Dante strode over to the door, shutting it just as the other door across the room inched open. He turned around to see a pair of brown eyes peaking out at him, fixed on him. Dante looked to the window and sighed.
“Sun’s still up.”
“Then close the curtains.”
Dante stood there a moment, debating. He loved the sunset, it was his favourite time of day. More than anything, he was bitter the twins had woken this one before the sun had fully set. He . . .
It was six twenty, the sun hovered over the tops of the skyscrapers outside the apartment window, and Dante was very tempted to put on his evening clothes and throw his legs up on the couch behind him. A letter arrived a few minutes ago, and no post service delivered this late. He had a feeling he knew who it was from, and he desperately wanted to open it now. But it needed his full attention, and his customer could be arriving any minute. Begrudgingly, he stayed up and. . .
It was six twenty, the sun hovered over the tops of the skyscrapers outside the apartment window, and Dante was very tempted to put on his evening clothes and throw his legs up on the couch behind him. A letter arrived a few minutes ago, and no post service delivered this late. He had a feeling he knew who it was from, and he desperately wanted to open it now. But it needed his full attention, and his customer could be arriving any minute. Begrudgingly, he stayed up and. . .
Bonjour, monsieurs and mademoiselles.
Welcome to our 4th Detective Sunday! I can’t believe it’s been more than four weeks since I found Inkshares and decided to release my work here. Of course, none of this couldn’t have been possible without you all. I really appreciate your support.
Now, this update won’t really cover anything we’ve already been over this week, and the week before. This will be a relaxed, and open update about myself. I’ve talked so much about my book and our community here that I forget to introduce myself thoroughly so that you understand who I am. Wouldn’t you want to know the person you’re putting your money towards? I definitely would!
My name is Anthony Jones III, other known as Trey (’cause the third), and I’m an outgoing person with high expectations for my success. From my friends’ viewpoint, I’m that weird funny guy who laughs at anything and is nice to everyone. Of course, my kindness may get abused, but I tend to choose my friends, and those I support wisely. Although, some may say I’m charismatic because I set examples of how to be capable despite the situation, and by being dependable, people looked to me for help when in a tight situation. The talent of being able to socialize and help people grow is a big thing in the world, and I believe everyone needs a little push in order to make it.
I never had a drive to write when I was really young, but I did read books that interested me. I tried Harry Potter, but alas, it didn’t stick with me. I found myself more interested in books like Pendragon, Charlie Bone, House of Night, Hunger Games, and a few other series I’m having a hard time remembering. Those books had something special going on with them that lured me in, and it became a fantastic read with lovable, and hateful characters that made it so alluring. Still, there was a time I had stopped reading and became a more open person with my society. I grew distant from my casual reading sessions and went days without reading. Days went to weeks, then months, and finally years. It’s pretty weird that someone who doesn’t read decides to pick up a pen and write, ya’ know?
I wondered about why I decide to write, and the only thing I can say for an answer is that I wanted to be a storyteller. I wanted to be someone who could create and shape my own world, and make characters with complex lives that I could never have. Also, I wonder how authors feel when they write. Every author has their reasons, of course, but I’m asking when they assemble their plot, setting, characters, and so on--do they understand what they are writing? No one can understand these fictional lives we create, but we write it for our own happiness. It’s a deep thought that I’m surely exaggerating, but to you authors, know the reason why you write and push forward with that resolve. Whether big or small, that’s what pushes you to update consistently, possibly beg for support, and put yourself on the line between success and failure.
I believe I’ve rambled on long enough haha! This is only a good portion of myself, but I think you all can understand the type of person I am from just reading this. Have a good morning/afternoon wherever you are.
Au revoir, Sixth.
