Lori Colwell
Writing a phantasmal story with suspense, romance, and some debauchery is a way more fun than writing about myself. What does anyone really want to know?
I grew up in Joliet, Illinois and now live in the neighboring town of Romeoville. It's true. They used to be Shakespeare's namesake. My poor husband loves to talk, and I'm quiet and suck at listening. It works out like chocolate chip pancakes and syrup. Delicious! I have three children, one is a mini-me. She knows which one she is! The other one is exceptionally smart, too smart for her little britches. She can definitely master any book and soon off to college, but still my baby at heart and mind. My youngest is witty and has more common sense than most but is in the stage of acting dumb and rebellious. If anyone knows of a good military school with a scary drill sergeant that straightens out boys when a good ole fashioned over-the-knee-ass-whooping no longer cuts it, pass it on. PLEASE. He'd probably end up cracking the stoned faces of any military man, anyway. He belongs on a stage in front of millions of people needing a great laugh, cuz the boy is funny as shit! If only he knew where the end of that road goes. Hell, maybe I don't know where these roads lead, anymore.
What I do know is that they are all way too expensive for my very slim wallet. Luckily for them and me, I love them or I'd have put them in a busy elevator skying a two-hundred-story building, pressed all the buttons, and run out on the first floor years ago. I love writing, but I can't spell. And grammar has never been my friend. Yep, chocolate chip pancakes and syrup.
Chances are if you're reading my stories, you'll find at least 150 mistakes in either grammar or spelling. And if there are any other rules in the art of writing, I'm sure there are even more mistakes than I think, but that damn little itty bitty wallet won't allow me to hire someone smart to fix it. Funny how something so small rules everything. I still write because stories, for me, is like lying prone on a posturepedic massage table with skillful hands, softening every knot while I watch marine life glide through a clear turquoise lagoon below. A slight, yet warm island breeze would cascade through the air, like a silken caress and smooth out every wrinkle of life.
Yet, since that bitch of a wallet won't let me experience spa life in a luxurious over-the-water bungalow in Bora Bora for myself, I write.
When I'm not writing, I'm painting. I'm not excellent at that either, but I like it. So I'll keep doing that, too. I fucking love chocolate chip pancakes and syrup!
How do I make a living? I told you my wallet is light.
Yeah, I got a 9 to 5 too. It starts at seven and ends when my last patient leaves my department. And when it's my turn, sometimes I get called in the middle of the night for one, but Florence Nightingale runs in my blood and I hope seeps through my hands. There's nothing better than to shine one tiny speck of sunlight into another's wicked circumstance. And when those circumstances feel heavy, I write. The syrup to my chocolate chip pancakes.
So if you peer into the crack of my imagination as I escape into another phantasmal reality lying somewhere in this silly mind of mine, escape with me. I hope you enjoy the humor in it, the emotion swimming around, the excitement I feel when I'm there, and please write me back. Tell me what you think. Tell me who you love, who you hate, who you wish would live high, who you wish would just die. Tell me where you enjoyed the story or where you wish it would have strayed. Escape with me. ItwasNeverachoice.reviews@gmail.com
I grew up in Joliet, Illinois and now live in the neighboring town of Romeoville. It's true. They used to be Shakespeare's namesake. My poor husband loves to talk, and I'm quiet and suck at listening. It works out like chocolate chip pancakes and syrup. Delicious! I have three children, one is a mini-me. She knows which one she is! The other one is exceptionally smart, too smart for her little britches. She can definitely master any book and soon off to college, but still my baby at heart and mind. My youngest is witty and has more common sense than most but is in the stage of acting dumb and rebellious. If anyone knows of a good military school with a scary drill sergeant that straightens out boys when a good ole fashioned over-the-knee-ass-whooping no longer cuts it, pass it on. PLEASE. He'd probably end up cracking the stoned faces of any military man, anyway. He belongs on a stage in front of millions of people needing a great laugh, cuz the boy is funny as shit! If only he knew where the end of that road goes. Hell, maybe I don't know where these roads lead, anymore.
What I do know is that they are all way too expensive for my very slim wallet. Luckily for them and me, I love them or I'd have put them in a busy elevator skying a two-hundred-story building, pressed all the buttons, and run out on the first floor years ago. I love writing, but I can't spell. And grammar has never been my friend. Yep, chocolate chip pancakes and syrup.
Chances are if you're reading my stories, you'll find at least 150 mistakes in either grammar or spelling. And if there are any other rules in the art of writing, I'm sure there are even more mistakes than I think, but that damn little itty bitty wallet won't allow me to hire someone smart to fix it. Funny how something so small rules everything. I still write because stories, for me, is like lying prone on a posturepedic massage table with skillful hands, softening every knot while I watch marine life glide through a clear turquoise lagoon below. A slight, yet warm island breeze would cascade through the air, like a silken caress and smooth out every wrinkle of life.
Yet, since that bitch of a wallet won't let me experience spa life in a luxurious over-the-water bungalow in Bora Bora for myself, I write.
When I'm not writing, I'm painting. I'm not excellent at that either, but I like it. So I'll keep doing that, too. I fucking love chocolate chip pancakes and syrup!
How do I make a living? I told you my wallet is light.
Yeah, I got a 9 to 5 too. It starts at seven and ends when my last patient leaves my department. And when it's my turn, sometimes I get called in the middle of the night for one, but Florence Nightingale runs in my blood and I hope seeps through my hands. There's nothing better than to shine one tiny speck of sunlight into another's wicked circumstance. And when those circumstances feel heavy, I write. The syrup to my chocolate chip pancakes.
So if you peer into the crack of my imagination as I escape into another phantasmal reality lying somewhere in this silly mind of mine, escape with me. I hope you enjoy the humor in it, the emotion swimming around, the excitement I feel when I'm there, and please write me back. Tell me what you think. Tell me who you love, who you hate, who you wish would live high, who you wish would just die. Tell me where you enjoyed the story or where you wish it would have strayed. Escape with me. ItwasNeverachoice.reviews@gmail.com
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"The Awakening of the Lost Sapphire" releasing soon. Message me if you're interested in being included in reading before official release.