Wattpad Account: @RomanaClef
I shall go by the name of Romana Clef lest there be an unfortunate circumstance that a certain individual from my reality identifies me thusly ruining the only place where I can truly escape this world that I live in filled with things that I have grown to abhor.
And yes, I have the tendency to sound absolutely pretentious. My apologies.
Roman à clef
“French for novel with a key, is a novel about real life, overlaid with a façade of fiction. The fictitious names in the novel represent real people, and the key is the relationship between the nonfiction and the fiction.”
I fell in love with this type of format when I read Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas, authored by Hunter S. Thompson, one of the many literary masters when it came to the harsh insanity of man. It was when I became interested in having a shot at making my own world instead of just living a thousand lives through the ingenuity of another man’s art.
Some may point out that many of my characters share a common attribute but that is because I endeavor to place a meager bit of myself in them.
I am an English Literature student, and I’m growing to despise having to constrain my imagination through following so called rules and principles in writing. My eternal muse is Effy Stonem for I had found a great love for Byronic heroes and have grown to consider such flawed literary figures as the perfect manifestation of the flaws of our kind as they offer more life on a printed page with their blunt imperfections and for a girl whose mistress is a good book, I must attest, flaws and a slither of greatness are what makes the perfect hero.
Angel Lastor, maker of her own demise and a modern day femme fatale. As a descendant of one of the most powerful and wealthiest families in the world, she is understandably revered and envied by those who knows her name. As a casual outlaw infamous for the unrelenting force of her fury and wanton lust for violence and a needle to her vein, her name is synonymous to a shot gun housing a set of bullet shells held to your head. It goes without saying that the last thing a rule abiding, saintly, and almost-too-good-to-be-true man like Frederick Richardson would want was to attach himself to a shit stain like Angel Lastor. Unfortunately, we don't always get what we want, do we?
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