Disclaimer: I don't own any of the things I write about. I just own what I make up about them!

To put certain questions at ease, I've had one other name I've used in the past on Fanfiction.Net.
Kattz Maricle.

I'll freely admit it. I have a confidence problem when it comes to my writing. I don't care how many people tell me that I'm good enough or that my fanfiction is good enough to post. I never seem to think that for myself. No, I'm not wallowing in self pity or anything like that. I don't do that kind of thing. I most definitely don't ever feel sorry for myself. But...it does prevent a lot of fanfiction of mine from getting posted.

UPDATE: I just uploaded a new fic, "Didn't See THAT Coming", my first bit of anything in quite a while, sorry to say. Description of why within.

In other words, bear with me, people. I'm a paranoid schizophrenic bipolar manic depressive pessiment with optimistic tendencies.

Name: Victor Kattz (real name not important)

Age: 27

Location: Perryville, AR

Occupation: None

Favorite Music: The Police; Roxette; Typically stuff, especially rock, from the '80s. I enjoy quite a bit of Jazz, however, especially the smooth stuff, and Scatman Crothers is always a fave! My latest musical obsessions: Kat Deluna and anything Jumpstyle

Current Favorite Music: Anything with a beat

Hobbies: Writing; Reading Fan Fiction; Collecting Hot Wheels;

I'm on Facebook and Livejournal

"That's why I write, because life never works except in retrospect. You can't control life; you can control your version." - Chuck Palahniuk

My FanFiction Analogy:

Authors are a story's architects. They take the mortal, the brick, the steel girders...and they design the building. They build it up from the foundation. They give it walls, boundaries, a ceiling, a floor...

Fan Fiction writers are the occupants of that building. They work there, ensure that the building thrives, and keep up the maintenance on the property. Without them, the building would simply succumb to time. It would crack, break... The concrete would crack. The pipes would rust. And inside, the rooms, no matter how filled with furniture and other belongings, would be silent.