August Hill was born outside of Toronto, Canada, and now spends his time between Vancouver and the islands of the Salish Sea. As a child he ate up his father’s extensive library in secret and by the age of eight had written an epic novel of such great heights it stirred one of the good teachers to send him off to various writing conferences. He chose larger books to sit upon so as to not seem conspicuous to the other attendees.
Hill excelled in journalism school writing solely about the things he most obsessed over in life, attaining an MBA to build businesses around those same things thereafter. Having crawled up into the mucky ranks of academia and business, he now returns full circle to the page, exposing the characters and themes of a fragile and silly world through his fiction. His comedic explorations soar in a fresh title The Sushi Prophecies, a raucous urban tale dedicated to the magic at play all around us and all the best weirdos we love to hate.
Having eaten and surfed all over the world, Hill finds himself most touched by strangers of all types, but not like that. He spends much of his time by the sea with his hilarious baby boy, wonderfully Polish wife, eleven errant chickens, and a convict dog called Quest fetched from the Australian outback.
Working at an infamous hotel in the nineties, he once delivered a toothbrush to Barry Manilow, who was ironing his underwear at midnight.