As I write this, the sky is orange with Sahara dust (like apocalyptic goggles orange 0.0 ), the streets are a muddy red from our once-every-year rain, and my laundry is probably mildewing in the machine outside because I can't find my slippers and wet socks aren't my mood. ;)

I was raised here, in supposedly-sunny Spain. And returned home almost a year ago to a small life in a Spanish valley with an old dog and a keyboard where I can procrastinate my laundry in peace.

Not that I have much laundry; I rarely leave the house. However, reclusivity has its benefits. I've started a podcast! :fanfare: Orange Ink is where I get to call up other Wattpad writers to fangirl about their work. The official tagline says something about exploring what shapes their art because their art shapes us, but don't be deceived-that's my psych degree grinning beneath my fangirl heart-eyes. :)

I write dark fantasy and werewolf thrillers (read: angst with a sprinkling of sexual tension). While Cinder Bound is out on query, I am trying my hand at haikus.

The situation:
Puddle has laundry hostage
Collateral: Socks

Fear not, haikus have taught me to stick to long-form fiction and avoid poetry altogether. Probably bios too if this wet-sock, orange-sky dribble is anything to go by. ;)



Instagram - @kariscgalloway
Orange Ink - https://www.buzzsprout.com/1956034



I do have a chronic illness (subtitled: when wet socks mean house arrest). Which means I know two things better than most: how to count ceiling tiles. And how to read. I read at least a hundred books a year-ten a week in a flare up. 

So please trust me when I say that I know your reading matters. Your writing matters. Stories gave me paper wings when all I had was wet socks in a puddle. Your words might be the sinew of my next flight. In turn, I write in search of wings for those looking for heights above whatever ceiling tiles life has them counting. <3

Cheers, 
karis