I teach ESL in the classroom and have my own private tutoring company. I’m interested in MG and YA.  My MG manuscripts are humorous adventure tales involving talking dogs or robots or aliens or a dung beetle professor or twin eleven year-olds who are circus spies. My YA novels are more serious. My latest projects are a supernatural YA thriller and a darkish steampunk adventure.
    Other interests: ice hockey (non-checking at my stage!), semi-pro guitarist on weekends working in various bands.
    No kids, but a fabulous wife and two extraordinary mutts from the pound who make us laugh every day.

                Like garlic breathers who follow you into a cramped elevator or that maddening touch of poison ivy in the middle of your back, Tim Burke is hard to put out of your mind. He claims to write Middle Grade and Young Adult novels, but his neighbors hear a lot of oofs coming from his backyard as he masters the Yurchenko Double Pike. No, wait. Make that the Yurchenko TriplePike. Curse you, Simone Biles! 

                His latest work is a Young Adult novel with monsters, some humor, and a slow burn romance because nothing says LOVE like one’s liver being clawed out.

                Despite the fact that he only writes the truth, Tim Burke is classified under FICTION in an attempt to censor the facts he has striven heroically to bring to light: Frank N. Stein is a travel agent to extraterrestrials, the animals at the Buffalo Zoo are hiding a very big secret, and cryptids live among us in their human form.  

                When not correcting the punctuation in messages by sky writers, Tim Burke is an internet troll. No, you’re not following—a troll troll. You know, toenails in dire need of trimming, complexion straight out of a BEFORE photo in an acne medication ad, and posture bad enough to give a runway model a fit of the vapors. But that only occurs three days before a penumbral moon in oppositional perigee to Earth. So let’s not overreact there, drama king or queen.


                You can see his troll side by visiting @Frankenstrat88on Twitter. 

                Or go straight to the source of the truth here:  www.timburketales.com   

    Some of his original music—classified under the genre EMETIC MUSIC—can be found here as well. 

                He is the Regional Advisor to the Southern California chapter of SCBWI, but no one has ever taken his advising seriously. In meetings, members roll their eyes and speak over him.

                If he lasts to age ninety-eight, he’ll still be playing ice hockey, though everyone will use air quotes around the word “playing.” He stores his equipment bag in the garage, which is why there are no cockroaches or rats living in there.

                Those who have heard him “play” guitar suffer from sore rotator cuffs from using more air quotes. Like Elvis, his two rescue mutts leave the building whenever he straps on a Strat. He owns a patent on the C Flat augmented seventh chord with sharp eleventh, deranged seventeenth, and spayed twelfth. 

                He is inordinately proud of his prehensile thumbs and not above lording that fact over fish. Many a security guard has told him to “Move along, sir” when found trash-talking into a koi pond.

                Blessed with the gift of psychic communication with earthworms, he is still searching for a way of profiting from this rare gift.

                We could go on for days listing his many accomplishments—and already have. 

                We should wrap things up.