#I also might try and talk to one of the creative writing professors about some of this at the writer's lounge tomorrow

[gay-victorian-astronomer]

big feeling insecure about my writing hours

wish I could write faster. wish I had more time to do it. wish I weren't so ambitious, so verbose. wish I weren't so perfectionistic and could embrace the "write the parts you want and stick it together with duct tape" approach. wish I could know that my fixation on this fandom would carry me through the process of writing this (and ideally my other fic ideas too). wish I could know that people will still care about this story when I'm done with it (wish I could know that people are interested in it now). wish I weren't still on chapter fucking three of this fucking eight chapter fic. wish I had the technical skills to pull it off.

wishing for a lot of things and feeling like I'm going to get none of them.

[whorediaries-09]

Hi! if you still taking requests I'd love to make another one about the love of my life, James Potter.

I know it might be super cliche but I was thinking about professor! James forgetting his lunch or maybe reader is a sweetheart who brings lunch to him and everyone at Hogwarts it's obsessed with them because they're sooo cute and they're like their cool school parents

Please and thank u, muak right to youuu.

ugghh this is so cute!! i loved writing this one!! i hope you like it!

labyrinth;

pairing- professor!james potter x professor!reader warning(s)- fluff. (let me know if i should add more) a/n- i literally changed a lot but it's low-key similar?? i'm sorry though i hope you understand, my brain could only come up with this.

little train.

' you would break your back to make me break a smile you know how much I hate that everybody just expects me to bounce back '

'good morning students! i hope you've got your models ready for today.' you say, walking into the class. the curtains have been rolled up perfectly by your plethora of eager art students, who chant a good morning, staring at you as your steps fall into the classroom. they know you like to work with the sunlight.

they scramble around their canvases and models, the soles of their shoes rubbing against the newly polished tiles. they look at you with eager faces, waiting for your model to appear. you raise your hands, addressing them.

'okay so this the first class is for realism - which annoys a lot of people over here, i know. but everybody has to pass these few assignments okay? i've to send them for supervision to the higher authorities so that they can ensure i've put on the correct grades according to the quality of the work.'

'because unlike you, they don't care about the creativity,' the political science professor enters the classroom, wearing his dazzling white smile. the students turn their heads, watching him enter the room. among the few students who know both him and you, there's rumbling. and among those who know you, there's questions rising of the cause of the sudden rumbling.

'quieten down kids, no more talking. this is a very important class. you'll learn the basics and the importance of this branch of art. mr. potter,' you look him in the eye. he visibly tones down his raised arms and shoulders, 'i need you to bring me two tools and a canvas.' he nods.

*-

james is sitting directly under the rays of the sun. they are golden, reflecting upon his beautiful dusky brown skin. it hits him in the eye, but he's still, letting you take your sweet time while you explain the theories and the basics of the art.

he likes how patiently you teach them the correct ways and methods while also consoling them by reminding them every other artist has a unique style and shouldn't be bound by some rules. you stay to teaching them the outlines of color theories, which couldn't be modified much when this art style was practiced.

he's also never felt this nervous and giddy. he's usually a very confident man, but within your presence, a few ties of his uptight confidence break, and all hell loses free. he's turns into a puddle right under your piercing gaze, which is unusual for a man like james potter. he would still remember the day you'd asked him to model for you. he'd gone home and giggled into the pillow like a high school high on hormones.

'hi, mr. potter,' you'd whispered behind him. he'd been talking to sirius. he'd been taken aback by your sudden appearance- and sirius' lack of reaction, considering he'd been sitting facing james.

he turned around, and by habit ruffled his already messy hair. he smiled, trying to hide the pleasant shock behind his eyes. he felt his cheeks warming up with the way you looked at him. sliding him a paper cup, you stood, twiddling with your thumbs.

'this is?-'

'chai! masala chai! consider it a bribe for the awkward question i'm about to ask.'

'nothing is awkward james, love. i think you'll be fine.' sirius said. he slipped his fingers within the crook of his jacket that had been hanging on the edge of the chair. he smiled, a mischievous uplift of his lips. 'but just in case,' he said, walking out of the room, leaving you and james alone. james gulped, following his friend's silhouette.

'so...'

'yeah, uhm so i was wondering whether you'd model for me? only if you're comfortable though!' james was sure the red hot blood rush into his cheeks was extremely was visible. he felt his nerves turn mush and stomach flip with giddiness.

'i don't particularly mind it no,' he said. he took the burning cup into his grip, taking a slow sip. he only hoped it wouldn't be too spicy.

'so you're up for it?' you asked. he saw the tension from your back literally lift up, and a glee float in your eyes.

'i am up for it,' he said taking another sip of the tea. 'but you need to tell me why me,' you rubbed the back of your head, laughing nervously.

'uhh... i think you've gorgeously complicated features which would allow me to teach my students with enthusiasm because i teach the best with complicated features. i don't mean it in a harsh way, i also think you're beautiful so...' he nodded letting your words sink into his brain and stop himself from taking you by your neck and press his lips onto yours.

'is it any good? the tea?' you asked, breaking the awkward tension and the lack of his response. you wondered whether you made him uncomfortable with your answer.

'it's perfect. the sweetness and the spiciness.'

it was not.

*-

'okay so carefully outline your vision for the model, and let your brains take over your mind! this has been a boring class i realize but please submit your homework by the deadline so i'll suggest ways for improving your work-'

'-because this is extremely important for your grades students. now the kids over here who are also in my class, i'll deduct grades if you all don't take her words seriously.' james completed for you, cracking his back and rolling his shoulders. the students booed mockingly. one of them, a fiery person too raised her voice,

'you're barely serious in your own classes!' james knitted his eyebrows.

'are you questioning my abilities of teaching?'

'no, i'm not. i'm saying you're not serious in your own lessons sometimes- and you're a pretty much of a goofball yourself.'

'that's fine, i can be a goofball and be a good professor too. ms. grace, please mind your tone, or i'll be obliged to turn into an insufferable old prat.'

'okay come on let's not create an unnecessary drama over here, you have theatres and mr. pettigrew to help with that.' you said, trying to calm down bubbling waters. the students picked up their bags, walking away. yet again, leaving the both of you alone.

james helped you put on your coat. he wondered whether his part was done. he wondered why he cared so much about whether his part was done or not. the question lingered at the tip of his tongue before he spat it out.

'is my work done now?' he asks. you linger, your back faced towards him. he feels a wave of heat from your body crumple over his senses. you turn around, facing him. the remnants of the sun rays surround him, filtering out his outline. there's something in his eyes. a string of vulnerability you've never seen in his eyes. a string of vulnerability he's never felt within his.

'no.' you say. your breath is hot, which falls on his lips. he gulps, noticing how close you are. somehow it feels natural. in your piercing gaze he feels his beating heart stop. it's as if your features are one hell of a drug, reeking him into a spiral of things he's never felt before. your beauty is surreal, captured within his memories and his heart. he wishes he'd capture the way he sees you onto the canvas.

'are you bored of me, james?' you ask. you've never said his name before. it sets his senses on fire, a creeping hotness melting onto his nerves.

'no,' he says. he moves closer, his mouth so close to yours. he wants to touch them, get drunk upon the reminiscent taste he's never tasted before.

'are you sure, james?' you ask, your eyes falling onto his lips. he nods, unable to answer. in your eyes, he sees his portrait in a beauty he's never seen before. his fingers slips into yours, and he feels them.

and he wonders, when your fingers work on the canvas, how you conceive him, how you decipher him. all he's sure of is that he's the most beautiful when you portray him.

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taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.)

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[bettsfic]

18 and 19

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

passage below the cut! this is from Skinless when Layla and Henry meet. by this point we've mostly been in Henry's POV, where his coworker Layla seems like a nice young woman with whom he is foaming-at-the-mouth obsessed. we get to her POV (second person because that's just how she thinks, and also this is a flashback because her pacing and story structure is entirely separate from Henry's because i hate myself i guess) and find out she's been totally deranged for Henry from the beginning. this is the first time we see Henry from outside his POV.

backstory:

the career fair scene went through many iterations but has become an unfortunate foundational turning point of the story, despite the fact that a commercial underwriting department of a bank would never be at a college career fair

i did once research every question of every exam for a class where i thought the professor was being cruel. i also went to the dean about it, and there was an investigation, and every single student in the class went from a C to a B. (that's how bad it was: we all had the same grade, based on basically nothing, which was deeply ironic considering it was a statistics class)

like Layla, i've also had the Kids in the Hall theme song stuck in my head for most of my life

ultimately Skinless is a light-hearted rom com about two walking red flags who are trying to make their relationship work even though one of them is not who he says he is and the other is plotting a murder

the ethics test at the bank was really only 10 questions

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

the first thing i ever wrote was a series of stories in my diary when i was 8 or 9, and they all had the same premise in different settings: a child lives in a community but everyone hates him (they were always boy povs) and eventually the child runs away or is killed by the townspeople and everyone is much happier with him gone. the end.

a wrote a bit more here and there until i was 14 or so, at which point i seemed to forget writing fiction was even a thing. i kept a journal from 14 onward and that was the only creative writing i did besides the occasional poem until i was 24 and started writing fanfic.

i'm now 34 and i have an MFA in creative writing and half a PhD, and i've had some short publications and won some awards and i do artist residencies sometimes and have an agent. i'm hoping to put two manuscripts out on submission later this year or early next.

one of which will be Skinless, an excerpt of which is below the cut.

from Chapter 5:

In your final semester of college, you attend a career fair. As you wander the booths, you begin to consider that there might be industries more suited to people like you. You spot a bank. The man standing at the booth is talking to someone. You notice immediately that his congeniality is feigned, proven when the applicant walks away and his face returns to apathy. 

He is wearing a sharp black suit. Black dress shirt. Black tie. He is in his late twenties, perhaps. He has light brown skin and his hair is buzzed close to his scalp in a way that makes you eager to touch his head, feel it against your palm. He is tall and broad-shouldered, but he holds himself like he isn’t, slightly slouched, the way people stand in public transit to give others more room.

Something about him piques your curiosity, and as you walk toward him the small spark of your initial question mark grows into something that consumes you. You can’t even tell what exactly is drawing you to him. It’s not his beauty—although, aesthetically speaking, he is quite pleasing. It’s not his attire, though it’s strange to see a businessman in all black. It’s not the bored blankness of his face that reflects how you have felt these past four years pretending to be a peppy sorority girl. But it’s something, and suddenly you’re standing in front of him and handing him your resume.

