That would be me, the writer. Blonde and dreamy would be a good way to describe me. I think the word ‘writer’ is a good title for me, because most normal people do not actively write down random thoughts.
My father. Though he might not be quite as grumpy as Walter is, he’s close. Dumbass, or D.A. as we occasionally shorten it to, is one of his favorite words. While he might be a bit crusty, he’s the voice of reason in an almost all female household.
Chief cheerleader, promoter, and all around sounding board, my mom has really been the one to help me keep pushing with my writing, even though she never gets to read much of it. Because she schooled me, she knows how I think and when those crazy sentences make no sense, she’s there to correct them.
Wealthy, fascinating, older playboy, Boris is my… well, I’m not sure how to describe him other than to say he is a very important person in my life. Quite matter of fact and determined to have his way, he carries a XS-214 double barrel ray gun and I think he might be a golf playing super spy.
Delightful, confounding, a pain in the rear end half the time, he is an addiction I can’t live without. And he means the world to me.
My editor, George. No, his name really isn’t George, though he does look like Alan Rickman in a lot of ways. I love that name, and George seems like the perfect name for an editor. He has been amazing in helping me to improve my work, plus he prods me to keep going just by being his charming self. It also helps that he writes as well. I can honestly say I don’t know what I would do without him.
Girl friends since we were two shy, blonde, five-year olds in Sunday school. She is the voice of calm and all around idea bouncer. I bounce thoughts and ideas off of her while she tries to be supermom to her brood of three. Psst, I think she just needs a break from them and I’m still single and have a very interesting dating life, or lack of one.