About

Alaric J. Hammell was born in the Appalachian lowlands of southeastern Ohio and was raised on the Ohio River in West Virginia. He gained appreciation for his roots after stints in New Jersey, Oklahoma and Manhattan. Following love to Virginia, Alaric makes his home with his fiancée in Charlottesville and his living with wizardry in content development, marketing and social media strategy.

OK, now that we’re done with the fluff, let me slide into a first person narrative for the remaining of this introduction. If you’re still reading, then you should at least get something more for your effort than the vague dust jacket bio above.

Quixotic flâneur

Exploring the city gets me up in the morning. And when I say, the city, I mean *the* City. I love New York and cities like her, which partly explains my difficulty getting out of bed in Charlottesville. It’s a wee bit smaller.

There is, however, much to explore. History lives here, mostly because the University is still obsessed with Mr. Jefferson and racial segregation persists, but I have explored and found much to like nevertheless.

Footloose amateur

This year is the first time since the last decade that I’ve spent longer than a year in once place. It also will likely mark the first period on a similar timeline during which I will be working in the same industry. Attaching oneself to another will do that to you.

So I now find myself more anchored and professional than ever before. I get itchy to get up and go. Convincing myself that it’s okay to accumulate some possessions because I won’t be moving myself across the country is difficult. My professional expertise continue to expand at ludicrous speed.

I’ve gone plaid, and there appears to be no turning back. Check back as I continue to historicize myself. Though I stay in one place, everything is in flux.

Wannabe raconteur

Don’t we all have a dream? My dream may be a little tame and undifferentiated from others, but I desire to tell stories through oral, written and visual media. How many white guys want to be writers? I suffer the affliction of hubris, just as well. Who wants to hear what I have to say? Nobody maybe, but I’ve always felt drawn to the asynchronous nature of storytelling. I feel comfortable with that control. I also kind of like the stage.

The full realization of my dream takes my lottery winnings to a Mediterranean island off the coast of Greece. Waking up in the noon o’clock range to the smell of the sea and the promise of lazy labors of love: eating, reading, writing, walking and talking (all in the name of foreplay).

Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)
Walt Whitman

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