He takes it and scans it. This is a bizarre interaction, this not speaking and not acknowledging each other thing, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Without even looking at you, he says, “Tell me about a time someone blamed you for something that wasn’t your fault, and what you did about it.” 

His voice doesn’t match him at all, this enormous man with this soft yet vaguely robotic voice. When you say nothing, he glances at you expectantly. You feel small and young. He doesn’t even see you. You are just one student among the many he will speak with today. 

“Last semester I had a professor who didn’t like me so he tried to give me a B,” you tell him. “I guess because I kept finding errors in our exams and proving it by cross-referencing the textbook. And it was outdated, so even if the exam matched the book, I’d be able to find newer research that conflicted with it. In a fifty-question exam, he would have to throw out almost half the questions and everyone got a way better grade.”

“You researched every question of every exam?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“He called a girl stupid and made her cry. And anyway, it’s not really ethical to be teaching outdated research.”

“So you—”

“Got him fired.”

“Fired? Really?”

Not exactly. He just didn’t get assigned any sections the following semester. You shrug. “Adjuncts are expendable.”

“And you don’t consider any of that underhanded?”

“I’d rather be underhanded than complaisant.”

Briefly he looks you dead in the eye. It ignites something in you like a match being struck. All the stupid princess movies you hated growing up and which Candy still makes you watch are right: love at first sight is real, and it happened to you, the person least qualified to do anything about it.

When Angie from the bank’s HR department calls you to schedule a formal interview, you begin your preparations. You buy an interview outfit. You ask Candy to teach you how to do your makeup and hair. Then you study. Common interview questions. How to answer them. What the fuck underwriting is. 

You arrive at the bank certain that the beautiful career fair man won’t be there, but he’s the one who greets you in the lobby. He’s once more wearing all black.

“Hi, Layla, good to see you again.” He holds out his hand to you. “Henry King.”

“Henry King,” you say back, awed as you shake his big, beautiful hand and look into his big, beautiful eyes. You’re going to be Layla King one day. You promise yourself you won’t go home and practice your future signature, because that would be ridiculous. 

Now you are in an elevator with Henry King, going all the way up to the thirtieth floor. He opens his mouth to pop his ears at floor sixteen. 

“Mr. King?” You wait for him to say, Call me Henry, but he doesn’t. “Do you have any tips for me?”

“Wouldn’t that give you an unfair advantage?”

“Don’t you want me to have an unfair advantage?”

He looks down and away, scratches his head, and even though he’s not smiling you get the impression he’s pleased. “As long as you don’t admit to being a psychopath, you have nothing to worry about.”

“I would never admit that.”

The elevator doors open and he holds them for you to step out first. “Just be honest,” he says, “and be yourself.”

When you arrive on your first day, Henry King is waiting for you in the lobby again, and he’s still not smiling but there is something in his eyes that tells you he’s glad to see you. He holds out his hand and says, “Congratulations.”

You won’t be shaking Henry King’s hand. You hug him and he goes oof. Tentatively he pats your back. When you pull away, you say, “Thank you for getting me the job. It really means a lot to me.”

He seems to be short-circuiting, like you have suddenly initiated improv in a well-rehearsed play. It’s fine. You have the job now, and after all, he did tell you to be yourself.

During your training, you’re required to read the corporate ethics guide and take a ten-question test. The questions are so obvious that you don’t really have to read the guide. In fact, you only need an eight out of ten to pass—which has frightening implications for the state of ethics here—but you read it like you’re studying for the MCAT. 

The section on dating in the workplace is a single paragraph. Should two employees engage in a romantic relationship, it says, it must be reported to HR. It also says that a manager dating a direct subordinate is grounds for termination.

You hail Henry over to your computer and show him the company policy on dating. Any other person would see how obvious you’re being. Not Henry. Henry says, “The ethics guide is a CYA document.” 

He uses that acronym a lot. It means Cover Your Ass. More specifically, it means to analyze all documentation from the perspective of the documenting party, whose goal is, above all things, to avoid a lawsuit. And in the event of a lawsuit, to avoid losing it.

“Look,” he says, pointing at your monitor, bent over your shoulder as you sit in your desk chair, so close you can smell him. He smells so good it makes you angry. “It says you have to report it. It doesn’t say what happens after you report it. That means the decision moves to the manager of the employees in a relationship. Then HR can wipe their hands clean of it, and the manager can fire both employees, citing that a potential breakup would create a hostile team environment.” He points to the next sentence about managers and subordinates. “It says ‘eligible for termination,’ but it doesn’t say who gets terminated. Again, probably both.”

You look up at him. “So we really can’t date?” 

Given his lack of a reaction, he seems to take your “we” to mean all employees of the company.

“It’s unprofessional.”

 

Every day the stakes grow higher. You study Henry, in part, thinking that if you dig deep enough you will find nothing, you will discover he is like all the rest, boring, bearing the sad burden of existence and merely passing the time until death. Watching television. Picking up a hobby. Sports. Disgusting.

You decide that you must first befriend Henry King. You have learned that people like talking about themselves, and for the most part they love being asked questions, because it is the status quo in the world to be self-interested. For all your faults, at least you are not self-interested. You’re very interested in others, and you’re so glad to be able to see this, in some ways, as a strength. You are at once perfect at everything but also somehow have no admirable qualities. You ask Henry King many questions and he tells you, simply, “I’m not answering that.”

You take a different tactic: you tell him about yourself. You try to be interesting. The cool stuff you learned in the classes you took, the drama of Candy’s vocational school love life. He listens and goes “uh huh.”

Next, you try to make him laugh. You are a funny person simply because, like all things, you’ve trained yourself to be. You have watched many hours of standup comedy and sketch shows. You’ve had the Kids in the Hall theme song stuck in your head for most of your life. 

One day, you’re busy looking at a client file while returning to your desk and run into the cubicle wall. Henry King laughs at you. That’s a start. 

After many months being his personal court jester, you conclude that Henry King exists in the infinitesimal Venn diagram overlap between having a dry sense of humor and being totally unable to understand sarcasm.

You’ve been looking forward to your first annual review, seeing evidence of your excellence. You’ve spent this past year learning quickly, working hard. You work through lunch sometimes. You arrive early and stay late. You take on as many deals as you can, some weeks more than Henry. You make sure everyone on the team gets a card and a cake for their birthday. Finally, you enter Jerry’s office with a notebook and a smile.

Fifteen minutes later, you return to your cubicle with a single sheet of paper marking you adequate. In every category, you “meet expectations.” No raise. No bonus. No promotion. 

Henry has a bad habit of offering hard truths in a way that is not at all gentle. “Look,” he says when you slump down into your desk chair. When he begins a sentence with “look,” you know you’re about to hear something horrible. “You’ll never get an A at work.”

He goes on to tell you the worst of all truths—that banks thrive on inefficiency and hard work is rewarded with only more work. And if you do too much work, employees will start to get fired, because it’s clear the workload isn’t high enough to justify paying so many people. You’ll also set a new standard for yourself, and if you set that standard too high, if you burn out and stop meeting it, you’re the one who’s going to get fired. The only reward you’ll ever receive is the privilege of returning to work the next day. 

To prove it, he pulls a manila folder out of his desk cabinet and hands it to you. You open it. Inside you find eleven identical sheets, each one declaring Henry has met expectations for the year, each signed off by the revolving door of bookrunners.

He’s the hardest worker you’ve ever known. You have a crush on him, sure, but even if you didn’t, you would still admire him. He’s diligent and patient, level-headed. He’s at least as smart as you, if not more. In every way, Henry King has exceeded your expectations. 

After work that day, you cry in your car. You haven’t cried since the time you watched Lacey torture a squirrel, and you witness it with interest and confusion. You’re not crying; crying is happening to you. Henry passes your car on the way to his. He pretends not to notice.

The next day, he asks you to lunch. You tell him no thanks. He does what you do: leans on your desk and stares at you for so long that you can’t ignore him, which is actually super annoying. You can’t believe he tolerates you. And since you’ve never taken no for an answer, neither does he. 

“I’ll pick you up and carry you out of here,” he says, nudging your shoulder. You’re always touching him but this is the first time he has touched you. Your face feels very hot.

You enjoy the thought of him picking you up and carrying you. You like how big and strong he is, even though he doesn’t seem to know that about himself, like a giant dog that thinks it can sleep in your lap without crushing you. 

He might be flirting with you. You’ve never actually been flirted with. You go to the copier to get your printouts. They’re still printing. Suddenly you’re swept up into his arms. You yelp.

“Put me down,” you say.

“Not until you agree to go to lunch with me.”

He holds you like you’re no heavier than a big client file. You know you’ll get in trouble if anyone sees you, but everyone’s at lunch. He takes you to the elevators. 

“Okay, okay,” you say. “We’ll get pizza.”

At lunch, in a roundabout, somewhat evasive way, he tells you what a good job you’ve been doing and that he appreciates your hard work. 

“Thank you,” you tell him, choking up but refusing to cry in front of him. “I really look up to you, so that means a lot.”

A silence follows that would be awkward to anyone else, but you understand that Henry needs these occasional pauses. For him, silence is not something that stretches across time but must be carved into it. He makes spaces for feeling, for thinking, for simply being in the company of someone else. 

These traits make your crush grow to unwieldy proportions, but after a year of trying to get his attention, you’re still just a plucky young apprentice to him. You don’t know anything about him. You’re close to giving up and you’re shocked by how badly that hurts. A boy you like doesn't like you. Your broken-heartedness is so clichéd, so conventional, so boring, and yet it’s the worst thing you’ve ever felt. 

One day, you tell Henry a story about a high school friend, nameless, and he says, “Wait, is this Michelle or someone else?” 

You stop dead in the middle of the sidewalk. He listens. He’s been listening.

“Yes,” you say, “it’s Michelle.”

Another time, waiting for a table at lunch, you accidentally stand in the path of someone making their way to the host station. Henry puts a hand on your lower back and guides you closer to him, out of the way. 

Every once in a while, he plucks stray hairs that cling to your wool coat.

A new thing begins to grow, so nebulous and strange you don’t at first allow yourself to acknowledge it. Over time, it becomes too big to ignore, and finally you look right at it: 

You love Henry King. 

You no longer just want his attention, you want him to touch you, curl up on the couch with you and watch TV each night, have children with you, grow old and die with you. It’s disorienting to know something in your head immediately but not actually feel it until a year later. You wonder what other things you have only thought but not felt. You wonder how long you have confused thinking for feeling.

