Bio: A big ole (got no clue what i’m doing) writer. I swear sometimes the proclamation “I am a writer” Comes across as an excuse for staring at my computer all day. “Yes i’m very busy doing writer things” I say as i think, I’ve written a whole sentence today so this one kitten video on youtube is a just reward. Writing, honestly, keeps me sane, But I wonder if loving it is enough to be writer. Is there some plaque, or sign or title or something that goes “Eloise Shorney, writer”? How do i earn this? Because I’m currently 176000 words through my first novel and the little author fairy has yet to come touch me on the shoulder and knight me a writer. I have yet to be assured that this is not a waste of my time, mind, and heart. I’m running on empty, but somehow, amazingly, still running, I must be driving something akin to the flintstones car. I don’t know if its the times I read through what i’ve written, see certain paragraphs and get that little voice in my head which asks with equal amounts of doubt and pride,”Did i write this? this is good” or if it is which sheer, blind, foolish, maddened love that keeps me going. But something makes me try, and try and try. Does that make me a writer? I bloody well hope so. Hello, My name is Eloise Shorney, and it is with fear, doubt, and bursting pride I admit I am a writer, Pleased to meet you.