Author has written 7 stories for Chrono Crusade, Final Fantasy IX, DarkWing Duck, Legend of Korra, Casper, and Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir.
I review every story I read, what about you?
Age: 27 ("Wha, are that wrinkles?! Puh, just laugh lines... .")
I have a wonderful 2 year old, who claims much of my time, therefore writing new content takes a lot (a lot!) of time; just be patient ;-)
Why a German woman writes in English: I just love the English language, because it sounds so much more... how can I put this?... natural, kinda like a small river (Doesnt make any sense, does it?); German sounds really hart in comparison and can be pretty (over-)complicated at times (did you know the simple verb 'to backstab somebody' translates to 'jemanden ein Messer in den Rücken stechen', if you do it right?)
I learned English in school, starting in 5. grade (nowadays kids have to start in 2nd grade o.O). I also spent the school year of 2006/2007 near Oklahoma City at a tiny but totally wonderful High School and just loved it!!
My career as a student ended in summer '09
Then I worked at Burger King's for a few months and well, its ok, as long as you're not dependent on this job alone and have no problems with threatening the boss with suing him (it was totally justified! He 'accidentally' forgot to sent my money -.-" I wasn't the only one, but somehow always the person who did something about the situation, go figure why I quit.
I finished medical on 02/06/2013 and now I'm allowed to call myself an "Occupational Therapist" \ \(o_o)/ / I just love this job (even if the pay-check will always be close to non-existent) because you can take your time to work with people of all ages and needs. They aren't just some numbers and you can actually see that an you (as an OT) are able to make a difference in their lives.
Right now I work in the neurological longterm rehab with people who suffered severe strokes, cerebral hemorrhage or other kinds of brain damage. Many pations suffer from persistent vegetative state (coma vigil), but there are some who need to re-learn how to swollow, sit, eat, stand and (rare occations) to walk.
Why I Killed My Muse ... And You Should Too
Last night in the dark following midnight I killed my muse (suffocating her quietly with a pillow) and buried her in my back garden. Today I will plant a roses to hide the grave. No one will ever know and I will be free at last of her insidious hold and I will be able to write what I want.
Why did I resort to this deed? After all my muse was lovely and gave me many gifts over the years. She saw me through dark times and helped mark the joyous ones. Many times she inspired me to reach for more and push myself beyond what I thought I could achieve. Knowing all this why would I kill the very source of my inspiration?
Oh, I had my reasons...
It started out quietly. As I would sit at my keyboard or curl up with a notebook, she would perch on my shoulder as was her wont to do. "I don't think you meant to write that sentence," she would whisper in my ear. "That doesn't sound like the best description," she would snipe. "Is that the best you can do?" she would sneer.
I took to sneaking my writing in when I knew she was occupied elsewhere. She never could resist critiquing the writing in the morning paper if it was left spread on the kitchen table. That way I could sometimes write several pages before she began her commentary. "Surely you can find a better way to approach this topic," her mocking voice would interrupt. "That has been so done."
Soon I was spending more time arguing with her, defending my words, than I was writing. Then my production slowed to a crawl as I would overanalyze each word choice and sentence formation before committing it to screen or paper. All that did was give her more time to find fault with the few words I did write.
Despite urgent deadlines and simmering ideas, I started avoiding the computer and all writing materials. I cleaned my house. I read for hours on end. I made plans for a new garden. The need to write built within me but always my muse was watching me with those eyes -- so judgemental, so critical. I would turn away from my office with a sigh and find some other project.
When I could no longer suppress the urge to write I locked her in a closet and had a wonderfully productive morning. I was so happy with my work that I let her out as I went out the door to run some errands. That just made her mean.
She was waiting for me at the door when I came home. Her glasses had slid nearly to the tip of her nose and somehow she'd found a red pencil (I certainly never brought any such thing into the house). I shuddered at the sight of my happy morning's labor marred by vicious slashes of red. The red blurred before my eyes into a crimson haze and then...
Perhaps it is better that you don't know the details. Suffice it to say that I have selected several old-fashioned roses with luscious aroma and delicate coloring. I am sure they will provide both inspiration and comfort.
Despite my late hours and the physical toil involved, this morning I awoke early and have already logged in several hours at the keyboard. My fingers flew across the keys and after completing several long-stagnant projects I outlined notes for some new. Writing is joyful and rewarding again.
I think I might dedicate this next book to the memory of my muse. Perhaps it will serve as a warning to those other muses out there who are on the verge of going over the edge. Perhaps it will inspire those other writers out there who have let their muse stifle their creativity and shove them right into writer's block. Maybe my warning will mean those other muses and their writers will find a way to work things out.
"As an Ending"-Stuff
Artwork of Blank by *The-Z that inspired me to write my ff (just imagine all the gold parts to be copper and of course you can't see his right eye)
Sketch of an older Mikoto (By AngelBless)