I've always enjoyed writing, and am actually more interested in the idea of writing a novel rather then journalism, however both satisfy me. I am 18 years old and a senior in high school. I live with my father and have no relationship what so ever with my mother, meaning you can blame all my dry humor, and blunt statements on my dad, I get it all from him. I'm currently trying to find the motivation to write my first novel, but find myself stuck in the middle.
I'm the kind of person that enjoys dancing in the rain,(provided lightning is not present), eating frosting off my cake first, dancing with the knowledge that I can't dance, laughing at distant memories, and eating my cereal from a cup, even when a bowl is readily available. My dads a jazz musician and as hard as instruments were pushed on me, my passion is writing,(though I do play the bass with my dad at venues once and a while). And thats me in a nutshell, or, a paragraph rather. If any older writers read this and decide that they want to help me out with some writing tips, or just want to chat my myspace is to the right, and my e-mail is avidreamer@hotmail.com, it would be much appreciated.

God Bless,
sincerely, Brittany

My passion is ...

writing.......or coarse!

I know too much about ...

the paranormal

My parents always told me ...

to never judge a book by it's cover.

My childhood ambition ...

To be a nurse

My favorite memory ...

going sledding when I was little

Why I write ...

To express to others what I feel I can't express verbablly(feel free to subscribe to my blog)

What I am reading/watching/listening to ...

jazz, my dads a jazz muscian and is playing upstairs

My first job ...

working at a laundry mat

My best moment ...

first kiss

My inspiration ...

my father

Creative Writing > Memoirs Memoirs: Remembering my grandpa

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On any given day, you can find me laying in bed with my eyes closed and brows pulled together hard in concentration. Memories of my youth come harder and harder these days, and I try my best to hold on to them. When I shut my eyes before I sleep I try to think about the good times that I once had, but struggle to hold onto. A few of those memories include simple but sweet walks with my grandfather up and down to the sheds in the back of his house. My family and even more so the family that he lived with were selfish, greedy and down right mean people, but due to his old age he had no choice...

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