Oh my god, it's a blog. A writer's blog no less, does the world really need another one? The answer is no, of course not, but my vanity and "artiste" affectations demand one, I'm afraid.
I be T. Max.
I am currently working on "Stage 28", a story very close to my heart that I've been struggling with for nearly a year. Details will follow once my baby's done, but until then, you may know my shame in that it's the closest to fanfiction I've ever written. And I mean fanfiction like whoa. Self-insertion, sex with my favourite character, and everything I've ever hated. Luckily, I'm a writer, and therefore hypocritical and pretentious enough to think that I can pull it off when no one else can.
Welcome to Rosebush Maze, everybody.
Edit: Holy craparino that text was bright. Hopefully this is better.
2nd Edit: It occurs to me that the phrase "self-insertion" placed right before "sex with _______" (fill in the blank) results in a much dirtier sentence than I intended.
3rd Edit: By the way, I'm a pervert. I even own a trenchcoat. You'll get used to it.
About Me
- Tiffany Maxwell
- Tiffany is a SWF with ____ hair and grey eyes. She enjoys writing horror stories, studying serial killers, long walks on the beach, and goat husbandry. That's a lie, actually she hates the beach.
4 comments:
Woot! First comment!
Long time fan, first time heckler. So, T. Max, when are we going to see samples of your work? Soon, I hope!
Malhavoc, I'd hardly call you a first time heckler. I've been suffering with your verbal abuse for nearly a decade.
Likewise however, you've been suffering with mine, and mine does tend to be wittier, funnier, and overall better than yours, so I guess we're even.
Samples? What, my bleeding heart journal entries aren't enough for you? Greedy.
Dude. You are, like, totally made of WIN!
Guess who... :p You can reply by sending me a nasty email.
p.s. Why didn't you do this on LJ instead?
Because REAL writers spurn LJ!
Actually I just like the look of the blog better. And I can figure out how to customize more easily.
And as I explained to Ehch, I am not, in fact, made of win, but made of wattles.
I hate win.
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