The Work of St.Alia: The Writer's Knife
My authorial bio
Writing for me is tumultuous. Sometimes I go into a trance, and things come out of me that I didn't know were inside.
Other times, I can't stand the sound of my own words. Sometimes, the perfect amalgam of hate and love reveal a cohesive piece that makes sense and says something worth reading.
I want my characters, born from the collected stories of my life, to have a voice. And hopefully, entertain in the process! My genre is typically science fiction, fantasy, spec. fiction, and mystery. I have found that my characters don't stay in a box, they want to traverse the world of genres and bend it to their will.
How about a Mafia mama that can read your mind? Or taco's that empower you to be the best version of yourself? What if a child unknowingly chases her own death, through years of time travel and thieving?
These are the strange and lovely characters that are leaping from my mind to the page. I have spent a lifetime collecting stories, it's time for these tales to be put into the world!
Pieces of My Career
Angel Vs Demon Aug 2008
Deep in the heart
Is a life and a lie
Waiting for the sun to grace
A face to show the shiny world
Masking a scarred and broken hole
Tasting the effects of a fallen race
Running true thick and strong
Is a line that can’t be blurred
If the mask does wane, wander, and drop
The life is left vulnerable and ruled
Judge and jury, let us say
That the lie that keeps us
Bids us fair, keeping pace
With hope and balancing despair.
War Kart Jul 2008
We carry our wares with contempt
We realize they eat us, our bought,
Our sold, our cheapest largest loves,
We see the evil in owning
Possessions as they begin to own us.
We make a pact to don the necessary
Shell to ward off their powerful tease
If we know our things bring pain, in essence
We choose our misery
We choose with glory and gusto,
We eat our misery with polluted butter and
Wipe away our guilt with our expensive tee shirts
“Feed me, clothe me, soothe me, harbor me…:
This our endless chant to freedom…
Freedom we’ve already bagged, carted
And locked away in our trunks
To ravish for all times…
Or at least until we purge
And then the feeding frenzy begins again
“A non-writing writer is a monster courting insanity”