Mark SaFranko

Hey there. I'm Mark SaFranko, and I write the kind of raw, unvarnished stories that make polite society squirm. You know those perfectly packaged tales with neat little bows at the end? Yeah, that's not what you'll find here.

I've always been drawn to the grittier side of life and art. Growing up in New Jersey (a state that gets way too much flak but definitely shaped my worldview), I split my time between music, writing, and trying to figure out what the hell I was doing with my life. Spoiler alert: I'm still working on that last part.

My journey into writing wasn't some magical moment where the heavens opened up and bestowed literary greatness upon me. It was more like being possessed by demons who wouldn't shut up until I put their stories on paper. I spent years playing in bands, working soul-crushing jobs, and living in apartments that would make your average storage unit look luxurious. All of that went straight into my writing.

Take "Hating Olivia," for example. It's my love letter to self-destruction, obsession, and the kind of passion that burns everything to the ground. Max Zajack (who might share a few of my own experiences... no comment) meets Olivia Aphrodite, and his life spirals into beautiful chaos. It's the kind of story that makes you question whether love is worth the price of admission. (Spoiler: sometimes it isn't, but we dive in anyway.)

I write about the underbelly of the American Dream - the musicians, artists, and drifters who are too busy living life to worry about making it look pretty on Instagram. My characters aren't going to show up in a Hallmark movie anytime soon, and I'm perfectly fine with that. They're messy, complicated, and sometimes downright unlikeable. Just like real people. Just like me.

When I'm not writing, I'm still making music (because apparently, I never learned to pick just one creative outlet), reading authors who aren't afraid to get their hands dirty (Bukowski, Fante, Hubert Selby Jr.), and observing the beautiful disaster that is human nature. I spend a lot of time in coffee shops, probably looking like that pretentious writer guy, but I'm actually just people-watching and eavesdropping for material. (If you've ever had a weird conversation in a New Jersey diner, you might be in one of my books. Sorry not sorry.)

My writing philosophy? Tell the truth, even when it's ugly. Especially when it's ugly. I'm not interested in writing characters who have their shit together or problems that can be solved in 300 pages. Life is messier than that, and so are my stories. They're about addiction (to substances, to people, to self-destruction), about art, about the kind of love that's more like warfare, and about the constant struggle between who we are and who we think we should be.

If you're looking for comfort reading, I'm probably not your guy. But if you want stories that grab you by the throat and don't let go, stories that might make you uncomfortable but will definitely make you feel something... well, pull up a chair. We might just get along.

To my readers: thank you for being willing to walk on the wild side with me. You're my kind of crazy, and I mean that as the highest compliment. You get that sometimes the most important stories are the ones that aren't easy to tell or to read.

Fair warning: my books might leave you with emotional bruises and a slight distrust of romance, but they'll also show you parts of yourself you didn't know existed. And isn't that what literature is supposed to do?

Welcome to my world. It's not pretty, but it's real. And sometimes, that's better than pretty anyway.

(P.S. If you see me at a book signing, feel free to bring coffee. Black, like my stories. And my soul. I'm kidding about the soul part. Maybe.)