April 1, 2013
I write fantasy. Not so much along the Tolkien vein, but more so melding the supernatural into the natural world, forcing all to coexist as one.
As of late, I do more editing than anything; however, when I'm in the groove of a story, I write every day for 3 hours. Editing sucks. But then again, typos suck too.
I need to commune with my fellow antisocial writers. It's nice being holed up in my apartment, living in my own world of characters, but I need to keep up my social graces and skills.
This morning while driving to work, Betty said to me not to worry or fret; all works out for the best. I told Betty, “What do you know, Betty? You’re a car.” Betty said, “That may be so, but I backed out of the garage a long time ago. I got some miles on me now. I don't let oil and brake lights faze me anymore. I've learned over my past decade of being on the road that my last stop is the junk yard crusher. Until I land there, I will continue to flash my high beams and roll down the highway another day!”
"I'm Claudia. I've been writing all my life, but seriously for the past 7 years. I find it to be therapeutic and cheaper than a psychiatrist. When not writing, I toil as an executive assistant. Hey, it's not writing, but it pays the bills.