Others call me Phyl
 20 something ish......
 Love to read and write, just sometimes....✍️ 
 Grab some popcorn folks,

Sometimes I write. And by "sometimes," I mean I stare at a blinking cursor, and wonder how my characters are living more exciting lives than I am. 

They fall in love, defeat dark magic, fulfill ancient prophecies, and somehow never forget what they walked into a room for. 

Must be nice.

But here's the kicker: these stories? 

They come to life. 

Not in the cute "oh my characters feel so real!" way. 

No, they come storming out of the page like they're late for their own destiny. 

Suddenly I'm arguing with a snarky werewolf about plot inconsistencies, or a rogue witch is haunting my dreams because I dared to give her a tragic backstory.

It's chaotic. 

It's exhausting. 

It's brilliant.

Because sometimes, writing isn't just telling a story - it's unleashing a horde of emotionally unstable, overly dramatic figments of your imagination and pretending you're still in control.

Spoiler: I'm not.

But hey! Don't come for me, I'm too lazy to argue.

And yeah, at least someone's living the fantasy.