Who would’ve thought it? Someone (you) actually clicked on this link!
That sucks (for me).
It means that, for your sake, I now need to write an author bio or something remotely close to the usual repetitive rants authors tend to enjoy writing about themselves.
For the purpose of this post, I guess I’ve got no choice but to please those traditionalists who’re expecting just that. So here you go. The next three lines will consist of my thoughtless spiel.
Blah, blah. Always wanted to be a writer. Blah, blah, blah, I went to [insert name of university here] and got a degree in [insert title of useless graduate program here]. Then one day, I had a dream, [insert more sentimental phony baloney here]. So I woke up and wrote [insert name of novel here].
Phew! That was tough.
Now that the boring stuff is out of the way, allow me to make a few things clear. Authors aren’t all boring old farts who lock themselves up in a dark room and wallow away behind their monitors. Not always. At least, I hope not.
We are not all antisocial bibliophiles whose idea of a good time is a comfy chair along with a cup of frothy latte. Well, I’ll admit, I do enjoy a good read along with a cup of Tim Horton’s coffee.
Writers can also be interesting creatures, too. I’m serious… we can when we want to be.
On that note, I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, what one would call interesting. Nor am I also not as uninteresting as not-so-interesting tends to interest one in getting to want to know me tends to be. I’ll give you a moment to work that out (and when you do, let me know, ‘cuz I have no idea what the shenanigans I just wrote there).
What I’m trying to say is, I love hockey, and hockey loves me. I’d marry it, but sadly, I can’t. Or perhaps, I can. Like that guy from Tokyo who married a video game character or that other guy who married his cow. Now, if I had a steak in that marriage, I’d say even the slightest beef between the two would’ve immediately led to a butchery of the relationship. At least, the misteak of marrying one’s own cow would’ve been an easy bite to swallow. I’m horrible, I know, but I just can’t help throwing in a good pun when the opportunity presents itself.
Finally. A little about myself. I’m a family guy first, an athlete second, and a creative junkie second. I said second twice, didn’t I? Don’t argue with me, its 7:24am and I’m writing this for you, so just nod your head and go along with my nonsensical blabbering.
I love movies, especially ones that make me want to run out and begin reenacting scenes as if I was living within the movie itself (ie: LOTRs, The Hobbit, 007, and most fantasy flicks). Yes, I still prefer cartoons over adult shows, and thoroughly enjoy playing with my two cockatiels over gaming on my ps3 with random strangers. Aside from all of that, there’s only one other thing about me. I love good food. Lots of it. More than anything, I love overindulging at all-you-can-eat sushi restaurants till they bring me the bill without my requesting it and ultimately, forcing me to leave.
Anyways, my fellow minion, that’s a wrap. It’s been a pleasure ranting about myself to you. Feel free to head to my forum (found on the top menu) and rant about yourself (Discussions, Discussions –> Introduce Yourself). I enjoy meeting unusual strangers who have an appetite for openly stalking unknown authors like me, Najeev, that crazy brown guy who wrote this post. It was nice having this one-way conversation with you :D .
Najeev Raj Nadarajah
Author of Dream Cycle and the Uncle Jeever’s Morbid Collection
Where to find Najeev Nadarajah online
Where to buy in print
By Najeev Nadarajah
Published: September 3, 2013 by
Sixteen-year-old Weaver seeks cover in a hidden refuge among the remains of a ruined city. In the midst of building a new life, Weaver discovers that he has the amazing power to cast his dreams into reality. Weaver must learn to accept his role as a dream caster and master his new power, before his new home and humanity are destroyed.
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