First of all, unas palabras para la creadora...

IT'S NOT MY FAULT, I WAS WRITING, my screen accidentally fell in we heart it :(
And her original article

1. How long have you been writing?

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Since 13, maybe 12. I'm almost 20

2. Why did you start writing?

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Like everyone, I had an idea and no one would create it for me.

3. Do you write (or used to write) fan fictions?

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Keep moving, there's nothing to see here

4. Wich genre do you like to write the most? (ex:fantasy, romance etc)

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Romance and crime novels. Oh crimes, sweet crimes, how much I love them

5. Describe your writing in 5 words or imagines.

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Simple, dark, dramatic, scenographer, elegant

6. What do you outline before writing a story? (plot, characters, world etc.)

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Plot and characters, mainly, but I need to plan it all. I end up being a maniac, but I am a writer, what else can anyone expect?

7. Wattpad or EFP?

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cof cof si hablan español siganme, soy @C_L_Rose. Fin de espacio publicitario

Google says EFP is "European Federation of Periodontology", just saying.

8. Where do you get inspiration for your stories?

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It depends. Sometimes I see something, like a fruit, and I think a character, sometimes I think of some situation and think a plot. Kinda... anything can be a story

9. Protagonist or Villan? Why?

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I love misunderstood villains, those deep characters that you can get to actually love them. Like a bittersweet flavor.

10. Do you listen to music while writing? If yes, what genre?

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Instrumental jazz

11. Happy or Sad ending?

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Again, bittersweet flavor. It just need to be a bloody tragedy.

12. Favourite writer(s)?

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Agatha Christie for sure

13. If you feel confortable leave a piece of your book (or his plot) here.

I'll leave it in spanish, for obvious reasons, and I'll translate it later. Go look for the hat to read it on english

(...) Levantó la botella de vino y la lanzó con violencia.
La botella cayó. Fue impulsada con fuerza y, a pesar de eso, con exactitud. Dio contra el borde de la barra y estalló en pedazos, guiados al espacio vacío detrás de ella. El vino manchó el suelo y los muebles como pintura sangrienta. El estruendo hizo que la atención de la concurrencia se mudara a ella de forma gradual. Aproveché el momento para regresar por donde había venido, a paso lento y recorriendo las distintas reacciones con mirada escrutadora. Algunos se mostraban sorprendidos. Otros, algo irritados. La mayoría estaban intrigados.
Esperó hasta que tuvo la atención completa de su gente para hablar. Su voz imperiosa se alzó sobre el resto.
—El Corvo no está aquí, pero yo sí —el movimiento de sus labios rojos sobre la blanca piel se volvió magnético y convirtió cada palabra que salió de ellos en algo que llegó a los oídos más sordos—. Lo que sea que crean, o que crean creer, pueden ir olvidándolo. Yo estoy a cargo —espetó con cortante dureza.
Seguí moviéndome entre las personas con la cabeza gacha, esquivando cualquier atisbo de reconocimiento con el que me pudiese encontrar. Me detuve en el pasillo del baño. El vino goteaba de la barra, mezclado con las esquirlas de cristal verdoso que mi imaginación creía distinguir. Valentino me siguió y la observamos sin mediar palabra, incapaces de romper el silencio que ella había formado entre todas esas personas.
Observaban a esa chica como si nunca hubieran visto a una como ella. Una a la que nadie se acercaba por ser dema-siado observadora, antipática, que conoció el abandono y las calles tan bien como ellos a pesar de las maneras con las que se desenvolvía. Todos observaban a esa chica, a esa arpía desalmada, reina de la ciudad y de mi corazón. (...)
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Oh yeah
(...) She raised up the bottle of wine and violently throw it.
The bottle fell. Even thought the force used, it was exact. It got against the bar and blow on pieces, guiaded to the empty space before her. The wine stained the ground and the furniture like bloody paint. The din caused the crowd's attention to gradually shift to her. I took advantage of the moment to go back the way I had come, at a slow pace and scrutinizing the different reactions with a searching gaze. Some were surprised. Others irritated. Most were intrigued.
She waited until she got the entire attention of her people to speak. His imperious voice rose above the rest.
— Corvo isn’t here, but I am —the movement of her red lips above her white skin got magnetic and turns every word that came out of them into something that reached the deafest ears—. Whatever you believe, or either you think you believe, you can forget it. I am in charge —she snapped with cutting hardness.
I kept moving among the people with my head down, dodging any hint of recognition that I could find. I stopped in the hallway of the bathroom. The wine dripped from the bar, mixed with the greenish glass splinters that my imagination believed to distinguish. Valentino followed me, and we observed her without a word, unable to break the silence that she had formed between all those people.
They looked at that girl as if they had never seen one like her. One that no one approached because she was too observant, unfriendly, that knew the abandonment and the streets as well as they did despite the ways in which she handled herself. Everyone was looking at that girl, that heartless harpy, queen of the city and my heart. (...)
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That was one of my favourite scenes. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this article

See ya