Bio: Lauren Arthur

Hello, my name is Lauren Arthur also known as Lolo Lou, and I am from Schurz, a small town in Western Nevada literally in the middle of nowhere. In order for me to go to high school, it meant travelling to the next town over. I lived in Schurz for twenty-five years enjoying the occasional trips to Reno or Carson City on the weekends. I grew up the youngest of three. Held back in the first grade, which meant from then on I had a target on my back for the class to have fun. For seven years, I tried to leave the class, and succeeded in the eighth grade, but then I rejoined them in high school. It was at that point my own fault for putting a label on myself all because of puppy love peer pressure. 

I grew up alongside willow bushes and pine trees. Indulging in what the vast splendid desert forest had to offer. Tasting the meaty substance pinenuts could provide me. I discovered the world of fantastical realms and the solace of poetic voices while playing with tumbleweed seedlings, daydreaming under starry nights, and creating scenarios for my characters' lives. My writings are what grounds me from falling apart when the world around me seems to crumble in. 

At six my mission became a dream goal to write for a living. To capture my own world, and reframe my own possibility. Determined to write fantastical worlds also meant sometimes talking out-loud to consult myself then write it on whichever paper was nearby. Sometimes that paper product was wood, sand, or carpet - hence invisible papers to practice calligraphy. Maybe one day embrace the subtle art calligraphy captures with a stroke of quil and ink well. It was only at ten years old that notebooks became a staple must-have for carrying around everywhere. A separate poetry notebook strictly for poetry and nothing else made doing math homework very difficult because I would not use that notebook. A separate notebook for individual stories and its world.

I like to consider myself a fantasy writer/ poet despite furthering my dream into a Master’s degree in poetry. Alongside that there is also the obsessive book reader who indulges in other worlds. Once I turned eighteen and was able to get a flip phone, and then several upgrades later to a smart phone which brings a barrier of social media capped with AI takeover. I would conquer my own world through words, utilizing love in its many possibilities, while only experiencing a few encounters myself. My battles show up, last to be picked, but is still choosing dusty winds, and whistles from the trees. Years spent waiting and wishing for a love that might never come about, but only to discover he’s coming six years behind myself. Truth be told, only one love sticks out compared to the ones that were scarcely qualified to be called situational experiences, and although those times happened - they are more/less lessons life brought me. 

I am forty years old now. No children of my own, and no home of my own. It was only recently that I conquered my fear of driving. To tell you that after all these years being bullied hasn’t affected me is a lie, because it comes in waves. Not all the time, sometimes my psyche is okay with growing old and imperfect, and sometimes my psyche gets hit with a whirlwind punch. I’m well aware that it affects the way I see any love interest, current, future, or imaginary. 

The results stand for themselves in a catapult resolve of outpouring rant poems.