So you know I’m a writer. What you might not know is that outside of writing, my brain would rather chill. I play-write while I sleep, while I breathe, instead of breathing, while I pet cats, am forced to make dinner, while I do my job as an adviser for students at an art college in the South—
I—I—I write at other times too.
I love international flights when they’re delayed and my Mac and I can dive into a bar. There’s nothing better than an hour or two lost (too quickly) in pages I didn’t know were waiting for me.
I hate schedules, real life, cross-country skiing, and moodiness not inside of me. Not that I enjoy it in me. I’m just used to it, and it feeds scenes in my books, see?
I giggle at everything. I don’t judge easily. People say I’m kind/genuine/shy/stubborn/annoying/aloof/boring, and above it all, I am passionate, a Dragon of the Chinese zodiac, an Aquarius with all-the-air and the brightest color palette. Incidentally, that last fact could be why no one wants to buy the house I’ve got for sale.
Now you know what’s worth knowing about me. You’ll get the boring version about jobs and education and family if I ever apply for a job with you.