|fairies and snapple|
Author has written 24 stories for Romance, Young Adult, Humor, General, Love, and General.
I would like to begin by saying: if you have taken the time to check out my profile, please please PLEASE drop a review on my stories!
It helps, and above all, makes me smile to know that people are reading them.
july 26, 2011
I am coming back.
With a new story: TAG. Which I am super excited about. So excited, actually, that it's kind of hard to write because I get so lost in this world.
It's going to be a somewhat different style, but one that's (hopefully) a bit more grownup. It started when I was thinking about how much I wish for a save-the-world adventure, then realize that even if one miraculously falls at my feet, I'm nothing special. I'm not the "Chosen One." And most people aren't. So the protagonist (Lini) is just slightly psychic (in a world of super-powerful psis and the normals who... don't really like them) rescued from a government facility along with the boy who will fulfill that Chosen One role. But it's not about him. He's largely not in the story at all. It's just about this mentally unbalanced girl, taken away from the only place she knows, told that it's evil, and brought to work in a rich family's menagerie. Because, obviously, that's the most logical place for her.
It's sci-fi/adventure/romance. Theoretically.
And I don't have a good segue to lead into point number two: how utterly amazing all my readers are.
I took a break from fp. I took a break from writing. For some time now, I have been struggling to find my voice. And that's entirely because of you guys. Not the struggle, that's all me and this pesky little demon called writer's block. The return, though, is, well... I sorta forgot how much I loved this. Writing, that is. And I figured it didn't really matter. And now-- don't get me wrong, I don't think my writing is world-changing or that there's a country of people out there who honestly care, but-- the support I got from you guys, the messages of encouragement, I don't think I can describe what they meant to me. My computer got jacked by a virus, which somehow fucked up my e-mail, and so I switched to a new address, and then a couple months ago I found that my old one was back in working order and was greeted with all these indescribably lovely messages that people cared. There are people who just really enjoyed my stories, and people who it honestly touched, and I called my best friend and tearfully read every one of these and I think you all are amazing. You reminded me why I love this.
In less happy news, due to the e-mail fuckery I lost many old messages and reviews, so if I did not respond to you, I do really apologize. Just let me know. In the future, however, I am sorry to say that I am stopping my review-back policy, largely because I do not have guaranteed free time. I barely have time to write most of the year. I will try my best to return reviews, because I just feel that if someone took the time to honestly let me know what they think, and give me that warm fuzzy feeling that someone's reading my writing, I can certainly do the same. So I will do my best to continue, but can't promise it.
In short, please check out my newest story! (When it appears) And thanks.
april 23, 2011
I'll be honest. This is a longer break than I expected I would take. And I don't know if I'm coming back. It might happen, it's just... writing used to be such a fantastic release for me. A way to float up out of my own stupid body and escape my life and work out my problems and every other cliche in the book. But a lot has happened to me this year. I grew up, I left my best friend, I fell in love, I got my heart broken, I started all sorts of new self destructive habits and reached new lows even for me. I am a seriously screwed up individual who is just now learning that you can't hide from all your problems. I have finally started (just barely, baby steps) to live. It took a long time for me to let my guard down, but now that I have... it's kind of lovely, how people will amaze you if you let them. Of course they'll hurt you, and disappoint you, and lie again and again and be cowards and leave you standing barefoot in the rain at three in the morning as you wonder if it was all in your head. But they can also sometimes look at you in this special way and not respect any of your boundaries and you might believe they want to fix you. But in the end it's just you, it turns out. And yes, it sucks. It sucks a lot. But it does make you a little bit smarter. And this is my long-winded way of saying that I sincerely hope that one day I can-- well, not be the girl I was who wrote these things, because I don't want to go back. But be another girl who can exist on a tangent plane that I can write these things again. Maybe I'll wake up in a week or six months or three years and suddenly I'll have it back. My writing. What I lost. Whether or not that happens, I know, as a reader, how incredibly unbelievably mind-bogglingly frustrating it is when an author just up and quits -even if it's just temporarily- on you. In that vein, believe me when I say that if you PM me about my stories, I am honestly happy to share future plot points and bits that I have written. I still check the e-mail I use for this, and I expect I will for several more years. I mean this completely. Everyone who has reviewed my stories or poems, I cannot express my thanks. It fills me with joy to know that people still read these, that they're still touched by something I've created, by something that has a little piece of me in it. If the unthinkable happens and I can't write on here again, don't doubt that I'll be published. I don't, if I can just want it badly enough. And I don't mean that in the horribly cocky way it sounds just... I'm not done yet.
september 16, 2010
It appears that it's been a while since I last posted anything here, responded to a review, what have you.
I regret to say that it will be a while longer.
I don't doubt that one day I'll find my writing again, but for now it has eluded me. I doubt you care about the details, so suffice it to say I am posting one last poem, that I wrote a bit ago, as a temporary goodbye. I know I haven't responded to reviews, but I have every single one that I haven't replied to saved in a special secret place. And I will get back to everyone, one day.
What I'm experiencing is more than writer's block, but something where it seems that writing can hurt me. No, that's too extreme. Let's put it like this: writing used to help me cope with things that were difficult in my life, either as a way to explore what I was feeling or to escape altogether. But I have reached a point where all my various methods of distraction have become too much. You can't hide from your problems forever, no matter how far you run or how hard you try, and when you suck it up and stop self-destructing, you might realize that you can, cliche as it sounds, grow. And be happy. And have all those experiences you secretly hoped for/were terrified of.
The poem I'm posting is not a goodbye; it's a see-you-later. I don't doubt that I'll be back; I just need to follow my own winding yellow brick road out of this spiraling maze of myself.
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