#just combine this with the ''stanley kissing'' google search

[very-uncorrect]

"Artístic "intimate" wife scene"

"Nude Stanley"

[samayla]

I’ve really enjoyed seeing your thoughts on writing! Would you mind diving into how you get to know your characters? I have an idea for a story but am struggling to connect and get to know these new characters. (Which usually isn’t a problem I have so this is new territory!)

Ugh - been there! It always feels a little bit awkward trying to get to know brand new characters. 

One of the first things I do, no matter what project I’m working on, is retell the story from each major character’s point of view. Heroes, sidekicks, love interests, villains... Imagine for a minute or two that this is their story. Just start with a three-sentence summary, then keep writing if inspiration strikes. Why is that sidekick hanging around? What is the Big Bad’s beef with your hero? What does the love interest even see in this person? Remember that everyone thinks of themselves as the hero of the story. Take a minute to tell it that way.

You can go into as much detail as you like here, depending on how much you know about your plot. I go through this process several times during plot development, just checking in with all my characters, making sure they still have a reason to be invested. As my awareness of the plot increases, I’m always shocked at how my characters grow.

If you’re into this sort of thing, you could try doing a tarot reading for your characters. A quick Google search will show you all kinds of tarot spreads for writers, but I like to do simple, three-card spreads most of the time. I pull cards to represent three character traits. Or emotional/inner want, physical/outer want, need. Or I pull cards to explore the relationships between characters, or their feelings about one another or their circumstances. A simple question-answer format works great, and sometimes a single card is all I need to get the creative juices flowing.

Sometimes playing around with clothing helps me get a feel for new characters as well. There are plenty of online doll makers for you to explore. Doll Divine and Azaleas Dolls are a couple of my favorites, and they both have very diverse options for character creation. I go with my gut first for picking initial outfits, but then I take a minute to stop and figure out what that says about the characters. You’ll be surprised about what you find out. Is the clothing practical? Flashy or nondescript? Overly complicated? Are they always cold, or showing all sorts of skin? If it’s not very practical for what they do in their daily life, why would they choose it anyway? Are there cultural rules at play here? Is it an act of rebellion? Pay attention to how you feel when you wear certain outfits, and how other people treat you as well. Clothing is a surprisingly big deal.

My final - and arguably weirdest - tip for character development is to use placeholder characters. If you know a couple of things about a character, but haven’t fully fleshed them out yet, pick an existing character to work as a stand-in for now. Treat it like an audition of sorts. Sometimes you won’t know what you want in a character until you’ve tried several on for size. And in the meantime, using a character you know will help you stay at least consistent with their actions and reactions, you know?

When I started writing Magpie Grace, all I knew about one of my fairy lords was that he was male, very powerful, and unfathomably old. Not exactly a complete image, is it? I pretended he was Thranduil from The Hobbit for a while - even used his name in my earliest outlines, just to keep his characterization straight in my head - until I decided he was too cold and distant. This guy raised my main character, is her closest friend and confidante. I couldn’t see anyone getting that close to Thranduil, let alone turning out as spunky and empathetic as my MC did. I’m embarrassed to say that my next stop was at Carlisle Cullen, but he was too fakey. No one would believe he was humanity’s great benefactor. Also, Carlisle creeps me out, which is the opposite of the vibe I needed for my character. He’s the fairy who makes you forget that fairies are dangerous.

 I ran through half a dozen characters, ricocheting around and discovering what worked and what didn’t. In the end I needed a character you wanted to invite to be part of every situation, but who still stood out as exceptional, no matter where you put him. My fairy lord ended up being a combination of RuPaul (too out-there if left undiluted), Magneto (too holier-than-thou), Stanley Tucci (too soft and friendly) and a viking warlord (too chaotic and outright aggressive). I don’t even know, but somehow the combination works. He’s charismatic and flamboyant and self-assured and tattooed and dangerous and he does forehead kisses and pet names with the best of them. Everyone wants to be near him, and no one dares to cross him. I do this with characters all the time. The key to writing, especially during events like NaNoWriMo, is forward momentum. So hire a stand-in until you figure some stuff out. 

I hope some of that helps you out! Or it’s at least fun to try!!

Good luck!

[justlookfrightened]

89 for Zimbits? I know it's a bit angsty.

No. 89: “I could never forget you.”

From this prompt list

Jack skated around the net, arms raised in triumph. The goal was his second of the game, his tenth since joining the Aeros three weeks ago. Things were looking up.

So was Jack, grinning at the fans packing the stands, cheering for him, glad he arrived in the middle of season to bolster their team’s playoff hopes.

That was when he caught a glimpse of golden hair.

It was there and gone, and Jack was headed toward the bench to bump gloves with his teammates before skating to center ice to start play again.

For the rest of the game, he tried to get another look. That might be why he managed to make so many shots on goal in the second period. No more went in, but he took the opportunity to search the stands before each faceoff.

He didn’t see the hair again, didn’t have the chance to find out if it was attached to the person he was looking for.

What were the odds? The last time he’d seen Bitty, he was off to take a job in Philadelphia. As far as Jack knew, Bitty had never even been to Texas. But Bitty might be anywhere after five years.

When they came back out to play the third, it wasn’t as easy. That end had become the Falconers defensive zone, so his back was to the stands when they had faceoffs down there. He had one good chance when he chased Jones into the end boards, pushing him up against the glass while he tried to get the puck from between his skates and searched the seats over Jones’ shoulder.

Then he caught the second glimpse: not just honey blond hair this time, but deep chocolate eyes, eyes that were locked on Jack.

Until he saw Jack looking at him. He hopped out of his seat and headed up the aisle.

Fuck.

The puck skittered out and Maxwell snagged it and put a shot on goal.

