JAYE WELLS’ mother told her at an early age she should be a writer. Of course, this advice made Jaye avoid the profession as long as possible. Instead, she majored in art history, hoping someone would eventually pay her to stare at art all day. Sadly, this did not come to pass, so she finally gave writing a try. After her son was born, she left her job as a magazine editor to pursue freelance writing. Eventually, diaper fumes and endless Wiggles marathons warped her mind enough to give fiction a try. In her opinion, reality is way too boring, so she prefers to spend her days making stuff up. Jaye’s hobbies include mockery, sarcasm and naughty haiku. She lives in Texas.
1. What makes you think you can write?
2. Clearly you need some sort of creative outlet to keep you out of trouble. If it weren’t writing what would it be?
I’d probably be a museum docent. Aside from writing, I’m afraid my creative skills are limited to talking about other people’s talents.
3. Who or what influences your work?
I like to explore deep metaphorical possibilities in my work, including but not restricted to the symbolic synthesis of — Oh, who am I kidding? I just have an overactive imagination. Other influences include: Jack Daniels, Jim Beam and the Blue Nun.
4. Do you remember a favorite ghost story or scary urban legend from childhood? Well, spill it.
To this day, I’m still too scared to say “Bloody Mary” three times into a mirror.
5. Name one thing we might not know about you and would be surprised to find out (keep it clean too, you dirty bird this is a family blog).
I have preternaturally long second toes. Some people say this means I am the head of my household–and they’d be right.
6. I tell people that if they like _______, then they’ll love me.
cheese, oxygen, or authors named Jaye.
7. Since you make stuff up all the time, I assume you were a great liar as a child. Tell us one.
After the Great Big Bird Pencil Theft of 1981, which resulted in my first and last spanking, I learned to forgo lying in favor of being sneaky. For instance, in third grade, I got a bloody nose one day at school, which got me out of gym. After that, I figured out how to make the bloody nose come back at will to get out of all sorts of chores. This lasted a week until that fateful night when my mom asked me to do the dishes. I excused myself calmly from the table and went to my room. My mom walked in a couple minutes later and found me with a finger up my nose. Gross? Sure. But also brilliant for an eight year old.