First name: Rupinder. I'd prefer it if you called me Rupi. =]


Age: 17 and a half.

Genre of Writing: Well, mostly I write poems, which surprisingly have been good enough to get published. As for stories, I'm a fiction writer, and as hard as I try they always end up with fantasy/supernatural and romance. Ghosts, mostly. Sometimes vampires. Other times, it's gotten interesting.

Greatest writing accomplishment: I've gotten several poems published, I guess. I think my GREATEST accomplishment was definitely, definitely finishing my first NaNoWriMo.

Biggest pet peeve concerning writing: "She did this. She did that. Ooh, now she's happy." I don't like generalized writings, or stupid plotlines, either (I'm not a fan of Twilight. In fact ... it makes me want to gouge out my eyeballs, but we can discuss that later). I hate predictable plots and I really, really hate books that have a whole stereotyped thing.

But other than that, nothing. =]

'Aight.

I'm doing July NaNoWriMo (I'm 17 and a half in Canada, do I really have anything else to do?) and I am definitely lookin gfor feedback. It's on my LJ (woooooo) so I won't pointlessly LJ cut it into here, but in case you get hit in the head and decide you want to read my stuff, it's there. :]
 

            Casey was tired of running. It seemed like years ago that she toar out her front door, and down her quiet, peaceful suburban street, a stark contrast to the load war being faught within her. As she ran, she knew her actions would do a grave amount of damage, and for that she was sorry. But she also knew, and this she knew for certain, that she could not spend one moment longer inside the four walls that she previously called home. She could not bear to look her parents in the eye, nor the kids at school. She could no longer bear the burden of being one of them. And for that she was sorry.

            As she boarded the train her stomach churned; this was the point of no return. The moment that her foot left that platform her fate would be sealed, and nothing would ever be the same again. Her comfortable, large house with the strong, white pillars and the beautiful, high balcony, would no longer be welcoming to her. But as she considered all this, a thought dawned on her: that large, comfortable house was never really welcoming to her. Well not the real her anyway. No, he true self was never allowed behind the stony front door. Once she entered that house, she was what they made her. Everyone there, from her Kindergarden teacher, to her ex best friend, to her dear old mom and dad. That persona that she had adapted all her life would no longer be necessary, she realized, if she took that step onto the train.

I prefer to write about the 12-18 age group, but, its been awhile since I was any of those ages, and even when I was...I was not remotely normal, so using my memories and own experiences is somewhat limiting. So here is a questionnaire anyone can fill out, particularly if you happen to be 12-18. I am not about judging the responses, I'm hoping to learn and be a better writer for it.

( if you would be so kind )

Title: Chokecherry
Author: kissmepurple 
Genre: Angst/Drama
Rating: PG-13
Summary: My best friend died on the T-junction between Saskatoon and Persimmon. The boy I might have loved was driving the car.
Chapter 1 (950 words)

Title: Becoming Estrella
Genre: Non-fiction, self-realization
Summary: I'm trying to figure out who I'm becoming.

Rating: PG. A couple vague suggestions

A/N: Great thanks to Meghan Maltby who once gave me that name.

"Aside from the pink satin cloth that draped and met at the middle of the ceiling a hundred feet above, I, who wore black amongst a sea of white, am evidently MISPLACED. What makes me more misplaced is the pathetic fact that I am the only one wearing a dress made of satin. If I exist in a world with less conceited people, I wouldn't even take notice of that fact. Ritually I give myself a reality check. I happen to be the stepdaughter of the sister of a wife of a big-deal businessman who happens to be mutually in love with the media. And what's worst? Charmeuse had to be the 'in' cloth for today’s wedding. Not wearing it now, not having it cut above the knees or at least showing a little bit of cleavage, would be the least desirable situation to be in. And most obviously, I am wearing something that is not Charmeuse, not white, not short...enough and bears no cleavage in sight. Maybe I'll get extra points for wearing stunning gold Jimmy Choo sandals or maybe not. Either way, if I weren’t the sister of the bride I would have been kicked out of the cathedral seconds before I could set my ‘Jimmy Choo’-s on the red carpet. When I was younger my head would start spinning at moments like this, but I suppose that age is like a number that shows how much tolerance you have to how much slamming you get from the world because of the things it hates about you." --- "The Heaven of Zaria" a snippet of Chapter One.


I've decided to finally finish a novel that I have started. I've always had problems finishing stories that I write because I always search for motivation and I tend to not find one when I need it the most. :) I hope posting that would interest you to read it more, you can find it in my livejournal page http://heavenofzaria.livejournal.com Thanks :)