: About Me

There is no such thing as writing because you want to. Okay, well, there IS but I write because I have to. Yeah, it's like a OCD thing. Anyway, I'm eighteen years old and about to be published for the first time in a small print/online magazine. But besides that, I need money and I'm good at what I do so here I stand..ah, sit.

I'm on Editred and Writing.com but I like my Editred more so you can visit that...www.editred.com/zoe_nichols.

I'm here to write and find others just like me...which is impossible so I'll find others as neat as me and write. It sounds like altogether fun thing. I live in Vegas but I'm moving back to California to begin my life of leisure...or well, work crammed in with plotting and madcap moments of maniacal writing.

I'm an erotica/romance writer and damn good. Now, I just need to get pubbed and turn into Nora Roberts with her billions...

My passion is ...

Books.

I know too much about ...

Everything, honestly. Trivia thy name is me.

My parents always told me ...

To take out the damn trash.

My childhood ambition ...

Is to never grow up! Kidding! Get famous!

My favorite memory ...

When I realized that if I liked reading so much, why don't I just write? That was at twelve in a bathroom!

Why I write ...

Because if I don't, I get very vicious headaches. All those voices start yelling...

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

I read anything, I watch whatever DVD I want to, and I'm currently listening to the song "2 hearts" by Kylie MInogue.

My first job ...

Was at a move theater...that I'm going to go back to and get supervisor instead!

My best moment ...

When I got the email congratulating me about being pubbed...I'm pretty sure I went into state of comatose-like shock.

My inspiration ...

My friends and family. I'm nothing without them. Well, I'm really boring without them...

Creative Writing > Short Stories Short stories: Domestic violence

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He did not hit her for kicks. He didn't do it to justify himself. He didn't do it because she angered him. He did it because he wanted to. Watching her crawl across the floor, a battered mess made him feel nothing. But he liked to do it. And because he was a man who had not denied himself or been denied anything in over thirty years, he continued to do so. She'd been his wife, unharmed for fifteen years before he'd first hit her. There had been no real reasoning behind it then or now. He hit her to watch the blood flow from her in a never-ending fountain. She never once cried. He often won...

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