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Wednesday, 5 March 2014

Author Spotlight - DeepsterPower {Wattpad}

The Truest of Colours
Genre: Teen Romance

Wattpad Book Blurb:
Kiera Sterling always wanted to be normal. But she isn't classed as that. Her school friends call her mean names and pull stupid faces at her. She finds comfort in colour. The darkest of blue's to the brightest of orange. And then one day, an artist arrives. And he could be just what Kiera needs.

Author Links


1. Please tell the readers a bit about yourself.

My name is Deep Chita (No jokes!) I'm fourteen years old and I live in Scotland. I love writing short stories and I'm devilishly handsome. My ambition is to be a psychologist but I'd love to be an author too!

2. What types of books do you write?

I enjoy writing fantasy/adventure fiction. Something about it is so captivating and can grip you like an iron hook. It's enjoyable to write but I also quite like "quirky" romances. Something that's unpredictable or unexpected that creates a situation between people is great and fun to write.

3. How many books have you written?

I have written quite a few short stories although The Truest of Colours and Karla Bane and the Mayan Sword are my first attempts at real and proper books!

4. What movie and/or book are you looking forward to this year?

For movies, I'm quite looking forward to Divergent, Mockingjay and A Million Ways to Die in the Wild West. For books I'm really excited for Heroes of Olympus Book 5 and Skulduggery Pleasant Book 9.

5. What type of books do you enjoy reading?

I enjoy reading fantasy action thrillers and teen fiction. I'm currently reading the Gone series books and they are just amazing! I like stories that make you root for the character from the very beginning.

6. If you were stranded on a desert island what 3 things would you want with you?

1. Lots and lots of books (obviously!)
2. My iPad.
3. And Megan Fox.

7. Are you considering a sequel?

I haven't even finished writing my first book yet! But I am hoping if I get successful books then I would love to write sequels or more!

8. What inspired you to become a writer?

I think reading lots of other authors books and learning a lot from their style and how they write has really inspired me. Derek Landy is a huge inspiration for me to get writing and learning about how other authors write and create books. (Also, Alecia Stone!)


The colours are always shifting and swirling. An endless pattern of brights and darks that make me feel fuzzy inside. They warm me right down to the core but make me feel endlessly sad sometimes. I don't quite know what to think about it. It's confusing and muddled in my head. So. I like that word. So. It makes me feel like I'm about to take you on the darkest journey through the wildest of storms or through the desert of death. I don't quite understand the word dessert though. Sometimes it means a sweet something to have for dinner and sometimes it means the hot dry out lands. My life is far too confusing. But, I don't care. My name is Keira Sterling. It is a strange name. I'd much rather be called Kiera. It is somewhat more calming. Somewhat. That's another funny word. Anyways. That too. But I must continue my endeavours now. My story begins with the Artist. And it ends with the Artist. This story should be focused on him but instead let's take it from my point of view. Well, whatever my point of view actually is. So, here goes....

Red is the dark blood that seeps out of my arm. It is a dark glazed sort of colour. It's dark and moody. I'm repetitively using the dark word mainly because that's how it makes me feel. Dark. Like all torn and ripped up inside. A dark emotional fear of the dark or of horrors hiding underneath my bed. So whenever I see the colour red I normally associate it with bad things. That's why I felt sick and dark when I was staring at my arm. I had grazed it against the wall where a sharp splinter was stuck in the wood. I'm lying on the floor, softly crying to myself. I don't quite know what to think as Sandra comes and brings a wet towel. She hastily places it on my arm and soothes me by making these strange humming sounds. They seem to calm me as I stop sobbing immediately. She then picks me up from the floor and wraps me in a hug. I'm a gangly little thing so it feels strange and hard against my mother's warm plump body. She wipes away my tears and says

"How about we go and get some ice-cream?" Her voice is smooth and orange. I nod quickly although I don't quite know how this is going to help me. My mother's voice is orange mainly because of the fact that it sounds like dripping honey. A smooth velvety feel with light sprinkles of gold dust. That is what my mother sounds like.


We walk away from my little accident and towards the large expensive kitchen. I call it expensive because it really looks like it is. There is a large granite smoothed platform with a large base for pots and pans. I like the look of it because it makes me feel rich and humble. I've told this to Sandra but she simply shushes me and tells me never to repeat it. I don't like that. Being told what to do, I mean. It make me feel vulnerable and lost like an eternal nothing in a world of brightness and colour. As we sit down on the pillow-like cream coloured stools, i realise my stomach is yearning for food. That is to say, I'm hungry. Sandra goes to the fridge and brings out three multicoloured tubs. She then opens all of them and takes a scoop from each and puts them into a large bowl. Then she gets two shiny metal spoons and sits down next to me. I look into the bowl and find my three favourite flavours of ice-cream. Peach, Strawberry and Chocolate. They have each melted slightly into each other and created a swirling mix of rose, brown and red.

"So your birthday's coming up" Sandra announces. I take this as a fact rather than a question. But that's because I don't really know what to think of it. So I simply say


She nods at me and takes another bite of ice-cream mush. Then her eyes shine at me and she smiles

"How would you feel about getting your hair dyed?"

My eyes light up with joy and my chest rises in anticipation. I've always wanted to get my hair dyed and my 16th birthday is 4 days away. This is the most perfect gift I could ever have been given. But, hiding my joy, I simply nod vigorously. She smiles at me and kisses me on the head. I watch as she walks over to one of the cupboards and pulls out some plasters. She carefully applies one to the long gash on my arm. I feel now is the time to tell you a bit about me. Which is quite odd. Usually the introductions start at the beginning. But we're already past that now so here goes.

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