[kinfanfiction]

Charlie Eppes x Fem!Reader - Chapter 3 - Clueless

A/N: I’m too proud of this idea tbh. Maybe I should’ve waited to write this chapter and I’m jumping the gun a bit here, but I like to place an initial reason for tension so I can build on it. I will be adding in a couple of OCs but they won’t be the main focus of the plot. If, when you get to that part in this chapter you think to yourself, “Isn’t this based off that one episode?” Yes, yes it is.

Side note, the ex I’m writing for the reader is based on my ex, so I’m keeping stuff vague cause bro was demented, but if y’all wanna make up stuff about dumb shit the ex in this story we can collectively make him the worst person ever and make her experience somewhat more detailed either as subtext or to address later in the plot. (Okay maybe not the worst, but like, fairly shitty.) As for the friends, they’ll basically be your run of the mill backstabbers.

I put my whole left lung into this chapter.

     Unbeknownst to the two of you, you and Charlie had been spotted by the cherry blossom tree by two young students, Bowie and Daisy. They each took your Creative Writing and Charlie’s Applied Mathematics class, and they agreed the two of you had chemistry. There was a whole debate on campus over it. Some argued you were just colleagues who got along well, some said you must just be really good friends, and then there were those who genuinely believed you belonged together. Of course, most people knew to stay out of their professor’s personal lives, but not Bowie. They were the experimental type. Daisy, however, always tried to be the voice of reason.

    They hid nearby and whispered to each other.

    “They talk like old friends.” Bowie observed aloud.

    “Don’t you think we should be doing something more productive with our time?”

     “This is productive!” 

     “This is interference.”

     Bowie shrugged, “We’re giving them the push they need.”

     “What if we’re wrong?” Daisy crossed her arms, feeling unsure.

     “Then our interference will ultimately mean nothing. They’ll laugh it off and move on. You don’t have to do this with me, but I’m still going to pull a Clueless on them.” 

     “Hmmm..... Well, it would be interesting to see the results of the experiment...” Daisy was leaning towards joining in on Bowie’s mischief.

     “Yeah, yeah, I know you want in.” Bowie teased.

     Early the next morning, you visited Charlie in his classroom. He had papers spread out everywhere and his blackboard was actively being covered in equations. He was listening to his music again, and was very focused. You walked up to the blackboard and inspected his writing, still it made very little sense to you. “What’s this?” You asked, and he jumped as you came into his line of sight, though he quickly regained his composure.

     “What is with you and Larry always sneaking up on me?” He shook his head and took a deep breath.

     You snickered, “You’re very easy to sneak up on.” You side-eyed him and flashed a cheeky grin. “So, what are you working on?” You questioned again, looking towards the board. 

     He looked at the board as you did, “Actually, Don has asked me to help him on a case. When I went home last night, he was there and I found a map of different crime scenes, all committed by the same person in different places around the area. I started calculating where he might strike next, and I guess Don realized I could be good help in solving this case.” 

     “Oh wow, so you’re a consultant for the FBI now?” 

     He nodded, “I am.” He spoke like he was proud, but also had something else he wanted to say but couldn’t.

     “What’s wrong?” You asked.

     He sighed, “I don’t think I can tell you, but just.. be careful, alright?” Charlie requested gently.

     “I get the feeling that whoever you’re trying to catch is a pretty frightening person..”

Charlie nodded. “I really wanna help them get this guy before he hurts anyone else.” 

     “I’m sure you will. You have a brilliant mind.”

     He gave a small smile, still unsure. “Thank you.” He thought quietly for a moment, debating on asking a question that hung in the air. “Why don't you come stay with us? Just until we catch him.. which should be soon.” He tapped his chalk on the board and examined his work. “Not that anything is incredibly likely to happen to you, but maybe just to be safe?” 

     You thought about his question. It wouldn’t be too much of a hassle to stay at the Eppes’ for a little while, you’d done it before. Besides, you lived and commuted alone, which theoretically could make you an easy target for any criminal. You looked at Charlie and nodded.

     “Okay, good..” He sounded very relieved. 

     The two of you went to breakfast and since he couldn’t talk about the case itself, he instead talked about the mathematical formulas he was using to find the guy they were looking for. You listened quietly as you ate, not having much to add yourself.

     As you walked to your classroom to prepare for class, you were met with a young student you recognized as Daisy Lewis. She took your Creative Writing course which wasn’t until later that day. “Morning Professor L/n! I was at the store recently, and I saw this perfume and it made me think of you.” She spoke as she handed you a small bottle. You were a bit taken aback by the gesture, since there seemed to be no occasion for it.

     “Oh..! Thank you! That’s very sweet of you, Daisy.” You exclaimed with a polite smile. Daisy smiled back, and then stood there like she was waiting for something, and then you realized she expected you to spray it on yourself. Your eyes widened at the realization and you quickly spritzed yourself. “It smells wonderful, really, thank you.” You smiled awkwardly. Daisy stood there, trying to think of a way to stall you further to ensure that Bowie could sneak into your class and secure any unimportant piece of paper on or in your desk to use to forge your handwriting. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to prepare for a class.” You moved past Daisy and opened the door to your room just as Bowie had barely managed to slip away.

     Bowie circled back and found their friend, and the two of them went to the library to come up with a good letter to leave for Professor Eppes to find. Once they were sure they had it, Daisy drew him out of his office to “Ask about an assignment.” While Bowie planted the note in his room, having previously sprayed the inside of the envelope with the perfume Daisy gave you.

     Bowie subtly walked past Daisy to signal that the letter had been delivered. Daisy wrapped up her conversation with Professor Eppes and split. Charlie wandered back to his classroom and spotted the note. He took it and sat down. He recognized it as being what seemed to be in your handwriting, not analyzing it enough to realize it had been forged. He covered his mouth as he read, both surprised and confused. It was strange.. it didn’t seem like you. He thought about how you’d subtly distanced yourself from him over the years, could this be why? Had you begun to see him as more than a friend, and perhaps found him more intimidating because of that? He wasn’t sure what to make of it. Unfortunately, he couldn’t think about it too much because he had a case to work on. 

     When each of your classes were over, and Charlie had made some headway in helping Don with his case, you arrived at his classroom door. This time you knocked, and he had a chance to hide the letter he’d received in the top drawer of his desk. You didn’t wait for any signal to enter though, you just walked in after a couple of seconds. You didn’t want to startle him again by simply appearing. “How’s the case going?” You asked, looking at the equations written on the board. 

     He stood next to you, just about to answer when he smelled the scent of perfume. The same perfume on the letter. He looked at you and let out a small sigh. How was he supposed to approach talking about the note? You clearly weren’t going to bring it up. “It’s going good, I’m making a lot of progress. Hopefully once I give Don what I’ve got he has a better chance of finding the criminal.” His words were somewhat hopeful, but his face had ‘distracted’ written all over it. “Can I ask you a question?” You gave him a curious look and nodded silently. He looked at you with a concerned expression and took a deep breath before speaking again, “Do you feel like you can tell me anything?” 

     The words caught you by surprise, “What makes you ask that? I tell you lots of things, don’t I?” 

     He hummed, “Mmm, sometimes I feel like you hide things from me, not that you have to tell me everything, but I guess I just wanted to remind you that you can if you want to. You know, in person. I’m not that unapproachable, am I?” 

     You furrowed your eyebrows, very confused at this sudden topic of conversation. “Unapproachable? Why would I think-” You shook your head. Had he found out something you hadn’t told him about while he was away or about some dumb shit you’d done in college? If so, who told him? “Where is this coming from?” You asked. 

     “Are you pretending not to know or do you really not know?”

     “Know what?”

     He sighed again, “I got a letter this morning.”

     Your heart dropped, because apparently whatever you’d done was so bad someone had to deliver it to your best friend in writing? You’d never done anything illegal. (Okay, not anything extremely illegal). So what the hell was in that letter?

     “What letter?” You sounded a little more panicked. He felt relieved when it was obvious you really had no idea what letter he was talking about. The relief showed on his face and he couldn’t help but laugh. “I knew it didn’t sound like you.” He went to his desk and grabbed the letter, and then an actual letter you’d written him years ago that he’d kept with him. You followed and watched him, looking over his shoulder trying to read the letter. He laughed again, pointedly, as he noticed the slight differences in handwriting. “Ha!.. I’m sorry, Y/n. This is a forgery.” You grabbed the letter from him.

     “What? A forgery of my handwriting? Why? Who? What does this say?” You read it, and as you did, you noticed it smelled strongly of the perfume Daisy gave you. Then you laughed too. Not just a light laugh, you broke into uncontrollable laughter as the panic left you. “Wow, someone tried to pull a Clueless on us.” You said as your laughter finally began to fade. 

     “They did what?” 

     “Do you grade your students harshly, Charlie?” You questioned.

     “I don’t think so, I think I grade fairly. Why?”

     “We need to watch Clueless, as soon as you have the time, of course.” You insisted. “Let’s go.”

     You both picked up your things and walked to your car again. “We have to stop by my apartment so I can grab what I need for the next few days.” You explained as you got in the driver’s seat.

     “I don’t think I’ve gotten the chance to see your apartment yet.” He observed, a little excited at the idea.

     “Well, you’re welcome to visit anytime.” You offered, “But let’s see if you like it first.” You chuckled briefly and then drove out of the parking lot.

     The two of you quietly listened to music as Charlie thought about the case he was working on, and you thought about how he’d said it felt like you hid things from him. You knew from the way he worded it that he wasn’t just talking about the forged letter. You had been hiding things from him, of course, but you thought he was oblivious to that. Of course he also added the consolation that you didn’t have to tell him everything, but you thought perhaps it would be better if you did.

     You arrived at your apartment and took the elevator. Charlie held his hands behind his back and looked up at the numbers changing as you went through each floor. Soon, you arrived at your level and you walked to your front door. You walked in and grabbed a back to fill with clothes, a toothbrush, a hairbrush, and all the things you needed for work for the next few days that you kept with you at home.

     Charlie insisted he carry the bag for you after feeling how heavy it was, even if you said it was alright and that you could carry it.

     “Let me do something nice for you.” Was his final argument, and you knew you’d do something nice later in return.

     He put your bag in the back seat, and then the two of you drove to the Eppes’ home. “Evening, Alan.” You said as you walked in.

     “Good evening Y/n. You staying with us for a few days?”

     “That’s the plan.” You smiled.

     Charlie dropped your bag off in the guest room. “I have to continue working on this case, but I’ll see you at dinner. You do whatever you need to do in the meantime, alright?” 

