What. The. Crap.
An interesting way to start things off here, for sure. But let us not be bogged down with false pretenses. It's not really my thing.
So, you're here, looking at my site. Which means you either accidentally stumbled into the ether of the internet or, and more likely, you have come over from Twitter (or hell, maybe we know one another in real life *gasp*). In any case, you're here and probably at least kind of know me and what to expect from my brand of weird. If not...hold on tight...it--it's actually not that bad, you'll catch on quick.
All caught up? Cool.
This is my thing. No, not that one. The website. The words. The writing. This is my commitment to myself. My future. And the only thing in this whole world that has ever given me meaning. --Okay, this is the part where, as a parent, I qualify these feelings by saying, "Aside from my kids." Or some other similar thing. But can we all remember that being a parent is not our only defining trait...nor should it be. And from here on out...just assume that my kids are an important part of my life. Because they are.--
Let's talk writing.
What do I do?
Primarily I write fantasy. Why fantasy, Amanda? Well. That is a valid question and here is my totally unprepared answer:
Fantasy, as a whole, offers me not just the symbolism of a new me and a new, more exciting life, but it also gives me an entirely new world. With new rules. Magic is also kind of a factor. And swords. I like swords. I can explore everything about myself and the world I live in using out-of-this-world physics. I can take all of the demons lurking in my head and my heart and turn them into literal fightable monsters. And then I can slay the bastards with swords and fire. I mean, it is a pretty standard answer, I think.
What else do I write?
I like to play with duality. How two characters with similar origin stories can come out the other end of things on complete opposite ends of the moral spectrum. I like to change up a character, and show you how they are not exactly the person you thought they were. Or perhaps more, that they are not the person they thought they were. Because really who of us really knows the truth of ourselves until we are placed in certain stress test situations?
I beat the crap out of my characters.
In 'Starlight and Ashes,' I have characters who are humanized allegories for depression, the pressures of motherhood, and struggling to be seen as real. Namely, I write my truth. Honesty in fiction is powerful. It stems from that whole 'write what you know' timeless piece of advice. And that is something I will always push and defend. 'Write what you know' is dynamic. It urges a writer to "bleed without making a mess" (Quoting myself there). And while we may all be able to write stories, not everyone can write a story that can make people feel something. And *that* is what I love most about writing. Reading. Or really, just art in whole.
As a reader, if you make me feel...I'll follow you into the depths.
As a writer, if I make YOU feel...I have done my job properly.
So. What even is this? What is life? Who the fuck am I? And why should you care?
The answer is...I don't really know. But I am here. Navigating my way through the trenches. Pursuing an impractical dream with a bruised heart, an inked pen, and passion to devote.
Walk with me, if you will. I have coffee. And gummy bears.