Her best piece of advice for an aspiring writer (paraphrased): Write the story that you want to read, not what you think others want to read. Chances are that if you love it, there are other people out there that will love it too.
Take one home today!!
- There is still room in the the DIY Movie Props program tomorrow (Tuesday 8/7) at 1:00. BAM - Filmmaker Stamp!
- Come to hear Leslie Stella and make a cool 'zine on Wednesday (8/8) at 1:00PM. BOOM - Book Reviewer Stamp!
- Taken a cool photo lately? Got something to say in 140 characters or less? Tag #hub500 on Instagram, Twitter or Facebook. SNAP - Online Connector Stamp!
His blue eyes penetrated her with a glee of anger, frustration and remorse. As the wind uncombed his dark red hair, now turning pitch black, Roger sat loosely, positioned on the back of his chair, focusing his gaze upon her. She was a charming young woman, with a sheepish smile, long flowing black hair, smooth thin rose lips, and sea blue eyes.
Yet now she was different, her posture erect, her hands firm around the chair's back. She was returning to the formal posture of the soldier, yet even that could not appease her brother's mood.
He just kept staring at her with hawk eyes, first at her soul and then at her body. He was judge, prosecutor, and witness at the same time, but he still had wanted to meet her alone, only as her brother, not as her military and social superior.
Yet just because he had relieved the guards of their duty, the tensions were still high, and not in any sense calming down.
'You know that I know.' His eyes would say, yet he also told 'I still plan to keep this a secret.'Eventually she could not stand the pressure any longer, so she sat down and awaited her brother's typhoon of anger to strike, but he was patient.
Roger would vent his anger slowly, like a poisonous snake. He would be cold, and precise and powerful. His face was already pale, his hands were fists, and he wore panoply except for his helmet.