Bizarre Bazaar
hedonisticactor for Michael Shelton
The writer. basically, the broken down wreck who is trying to make it big by creating a new writing style, he is rather ignorant, blunt (straight to the point kind of guy). basically just a prick.
What you are about to read is complete nonsense, the result of an experiment conducted for the sole purpose of answering the question "What happens when a writer writes just to write?".
An elaborate library tucked into a dark corner of what can only be assumed as a giant house. Yes, assumed. I’m not about to show you the house just so you can say "Yeah, that’s a big fucking house!".
He’s an older gentleman, and without saying a word gives off such a pretentious vibe you can’t help but want to punch him in the face. The red, crushed velvet smoking jacket he wears doesn’t help either.