While reading a blog post, you may find yourself thinking: Huh. I really wish I knew some more random facts about the moron who wrote this. Well, here you go.
She’s a she.
She’s 23.
Her web address has numbers. And people are peeved.
She’s American. She was home-schooled. She works full-time as a business office manager at an undisclosed business office. She recently discovered that she suffers from a mild form of trypophobia, and she’s thrilled to finally put a name to it.
She has a bearded dragon, and a three-legged beagle.
She really, really hates cats. Every single one of her main characters in every single one of her stories owns (and adores) cats.
She would like to be a writer, someday. Then she realizes that the very act of typing words on to this blog page technically makes her a writer, and she fist pumps with joy. Then she has a celebratory vanilla latte.
She has a proverbial white whale in the shape of a ten-year writing project. Why has it taken her ten years (and counting) to write this goddamn story? Because everybody needs a personal battle to piss them off. She’s still kicking, though ~ by which I mean she’s kinda come to terms with her own unproductive ass, and continues to sip her latte.
Someday, though, the white whale will be hers.
It’s pronounced se-DEE-o. It’s also not her real name.
The Anarchy of Writing 