Sahara Sanders

The most memorable are, probably, my poems. The obscure, unexplainable aspect of the writing process is about how some rhymes appear in your head. It often feels more like tuning in to some kind of channel than composing words in your mind. Sometimes, it’s possible to succeed to do the channeling intentionally, while often it may happen spontaneously in situations when it is least expected. For instance, I remember traveling to Tunisia where I found that there is no other choice than to write on sand as I walked along a lonely coast. In about half an hour, some strangers showed up; they had a Polaroid camera and were happy to help, making a few pictures of the sandy write-ups and gifting them to me. Another time, I wrote on my arm during a promenade in a forest because I had only a pen, but no paper in my handbag. There have been many similar cases like these in my life. The thing is, if you don’t write down the words straightaway, there’s just too little chance to recall them from memory later in the exact same way that they originally projected in your thoughts.

I’d like to reply to this question with a quote from my novel “Gods’ Food” (Indigo Diaries, #1): “Emily mostly perceived her habit to write down notes as being one of the ways she could use to preserve moments of life. If you don’t do anything to capture and draw them—no matter whether you choose words, pencil, photography, or filming—the only place where the memories have a chance to exist is in your head, which can’t be called the most reliable place to store them; soon, they’d be lost forever… leaving no trace, like they never existed… like you never existed… same as those billions and billions of lives that had already disappeared from the world! Isn’t it one of the hardest things to accept for any personality? If you don’t record your memoirs then time will swallow them up, leaving no leftovers.”

Oh… It was a trip to the Maldivian Isles when we lost nearly all our luggage! Now I can laugh at the situation and our naivety. That was an adventurous, though stressful—while still totally amazing—vacation which I described in much detail in the travel guide “Maldives… The Paradise” readers can find at major book retailers. Another one of my most memorable journeys is depicted in the book “In Love with Thailand.” The Maldives and Thailand are my favorite tourist destinations on the Earth, so far.

I believe the best reviews are any of those wherein readers share their true opinion, no matter how many stars they rate my work. When I receive responses from appreciative people thanking for useful and amusing reading, it feels like my wings stretch up and blood carries the highest happiness circulating in my veins. I think many writers will understand what I mean by that. The worst reviews, by my mind, are those from individuals who enjoy entertaining themselves by writing something bad about books they actually never read, which is as clear as day from what they’re saying. It’s even more puzzling for an author to check some of these “honest” reviewers’ pages and see that they created their profile with one goal in mind; to post you a bad review, as there’s nothing else they wanted to rate.

Like most people on the planet I have experienced moments when a friend’s, or just a stranger’s, warm cheering up was like a gulp of oxygen essential for survival. Human communication and literature are all made of words; thus, it’s hard to overestimate their unbelievable power. As they say, it’s possible to kill and to revive someone using a proper speech. I agree with the statement because I know for sure it is true.

It may sound odd, but it was the same day on May 25th 1998 when my daughter was born. It can be called the most horrible day because of the tortures I had to go through during the process of childbirth. At the same time, that day remains the most wonderful because giving life to a kid is one of the biggest miracles in the world. I consider it the most important event in my life.

The closest to my heart is not just one book - it’s the whole series of novels, Indigo Diaries. The first volume, “Gods’ Food,” is already available in English.

When I was a schoolgirl my safe haven was a place at the uninhabited part of my parents’ house. I used to climb up to the large windowsill that was facing a spreading plum-tree in the garden. Reading books, or penning my own stories, diaries and poems, it was especially fun to rest there during the warmer seasons of the year with an open window, when the tree was all covered with tender, odorous blossom in spring, and with rich purple fruitage in summer. Lately, I usually write at the desk in my living-room or bedroom. From time to time, our red and stripy cat named Foxy decides to be my companion, poking his curious caramel-colored nose to the screen, watching me typing, and making attempts to put his paws on the keyboard despite the fact that he knows he is not allowed to; he also loves to arrange “sunbathing” sessions for himself, purring joyfully while lying with his belly up under the lamp placed to the left of my computer; and, of course, the cat can’t wait for when I happen to have a snack, to beg for some treats that seem to him tastiest if eaten from a caring human’s hand.

Twenty seven years ago, during my first romantic relationship with a boy, I started keeping a diary about my thoughts and experiences. That diary formed the basis of my novel “A Dream of Two Moons,” the title of which comes from some paranormal occurrences from real life. The book will be published within a few months.

Having authored numerous and pretty versatile write-ups, I can’t say that anything other than my soul, heart and life experience can be called a prominent part of every book I ever wrote.

If you mean the first big read I remember since I learned literacy, being six-years-old, I was offered a volume which included thousands of pages of text in small print about The Second World War; that book could meet the interests of an adult, or at least a teenage boy, but not a little girl—with all due respect to the author of the above-mentioned work. Fortunately, after that tedious experience, there appeared opportunities to choose something much more savory, like adventure novels; for example, “A Captain at Fifteen” by Jules Verne was one of my favorites.

I have so many that it wouldn’t be fair to mention only some of them. It’s an immense list.

Only if I’m surrounded by the wrong people. You know, those considering themselves absolute realists - who are too down to Earth and practical, preferring a pessimistic and negative perception of whatever’s happening, or may happen, around them. To be honest, that kind of poor-quality, devastating energy can temporally block and ruin mine. The hardest situation is when such individuals desperate “to cut off your wings” are your closest family members whom you can’t escape dealing with. It’s crucial to be able to gather enough inner strength to rise up from the ashes like the Phoenix Bird, when it’s necessary.

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