      You nodded and smiled, and then Charlie left. You got out your work and some headphones, and you listened to some Fiona Apple as you graded your student’s work. As you quietly graded, you thought about the day. You continued to contemplate on opening up to Charlie about what you’d experienced in high school, mainly because he seemed to blame himself for your emotional and physical distance from him. You knew that at the very least you would assure him that those behaviors had nothing to do with him.

     A few hours later, Charlie knocked on the door. You didn’t hear him at first because of the loud music playing in your headphones, so he knocked again. After knocking twice and hearing no response, he slowly opened the door. Still, you didn’t notice. He could faintly hear the music blaring in your ears and he couldn't help but chuckle. He gently took the headphones off, which startled you. “Ah! Oh- Jesus you scared me.” You exclaimed, putting a hand to your chest and catching your breath. 

     He grinned knowing he’d gotten you back for all the times you’d startled him in a very similar way. “You’re gonna go deaf by fifty listening to music that loud.” 

     “What did you say?” You yelled. 

     He shook his head, “Very funny.” He rolled his eyes, and you grinned.

     “I think headphones wouldn’t have the option to turn them up so loud if you weren’t supposed to.” You determined with a shrug.

     “I don’t think that’s a very safe assumption.”

     “Maybe not, but if I’m already gearing towards going deaf early on I might as well continue to blast my music anyway.”

     “Sounds like flawed logic but hey, they're your ears. I guess it’s time for me to start learning sign language.”

     “I’m surprised you don’t already know it, since you already know just about everything.” 

     “That’s not even close to true, I just know most things when it comes to math. I don’t know english as well as you, and I’m not good at reading people, or understanding why they do things, I just focus on calculations.” 

     “I’d say your calculations help you read people and understand why they do things quite well.” You argued. 

     His expression changed to one similar to how he’d looked after he read your forged love letter. “I don’t know... they haven’t been helping me understand you more. I’ve noticed how distant you've been with me ever since I came back from Princeton. I just can’t figure out why. Maybe it’s just because we’d grown up. I guess that’s what typically happens to friends as they get older, they drift apart. I just hate that it happened to us.”

     Your expression softened, and your eyes filled with remorse. “I mean, I never intended for that to happen. Yes, there were years we had to spend apart, but I tried to help make up for that. We never stopped being friends, so we can’t have drifted that much.” 

     He clicked his tongue and looked down at the ground for a moment, “Sure, we never stopped being friends, but you changed, which is of course normal when you get older, but you seemed noticeably less comfortable around me. I don’t know why that always bothered me so much, I guess I’ve just always wondered if I did or said something to make you feel more guarded around me that maybe I wasn’t aware of?” He looked up and made eye contact with you, having finally asked the question that he hadn’t been able to ask until that moment.

     You sat quietly for a moment, trying to accept the approaching conversation. You opened your mouth to speak, closed it, and then got up from your chair. You wrapped your arms around him and held him close for the first time in a year. He froze for a second, and then tenderly wrapped his arms around you in return. “Charlie, no. I promise you did nothing wrong.” You assured him softly. Tears welled in your eyes as you thought of the real reasons you’d become a more guarded person. You let go of him and sat on the guest bed and pat the spot beside you. He sat down and waited silently for you to speak. “I know I probably shouldn’t let these experiences stick with me for as long as it has, since I was only, what, like fourteen, fifteen?” You laughed, feeling a little pathetic. 

     “But after you left, I did my best to make friends. There was one guy that seemed really interested in everything I had to say. He was really kind at first and found ways to earn my trust quickly. I was young, and naïve, so I didn’t question his attention. I liked having him as a friend, and then.. he wanted to be more than friends. I’d never had anyone like me as more than a friend before, and figured that a first relationship might be fun. At first, it seemed like we were having a good time. He got me gifts, always complimented me, showed me affection, and ultimately made me feel special. A tactic of his that I didn’t notice until later, was that he was rushing to learn everything about me. I mean everything. He got me to be vulnerable with him, and then used details about my personal life against me. He’d poke at my insecurities, when I’d tell him my fears he’d use that to scare me, and overall he was just a terrible person who enjoyed making me feel horrible. So, finally, I left him. Then I was alone again.

     “I tried making friends again, and I got in with this group of girls. I thought I found a good group, but I was wrong. They only wanted me to be their friend so they could do better in english. When I wasn’t around, they made fun of me just for having interests that didn’t align with their’s. They humiliated me, time and again. They’d waste my time on purpose by doing things like inviting me out somewhere, only to never show up. So, essentially, all that taught me was to be more guarded with people in general. I shouldn’t have let that apply to our friendship, but I guess when you came back I had a fear that maybe time had changed you and that you might hurt me. Hell, I don’t know why I thought that, you gave me no reason to. It was just my own fears.” You stopped talking and looked at him. His eyes were wide, like he was taking it all in. “I’m so sorry, that was a lot. I shouldn’t have said so much, I-” Then before you knew it, he was hugging you tightly again.

     “Thank you for telling me.” He whispered. Then after a moment, he pulled away. “I just want you to know, I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. If I do something that hurts you and I don’t realize it, please tell me and I’ll do everything to make it right. But I would never, ever, go out of my way to do something to harm you. You have been my best friend for the majority of my life. I’d have to be absolutely insane to ever do anything to jeopardize that.” 

     Then you smiled, and your whole body relaxed after feeling so tense while you told him everything. You sighed in relief, “Okay, enough with the heavy shit. Let’s watch Clueless.”

[scionshtola]

For the creative brainworms that won't morph into gpose or fic, this is your invitation to just ramble about any creative idea that you have rn! I'm suffering from the same Affliction TM so I wanna offer some help lmao

ty nero! i hope we can both overcome our Affliction soon 😭

i've been going back and forth in my brain between a couple things. one is affair au which i've talked about too much for what little i have written aklsdjfsd and the other is the TA romance AU, a modern AU where shtola is a young university professor and cori becomes her TA. and. there's romance lmao. i started writing it a bit the other day because i have in my mind like a montage of scenes from the semester where cori is shtola's student and their building friendship/dynamic that leads to shtola asking cori to be her TA/cori offering to be it. but the sentences were not flowing and for some reason in my mind i have to do that before i can start writing any other scenes from it even though that really doesn't make any sense LMAO

also still want to write the corishtola first kiss and i think i might try to gpose it today and see if that sparks anything lol

[femmefatalevibe]

Hello!

Hope you’re doing great today.

How do you become your best self- like operating in your full Potential? There’s a girl I know of who’s super popular on campus and she’s great: a model, may be doing pageants one day (I encouraged her), and is super smart. Recently on IG I saw she’s at Harvard Business school studying and she has a major in Political science.

I’m an English major - couldn’t attach myself to any legal studies because it wasn’t for me and I get insulted by family that I should be doing something other than English (they look down on the major).

So I find myself comparing myself to her because I am trying to do different clubs, and speak up and be all that I can be. But I’m not seeing anything changing for me.

I get over looked a lot, and it’s a new school for me (I’m a transfer student) so that’s added.

And I’m so lost.

I often looked down on my degree, I do believe I should be a speaker or go to galas and study things that holds influence. To be a woman of change but I don’t see that. I haven’t gotten any scholarships for holding events for clubs, nor do I get recognized.

I feel like I’m not doing enough and I feel inadequate in my abilities (I literally took a creative writing class with fifteen other poets for a special class and the Professor would constantly nit pick at my writing and say I have to revise - and the other students would be praised for their writing. And I actually thought I was a great poet til that happened. And he’s a poet himself, and well known so that hurt. And was embarrassing cause my peers weren’t helpful or encouraging either. They would just stare at me while he critiqued my work).

Not sure who I should be.

I’m not even good at the things I thought I was good at.

But when looking at my acquaintance- I see such great things going to happen for her in her future (all well deserved).

Hi love! You sound like you're doing great for someone in university, honestly. Most people, especially at that age, do not take the time or energy required to self-reflect and think critically about how they can improve/ thrive in their environment instead of blaming external circumstances for any obstacles they face. You sound very emotionally mature, which I'm sure will take you far. Having so much uncertainty and little support is so difficult, so know that your feelings are valid regarding why you feel uncertain and like you're losing time in this current moment.

While it is easier said than done, comparing yourself to others is a waste of the time and energy you can be spending on ideas, hobbies, and activities that make you happy/help you reach your goals. Please know that people putting you down for being an English major is very closed-minded. There are so many career paths you can pursue with an English degree (signed someone who almost did one, lol) – copywriting, PR, social media/content strategy & creation, UX & technical writing, broadcast journalism, reporter, editor, screenwriting, etc. Also, he is one poet – that is an opinion, not a general consensus. He might be a professional and have considerable skills under his belt, but that does not make his words gospel. Writing quality can be fairly subjective. However, the way he singled you out is awful – I would talk to an advisor about this unprofessional behavior.

The best things you can do in a situation like this are three-fold:

Focus on taking care of yourself. Block out what others, especially critics, think or say about any choices you're making that don't hurt anyone else. Try to establish some healthy routines (meals, walks, workouts, studying, skincare, reading, etc.) to feel more in control of your day-to-day life

Sit down and reflect on the activities that give you energy, what you're passionate about, and the goals that you would most like to achieve in the few years after university and the immediate ones while you're still on campus. For example, it sounds like you're interested in writing, public speaking, and fancy events. Find resources to get good at these skills and ways to get yourself in your desired work environment (internships, temp service work for special events, etc.) Maybe consider potential career paths like PR or speech writing. Consider creative outlets like making a podcast, TikTok, or Youtube videos.

Make it a priority to develop confidence in yourself and an unwavering sense of self-trust. I feel like an old lady saying this, but you're so young and have so much time to figure it out. Everyone has different histories, traumas, resources, and advantages/disadvantages in this life. Spending time ruminating over those of others and comparing notes is taking away the energy and creativity you need to pour into constructing your own life and identity.

Hope this helps xx

[paragonrobits]

apparently that One Youtube I Hate has recently been notably quiet after a lot of criticism of her 'writing tips' (the criticism being both entertaining and good writing thoughts, or at least approaches to creative works), but some of her videos lately have been about how binary morality is good actually (which is not at all terribly surprising) and that she really hates Puss In Boots The Last Wish for being... immature, apparently

because it has a talking, zoro-inspired cat fighting what she describes as 'baby's first OC' and saying its immature and doesn't have a mature story

the movie in question is VERY EXPLICITLY about the main character coming to terms with the inevitability of death, accepting his mortality and to appreciate what he has and literally making peace with death

this is not a metaphor, Death is the character he fights as a metaphor for taking his last life seriously and treating it with value, the movie is VERY EXPLICITLY about coming to terms with the inevitability of Death, that is KIND OF THE OPPOSITE OF IMMATURITY.

