Biography
Hello! The name’s R. W. Morea (or as many of you know me, Darknightdestiny). I was born in 1985 in a beach town just off the coast of Florida. There I lived a fairly sheltered life and thus learned how to utilize my shockingly overactive imagination.
I started drawing—really, actively drawing—at around the age of six, when I saw the film The Last Unicorn. I had no idea at the time that it was a part of a specific genre of film, or that by the time I’d reached seventh grade I’d be plunged back into the world of Japanese animation, hopelessly addicted to Sailor Moon.
Anyways, horses are fairly easy once you’ve got a basic pattern down, and they get pretty boring after a while. Not to mention, I was always one of those kids who skipped ahead in reading assignments to see if there would be any gory disasters in store for the main characters. I needed gasp, shock and awe—and at that point I wasn’t really focusing on delving into the deeper levels of the things I was watching or reading, because hey. I was in primary school.
Through the influence of a couple of friends (and also not having enough homework), I was drawn back into the world of animation, and came to the realization that cartoons aren’t just for children. They’re an art form, and a damned good one at that. Stylized action sequences make possible things we never would have imagined on a live set. So many abstract maneouvers are what I’ve come to love about some of these artists.
As per my usual patterns, however, I couldn’t seem to get enough of the blood, the supernatural, the gasp, shock and awe.
After meeting a few more people with similar interests and having been pointed in the direction of several titles, I started to get a feel for what I like on screen and what I don’t. I’ve never really thought purely in terms of writing or drawing or script. Whatever is running through my head tends to encompass all three by default, with the added bonus of a soundtrack. I like to think I have an eye for direction, and that’s how I write. Know what the characters know and cut out anything extraneous. Let the actions do the talking. And the best way to achieve this mindset… is watching how people really interact with each other.
I took five English classes during my time spent in high school. No, make that six. Ninth grade, tenth grade honors, American Lit. honors. In my senior year, I chose to take the dual credit college courses Composition I and II, while simultaneously attempting AP English. It didn’t matter that if I passed my AP exam it would effectively cancel out my Comp classes, making them unnecessary. I wanted the class time, the writing experience, to be able to take something from one class and apply it to the other. I became more interested in how things within writing are related, grew excited when I could spot a reference or a parallel, learned the importance of knowing the author’s history and the context in which the piece was created, and came to love the uniqueness of a character. All of these things helped to enrich every experience—it’s like when you go back to something you saw a long time ago and suddenly catch the jokes and the references that you never understood as a child.
I came to view everything with an analytical eye, unconsciously thinking in terms of timelines, productions, seeing where things fit together in real life and imagining myself a player in some grand story. People’s motivations, personalities, their circumstances… I can’t look at anything anymore without reading something into it, and looking ahead to see where it might go. I think on simultaneous, alternate wavelengths. Every situation I approach this way without even thinking about it, and hindsight is always 20/20, though that’s more or less an example of post-diction.
Ever since then, I haven’t really looked at any of it quite the same. Writing, for me, is an exercise sometimes, an outlet others, and a tool. It’s a labor of love. It’s something I can use to wrap everything else in when it becomes too much.
All I really have to do – all anyone has to do – is look around myself.
A lot of people have influenced my growth as a writer, though most of them would never have guessed it. But if studying British and American authors has taught me anything, it’s that most people who write, write what they know. And even if they don’t mean to, it’s going to slip in there somewhere. It’s inevitable, and that’s how people are going to analyze you after you’re dead. Tough break, huh?
After my high school graduation and before I met Joe, I had what I like to call The Best Summer I Ever Wasted. Which wasn’t really a waste at all, if you’re like me. I played video games, sure. I tried to organize all the little notes I’d made to myself during high school, essays I’d wanted to write, short stories, subjects I’d promised myself I would tackle. Then I stumbled upon a site called Fanfiction. And read.
For weeks, I barely slept. I lived off of tea and ramen (which makes me think I might be regressing to old patterns, now that I mention it), and I spent my nights glued to the irridescent glow of my monitor. It sounds silly, sure, living the vampire lifestyle for such a thing. But I’m by no means saying that fanfiction authors are all amazing, or that it was the thing that kept me up.
All I’m saying is that I found myself a writing workshop chock-full of budding artists who held the very same interests that I did.
Since then, I’ve met scores of interesting people. I’ve honed my skills as an author. I’ve gotten sincere opinions. I’ve even gotten to borrow some characters with which to try out original plots, just to see if I can make them work. And there’s the best part; I’ve gotten to exercise my ability to spin and stretch something. To take one thing and make it into something else. To accept challenges, to take something established and twist it, draw metaphors, parallels.
Fanfiction has been a blast. And I owe a lot of people for that experience. And the wonderful thing about that is I’ve made some new contacts. I’ve found out who my audience is. And I know who would like the original things I have to offer.
Since then, I’ve decided I don’t really want to work for anyone but myself. And now that I’ve found an acceptable means for publishing, I’m ready to begin writing original books.
But here’s the kicker; life is what happens when you’re not paying attention. Right about the time I decided that I wanted to be an author, an artist, and nothing else for anyone else, I met a boy. Now I had come to terms with the idea that no one was ever going to make me happy, and I liked my personal time and space, thank you very much. I was resigned to being single for the rest of eternity, and I was comfortable with it.
But when something comes along that makes a resolve like that crumble, makes you pay attention and actually compliments your life in a way you never thought possible, you should probably open your eyes and ears.
Not to say we haven’t had our fair share of troubles, because anyone who knows us will tell you so. It’s been a real ride of ups and downs, but if you ask me, that’s really the best way to live. As I’ve said before, I hate boredom, and the only things you really get to hold onto aren’t the ones you can actually hold. So, say what’s really on your mind when asked, scream loudly and hug tightly.
