There is something strange about being a writer. Maybe I’ve always been a person who enjoys my own company. Even as a child, though I wasn’t an only child as I have three siblings, I remember spending a great deal of time by myself. My favourite haunt was a reference library I discovered across the road from where I lived when I was about twelve. I would spend my Saturdays in there until closing time when I would take out six books to read in my bedroom. I loved painting and drawing and dreamt about being an artist when I left school but having failed all my exams it wasn’t possible. 😦
At the moment I’m busy working on a 5k word short Gothic story for Parthian submission. There is something wonderful about being able to step outside of your own comfort zone and be able to create people you wouldn’t want to meet.
I’m so excited about a character I’ve created, She’s such a monster. She’s the third person I’ve created, though the other two have been men. (re: see my published stories page. check out ‘Roofscapes’ & Crime after Crime)
It’s quite worrying what fills my head. I hope that this isn’t a reflection on me 😦 Or Does it just mean I’ve met some really nasty people along my life’s journey that I can write about them so clearly, I do hope that this is just the case, because you just don’t know whether you have a really nasty person lurking inside of you trying to get out when you least expect it.
Hmm, maybe Mister Stephen King isn’t the sort of person you would want to meet on a dark, lonely road thumbing a lift after all. ;-[
Have a great day with your voices, if you too are a writer.
Paula R C.