Tag: photograph

About Me

Having Fun

Autumn

I have a confession to make: I am a nerd.

Okay, so we probably already guessed that, with the whole “fantasy/sci fi writer who plays video games” thing that I’ve got going on, but it’s good to be clear.

Long story short, for Christmas I got an embroidery machine with the goal of learning how to make my own designs for it, because otherwise buying them would turn into a giant money-sink (and I’m stingy). ENTER OPEN SOURCE SOFTWARE.

For the month of January, I’ve been learning how to use Inkscape, and the InkStitch extension. The kids are thrilled that I took some of their drawings, traced them, then had the machine embroider them onto shirts for them. It was seriously cool.

So while I was riding the whole, “This is frustrating yet fun!” high, I decided to figure out GIMP, an open source program that’s kind of like Photoshop with more headaches.

‘Cause yeah, sure, why not go crazy.

Hence, graphics.

You’d think that I have enough hobbies by now.

About Me

Sleepy

Autumn

WordPress is congratulating me on my blogging streak.

Truth is, I haven’t been sleeping well, and when I’m tired I talk to myself more.

Instead of doing anything useful, I’m just chattering away in my head about nothing in particular, because I can’t think clearly.

Anyway, I did pointless a doodle about my next novel.

So WordPress can love my blogging streak even more.

About Writing

Time

Autumn

I took three months to write the first draft of my current project, then I did something crazy:

I took two months off.

I read a book, worked on my hobbies, caught up on errands. I did lots of non-writing activities.

Because time is an essential component in writing.

Time to let the story simmer, time to get to know the characters better, time to gain more perspective, time to recharge.

As a writer, it’s easy to get too close to the story. It’s easy to skip over simple typos because the words are too familiar, or to be completely oblivious to the fact that actually, yes, that bit of dialogue really is unbelievably corny. Time gives distance to better see what your readers will be seeing.

But time can also be a dangerous thing, and too much time can result in a story that’s never finished. Writers need to learn how to manage it to utilize it properly.

Time is important.

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About Me

Who I Am

Autumn

I spent the entirety of my teen years writing. When all the other kids in my Creative Writing classes were planning out back-up careers “in case writing didn’t work out,” for me there was only one option:

I am a writer.

Through and through.

Spending my formative teenage years focused on only one goal has embedded it deeply into my identity. Sure, as an adult I’ve thought of other options that could keep me busy once my children are old enough to manage themselves (and help out around the house, ha ha), but everything seems gray and lifeless compared to the prospect of weaving characters and worlds to indulge in. How could I exist without those other identities living inside of me? Even if I never find a single reader, I would still write novels.

It’s who I am.

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About Me

About me

Autumn

I started writing my first novel when I was ten, inspired by my love of the Redwall series by Brian Jacques, about mice and rats with the wonderful element of magic mixed in, because I’ve always been hopelessly in love with fantasy. It became my dream to be a writer, and every free moment was spent curled up with a notebook and my favorite pen. By the time I turned 20, I had finished four novellas.

Then life happened. College wasn’t working for me, so I dropped out, found a full-time job, and moved out on my own. Then, just a couple of months before my 22nd birthday, I met a man and fell madly in love. A week later, we vowed to spend our lives together. I quit my job, devoted myself to the role of wife, and once again turned my sights towards writing.

That’s when the bad luck started. After a few months my husband lost his job and couldn’t find a new one. By the time I turned 23, we were homeless. We spent the next two years living off savings as we traveled the country in our car, looking for work and meeting countless numbers of people.

After our first daughter was born, our situation finally turned around for the better. My husband found a good job and we settled down. Our second daughter came along a couple years later, and shortly afterwards we were able to buy a house. Now we have a son as well, making us a family of five (and four cats, one bird, and fish).

Becoming a mother is the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me, and it’s a dream come true to spend every day playing and caring for my children. But I never forgot my wish to be an author, and a number of experiences that I went through during our period of homelessness became stagnant inside of me and impossible to express. For a time I felt as if I would lose myself against them. On a lark I decided to pick up writing again, and found catharsis. After more than seven years hiatus, I’m creating worlds and characters again.

I don’t write about my experiences, and none of my stories are autobiographical in any way. I write my emotions, in fantastical circumstances that tickle my fancy and indulge my creativity. I write what I love.

I write because I was born to.