For me, writing is a continuous stream of creativity. It was easy for me to create this world and my characters because I allowed this idea to burgeon in my mind before I decided to type it up. I like to let ideas develop in my head for a long time before I decide to write it down. I guess that’s procrastination, as I tended to procrastinate often during my school breaks. I always tried to work through my writer’s blocks though, because after keeping my story in my thoughts for such a long time, I was eager see it through to the end.
-Miri Castor
And here's an excerpt from her book:
Opal threw the covers off and slid out of the bed. She yawned as she went to the door and opened it ajar, peeking out cautiously. The hallway was empty, but gunfire and explosions were coming from the playroom down on the left hall. Before leaving the guestroom, she quickly texted her mother after seeing two missed calls on her cellphone; she followed the sounds of gunshots and cheesy sound effects down the hall and found Aaron lounging on the beanie couch, watching TV with a bowl of popcorn around his arm. He sat up and beamed at her. “Hey sleepyhead,” he greeted enthusiastically.
“Morning,” she croaked, plopping next to him and taking a handful of popcorn.
“It’s almost twelve-thirty, girl. Have some more breakfast popcorn.”
“Sure. Are you okay?”
“Look at me, I’m good…but what about you?” asked Aaron uneasily. “You were passed out this morning.” Opal sighed and leaned forward, rubbing her temples.
“I didn’t sleep much last night,” admitted Opal.
“It must have been hard to,” he said considerately as he muted the movie he was watching. How would he understand anything she felt last night? He slept without a care in the world like Hope did. Speaking of the devil, Hope opened the door with a grave countenance. It didn’t look like she got much sleep either. “I need you to tell me everything that happened when you got to Lusa,” she said immediately. She sounded as if she had rehearsed in the bathroom on how she was going to approach the two of them. “Before you begin, I’m curious to know how you found the teleporter upstairs.”
“You waste no time, huh?” teased Aaron lightheartedly. Hope didn’t smile and Aaron chuckled nervously. “I was looking for the bathroom and Opal tried to help me out.”
“It was something that trivial?” she asked herself aloud. Aaron scrunched his face at Hope unpleasantly.
“Having to take a leak is nothing trivial.” He was joking again yet Hope didn’t crack a smile. It was the most tense Opal had seen the usually, amiable Hope. She was dressed in yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt, the ultimate form of comfort. The heat hadn’t come on and the room was slightly chilled compared to yesterday. Aaron wore the same jeans from yesterday with a hoodie; he leaned back on the beanie sofa to get comfortable again. Hope looked to Opal with a tired expression. “Can you tell me everything that happened?”
Opal’s stomach fluttered with large moths; she felt no comfort in explaining every detail of what happened last night. She hoped after she had woken up she would forget everything that happened, but every part was committed to memory. Opal cringed when she remembered waking up in an empty meadow. “Actually don’t,” urged Hope considerately, shaking her head. “It brings you great discomfort obviously-I apologize for that, for everything. This wasn’t what I intended.”
Opal remained taciturn, scratching the back of her hair.
“Aaron, will you give us a minute?”
“Hell no.” Hope was taken aback by his firmness. “I’m not someone you can shove out of the room, I’m already involved in this.”
“Yes, you are,” agreed Hope sadly.
To read more, check out the excerpts and other info on her blog: http://miricastor.tumblr.com/excerpts
Or enjoy the story on wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/miricastor
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