Hello.

I'm not sure how to write a happy story, because True Art is Angsty and I haven't emerged from that phase yet. (Does anyone? Aside from anything with romance?)

My writing

Note: the older pieces are rather shoddy. I'm keeping them up here to see how I've grown, because if I had some of those pieces in my writing folder I'd probably delete them; I'm particular about having as few files as possible on my computer, particularly poetry. I think that I've matured a bit as a writer and a person and request that you don't judge me too much for my old writing.

Linger Here, Knots and Nooses, Nevermore, Somewhere, Candy and Stand-up, Prairie, Touching Glass, Never Made a Man Wise, and Africa are poetry. The first four are standalone multi-chaps because I don't like having my story list dominated by a million single-poem entries (and considering Somewhere has over fifty-six poems, thank god); I'd rather have them in neat little piles. They're mostly in chronological order and generally, the newer the better. Candy and Stand-up is a not-quite-standalone collection.

Wolfskin and The Namethief are NaNoWriMo novels. Wolfskin is more "poetic" than the latter. The Namethief is a shameless fantasy action story meant to fill out a plot bunny that had been fidgeting in my head to be written since I was in middle school. They are meant to be read all in one go, as they were not written in chapter form, so please don't criticize me for bad chapter breaks. They are NaNo novels first and FictionPress stories second. While both broke the 50,000-word requirement, they are incomplete. I'll get around to finishing them eventually. Ah, procrastination.

Seattle Dreams is an experiment in story chronology/format and an exercise in characterization and the voices thereof. It sort of started out as a Camp NaNo novel, but continued to evolve and demand countless additions, omissions, and edits in a way that made it impossible for me to hit fifty grand. Though technically finished, I still feel compelled to keep writing more of it, so we'll see where it goes.

Reality

I'm a music major (cardboard box, here I come) but have always loved writing. There—now I have an excuse for mediocre pieces. (I'm just kidding, by the way, in case you thought I was even vaguely serious. Burn away my crimes with your criticisms.)