I like to call my workspace "organized chaos" due to the odds and ends occupying its surface at any given time. These trinkets often have sentimental value for me, like a rock, for example. I picked it up from a forest preserve I frequented with my brother the summer before moving to Texas, where I went to high school. I wrote the date on it with a gold, paint-based pen. These things come in handy to me while I'm writing. When I look at that rock I generally think of childhood, nostalgia, and transition -things that characters will often go through. To anyone else, my desk must look like a battlefield, but to me it's a garden of things I hold close to my heart.

Like my bio says, I grew up in the village of Skokie, Illinois. Now don't let the word "village" mislead you -it's bigger than most cities across the U.S.A. (at least 60,000 people, last I checked). I'll be frank and say I wasn't the most outgoing child in my neighborhood. The early 2000s had very little coverage of the topics of introversion or bullying, so someone like me that faced both of these realities was often pegged as the odd-one-out. My subsequent isolation led me to libraries, and characters I deeply admired. In a way, I felt like they were cheering me on during the toughest days, so when I started writing I decided I wanted to make stories where you can feel the protagonists, rather than read about them. In short, I wanted to make stories that could go out and touch someone's heart in a way no breathing person could.

Oof! Let me think on that one... I started writing in 2003. It was the beginning of the fourth grade, and that would've made me 9 years old.

A number of things. The first reason, is that one day I woke up, turned on my computer, and found a number of novels staring at me. It was a shame to have these stories written, but no where to go. Secondly, after a lot of mental grappling, I decided that I would love to be a writer as a career choice (and the traditional route was a bit too confining for my tastes). This was something I'd been fighting since I was a little girl, because for whatever reason, becoming an author just seemed so terrifying and risky compared to being locked away in a cubicle. I suppose that brings me to my last reason. There are many days where I stare at the screen, quite literally hating the words on the page, or the words that refuse to reveal themselves to me so I can put them there, but for whatever reason I keep coming back to the drawing board. I didn't choose to be a writer. I am a writer because my soul demands it of me.

Well, I'd love to know the answer to that myself! I have to first be successful before I can say anything meaningful on the topic.

The greatest joy of writing is when the characters write themselves. It's a strange thing to say, isn't it? But the fact of the matter is that characters are the lifeblood of a story, and there are many I write that are so extremely different to me that they feel like strangers. The magic happens when I write a scene of dialogue, and you see these people make faces and jokes that leave me bursting into laughter while I'm working!

A lot, I'm sure -if I had any.

Inspiration? Well, if that's what you want to call a growling stomach and a need to tinkle, who am I to argue with your choice of diction?

Time where I'm not writing? Is this a trick question?

Why, yes! In its 23rd revision, it's the one I finally posted on Smashwords! Imagine that.

Park self on a comfortable surface. Slouch, face-palm, groan and growl at the screen. Flip through dictionary. Google symbolism and ancient civilizations for inspiration. Get distracted by email. Reprimand self for getting distracted. Write for a duration of time that is equal or more than time previously wasted. These things could happen in any order, but will usually occur all in the same sitting. It makes for a good show, as the faces I make at some things I write tend to be rather theatrical.