I'm not surprised she's fixated on binary morality, especially in a Good Guys Beat Bad Guys way (or rather, that anything a hero does is good because they're the Good Guys, and should feel free to kill villains without hesitation or remorse) and is apparently still trying to insist that the Dark Side should be treated more gray, or that the best series are the ones that treat it like that, and that's weird because LITERALLY NO CANONICAL STAR WARS SERIES DOES THAT

some might treat individual dark side users as somewhat complex (if tragically doomed to lose themselves) but the Dark Side itself is evil and makes you evil, no quibbling about it. It's also fascinating we have someone who is fixated on the idea of the Dark Side being good or morally gray, when we already have an aspect of the Force that does that. IT's the Light Side; the Dark Side is very much conflated with the evil fascist Empire that does 10 zillion atrocities a day. The dark side's signature technique is a torture beam that kills people as painfully as possible, and i think there is certainly some interesting analysis in the people who desperately want the Dark Side to be good, despite literally all canonical materials indicating how evil it is

there is also something to be said about how these mindsets take offense at a setting where controlling your impulses, reining in your desire to act out in anger during the heat of a moment, or otherwise exercising discpline, and REALLY want the power set that makes you want to strange people with your brain to be a Good Guy power, basically having the villains be the heroes but change nothing else

but also whenever I think about this person mention the name of Tolkien I immediately feel great rage and my mind shouts "YOU GET THE PROFESSOR'S NAME OUT OF YOUR GARBAGE MOUTH THIS INSTANT. NOW GO TRANSLATE BEOWULF FROM OLD ENGLISH AND DETAIL IN ANNOTATIONS ITS LINKS TO ESTABLISHED NORSE SAGAS AND LATER INFLUENCE ON FOLKLORE AND THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU'VE DONE"

[1800titz]

Hi! I’ve read everything you’ve posted and I’m on patreon and your stuff is very *chefs kiss* and such creative story lines! I had one thought the other day and I mean this as like. Helpful critique one writer to another. Like in the way that you don’t have to take this advice but I mean to help not hurt. You’re really fantastic at using creative imagery and unique words and you write very poetically. And most of the time it’s so good. But every once in a while it feels like a bit much - like I just want to know where he’s actually touching her or what they are actually doing. Like sometimes it takes a while to get to the actual action or narrative. Other times it’s really beautiful and flows so nicely and you create a really wonderful rhythm with it as well. You use it as a great narrative tool. But yeah in a *critique* way not a *complain/mean* way, you might want to consider pulling back and occasionally putting in some simpler more direct language. Especially at like the climax of a scene when I’m thinking “hurry up I want to know what happens next!” Bc you’ve told such a good story and I want to know! In the same way that the poetic language is a wonderful tool for some things, I think the simpler more direct language can be a great tool for other things. And by incorporating both it might make it more interesting to read. I had a professor talk about how when you change the style of language the reader doesn’t always notice that, but they do notice that the mood is different.

Again I LOVE your work and I intend this to be helpful not hurtful and you know yourself and your work best so if you don’t want to do anything with these thoughts that’s so valid!!

Hi! This is totally valid and I want to thank you for the support and for writing this in such a polite, friendly manner, because other times people don't do it so nicely.

I think I can understand where you're coming from. That being said, I also definitely make purposeful, lyrical prose choices. I'll probably never be able to understand why when you google "purple prose," the first thing to come up is "how to avoid purple prose," because to me, most literature that I enjoy borders on purple prose, if it already isn't. Like, genuinely, the kind of prose that other people hate and actively try to avoid, I will actively look for. It's just a preference thing. It's what I enjoy reading from others, it's what I enjoy writing. I think writing and reading stylistic decisions/preferences are entirely subjective, and I can also agree with you that a line of "he smiles" or "he holds her hand," as opposed to a chunk of flowery narrative, can add a delicate touch of simplicity here and there that I can appreciate. I think, as writers, we're always evolving and experimenting with our stylistic choices. I also am totally down with re-writes, and going back months later to edit things, and add new things, and take whole chunks out altogether, because I feel like that is the essence of writing, and I've done it before for sure! I go back, and I rewrite, and I put things in, and remove things, even if they're already uploaded. I've noticed a lack of ~simplicity~ in the earlier patreon posts for sure, which is why I go through, and edit here and there, and add things, and take things out. That being said, I purposefully avoid depicting actions a lot of the time, unless it's in a passage of smut (where it's mostly touch and movement and it makes sense to spell things out), because those things kind of unfold on their own in my opinion, if that makes sense. You can illustrate the movement occurring in a scene in three or four words if you wanted to, but you can't sense the depth of an emotion/turmoil/context in the same way, which is why that is a massive, massive part of my passages. I absolutely do not claim to be a pro in anything by any means, in any shape or form. I'm well aware that there are people out there who don't like my writing style at all. I just write things the way that I would enjoy to read them, and the way that make my brain happy. The fact there are people out there who enjoy it enough to subscribe and support me is unfathomably flattering, and I am really grateful for that.

But yeah! I totally get what you're saying, and I am no stranger to changing things and trying new things and growing out of/into new things. I agree that direct, simple language here and there can add a nice touch, and I'm totally open to incorporating a "he smiles" or "he holds her hand" here and there. The flowery metaphors and imagery along scenes are just a purposeful stylistic choice that I couldn't ever bear to part with.

Thank you again for supporting me and sending this in a really kindly worded way! <3

[mei-wixie]

Undertale University AU??

Hellooo I am new(ish) to tumblr and also the Undertale fandom but I just finished the game a few weeks ago (played neutral and pacifist, watched genocide on youtube because i do not want to kill them myself) !!!! And I loved it a lot so I am finally passionate enough about something to be creative with it So I was like why not make an AU-type thing where everyone goes to university? It's probably been done before (?) but whatever I get to do it again I'm currently thinking of maybe doing some comics and potential fanfiction / writing? Anyway so far I have planned out everyone's majors: Sans - Physics I chose physics for Sans because he's aware of alternate timelines in the game, so I think he would be interested in quantum physics specifically. Papyrus - Game Design I had trouble coming up with a major for Papyrus at first but finally decided on game design. Here he can be creative with all of his interests as well as create puzzles for players to solve. He also seems to be online a lot in-game so I think this would be perfect for him Mettaton - Theatre This one is pretty self-explanatory, he likes to be dramatic and will do great in theatre. There is also a cutscene of him acting in-game so I think it fits Alphys - Computer Science (with Biochem as a 2nd major or minor) Alphys very much programs in-game as stated by Mettaton when he talks about her naming programming variables after Undyne, and she builds machines and robots! And Biochem might change but I chose this based on her experiments in the True Lab, I felt maybe those would be considered biology? Undyne - Criminology (potential focus on forensics) Undyne is a cop in Deltarune so I felt like this major fits Napstablook - Music (minor in business) Napstablook seems to be very passionate about music so that is their true passion, but their parents wanted them to become a business major so they could carry on the family business. They were originally a business major to appease their parents but decided to just have it be a minor and follow their true passion. Shyren - Music Obviously Muffet - Literature Muffet talks very properly in-game and is also based on the fairytale "Little Miss Muffet" so I thought this would fit! Toriel - Theatre Professor? Maybe English At the end of Undertale hard mode (where you name yourself Frisk) Toriel reveals she was acting out being dead so clearly she has the ability to be involved in theatrics. But she also gives off English teacher vibes and likes to read a lot so I'm not sure. Maybe both? Asgore - Biology Professor In Deltarune, Asgore grows his own flowers. I also need the professors to teach classes the characters will actually attend so this works lol Alphys will be in his class W.D. Gaster - Physics Professor Specializes in quantum physics and has his own lab at the university where he conducts research. Some people find him a little shady, but Sans works in his lab and does research under him. I'm very excited to work on this more, hopefully I have the time!! I also haven't really drawn much before but I will try my best :P Thanks for reading!

[kimyoonmiauthor]

This week in people trying to overextend their Degrees...

https://twitter.com/ylecun/status/1742233111037870259

Original comment I'm responding to:

I'm afraid you totally misunderstood my point. 1. Many authors I know are more motivated by the impact of their intellectual productions than by the income it might generate through books and other publications. 2. Many of them face the following trade-off: will I give up income in exchange for increased readership by making my book free for download, or will I generate income while decreasing readership by charging for my book? (Note that offering a free download does not preclude also selling physical books). 3. The calculus is this: since the expected income has a 50% chance of being below $2000, I'm not going to drop my day job. Perhaps I should give up on what is likely to be a modest short-term income and maximize prestige and recognition instead. Prestige and recognition through intellectual impact can turn into future income (e.g. by getting a prestigious position). 4. Lots of people in the academic world have made this calculus and have offered their books for free download. Some of them simultaneously offer print version through publishers who don't mind (generally some non-profit university press). 5. Many of those people have realized that the free download, instead of reducing printed sales, actually *increases* sales. There are famous examples. 6. Academics are very familiar with the idea that you don't get paid directly for your writings. Scholarly publications (and talks) do not generate any income (in fact, they can cost money!). The income is indirect: intellectual or artistic impact is a precondition to a position in academia or industry research labs. 7. Computer scientists are also familiar with the concept. It's called open source software. You give away your software for free. Sometimes, your employer pays you to do so. Sometimes, you just want to make a name for yourself by contributing to an important project. 8. A similar phenomenon exists in music, particularly in jazz: a number of jazz musicians achieve financial stability through a teaching position at a university or conservatory. Additional income comes from performance. They get almost nothing from recordings. I'm not suggesting people shouldn't get paid for their work. In fact, I find it quite sad that most people can't live off of their creative work. If you can make a living by selling your books, music, or video games, more power to you! But I'm wondering whether the modus operandi that is prevalent in the academic world and the open source software world could not apply to other types of intellectual and artistic production. It may cause some creative productions to exist that would not otherwise see the light of day because of lack of commercial interest from publishers.

1. Many authors I know are more motivated by the impact of their intellectual productions than by the income it might generate through books and other publications.

Many Who? Did you read #Publishingpaidme? No? Really? Did you see the last person who declared something like this and people jumping on them—it was an agent? You haven't been paying attention. Many who? Cite your sources. Do you have sources or any publishing experience in novels? I have industry experience and I can cite sources beyond one article. Should we start with Bisheng in China?

