Dear Everyone...

Hello everyone! How lovely of you to join me across the screen of a computer or mobile device on this day. Is everyone here yet?

I hope so.

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Aila Jones. I have an "about" page that can't tell you much about me at all. Read it as you may, I believe that the best way to learn about a person is through their outlet. See, I enjoy writing quite a bit. It's fun to play pretend inside your head, let it out quietly, and have friends to play pretend along with me. Is that really writing? I think so.

Imagination is what made me want to start this letter filled mess, but I have to be more mature about my foolish and fervent thoughts. Somehow, writing is considered a more sophisticated way of blurting out nonsense as long as I abide to the chains of grammar and punctuation. Yet lack of imagination can end both careers that stem from nonsense: Childhood and Professional Writing.

When I write, characters become real to me. Whether they are rabidly insane or clueless about life, I create a plan for them. Somehow, I lose my focus to a monster made of lists that bellows for canonical rhythm. And then we dance, swaying to avoid plot holes and sinkholes caused by procrastination. Our turns are terribly clumsy, and before I realize it my monster makes up an excuse so that we can meet again. I giddily write another chapter before facing it again, only to remember the lowest lows of my abusive relationship again. Though the peaks are high and carefree, I actually enjoy the pressure set upon me by the monster. It gives me a bit of inspiration, and sometimes allows me to reference whatever I please. Being incredibly independent and fairly introverted, I feel like I've been given Harold's magic purple crayon and a dictionary. I really adore my metaphorical monster, despite the fact that it's akin to a stereotypical abusive boyfriend.

Writing releases my thoughts but never really brings them back. It's hard for a fictional blind man to retrieve his boomerang. I write this because I throw boomerangs that quit. I'd work without feedback if only to hear a chuckle later on, but I haven't realized my boomerang boundaries yet. If anyone could give me help, I would be thrilled to begrudgingly accept. Comment about details you enjoyed and negative aspects. I want to hear the people like a 1950s Hollywood queen. I don't actually care for compliments, though. Please skip the regality and let me face reality instead. On a less dramatic note, thank you to any possible readers. I truly would appreciate any support and your suggestions to guest write. I especially love a particular friend's story about a character that created many others. Thank you, currently nameless one! I hope anyone that is reading this enjoys their stay, and can bring back my metaphorical boomerang or even restores the fictitious blind man's sight.

Thank you to all who can read and have a lovely day!

Awkward embraces and several back pats,

Aila Jones