“Jack! Where’s your head at?” Marcus yelled to him after cleaning up the rebound and leading the charge up ice.

Jack just shook his head and grinned, acknowledging his lapse and promising to do better with one gesture.

The Aeros won the game, their fourth in a row, and no one said any more about Jack’s distraction.

After practice the next day, Jack opened his laptop and did something he hadn’t done since Bitty walked out of his condo in Providence.

He typed “Eric Bittle” into the search bar.

Bitty, it appeared, was now the proprietor of a popular and well-reviewed bakery in Houston. He was active in the local LGBTQ community, with a well-known practice of hiring queer kids who were in need of support. He was known for the creativity in his baked goods, especially, of course, his pies.

In one interview, Bitty talked about how he had created his own family out of his college hockey team and how he didn’t know what he would have done without his teammates. He was simply trying to pay that forward, he said.

None of the interviews mentioned Jack. None of them mentioned that he was the Eric Bittle who had kissed Jack at center ice after Game 7 of the 2016 Stanley Cup Final. None of them mentioned his three years in Providence after that, trying to build a career in the city’s foodie industry.

It had never really worked. Bitty was too well known as Jack Zimmermann’s boyfriend, something Jack thought Bitty eventually came to hold against him.

That was something neither of them had foreseen: the way Bitty’s identity became subsumed in Jack’s. It didn’t matter to people that Bitty was captain of the Samwell team his senior year, that he had a baking blog for years. The things that Jack loved most about him – the strength and the courage that brought him out of Georgia, that made him play hockey, that helped him overcome his fear of being checked, combined with an almost irresistible warmth – those things didn’t figure at all in what people knew about him.

To the world, Bitty said the day he left, he was just Jack Zimmermann’s piece of ass.

Jack had asked him if that was such a bad thing to be, and Bitty had walked out.

Jack had five more years in Providence, pretty successful years, too. No more cups, but playoff appearances every year. And once Bitty was out of the picture, Jack found his life on the ice getting easier. Maybe other teams were getting used to the idea of having an out player in the league, maybe it was easier to ignore when there were no pictures of him and Bitty, no images of Bitty in the family box on the Jumbotron.

His life off the ice had become more and more empty, though. Marty retired, and then Thirdy. Tater went off to play in Seattle, and George went to Vegas of all places. Snowy got married and settled down. Without Bitty to push him out the door, Jack … well, he’d become something of a hermit.

He didn’t connect as well with fans, which wasn’t a huge problem, but the new, younger players kept their distance as well. Or maybe he kept his distance from them. It showed in the team’s play, and it wasn’t a huge surprise when management told him Houston wanted him, and the Falconers wanted him to go.

He really had no idea Bitty was in Houston.

Once he knew, the idea of making contact took up residence in his head. Bitty clearly knew he was here. Bitty had come to a hockey game he was playing in.

Maybe he should let Bitty contact him. His phone number hadn’t changed. (Bitty’s had. Jack tried it the night after he saw him at the game.) But maybe Bitty didn’t know that, didn’t want to draw attention by going through the team. NHL teams did their best to keep the boundaries clear between players and fans.

And Jack knew where Bitty’s bakery was. He plugged it into Google maps; it was only a ten minute drive from the hotel where the team was putting him up until he could find a place.

It took a week. A week of wondering what Bitty thought of him, what Bitty wanted, whether Bitty would be happy to see him. Bitty had come to his game, he told himself. Bitty left when he made eye contact, he argued back.

Maybe Bitty had a boyfriend. A husband, even. But the interviews he found didn’t mention anyone.

It was the last off-day of the regular season when Jack finally parked down the block from Bits and Pieces.

He sat in his car, took a deep breath, and rehearsed what he wanted to say one more time.

“I’m sorry I didn’t understand what you needed. I’m glad you found it. Can we be friends?”

That would have to be enough for now.

There was no line, just a kid with one side of his head shaved and the hair on the other side dyed purple behind the counter.

“What can I get for you?” the kid asked.

“Coffee,” Jack said. “Black. And one of those apple mini-pies.”

The kid (Quinn, according to his name tag) rang him up, and as Jack dropped the change from his twenty into the tip jar, he said, “Is your boss around? I know Eric from college.”

The kid grinned.

“You must have played hockey,” he said. “He talks about it all the time. You want me to get him?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all,” Quinn said, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Jack had taken a seat at a table by the door when Bitty emerged. He looked like he was steeled for a confrontation when he came through the door, but his face still paled when he saw Jack.

“Black coffee and apple pie,” Bitty said. “I knew it had to be you.”

“You knew I was in Houston,” Jack said. “I saw you at the game.”

“Yeah,” Bitty said. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Jack said. “I was glad to see you.”

“You were?”

“I didn’t know you were here,” Jack said. “When I got traded. But after I saw you, I looked you up.”

“That was a week ago.”

“I didn’t know how you would feel about me showing up.”

“That’s fair,” Bitty said. “I’m not sure how I do feel.”

“I have something I want to say,” Jack said. “I’m sorry for the way things ended. I didn’t get what you needed, and I should have.”

“Okay,” Bitty said. “I’m sorry too. I should have tried harder.”

“You did try,” Jack said.

“What do you want now?” Bitty said.

“I was hoping we could be friends.”

Bitty cocked an eyebrow, and the expression was so familiar it made Jack’s chest hurt.

“Why?” Bitty asked. “I figured you’d just forget about me and move on.”

“I could never forget you,” Jack said. “I’ve been missing you for five years.”

“Don’t,” Bitty said. “Don’t say that unless you mean it.”

“I do,” Jack said. “I mean it. I’d offer to buy you coffee, but …”

“You just bought my coffee?” Bitty said.

“Dinner?” Jack said. “You choose?”

******************************

This now has a second part here. It’s the second version of the prompt fill.