I am Red Midnight, and this is the place where I most feel that I have a voice. I was born and raised in the Northwest, where I still live and work. The bulk of my free time is spent either reading stuff on here, listening to music and, of course, writing.

I realized that I find writing fun when I was really young. My mom gave me a spiral notebook and some pens, I am thinking sometime before I even entered kindergarten. With these things in hand, I would spend a whole lot of time writing crazy little stories about anything and everything. It was by doing this that my mom finally came to realize that I have a vivid imagination and surely didn't think that this was a bad thing. If only I knew that this would make me feel as if, just a few years later, that I am the only one that thinks the way I do, thus sticking out like a sore thumb.

When I was seven, my family moved from one side of Washington to the other, and I entered a strange new school a few weeks into the second grade. In my new classroom, I learned that one of the things that my new teacher did on a regular basis was something she called "Writing workshop," which was something at the beginning of the day when we would work on writing little stories, poetry, and stuff like that. Between my parents' encouragement, my vivid imagination, then the regular exposure to the art in school, I would quickly learn that, of all of the things of any given school day, this was something I looked the most forward to...even more than recess!

Getting older, I did my best to fit in with others; subscribing to the ideals and stuff that they did; listening to their music; being interested in the same things they did, and trying to get everyone to like me. Still, some way or another, I was quickly labeled as the "weird kid" or the "freak" from a young age, and was hard pressed to find people I really got along with. Nevertheless, I obsessed for a while with trying to keep up with what everyone else was into, so I didn't totally seem like a loser to them. By the time that I hit about the halfway point of middle school, however, I realized that this was not only a lost cause, but that I was growing tired of the same crap that everyone else was into. It was at this time that I yearned for something different and fulfilling in all aspects of life; books to read; music to listen to; styles of clothing to call my own, and the such.

Around the age of thirteen or fourteen, I started getting really into not just the new rock that was played on the local hard rock station, but then also dove head first into the world of heavy metal. It was loud, it helped dissolve negative emotions, and I feel like I found kinship with those who made it. The void had been filled, and I had now begun to reject the mainstream in all of its facets. While I was happy and felt I had some things to call my own, a style to call my own, my life also became a living hell for this and other reasons. I didn't try to be different from these people, but I just couldn't identify with things that were so fake.

The place where I grew up was very white bread, and most definitely still is. I went to a school where being a "freak" or extreme is no harder than opting for an all-black wardrobe and admitting that you like Marilyn Manson. I also was sickened by how snooty and vapid all of the kids were I had the misfortune of calling my classmates, and was also made to feel as if I were a lesser human being on the count of coming from a hard-working, two parent, middle class working family that didn't reek of smug money like everyone else.

For so many reasons they could lay out, I became an outcast by default almost from the get-go. Still, I never felt as if I had an outlet for the longest time. Then, one day, I learned of an incident involving one of the most popular cliques in school involving a very naughty thing that they did with another very popular clique of the opposite gender. I jotted this down, and eventually got a random idea to branch this out into other pieces of the puzzle. A few weeks later, I had come up with a semi-short story based on this incident, though I edited it out of the final cut in order to avoid a principal or teacher getting a hold of it and disciplining me. Still, the story turned out great and, best of all, I realized just how healthy, fun, and enjoyable I found writing to be. It was at this time, sixteen years old, that I decided that I love writing, and that I would pursue this in some way or another.

Years later, I have a full-length novel in the works, but I mainly write short fiction. I honestly do believe that all writers, some time or another, think of how cool it would be to make a comfortable living as a writer, to hammer out novels for a living. I am surely as guilty of this as probably any other writer older or younger than me. The thing is, though, that I hate the fact that book publishers are not about releasing the best possible fiction anymore; it's all about what there is a huge audience for, and how much money they can make from it. With this in mind, I vow never to write what someone else tells me to. I think it especially sick how much art becomes a business, and I don't want this to color what I author. So, I will write my shorts, maybe finish my current project and write other longer projects perhaps someday. But I will never sell my soul to be able to quit my day job. Because when someone tells you that your project isn't coming out because it's not what's trendy at any given time, that is so screwed up.

I write a variety of stuff, as you will see. I do, however, make a special focus on music, music cultures, rebellion through music, as well as kids forming bands, playing music. I also love comments and find myself most ever able to relate to people I meet online. So, I hope to meet some new people on here, because I sure as heck aren't finding anyone in my hometown that really gets me!