deadnotesapppoet

[deadnotesapppoet]

chapter count for the work in progress that i treat like i’m teasing the most exclusive novel ever written

[deadnotesapppoet]

every time i make a visual thingy for a story i’m writing i think about that tweet about a girl showing some guy her screenplay but then it’s just a pinterest board and she’s like what do you mean? it’s all there!

anyway this is for my current brainchild (you can guess which one) sometimes you just need a little visualization, okay?

[deadnotesapppoet]

fellas, I fear it might be gay (aka a collection of yearning™️)

"Dust whirls around his shins and clings to his expensive jeans as Nate gets up abruptly and moves to stand in front of Ash. He’s got his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, all the tensed muscles in his forearms on display, the dusting of freckles, of fine, blonde hair— which, now is not the time to think about that, but Ash’s mind is booby-trapped on a good day, a fucking pit of quicksand on a bad one."

"Nate nods sternly. He looks paler, with the sun having dipped beyond the horizon. Ash catches himself sneaking glances at the side of his face as Nate looks at the road ahead; the blonde brows furrowed in worry, the slope of his nose, his lips. They’re always parted at least a little bit. Fucking mouth breather. Every few seconds, the headlights of an oncoming car wash his face in warm amber, flushing out his freckles and the few spatters of blood still clinging to his upper lip."

"They don’t talk, not until the sun has finally disappeared, taking its theatrics with it. Ash spends the remainder of the show studying Nate’s profile, unusually careless if he notices or not. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before-- after all, he spent a good handful of his formative years admiring Nate under the false pretense of envy. But Nate is changed, Ash suspects that even a stranger on the street could see that. He wears it well, of course, because Nate Wilson has always worn everything infuriatingly well, but also because he seems more grown up now, something stark and earnest about the handsome lines of his face that wasn’t there before."

[deadnotesapppoet]

i feel like yes— and you should also drop subtle hints throughout your story right??

or is it none of your business what they do after the story is complete??

someone send help i’m in the car spiraling

having a crisis right now because should you know how your characters die??

[deadnotesapppoet]

having a crisis right now because should you know how your characters die??

[deadnotesapppoet]

“And he had never asked, either, because a dim, starved corner of his mind had liked it when his father lied to him. Looked him in the eyes and said something untrue. It meant that deep down, Pat Evans cared enough about his bastard-son to keep a secret from him.”

“He doesn’t remember anything else about that day. Not what he had had for breakfast, not if he had played with the kids next door, not even if it had been summer or winter. What he does remember— and probably won’t ever forget— is how the jagged edge of the beer bottle’s neck had felt breaking his frail skin. How a few shards had punctured his tongue. The grotesque look on his father‘s face when he realized what he had done. The tantalizing gentleness with which he had pulled the bottle back out of his sons cheek, murmuring apologies.” 

this fool has daddy issues! point and laugh girls!

[deadnotesapppoet]

that specific brand of writer’s block where you’ve bled 35.000 words into a story but then your main characters finally kiss and you cannot write another word

[deadnotesapppoet]

any thoughts on tossing yet another work in progress for another horrid brain-child? any thoughts on thelma-and-louise-style ex-best friends on the run from the law? any thoughts on roadside diners and anxious news-watching? any thoughts on stealing cars and homoerotic motel bathroom makeovers to evade the cops?

[deadnotesapppoet]

updated/continued chapters!

this story doesn’t even have a name yet!! not even a working title!! i don’t know who i’ve become

it’s titled “zombie” in my files i don’t feel like myself

[deadnotesapppoet]

More of this slowly meandering thing I’ve been working on.

I don’t really know how, but it turned from a stupid Zom-Com into a sprawling three-headed beast of Nightvalian, Twin-Peaksesque nature, and strangely I’m okay with it!

So, welcome to Surton, the curiously circular town with the watertower you can always see linger on the horizon but never reach, no matter how far you walk, and the many-eyed stags roaming the forests.

In other words, welcome to the town where everyone sees things, but no one remembers them.

[deadnotesapppoet]

some excerpts from the zombie story I’ve been way too obsessed with writing

basically the local highschool‘s football-team accidentally turn themselves into a bunch of zombies and it’s up to B, the protagonist, and his friends (plus a depressed gas-station-attendant they run into on the way) to save their curious little town from descending into chaos :P

[deadnotesapppoet]

i finally caved and wrote ten chapters of that small-town-zombie-outbreak thing!

here are the chapter names lol

[deadnotesapppoet]

i’m constantly fistfighting the idea to toss my entire story so far and put the characters in a small-town-zombie-apocalypse instead

[deadnotesapppoet]

currently wondering how the fuck my characters went from having a highschool love story to falling in love on a farm only to be brutally ripped apart, then finding each other again five years later in New York where one of them has become a preschool teacher and ends up having the kid that the other character has had in the meantime and is single-handedly raising in his class

[deadnotesapppoet]

a few excerpts from my story, though i’m not revealing any names yet…

the working title is exile, by the way

[deadnotesapppoet]

sneak peak into the aesthetic of my most recent story :)

i don’t know yet if i’m going to publish it anywhere but it’s about sad people falling in love on a farm

if you like ships like pynch or jegulus i think you’d like this story, too