crow

I love writing. Reading? Not as much, because picking up good books makes me jealous from time to time, though I'd like to think that I'm good at putting words together--even if I'm mostly self-taught and treat writing more as a side hobby sitting behind my massive art addiction. But in the long run, it doesn't matter if I'm an expert or not, because it's fun to express myself through characters and ideas, while breaking the line between good and evil.

My story, Winter Embers, is entirely fiction. But sometimes I find myself enveloped into writing out my characters, crafting dialogue that enhances their characters into real, breathing humans. I don't like perfect heroines, where everything falls into place, and I don't like perfect villains, where their demise brings satisfaction to everyone, because that isn't what real life is like. In our world, a villain to one person could be a savior to another. Good mixes with bad, swirling white and black into the grey area of writing. Definite and Sureness are my enemies. Uncertainty is what I stand by. The ends of stories don't have to be clear, and they don't have to be happy. After all, in every book I've written, the same question always itches at the back of my head:

Do endings always have to be perfect?