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Young Writers Society


AnotherMoses

Photo of AnotherMoses

About AnotherMoses

I'm a 20-year-old undergraduate living in Vancouver, BC (that's Canada) who enjoys writing, and plays a mean sax.
I've done some conferences internationally, but that's the extent of my travelling experience- of course, being a gamer, the highlights of my memories are separated by loading screens, not miles.
I'm a NaNo veteran, and have been writing for most of my life (short though it may be). My writing portfolio is eclectic, but shines its brightest- in my opinion- in my more polished Science Fiction novels and short stories.
There are a few flash-fiction poetic prose pieces I'll be sharing, as well. While I appreciate them, they are not everyone's cup of tea; I'll be sure to label my less-structured pieces accordingly, to save 'you' the inconvenience of sifting through a myriad of undesired titles to find a writing style you appreciate.
I will also be sure to clearly label older works- time is a great teacher; these pieces, however, are far from exemplary, and should be seen as members of an 'early development model', rather than an indication of my current writing style.

And finally, feel free to leave any critiques/opinions on the respective story's page- but more general comments or inquiries should be sent via a PM.


Interests

Writing, Physics/Engineering, Chess, Video Games (RPG: Bioware, Bethesda, CD Projekt Red), Music (Jazz and Classical), Reading (Scifi: Arthur C Clarke, Orson Scott Card, Stanislaw Lem, Robern Heinlein, Isaac Asimov)

Occupation

Student

Website

http://www.writerscafe.org/Moses.Reid


It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats—the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill —The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it—and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another.
— JRR Tolkien