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People rarely live in a bubble. Aside from the occasional wildlife I pick up on vacation, I have a family that keeps me from blogging about writing all the time. Teenagers are very entertaining. Sometimes. I have two, just to keep things extra interesting. They have names (it's just easier on forms and keeps the government happy) but I call them The Girl and The Boy. Hubby has a name too (his parents are conservative and traditional) but it's not relevant. We also have a little black cat with more attitude than should be able to fit in her shadowy form. Darth Jingles has a pet lizard, a tokay gecko, that we refer to as 'Cat TV' because in the cold winter months she hangs out in front of his terrarium, or on top of it. The lizard does not like her. We also have a variety of stray cats The Girl insists "follow her home." And by that, she means she chased them down, caught them, and carried them (struggling and howling) back to our house to show them a free food source. The Boy and Darth Jingles are not amused by this habit. We have one stray that we've kept for over a year now (the rest come and go) and she's called Celery or Satan by various members of the cul de sac. She's a sweetheart, although Jingles dislikes her intensely. Then again, Jingles dislikes a lot of things intensely, so I don't put much stock in her judgmental opinion.
Copyright 2013 Tori Brooks. All rights reserved.
Tori Brooks grew up in the Pacific Northwest, moving every few years throughout her childhood. Eventually she got tired of temporary friendships and spent her spare time reading instead. At about eleven-years-old, she started writing short stories. She continued writing in her spare time until college when, between full-time school, full-time work, and the occasional date, she didn’t have any more time for writing.
In 2008, Tori returned to writing and finished her first novel. She wrote a third of that novel on her smartphone during lunches and breaks at work. It took a while before Tori considered her writing to be anything more than a hobby, but by then she had finished a few books.
Writing taught her to appreciate the mischief her teenagers stir up, that the characters in her head fight back, and that she misses Seattle. Life is still teaching her that her children will grow out of it, and she can visit Seattle occasionally. She’s still looking for a solution on how to deal with her characters. Maybe she should stop fighting them; these are their stories after all.