Hueston Milbrand was born and raised a single child of working parents in western Pennsylvania. He came of age meandering through the streets and decaying structures of a landscape shaped as much by what has vanished as by what remains.<br>He attended public schools and a regional college, studying a mix of subjects that interested him at the time and that have only rarely benefitted his career as a paper pusher. Neither a traveler in pursuit of novelty nor a settler in search of permanence, he has lived in several cities across the United States, though none have left him with lasting ties.<br>In all things, he prefers the unremarkable, the familiar, and the spaces that allow thought to unfold without intrusion. He writes primarily at night, in the hours when the world beyond his immediate surroundings is still. His work often attends to the quiet intensity of human experience and is interested less in spectacle than in subtlety.<br>He enjoys black coffee, observing people, and rearranging his books unnecessarily.
