Mark Huston

Writing has always been on the list of "Things To Do" for Mark H. Huston, but he never seemed to get around to it, with life, family, career, and all of that stuff in the way. But the happenstance discovery of the 1632 series, which led to Baen's Bar, added with his long time interest in the "what ifs" of history came together in 2002. This combination finally gave him the impetus to get off his butt and write something.

Working with the 1632 community gave him a framework to begin his writing, make many mistakes, get support and feedback, and get better at it.

Mark makes his living as a sales engineer, and brings a deep background of technical problem solving to his writing. In addition, he has been a pipefitter, welder, HVAC repairman, sales manager, plant manager, engineer, actor, theater producer and director, playwright, racecar driver and fabricator for twenty-five plus years, auto mechanic, lousy student, mime, active church member and "religion junkie," factory worker, broadcaster, and a roadie. He claims not to remember a lot about the roadie experience, as it was in the early-mid 1970s.

He desires to become a better writer and storyteller, and check more things off his "Things To Do" list, before he gets too old to care about it. He writes a column for a local Chicago area real estate magazine, and has been published in the ASHRAE Journal.

Mark lives in the Chicago area, and is married to his amazingly loving and patient wife Kristin. They have three above average kids and a mongrel dog, or as Kristin says, "Five children and herself."

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The Queen’s Gearhead

The Queen’s Gearhead

The buggy was running good. The open exhaust behind Trent’s head roared into the night with just the right tone, a low rumble with a harsh rasp at the end of the note. It sounded right. The breeze in his face over the windscreen felt great. Trent Haygood was...
The Cartesian Way

The Cartesian Way

Spanish Netherlands, Early October 1632 René;Within is the singularly most important paper on mathematics ever written. It is called the Crucibellus Manuscript, and it is only the first volume of several.Digest the enclosed manuscript. This one was hand...
The Man in the Pocket

The Man in the Pocket

Chapter 1The Bull and BloodLondon, Early Winter 1634 A priest, a giant, and a midget walked into a pub on an early winter afternoon.The patrons of the Bull and Blood stopped what they were doing and stared. Geoffrey Hudson, the midget—or, more properly,...
The Pessimist’s Daughter

The Pessimist’s Daughter

The Gardens, December, 1634 "I found every last one of those sons-of-bitches. Every last one. Do you have any idea how much money that son-of-a-bitch spends on those sons-of-bitches?" Staunton Bell took a deep swig of pilsner beer, emptied the mug, and slammed it down...
The Royal and Ancient Game

The Royal and Ancient Game

St Andrews Scotland, Winter 1634 James O'Fehl, the butler of Ramsay Manor, wearily tugged open the heavy wooden door to Andrew's bedchamber. He could see faint streaks of morning light through gaps in the drawn draperies. Andrew was sleeping soundly in the center of...
Comedy of Error

Comedy of Error

"Oh. My. God. They have those damned things down-time too?" "What things Flo?" Anna followed Flo's icy glare toward a temporary stage erected in the Grantville market. On it, a group of Italian traveling players were performing a broad, ribald and highly improvised...
Twenty-eight Men

Twenty-eight Men

January, 1635 The cold wind cut through to the very core of the men as they walked to the entrance of the mine. It was dark, well before dawn, in the dead time of the night. The cold was complete, a January cold, dry, harsh and sharp. Soon they would be down in the...
Safe at First Base

Safe at First Base

"I tell you, I saw it in the movie. Plain as the nose on your face. And you have a large nose, Johan. The up-time device looked just like this—" "Heinrich. Listen to yourself. Movies are like dreams; they are not real. This is reality." With that, Johan pointed...
Gearhead

Gearhead

It was quiet. Way too quiet. Of all the things Trent Haygood hated about the seventeenth century, the quiet was the worst. He missed the sounds of engines. Internal combustion engines. Hell, he'd be happy with some noise from a steam engine. As he sat on the front...