Authors and writers who do creative works are more desperate, but want to be paid and paid fairly.

Backing into the "many" without citation creates a fallacy. You can do better as someone who teaches at NYU and has a degree teaching computer science. (Though no lie in my last project on story structure, professors were the worst at citations. And yes, I can name names with that and posted long and ranted long about that and their plagiarism.)

2. Many of them face the following trade-off: will I give up income in exchange for increased readership by making my book free for download, or will I generate income while decreasing readership by charging for my book? (Note that offering a free download does not preclude also selling physical books).

This is because society, in general misinterprets creativity and devalues it as a "real skill" It has nothing really to do with your first assumption. Much like AI often pulls from large creative datasets and devalues creativity and artists' skillsets.

Also, this doesn't prove to be true, but then you haven't really looked at selling models for books. There are more complicated things going on that you don't know and aren't accounting for.

Like the psychology of reviewers and trying to game for more reviewers when your book isn't getting attention, which you would know if you knew the last debacle with the whole gaming the Goodreads reviews by over reviewing.

The calculus is this: since the expected income has a 50% chance of being below $2000, I'm not going to drop my day job. Perhaps I should give up on what is likely to be a modest short-term income and maximize prestige and recognition instead. Prestige and recognition through intellectual impact can turn into future income (e.g. by getting a prestigious position).

Ummm… this isn't calculus. Did you take Calculus? I did This seems like a mix of unsupported statistics pulling numbers wherever you feel like it without cross referencing.

You're trying to use fancy words to sound smarter while proving you don't seem to understand basic psychology and don't know how publishing, artists, or self-publishing works.

Most artists don't do things for prestige value. They don't want to be famous. It's more like sharing is caring. This might be your value set, but it's not everyone's. Have you interacted with artists and creatives? The majority of the time we're swapping different techniques and trying to help each other to the top, again, see Xiran's expose on Goodreads debacle.

For those who want to be famous, etc, you know what they preach over and over again? Don't fuck this up for the rest of the artists: Make sure you get paid for your art.

Do you need a name? John Scalzi. He is famous for saying both things.

You need another name? Harlan Ellison. Harlan Ellison argued freaking hard for this. He won court cases for us. He is famous for preaching over and over again to make sure you get paid while also wanting the prestige.

Most artists that want prestige alone don't survive in the publishing industry. It simply doesn't work because you need the skill set to go with it, and there are certainly less masochistic ways to gain prestige.

You have who exactly? Desperation isn't the same as knowing marketing skills.

Lots of people in the academic world have made this calculus and have offered their books for free download. Some of them simultaneously offer print version through publishers who don't mind (generally some non-profit university press).

This isn't calculus either. Many who? This is also false equivalency. There is a faster road and more sure road to this than getting a novel published or a nonfiction book published. You should realize the fallacy of this and also be able to own you just don't know the artists that create the art you're claiming on.

Many of those people have realized that the free download, instead of reducing printed sales, actually increases sales. There are famous examples.

No. It increases customer dissatisfaction, actually to give things away from free. I can cite Mur Lafferty with a lot of interviews with self-publishers. You have who, exactly to back your assertion?

Second one backs the assertion. I could go more academic, but it's not like you're pulling anything to support your assertions, despite being an NYU professor.

It's actually a higher satisfaction rate to charge for your book rather than to give it out for free. You get better reviews. So when people charged 1.99 for their books over free, the amount of reviews and reviewer satisfaction went up. This might be inverse of what you expect, but this is well-known among self-pubbed authors.

Psychologically, this is inverse because sometimes people think cheap is lower quality. And free is the equivalent of a mattress left on the curb–it must be used and worn and not very good–in fact it might have bed bugs.

Academics are very familiar with the idea that you don't get paid directly for your writings. Scholarly publications (and talks) do not generate any income (in fact, they can cost money!). The income is indirect: intellectual or artistic impact is a precondition to a position in academia or industry research labs.

Academics is not the same thing. You're asserting that you know because oranges are also fruit like apples, so growing oranges must be exactly like apples. That's not the case. Because Academia takes a different skill set, but a related skill set from creating books in the creative sphere. It doesn't seem you have enough publishing knowledge to back your claim, so you try to make a related claim and then claim the feelings around it must be the same.

Because the proess of publishing nonfiction and novels and short stories is different from academia, the atmosphere and the reasons why people want to publish or have a publishing career also change. There is a lot of difference in this industry compared to academia.

But it's not. It simply is not. Also, academic papers get better pay than your average article. Ask me how I know this. I fucking looked it up. You get better residuals too, in the form of prestige means you get better pay in your career itself. It doesn't work this way in general publishing. You can fuck up one day and lose your entire career. The publisher says goodbye, no more sorry, you didn't sell well that we no longer want your books. BTW, you need a reference? Brandon Sanderson said this on Writing excuses that he felt lucky that he's been able to have a continued career in this regard.

Computer scientists are also familiar with the concept. It's called open source software. You give away your software for free. Sometimes, your employer pays you to do so. Sometimes, you just want to make a name for yourself by contributing to an important project.

Open source software is totally a different type of field and psychology from what you're arguing here. Also false equivalency and computer science as a core career pays well, that people can do it for prestige? No. They want to innovate the field further and try to find other computer programmers and learn and explore things.

My Dad was a computer engineer. I know this from personal experience of being near computer engineers. I know how they think. I also worked professionally in UX. You're thinking the psychology must be the same without experiencing the people. This is over extending.

A similar phenomenon exists in music, particularly in jazz: a number of jazz musicians achieve financial stability through a teaching position at a university or conservatory. Additional income comes from performance. They get almost nothing from recordings. I'm not suggesting people shouldn't get paid for their work. In fact, I find it quite sad that most people can't live off of their creative work. If you can make a living by selling your books, music, or video games, more power to you! But I'm wondering whether the modus operandi that is prevalent in the academic world and the open source software world could not apply to other types of intellectual and artistic production. It may cause some creative productions to exist that would not otherwise see the light of day because of lack of commercial interest from publishers.

No. You're jumping in order to cover your lack of knowledge of a thing. Focus on the feelings of the publishing industry. Show your knowledge of the people that produce books.

Jazz Musicians don't have the same psychology either.

So, in total, you're confessing you don't know anything about publishing industry, how it operates and who is working in it and for what reasons, but assert you must know because apples are fruit like oranges, so you have to be growing apples and oranges in the exact same way–don't you water them and put them into full sun? So then you must be able to understand that how you grow them and the pests that come onto them and the things the farmers have to care about as an apple grower and an orange grower must be exactly the same.

This is how your argument sounds like. Why not actually do the investigating and stop spitballing and, ya know, act like an academic and ASK THE PEOPLE and stop doing your backfire effect in the wrong way?

Also, it might behoove you to look into scams writers face and why people fall for those scams.

BTW, Anthropology Degree and minor in comp lit. Also published. So yeah, I know what I'm doing when I pick on your argument.

[elleenvs3000f23]

Blog 10 - Where I started, what I learned and my personal ethic as an interpreter

Why I wanted to learn about interpretation

I first started to consider the value and role of science outside just curiosities sake seriously in first year. I was working as a research assistant to a prof and in the early days of lockdown was waist deep in trying to outline and plan my research project on hydrological connectivity. My professor kept talking about how we needed to find our story - did we want to make research that talked about agriculture and changing land use? Did we want to make a new piece for the climate change puzzle by looking at how incoming precipitation changes would move around the watershed? Did we want to comment on urbanization and the changing structure of our landscape? 

I realized very quickly that my research and work as a scientist was going to be much more complicated than the experiments I did in highschool labs, or even the modeling I was currently working on in GIS. Science for science's sake is fun - I think a good baking-soda volcano is a testament to human creativity and the wonder of the little things. But experiments alone don't exactly draw funding and publications - or better yet, inspire real action and as our school would put it "improve life". Learning how to communicate my work as a scientist has since become a goal in my undergrad and was what led me to this course. In a scientific paper, sometimes you read a few sentences about the background of a place or the people that might be impacted by X phenomenon but the papers are never actually written for those people. I think interpretation can be a vehicle for bridging academia and communities in a two way street. 

In our reading for unit 10 we watched a video conversation between David Suzuki and Richard Louv. One thing Louv said that really resonated with me is the impact our imagined futures have on the world. If people think that they are separate from nature, or that environmental movements are futile, we are bound to head towards that envisioned world. I think being able to share research and nature itself with general populations is crucial to making sure we as a community are on the same page about what we value and what we want the future to look like. 

What I brought with me into this course

I come from a family of storytellers. My mom writes children's stories, my brother is an actor studying journalism, I do improv theater - family dinners are always a riot. Early in the course I would always try to anchor my blog posts to a story or experience I had - it felt like a way to make my work both unique and relatable. I think this anchor in storytelling is natural to me and I love the work I produce as a result of it - I think it is crucial to my approach to interpretation and I don't plan on losing it anytime soon. In the video of Louv and Suzuki linked above - they also both start the conversation with personal stories that connect their lives to nature - it is clearly a powerful tool to build engagement and emotional connection. 

My moments of connection to nature are often grounded in my workouts - running and kayaking. I think the fact that I see nature as a place to push myself and let go of stress is important to how I interact with interpretation and would share nature with others. We talked about risk and interpretation in unit 3 and how being exposed to some level of uncertainty and hardship can push us to build resiliency and discover new abilities in ourselves. That unit also taught us to think carefully about what thresholds of risk are acceptable and how to know when to step back and re-evaluate. I have been on both ends of this rope - having some of my best times being recorded because I got lost during a run but also reaching a point where I pushed too hard and had to call a friend to pick me up from the trail when I got heat stroke. I think having this experience and attitude towards time in nature as time to test limits is a unique counterbalance to my hopes of sharing more academic knowledge as an interpreter - Is there a niche for nerdy-jocks? I think that’s who I want to be as an interpreter. 

What I learned about myself and interpretation 

This course opened my eyes to how we can interpret more than just information and facts. Music and art are also crucial to connecting with and understanding nature. I have to give more thought to how I could connect these to my own interpretation; I write songs but doubt I will be confident enough to share them with an audience any time soon so perhaps art and music can be a way to bring collaborators into my interpretation. I often mention my friend Jack and his photos on this blog so continuing to talk to and share the work of local artists would be something to include in my approach to interpretation. 

Overall I think my initial impression of interpretation as a way to communicate science was narrow minded. Interpretation needs to be a two way street that connects with the beliefs and values of the people participating - maybe they can even give inspiration for new research questions as I begin to understand their needs and questions!

