I read. I write. Sometimes poetry, sometimes prose. Sometimes reviews, sometimes articles. Sometimes nothing at all. 
I can’t even really remember what happened in The Fountainhead, but I talk about it like I do.
The only reason I started reading Sylvia Plath’s poetry was because Rory Gilmore did.
I feel like all I have been doing in my spare time this summer is reading, and, yet, I have only read 16 books. What?
I’m a speed-reader and a book re-reader. As a child, I speed-read and re-read the Harry Potter series so many times that I would frequently discover entire paragraphs that I had never read before.
As a child, I turned my hand to playwriting, with a play entitled “Enemies Onboard”. It was to be set during the Second World War, and the main characters were English children who were on a boat taking them from England to Canada, where they were to stay for the duration of the war. The plot centred around the idea that there was a Nazi spy on board. I think I thought it took a lot longer to get from the U.K. to Canada than it does. Also, I named the Nazi character after the only German male I knew in real life. Awkward. I never actually wrote the play, I just wrote a lot about how I was going to write the play.
When I was 8, I purchased a copy of Lady Windermere’s Fan, and fell in love with Oscar Wilde. I don’t think I understood a word of it.
Also, if you all recommend me for the Tumblr directory, I’ll love you forever.
