T. L. Searle is probably reading, or maybe writing, or dreaming, or imagining at this very second. She has a passion for all things fantasy: dragons and demons, witches and fairies, but she has also been known to sink between the covers of a romance or paranormal or even a sci-fi novel if the mood takes her.
She grew up in England, amid the rolling hills and soggy fields of the south-west. She hasn’t strayed far, and is now raising her children in the same area she calls home.
Why I write.
I often find myself wandering through the worlds of other people’s imaginations. I love to read. Nothing in the physical world around me, except perhaps my husband and children, can capture and hold my mind quite like ink on a page.
“A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies, said Jojen.
The man who never reads lives only one.”
― George R.R. Martin, A Dance with Dragons
If you’re here, reading this, then perhaps you’re the same, and perhaps we’ve already lived, for a short time, in the same magical worlds; maybe loved the same shy teen destined for greatness, or gorgeous guy that oozes romance and intrigue, or kooky bestie who always means well…you know who I mean, right?
We can assume that stories have been told since the beginning of language, whether it be spoken, signed, written or drawn, us humans love to experience a ‘good story’. A lot of us attempt to make a career out of hunting those legends or solving mysteries and fairy-tales, or even writing stories of our own – some of us may even succeed.
Me? I write for the love of it, and for the enjoyment of others, and because there is no feeling of control quite so vibrant as holding a pen in one hand and the pretend lives of pretend people in the other.
Being an indie author, I have met some amazing people and joined communities with incredibly talented people. I have found works by other authors, works that have hooked me intensely, that I may not have found without exploring the world of book blogs and online forums. Stories look different now than they once did. Libraries may be huge cavernous buildings with books in nooks, or small battery powered slabs that fit in the palm of your hand, but either way they are standing the test of time. Stories are infinite. And my stories are my own little piece of infinity.
“And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.”
― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower
An Excerpt from Aquila: From the Darkness (book 1)
I intend on going to my room as we leave the library, giving myself a sick day.
But Liam is leaning against the opposite wall, his foot planted just below his bottom and his arms crossed. My heart sinks… again.
Oh, he’s angry. His caramel eyes are burning, hot as lava. His gaze seems to penetrate into my core; my thoughts are too incoherent to speak. “Umm,” is all that I vocalise as I try to think of an excuse. How does he do this to me? The power this man has over me is ludicrous. It’s not like I didn’t show completely, anyway. I just didn’t hang around; except on the chandelier.
His mouth sets into a firm line. The fire in his eyes sparks brighter, like I just fanned the flames. “We had an exercise set up and you missed it. This is unacceptable for a member of the Guard. Victus will be informed,” he declares snidely.
Huh. Is he an adolescent?! He’s going to tell on me. Ha. My anger improves my assertiveness; makes me brave. I square my shoulders. “If you’re referring to the ambush you guys set up then you know damn well I didn’t miss it!” I retort bitterly. “You scared me to death. I ran into Lucas and August as I was escaping for my life, and we went to the medical wing together. I’m not sorry I didn’t hang around to find out what you were planning on doing to me,” I finish sarcastically.
I take some calming breaths and notice astonishingly that Liam is doing the same.
“So it was you in there?” He sounds surprised, and disappointed.
I hang on to my anger, refusing to look directly at him. It will only disarm me. “Yes. I climbed a rope and swung on a chandelier. It was a first for me.”