My responsibility and ethic

I want to

Celebrate local environments

Integrate physical activity with time in nature

Make communicating research essential to my interpretation

Connect communities to relevant research that impacts their lives

Make work that is relevant to current issues and questions and motivates action on issues such as habitat loss, water resource protection and climate change

I need to make sure

Make sure emphasis on physical activity doesn’t exclude disabled people form my work

Make sure that higher risk interpretation activities have an awareness of when risk has gone to far and have an exit strategy

Make sure I am as accurate and faithful to the science I share

Make sure I people are able to continue to engage with what they learned

A summary of my approach to future interpretation

I am a water researcher - it's been my work throughout undergrad, I will study pollution and water quality for my masters and I hope to continue to a pHd. As I mentioned in my earlier blogs, I believe that water is a great connector of people and nature. Water has great historical importance as we established communities along the shores of water bodies and traveled oceans and rivers. We can’t live without it but people are very disconnected from it as a resource that comes from taps and bottles. I want to make sure that I am connecting my interpretation to high quality science as well as the needs of the local community. In my home of Guelph/Fergus, a great deal of concern exists around protecting groundwater reserves from the bottled water industry and a key landscape feature is the Grand River so I would focus my interpretation around the history of the Grand and the environmental role of groundwater and rivers. I also think by encouraging participants to share their memories, stories and art of time in nature I could help build connection. I want to do an interpretation that is directly relevant to the issues facing the environment and communities and I believe that we can all benefit from spending more time outside and being active. In a single sentence I want to do scientifically based, community focused interpretation with an emphasis on physical activity.

[laventadorn]

what did you study in college & did that help you with what you’re doing as a career now? Any advice for a gal struggling through undergrad trying to go to grad school?

behind the cut - this reads more like a collection of thoughts, i feel very unqualified to give advice!

about me and my degrees:

i studied english and creative writing in college, which according to articles i've read, almost nobody does anymore. the liberal arts are a field that's cleared out at dusk after all the players have gone home -- or to STEM fields, in this case.

the job i'm in now is entirely based on my degree -- can't have this job without it. but i've been part time for ten years, because getting a full-time job is a crapshoot, and part time pay is shit. but the time i tried to switch jobs, i got so profoundly depressed (in the clinical sense) i had to go back to this job. i'm just trying to embed myself until they hire me full time.

english grad school is, moreover, unlike many graduate school programs because (functionally) nobody goes unless they’re getting it for free, which means needing a fellowship or grad assistant program that pays for everything and awards you a small (unlivable) stipend. the second option is what i did. (essentially they’re training you to be a college professor, and you’re studying for free and getting food money.) fellowships usually pay more but are more competitive — but the process of getting into grad school for english or creative writing is equally a crapshoot. the first year i tried, i didn’t get in; the second year, i applied to more schools and a couple of them took the bait. i picked the school that gave me the best package.

bottom line is, it would really depend on your program. i have zero knowledge of other fields, sadly, because almost everyone i know who did grad school was in english like me. of the english MA/PhD people i know, they've worked in publishing, teaching, writing, and coypediting. so the fields have all been english adjacent, because typically you don't get a grad degree in a field unless you're committed to it.

(some people just daisy-chain MFA programs. they go from one to the other, living on fellowships. you can get multiple grad degrees. i once met a guy at a party who was even going for his postdoc at MIT. that's real commitment to the grad life.)

i don't regret my degrees or graduate school -- i had a great time in both. however, i also got out with no debt, since college was cheaper then and i got scholarships to schools that weren't exactly high brow. i also just really enjoyed being in school because it suits my habits and personality, and i was studying something i loved. a lot of people very much do not feel that way -- if you're struggling... :(

there was also nothing else i could've effectively studied. i am only competent in liberal arts. if i'd taken a STEM track, i'd have failed out or had a nervous breakdown from not understanding my classes. no joke.

advice, such as it is:

i was reading an article about the ratio of people who regret their degrees, and people tend to regret it the most due to two factors: debt obtaining it and hire-ability afterward. yeah, no surprises there.

for advice pertaining to your specific field, i'd ask your professors -- they had to go to grad school, obviously, so they'd be more knowledgeable about what it's like. if there are younger professors around, that might be more helpful, since their experiences would be more recent. unless the older ones have kept up with the times, a lot about the job market, and academia, has changed in the last 20 - 30 years. is there any teacher you'd feel comfortable talking about it with?

i'd also be clear to yourself on why you want to go to grad school. if you're already considering it, you probably have heard all this before/know it already, because grad school isn't a common thing -- i just have to say it anyway. i don't know why you, specifically, are struggling with undergrad or if you even want to disclose the reasons, but even though i'm primed for academia and was studying what i enjoyed, grad school was tough. in undergrad there's typically a lot more leeway, but in grad school they do not let anybody fuck around. everybody is an A student. they're dead serious, and you (general you) can get kicked out for poor performance, especially if you're getting money from the school to even be there. not to say you're the fuck-around-and-find-out-type -- i definitely wasn't -- just that it adds pressure. i didn't even go for the PhD but stopped at the MA track. so i would just advise caution in the deliberation. if debt is an issue, for example, and your chosen degree would only add to it, i would be very clear on the finances.

of course, take all this advice with the caveat that it's entirely based on my experiences and perspective, and i don't consider myself to be a very wise or practical person! i just muddle along.

[abiiors]

Hi!! Can you please talk more about your job as an editor?? I’m really interested in that field and I’m trying to research how to get started so I’d love to hear about your journey!

absolutely darling!

so for starters, i have a degree in creative writing but we had modules on publishing and editing which were quite helpful to me. i think what you want to do for very basics is figure out what genres you like the best/feel the most comfortable reading etc. i personally do romance with a mystery thriller here or there so i don't get bored lol.

editing for litfics, poetry, non-fiction would be very different to editing for romance or mystery thrillers so i think it would be better to try out a few different genres to figure out what you like best.

when i was doing my creative writing course in uni, i asked one of my professors if he would write me a letter of recommendation for internships since he ran a magazine at the time. anyway, looking into internships or entry level editorial assistant jobs might be your best bet.

now i will be honest with you; an editorial assistant is a bit of a shit job. the publishing industry is unfortunately not that great to entry level staff but the good news is it doesn't have to be permanent. the whole point of it is to get some experience in trad publishing. another psa - editorial assistants don't actually do any editorial stuff, mostly just admin stuff. the most you'll get is proofreads for cover blurbs/newsletter stuff etc. regardless, it's definitely a learning opportunity.

i think it's also good to figure out if you're more interested in the big names like prh/s&s etc (opportunity to work with amazing authors but they also tend to treat entry level staff like shit) or if you're more interested in working for indie presses (which is what i do). there's always the option to go freelance but i can't advise you on that because I've never done it.

if you're interested in publishing in general instead of just editing, you could also look into other career options like agenting or graphic designers/illustrators etc.

bit of a long answer but i hope it helps x

and you can always reach out to me with more questions <3

[magnus-sm-writes]

Short Story Update: End of 2023

Believe it or not, when I’m not writing novels, I’m typically working on short fiction. I know I talk a lot about my poetry—and believe me, I do write quite a few poems—, but I’ve been trying to work on my short fiction since October of last year. 

What really got me going was the realization that it had been a full year since my last (and only, as of writing this) short story was published. “The Ghost You Left Behind” was published in Coffin Bell’s October 2022 issue. I got a little panicky about that (I think I cried). I’d put off both writing and attempting to submit short stories for quite some time due to the hectic events of my 2023. In short, I needed to do something. I was getting antsy.

I realized I needed to challenge myself more. Constraints equal creativity for me. It’s about testing myself, pushing to see if I can still write to a prompt or not.

This update showcases two short stories of mine: “The Boy & the Hag Stone” and “Plastic Fangs”. 

Out of both of them, you might think that “Plastic Fangs” was written first. But I actually began “The Boy & the Hag Stone” in October, and didn’t begin writing “Plastic Fangs” until December. What can I say? I’m a spooky boy year-round, except when it’s spooky season. Then I’m just a regular boy.

For both of these stories, I was inspired by visuals. Honestly, for any story, I am inspired by visuals. I don’t think in words; I think in pictures.

For “Hag Stone”, I was thinking a lot about the stone in Coraline. That cool little guy is actually rooted in beliefs that hag stones protected you from evil, and that looking through one could reveal hidden evils. Not exactly how it’s used in the movie, but I’m willing to give it a pass because I’m a sucker for a good Laika movie. I was also inspired by how much I personally hate wearing shoes. (I work in an office, and my coworkers know that I am most focused without my shoes on.)

“Plastic Fangs” was fun because it was my Halloween piece. (Just two months late on that, as always.) I had this idea of a scene where a vampire went as himself for Halloween. Not a very original idea, I know, but I was so inspired that I drafted the story in less than two days, and wrote a second draft in just as much time. 

(This is why I thought I could easily finish 2 short stories in the month of February. Which I did not do.)

These stories flowed from me with an ease that felt almost surreal. It was truly incredible. Perhaps that was because I had just gotten my full-time job and was finally able to stick to a schedule. Writing around an hourly work schedule was difficult for me because it was so unpredictable. However, with my work hours set (and by virtue of that, my writing hours set as well), I can easily finish more writing now than I could before, when I had objectively more time to finish things.

Both of these stories were fun additions to my growing collections of stories with fantastical elements. 

“The Boy & the Hag Stone” is about Rishi, a man who’s a little directionless in life, and the strange man he meets called Banshee. Banshee is the biggest manic pixie dream boy I’ve ever written. Quite frankly, I want to write more for him, even though he’s a very difficult person to write dialogue for. 

It is a little over 5000 words, though it needs some serious revisions. Somewhere in the middle, the style completely changes. I was going for a vaguely fairytale-esque vibe, in honor of the professor who encouraged me to write fantasy once again. It didn’t exactly work the first time around. Hopefully, a second pass will allow me to salvage the idea, because I think it fits the tone quite well. Banshee is mysterious enough to be a small-town folk legend. Funnily enough, that is my ultimate goal in life. 

My quote for “Hag Stone” is from Coraline, of course: “I think most things are pretty magical, and that it’s less a matter of belief than it is one of just stopping to notice.” I think that describes Banshee’s outlook on life perfectly. It’s not only that he himself is magical: he believes the world is full of magic, and that he’s just more attuned to it than the average person. 

What I love most about “Hag Stone” is that Rishi is just as willing to go along with Banshee’s weirdness as I would be. He’s having a far more interesting early-twenties crisis than I did. Mine ended (I think) when I became an administrative assistant; Rishi’s ended when he met a man who could see the future. We are not the same. 

