About Ro Mae Allen

First, and most importantly, I am a writer. I'm also an authour, and an editor, and a hundred other things, but I've been a writer practically my whole life. Since well before I aged into double digits, in fact. Originally, I wrote songs. I can sing, not phenomenally well but at least enough to carry a tune, and I love music, so songs came first. This gradually morphed into poems, which makes sense to me as poetry is the parent of music (or perhaps music is the parent of poetry). My writing was very sporadic until I enrolled in a poetry class in high school. Suddenly, the poems couldn't come fast enough, and I was through with the assignments for the whole semester astonishingly quickly. The very next semester saw me taking a course about creative writing, and it was there that I threw myself into writing prose for the first time. Stories could not move from my hand to paper fast enough, and it wasn't long before I invested in digital means of conveying my thoughts into some form of permanence. While this process is still painfully slow at times compared to the speed of my own thoughts, it is generally swifter than its predecessors and much cleaner besides. I spent hours, days, whole semesters in high school, and later college, devoting myself to frenetic writings that would keep me up late into the night (or the day, as was rather more common), and eventually fuelled in me an addiction for caffeine and a tendency towards insomnia. When I discover something new, I tend to learn by immersion. Structured learning always was my bane, however I excelled in such ventures, for boredom invariably crept up on me when forced to conform to the learning speed of the masses, or indeed, even of the few advanced. I am capable of absorbing knowledge at an alarming rate if there is no other individual to whom I am forced to learn alongside. 

Despite this, I never saw myself as a writer until recently. Hindsight is a pesky visual defunct that we all must suffer, and I am no exception. I went through life having the normal (somewhat) career goals of, as far as I can recall: mermaid, actress, horse ranch owner, FBI agent, and lawyer. It wasn't until monetary issues brought my ambitions of becoming a divorce attorney to a temporary halt that I actually looked back on my life and asked myself where my interests lay, and what career I could imagine myself truly happy in. I'm fascinated by psychology, and in fact hold a bachelor's degree in the subject. However, most careers along that vein tend toward those of social services, of being a counselor and advisor to people in need of such comfort. I am not nearly so selfless a person that I could pursue a life doing such admirable work. In fact, I'm rather positive that I would be an excellent psychiatrist up until the point that I inevitably snapped and murdered my own patient. I also adore learning about the stars and cosmos, and outer space in general, but cannot really see a career in such a pursuit panning out. It hit me not unlike how I always assumed being slapped by a dead fish would feel that I had piles of notebooks full of writings, zip and flash drives aplenty, and had been following my true vocation from the time of being a small child. Once this embarrassingly obvious realization sank in, I turned my career goals towards becoming an authour (which I am, currently, of one short story and a few poems) and an editor, and my lofty dream now is to write a full-length novel which will be published and bring me lots of money. Fame is fickle, but money invested wisely is a lifelong happiness.  

Where do I live? It doesn't matter. What am I like as a person? I'm quirky (and rather fond of using the specific phrase 'bat-shit crazy' to describe myself with), and elitist, sarcastic (rarely but brutally caustic, even), blunt, and a very kinky snob, if you must know. If we met on the street, I'd be perfectly polite until you inevitably proved yourself unworthy of my time, in which case I'd move on. I have few friends, and seldom keep them for long, though I should perhaps point out that the effort involved in keeping a friendship alive takes two people, and I've never been the one to break away first. I'm one of the most unconventional people you will ever cross paths with, and also one of the smartest, but I am not conceited. I am well aware that I am a flawed individual. I'm just much more unique than most people, flaws and all.

Oh, and M. Hendrix is my soulmate, whom I love and adore and honestly can no longer see myself enjoying life without. I'm bisexual, have been my whole life, and this realization came to me a mere minute after learning what the definition of bisexuality was. It was an illuminating moment of clarity, upon which I smacked my forehead in lament of my terrible hindsight, shrugged, and got on with my life. That she loves me in return, knowing everything I have just expounded on above, causes me much joy and probably everyone else who reads this much concern. Again, I shrug, and move on with my life.