Mark Burtman is a walking tragic comedy who writes fiction rooted in lived experience, dark humor, and worlds that refuse to behave themselves.

A former theater owner, musician, poker player, and retired physician, Burtman has spent his life operating in places where rules exist mostly to be tested. His background is eclectic by design, and it shows up in his work—stories shaped by folklore, satire, Southern atmosphere, and systems that look serious until you poke them hard enough.

Known affectionately (and sometimes publicly) as “Typo Marko,” Burtman approaches both writing and life with the same attitude he brings to a poker table: bet big, accept the occasional misread, and keep playing. Perfection isn’t the point. Voice is. Risk is. And so is knowing when to laugh at yourself before someone else does.

His fiction blends the supernatural with the bureaucratic, the absurd with the consequential. Ghosts in his stories don’t simply haunt—they negotiate, investigate, argue, and occasionally enforce rules no one remembers agreeing to. Humor is present, but never gentle. Satire is sharp, but grounded in real experience. Nothing is sentimental, and nothing is safe.

Burtman writes for readers who are tired of predictable fiction and tidy moral lessons. His work challenges convention, leans into discomfort, and rewards curiosity. Whether drawing from Southern Gothic tradition, poker culture, music scenes, or the strange mechanics of belief, his stories live in the cracks between genres—and prefer it there.

When he’s not writing, Mark can usually be found playing poker, bowling, listening to music too loud, or rewriting scenes because one character demanded more airtime. He believes good stories should surprise you, unsettle you, and occasionally make you ask whether you really read the fine print.