EXCERPTS

His mother had swallowed a hag stone when she was pregnant, they say. He blew through town for a wedding. Though his name was Ian, they called him Banshee. 

Banshee came into people’s lives just as they needed him and left like a ghost. He was wild and unkempt, save for the polished stone around his neck, and had blank, colorless eyes like asphodels. I was a fool to let him sieve through my fingers, but I know I’ll see him again.

For some reason, I thought he would taste earthy. Like a mouthful of dirt, or of sand. Rotting leaves. Or like a mouthful of sugar. Pure and sweet. Like home, turmeric and sweat and heat, or home, wood polish and vanilla perfume and fresh laundry, or home, dust and stale noodles and horse. Banshee tasted like none of that, but somehow made me think of all of it. He tasted like a new home I could slip into. 

Songs I listened to while writing “Hag Stone”:

Haunted House - Florence + the Machine

Nobody - Mitski

Almost (Sweet Music) - Hozier

I Will Wait - Mumford & Sons

The second short story, “Plastic Fangs”, is one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. Marcellus is a vampire on the hunt for a lover and a good meal all in one. He finds that in Abel. But all is not as it seems.

It’s a rather wordy short story at 5800 words. The ending is the shakiest part. That much is typical of how I write short stories. (That is: with no ending in mind, only what feels natural.) 

“Plastic Fangs” was one of those works I finished in two days at most. I actually began writing the second draft before I finished the first. Marcellus experienced such dramatic character development in the middle of the story that I just had to change the beginning because it didn’t fit anymore. Originally, he was just a run-of-the-mill, angst-filled vampire. Now he’s just a strange person that reads people’s diaries to learn their deepest secrets. For a dead guy, he’s full of life.

Abel is a good contrast for Marcellus. He’s a little angsty, pretty lost. Marcellus has had a lot of time to figure himself out; Abel hasn’t. That’s what makes their dynamic so interesting to me, I think. They have different life experiences. 

I’m certain that “Plastic Fangs” will take far less time to edit than “Hag Stone”. For one, it’s already had one round of edits. I also didn’t take any risks with the prose. It’s a pretty typical example of my style. I could see “Plastic Fangs” and “The Ghost You Left Behind” taking place in the same world. They have the same sort of vibe to them. 

The quote for this short story is from Rachelle Lefevre: “The thing I love about vampires that I find so fascinating is that, unlike other sci-fi creations, they aren't monsters from the get-go, they're human beings first... and so what kind of human you are would dictate what kind of vampire you would be.”

EXCERPTS

In October, Marcellus’ penchant for the dramatic—that which made him what he is today—gets to come center stage as he attends various costume parties, parades, festivals. He buys a set of flimsy plastic fangs that sit strangely in his mouth. Tacky in a charming way. An amateur stage adaptation of Dracula. 

Marcellus loved performing Doctor Faustus in the troupe. We understand Faustus better than nearly anyone, Julius said, because we’ve already sold our souls for profane power. He understands making selfish decisions; Faustus was only his favorite because Julius got to be affectionate as Mephistophilis. 

Abel has a small, blown-out tattoo that might have once been a smiley face right above his hip.

Songs I listened to while writing “Plastic Fangs”:

Howl - Florence + the Machine

Waltz of the Bone King - Peter Gundry

Ravenous - Autumn Orange

Haunted House - Florence + the Machine

These two stories really helped drag me out of a writing slump. Moving into my parents’ house did a number on me mentally and creatively, and I only managed to get out of that when I began working full-time and forcing myself to go out more instead of succumbing to my depression as I was. I think you can tell that I was still pretty depressed when I wrote “Hag Stone”, even if it is a story about hope. 

My husband actually suggested I try turning “Plastic Fangs” into a book. I think there’s potential with that. These characters interest me so much that I want to do way more with them than I can within the parameters of a short story. I have a few scenes written for a larger project with them, but I’m not quite sure where that will take me. 

Please ask to be added to the taglist! I'm tagging @bardicbeetle, because Larkspur is and always will be my inspiration for writing weird shit about vampires. <3

[ridethedarkerwave]

Freedom and the creative life.

Sometimes I don’t understand how people can have regular jobs, the kind of jobs you work 9 to 5 or whatever, Monday through Friday, not doing something you love, looking forward each year to a couple weeks of vacation. At this point in my life, I don’t think I could do it (unless of course I really had to).

I am spoiled. As a professor, I can schedule my classes not to begin until 11:30am or later. I stay up until absurd hours most nights, going to bed anytime from 2am to 5am. Every winter, between fall and spring semesters, I get a full month off from teaching. Time to recuperate. After the spring semester ends at the start of May, I get almost four months of freedom to do whatever I want. Typically I stay home during the summer months to make progress on research and writing, but in the past I’ve also done traveling + summer hiking and camping. Summer is my time to really be creative. The past couple summers, I’ve made significant progress on my book writing project.

My job is not all butterflies and flowers. I work my ass off during the school year, preparing for lectures, grading far too many papers (I often have 90 to 100 students per semester). It can be stressful. As an introvert, I sometimes don’t want to try to be engaging in front of a classroom. I want to just sit in my office or at home, reading a book or working on my computer. But no matter how challenging it can become, I have a difficult time imagining myself doing anything else for a living. I would hate to give up this freedom that I have.

In addition to the freedom of time, I also get to choose which courses I will teach each semester and design their content based on my own interests and what I think the students might find engaging.

At nearly 2am right now, I’ve been finishing an iced coffee while looking over some research notes for the book I’m writing. I sit in my kitchen at the large table with minimal lights on, the windows open, the peaceful quiet and sounds of insects outside. Often I listen to music for hours, or Twitch Hearthstone streamers in the background, the ones who talk to their chat. (I think it makes me feel a little less alone.) Now that classes have started again, I sometimes have to set my alarm, at least on the days when I teach at 11:30. Tomorrow I just have one class at 4pm, so I can sleep as late as I’d like.

I remember once reading a quote about Madonna, something about how she is up late at night, doing creative work while much of the world around her is asleep. I feel similarly about my life, and I don’t think I’d want to have it any other way.

[ddddd929eii29e29]

Unlock Your Creative Potential: Crafting a Short Story Idea📖💡

Are you an author? Do you enjoy learning about the creative process for yourself or simply because you find it fascinating? You're going to love this blog. You can actually position yourself for success in other writing endeavors by being skilled at short stories. That's why we're demonstrating how we create a short story.

Short stories are self-contained works of prose fiction whose function is to impart a moral, capture a moment, or evoke a certain mood. 

Short Story idea 1:

My life has been miserable since I was a child, full of lies, scolds, shouts, pain,  including problems. My inspiration on writing my short story is my own experience. This story encodes things that probably tell the flow of my life.

You may be thinking, “All this advice is good, but sometimes I just get stuck! What I normally do just isn’t working!” That’s a familiar feeling for all writers. Sometimes the writing just seems to flow as if by magic, but then the flow stops cold. Your brain seems to have run out of things to say. If you wait for the magic to return, you might wait a long time. Writing takes consistent effort. Writing comes out of regular practice, a habit. I also know that not everything I write ends up in the final draft. Sometimes I have to write what shitty rough draft. One of my favorite writing professors used to say that he was a terrible writer but a great reviser, and that’s what helped him write when inspiration wasn’t available. I develop a set of habits and have more than one way to write to get the words flowing again. You might associate the idea of writing anxiety or writer’s block with procrastination, and procrastination certainly can be either a cause or an effect of writing anxiety. You can learn more about procrastination later in this section of the text. But writing anxiety or writer’s block is more of a condition. We might even venture to call it an ailment. I included characters in my story as it is an element needed in a short story. These characters convey emotions of mine, they are the ones who elaborated my experiences to the audience which I can't do or share personally with others. These characters are friends of mine, I manage to gather pieces of information and more background details about them to truly make my story meaningful in each side of the elements. "Nighttime at the orange house" is my chosen setting where in I undergo problems. This time and place are where my "anxiety" started which is my plot. My story can either be easy to understand or not, based on the reader. If he/she may somehow encounter the same situation as mine they would understand. My story's center of attention is anxiety. The plot is the main conflict of my story, you can find another conflict in the story I made. But if we talk about the main conflict, anxiety covers the word conflict. Knowing the cause of your writing anxiety can help you move beyond it and get writing, even if you can’t eliminate the problem. If the topic doesn’t interest you or if you’re having problems at home, those probably aren’t issues that will just disappear, but if you try some of the following strategies, I think you’ll find that you can at least move forward with even the most anxiety-inducing of writing assignments.

Short story idea 2:

Romance has had to stand the test of time every once in a while. Add to it one’s individual struggles at home and work, and the idea of romance begins to seem highly unattainable. But then comes a person who makes you want to take a step toward dating and romance. They make you feel happy and loved, and you become ready to take risks. But even then, there are challenges one has to face; one of them is striving to achieve personal goals while at the same time devoting time to one’s partner. It becomes increasingly difficult to maintain a steady balance when two things demand your attention at the same time. This is where maturity, understanding, and compromise come into the equation. “A not so Inconvenient Love,” tells the story of one such pair who is learning what it means to love and at the same time achieving personal goals. “A not so convenient Love” draws inspiration from “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before” and adds a flavor of its own to this coming-of-age romantic comedy story. "An Inconvenient Love” paints the story of Maya, a young girl who works part-time at a convenience store. She hails from a middle-class family that can barely make ends meet. Then we have Colby, the son of a rich industrialist, who decides to carve his own path by setting up his own business. The two meet in the most unlikely situation one can imagine. Colby was running away from a protest rally held against his father’s corporation. He changes his appearance on the go, and while he is on the bridge, he asks Maya to play along with his story. Sparks fly between the two. Soon, Colby begins to frequent the store where Maya is working with the intention of courting her. But Maya is opposed to the idea since she is leaving the country soon to pursue an internship in Singapore. But with Colby’s constant visits and her colleagues’ encouragement, Maya agrees to date Colby but lists conditions for their courtship. They decide that they would break up on the day she was leaving for Singapore. The conditions also state that there will be no grand gestures of affection or celebrations of the monthly anniversaries. Thus, the duo begins dating on their own terms. Romance or romantic love is a feeling of love for or a strong attraction towards another person, and the courtship behaviors undertaken by an individual to express those overall feelings and resultant emotions. Love is a connection or affection between two or more people, but is commonly known between two individuals. Love can wait, Love can understand.