I dream of becoming an author. A published author. No, I don’t dream, I aim. I am going to become a published author. One day or another. That is my goal in life. I couldn’t live without the stories, they couldn’t live without me. And so, I write, less often than I’d like, but I do my best.
More about me: A woman in her best years, that didn’t really leave her teenage years behind her (if someone asks how old I am I promptly say 19, without hesitating. I’m trying to convince myself I’m not 19 anymore, and haven’t been for quite some time now.)
Even more: I like to write, and when I finally do write I write a lot. And I mean a lot. I like reading, but I more often than not pretend I read instead of reading. My muse more often than not steal my focus and drags me on another journey.
About my books: I have several stories going on.
Two Four completely finished (I just have to muster up the courage to edit them :S). I like coming up with titles, and then the story is derived from them. However Then Came Mary wasn’t originally named so, but had a working name of The Legacy of Mary Sue (yea). That quickly changed though, as the story got told. I’m in the process of mustering up courage to do a complete re-write of it – still no courage. I could say I have more than 10 stories going on without lying. If all of them are going to become books I cannot say. Only time can tell.
I also dabble in painting and drawing. Quite a lot dabbling actually, sometimes more than writing. Because at the moment I am in such a situation where it is easier to open the box(es) of acrylic paint and put water in a glass than to find the computer, find an empty spot, sit down and turn on the computer. What usually happens is that approximately 5 seconds after turning on the computer I am no longer alone, and someone else also wants to press the buttons and keys. (this little someone else managed to “press away” the b-key, so there is only a hole where the b-key on my keyboard is supposed to be…)