Mark Schweizer

In 1974, Mark Schweizer, a brand-new high-school graduate decided to eschew the family architectural business and become an opera singer. Against all prevailing wisdom and despite jokes from his peers such as "What does the music major say after his first job interview?" (answer: You want fries with that?), he enrolled in the Music School at Stetson University. To his father, the rationale was obvious. No math requirement.

Everything happens for a reason, however, and he now lives and works as a musician, composer, author and publisher in Tryon, North Carolina with his lovely wife, Donis. If anyone finds out what he’s up to, he’ll have to go back to work at Mr. Steak. He actually has a bunch of degrees, including a Doctor of Musical Arts from the University of Arizona. I know! What were they thinking?

In the field of bad writing, Mark had the distinction of receiving a Dishonorable Mention in the 2006 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest, an annual contest in which the entrants compete for the dubious honor of having composed the worst opening sentence to an imaginary novel. In 2007, his sentence now found on page 17 of The Mezzo Wore Mink was runner-up in the Detective Category. This, and two other of his entries, were featured in It Was A Dark and Stormy Night: A Collection of the Worst Fiction Ever Written, edited by Scott Rice and published by The Friday Project.

In varying stages of his career, Mark has waited tables, written articles for Collgehumor.com, won opera competitions, sung oratorios, taught in college music departments, raised pot-bellied pigs and hedgehogs, directed church choirs, sung the bass solo to Beethoven’s 9th with the Atlanta Symphony, hosted a classical music radio show, taught in a seminary, sung recitals, started a regional opera company, published choral music, built a log cabin, written opera librettos, directed stage productions, helped his wife to raise their two children and managed to remain married for thirty-two years. He also owns several chainsaws.

“Well,” Donis says, “it’s never boring.

In the fall of 2001, I began what I hoped would be a funny little book about an Episcopal choir director/ detective that had a flair for bad writing. Now, nine years later, that book, The Alto Wore Tweed, has had its ninth printing and the rest of the books (bad writing aside) are winning awards and working hard to catch up. Thanks to you, the Hayden Konig adventures continue to make their way into the hands of mystery lovers and across church choirs, one reader and singer at a time.