Probably the most influential things in my life, the fullest sense of any emotion, whether it be love, anger, frustration, grief, pride… are my relationships with the people around me. Now I know this is sounding cheesy right about now, but it’s the truth. Relationships affect the mood, any ability to function, the way we think. The marks we leave on other people and the marks they leave on us influence the way we go through life.
Here’s the gist of my last few years:
I moved out of my parent’s house as soon as I turned eighteen. I never ran away, never caused trouble, never even snuck out of my house. Not once. But come eighteen, I was gone, and that was mostly because I didn’t feel like my own person. I’ve always had this need to make my own way; I’m not sure where I picked that up. Then again, I’ve always had trust issues. I’ve been let down a lot in life, and I think maybe it stems from a need to not put everything I’ve got into someone else’s hands. I don’t like depending on others.
So I moved in with a few friends, got a job, stayed in school. Oh, but come winter break, I wasn’t going back to school. Oh, no. I’d found out that full-time income was a glorious thing.
They say that the longer you stay out of school, the harder it is to go back. Know what? They’re right.
I moved back into my mom’s house several months later, because my roommate moved away, and I couldn’t pay rent by myself. After I’d moved out, I got a promotion, and started making twice the amount I had been. I guess life’s funny like that.
Haha.
Anyway, that’s when I met Joe. He’d been hired recently, and my new job stuck me with him, so we got to know each other pretty well. Pretty fast.
Okay, honestly? We were so alike it scared me. Not our interests, specifically, but our personalities. Our odd quirks. Our tendencies to keep to ourselves. We even look (kind of) alike.
So we had our first kiss after knowing each other for maybe two weeks, then started dating. We moved in together maybe less than a month after that. Yes, we’re crazy like that.
(That’s not indicative at all of how I’ve been in the past, just to let you know. Ahem…)
Since then, we must have fought over a million times. It’s been rough. We’re both stubborn, easily irritated (probably I more than him), vicious arguers. I honestly don’t know how we made it through the first few months, having nothing particular holding us together, but we fell in love quickly during that time. Maybe there’s a complex there. Ah, well. Declarations were made, and then we knew where we stood.
But we’re both very guarded people. We always have backup plans. Unless we’re subconsciously trying to sabotage our stability (or each other’s). And sometimes there might be that underlying message that says, “I’m never letting you go.”
By the way, this is where that baby conversation comes in.
Long story short (because I’ve already dragged this out enough), two breakups led to some teary-eyed, heartfelt, sappy—and thus messy—makeups, which led to a baby. I don’t know when. I do know how. And several more scares later, he has been threatened with medical snippage.
But yes, fighting. I don’t know, everyone always has complaints. I’ve had a bunch, and some of my poor friends have had to listen to it. But the truth of the matter is, we all think we deserve things that we never earned the right to, and we all think we know how we should be treated, yadda yadda, and we rarely take the time to examine ourselves and what our motivations are. My point is, we’ve been through a lot, and if you can get through all of that and still want to get married, then you’ve done well. We do, by the way… if there was any question about that. Having a kid together kind of helps that along, too.
Oh, and what a bundle of joy he is. Let me tell you; nothing will make you get your act together like having a kid. I thought I was mature, I thought I had a good handle on life before. I knew I was far ahead of most people my age. But now? Oh, man.
People have told me I’m different now. And yes, my priorities have changed. Not my core values, not my beliefs, but you wouldn’t believe the issues I’ve developed where there weren’t any before. I never used to have to worry about most things in the media and so on. I did, but not like I do now. I fear for the young’uns.
I always wanted to make a difference in the world. I wanted to use my writing, my art, to convey some message that meant something to someone. Even if all I could do was provide one model-worthy character, then that would be worth it. I’ve been sneaking things into fanfiction for a long time, but that’s such a narrow audience, and that can’t be my livelihood anyways (besides, Joe still hasn’t even read any of it. I like to think it’s still a secret what a big nerd I am, but I’m sure he’s realized).
I think… if I’m going to be here, I should be doing something that’s making an impact. I’ve been at home, taking care of our son, but I’ve got all this time on my hands that I could be doing something really great with. Sure, I need to go back to school soon; but I don’t even know what kind of a degree I’d want to get, and even then, I probably wouldn’t use it for a long time. Writing… I can do now. As long as I’ve got the imagination, the ability, the tools and the medium. Oh, and people who support me. Yeah, that’s kind of a big one.
I just want to give my son something positive. Yes, I’ll encourage him to stay in school. Yes, I’ll tell him not to be hasty. But I’ll also encourage him to not waste his talent, to be accountable for his time, to do what he has to in order to make his dreams happen. In this day and age, where everything is so convenient, the tools are at our fingertips, and the media is back in the hands of the general public, it shouldn’t be hard. Who hasn’t seen someone who’s made a name for themselves on the internet alone? All you need is a scanner, a word program, or a digital camera.
…Unless he wants to be an NBA star. I can’t help him much with that, but maybe his freakishly tall uncle can.
So basically there are the circumstances you are born into, and then there’s what you choose to do with them. If you keep up with my life here, you’ll see where the lines begin to bleed when it comes to my other works. If you’ve read through this entire thing and are still with me, kudos to you.
I like:
Good writing, art, music and ideas. Free thinkers. Anyone with a dream who does something about it. Anyone who has a vision and sticks with it. Anyone who puts the entirety of themselves into what they do, instead of riding on a name and depending on that to get them through. Strong women. Steadfast men. Originality. Tea. Reviews and fanmail. Intellectual discussion. People who practice every talent available to them until they find out at which ones they’re really great. And tea again.
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