Much like a lot of people on the internet, I am an aspiring writer. What I lack in qualifications I make up for in self-depreciating wit, so don’t write me off yet. Ha, I made a punny.
For the statistics: I am a 26-year-old woman living in Galway, Ireland, where the only books that get published are a far cry from Joyce and Keats. They are either, “Ah sure begorrah weren’t times fierce difficult back in the day,” or, “Business executive Síle had it all–the great job, the rich fiancée, the big house–but she didn’t realise what she really wanted until she met hunky Tom, the electrician.” Since neither misery nor chick-lit are my forte, this means that I am doomed by my location, and have every intention of relocating one day.
I write Fantasy that borders on Young Adult, but I haven’t decided if I’d rather just go for an older audience. My writing is in the very early stages, but I hope that having a blog will kick me into overdrive and be a constant reminder that I ought to be writing, not traversing the internet.