headphones on, reading anything he could get his hands on, and writing truly awful stories and poetry.    

Dog + Writing.jpeg

He went on to SUNY Brockport, transferred to Plattsburgh State, and graduated with a Bachelor’s degree in Communications in 1995.  He began a long climb through the ranks at TV stations and newspapers, and now co-owns a web design and online marketing company called New England Standard in northern Vermont.  He chose the right place to settle down.  Burlington is home to an amazing community of writers which Patrick is actively involved in.  His short stories have been featured in the Best of Burlington Writers Workshop 2013 anthology and in Dark Moon Digest (October, 2016).     

Over the years he has pumped out three novels (all unpublished…for now) and several short stories, many of which he plans to feature here on this website.  He goes home to a beautiful wife and daughter who mean the world to him, and almost every morning he gets to retreat to the basement, grab the keyboard, and release the pressure valve in his mind.  It's a life, man.  



“You dode know what idt feels like,” Carol muttered from the sofa between hacks and sniffles. “It’s awful. How could dis happen?” ....[read more]