Matt Lang was born in Olean, New York, lived there for one year, then moved with his family up and over the hill, across the border, to Rixford, Pennsylvania, into the house in which his mother grew up.

He went to college in Erie, Pennsylvania, and lived there for two years in an almost constant state of misery.  Had he stayed, he would have written one indispensable piece of American fiction before freezing to death surrounded by empty bottles in the abandoned house in which he would have been squatting.  But he left.

He transferred to the College of Wooster and was happy there.  He met the most important people in his life, including Emily Hendel, now his wife.

Then: The Philippines (one year).  Asheville, North Carolina (seven months).  Nashville, Tennessee (one year).

For reasons that made perfect sense at the time, he moved to Chicago and studied for, and entered into, professional ministry.  He’s still there, part-time in ministry, full-time in Chicago, and when he isn’t weary from the futility of the vocation, he feels privileged to administer the sacraments.

With his wife, daughter, and some of those same important people from Wooster–and others, from other places–he lives in a large house on the Southwest Side.  He’s finally writing American fiction, the indispensability of which is debatable, at best, but the house is well heated, if, at times, drafty.