"Every time a new story is told...a faery is born."-Unknown

"A sword is made of words." - Leah Hammond

Listen to the mustn'ts, child,
Listen to the don'ts
Listen to the shouldn'ts
The impossibles, the won'ts
Listen to the never haves.
Then listen close to me -
Anything can happen, child,
Anything can be.

- Listen to the Mustn'ts, Shel Silverstein

Hello! I'm Liz, and I'm officially no longer a high-school girl. (I don't know if this makes me more or less credible.) I love transformations and origins so if you prefer good fast-paced plot I might not be the author for you.

I am a fangirl. Therefore, if a line or a situation in one of my stories seems awfully familiar, chances are that it's been transplanted from somewhere else. This is what is known as a 'loving homage' or possibly 'blatant stealing'.

I'm a little bit of a grammar/punctuation stickler. If I spell a word wrong, or use the wrong word, or stick random ellipses in somewhere they shouldn't be, and you notice, please point it out so I can fix it. Reviews are my addiction, and I love a good ego-stroking. But if something's wrong with my story, please inform me!

A short overview of my stories:

Life, Undeath, and New Stockholm Syndrome: In progress. I'd like to strip the layers and layers of angst and romance and sympathy away from the vampire myth. But this will have to do.

I Do Believe in Fairies: Complete, but badly in need of extreme editing and I'm still unsure if the rest will ever get posted here. You have been warned. Peter Pan gets a makeover. Wendy likes Labyrinth. Jon is her best friend. Fairies aren't so nice. And anything can happen.

Things I've Learned From Fairy Tales: Complete. Written at midnight, right after I broke the Goblin King's arm off at the elbow. I did put it back! But it got me thinking about rules and stereotypes and truths in fairy tales, for some reason. Don't ask how my brain works late at night.

Paper and Ink: Back by popular demand! I quite clearly recall being fourteen, unhappy with my life, and writing escapist "vampire falls in love with girl, turns her into a vampire, and they live happily ever after" fantasies one after the other. Now that I have a slightly different perspective on the world, I have to wonder: would a fourteen-year-old vampire girl ever dreamily write chapter after chapter of nonsense "human falls in love with girl, turns her human, and they live happily ever after" fluff? Sounds funny, but I wrote it slightly more angstily than I'd originally intended. I was also slightly feverish when the first chapter was written, and it's set the theme and tone for the whole piece, so please be nice.

Open Window: Complete. Written for my Grade 9 English class, this cute little piece of very-nearly-post-apocalyptic fluff explains how Wacom tablets work at one point. You have been warned.

Gizmo's Angst: Complete. Two short intro pieces for Gizmo, a juggler. This one was a burst of inspiration after a friend of mine decided to start a circus full of all our friends' characters, a circus that stole each performer's hopes and dreams when they joined, a circus in which the performers' appearances changed every day to suit the audience's tastes. I drew my character, Gizmo, with a mask on, thinking that a) it looked cool and b) it would save me the grief of coming up with a new face for him every day. Then I got to thinking about why he would want to wear a mask, and this piece sort of flowed out. About halfway through, the girl sprouted a birthmark, because I realised that Gizmo would be approached by loads of random pretty girls wanting to know his name and flirt with him. Unnamed girl, however, had to have a reason to be different, and a facial disfiguration was the perfect motivation. I hope this piece works as well in type as it did in my head. I've done my best.

Jessie's Boy: Complete. Quite honestly inspired by the Rick Springfield song "Jessie's Girl".

Untitled: Complete. Laughably bad poetry. Where to start? Written for "Deadbeat Poets" night at YouthWrite, intentionally terrible. Not so much poetry as a collection of every emo poetry cliche and redundancy and redundancy I could think of. After reciting this in front of the whole camp, I realised my shirt was see-through. Can you get any more high-school angst into this package?

Blood & Hot Sauce: Complete. I think this is one of the best things I've done in quite a while. You ever get those little inspirations that just poke you and go, "Hey, if you put me together with that thing you were laughing about this morning and that thing you were crying about two weeks ago, then you get an epic story made of win"? This was one of those. It all just fell together. (If I were suddenly undead, I'd miss flavoured Triscuits. Those things are the shit.)

Now that I've set you up, please, read on!