#more like the CRINGE brothers amiright???

[cloud-based-and-rainpilled]

Love how every tomgreg fic the sex is terrible and one of them cums almost immediately. Can’t even give these boys a W in smut they are just so embarrassing

[the-magpieprince]

When you get this, please respond with five things that make you happy! Then send it to the last ten people in your notifications (anonymously). You never know who might benefit from spreading positivity. ♡

this is like two months old but better late than never amiright (I do feel kinda bad for leaving this in my inbox for so long so imma put in some effort lol)

right now something that makes me incredibly happy is Wilbur Soot and his music, solo stuff and with his band Lovejoy. If you like indie rock check them out! The lyrics are also very aro coded :)

then also Ranboo and Aimsey, both are streamers on twitch and both are openly gender funky! Aimsey uses all pronouns and Ranboo uses he/they and both of them being so open about it and having their friends and fans accept them is just heartwarming to see <3

ofc i gotta mention my friends. they listen to my rambles, they motivate me to take better care of myself, they make me laugh. special shoutout to @thesquidkid @charlies-bog @inkbloodpaperandbone and the kitchen party <3 (@kitchen peeps if you see this say banana in discord)

star wars is another thing that makes me happy tbh. the timeline is messy af, the canon constantly changes, the dialogue is often cringe. but I've been a massive fan since forever and it brings me joy :)

and finally: food. Ive been living with my brother, mostly independent from our parents, for about a month now so we've been cooking a lot more and honestly it's been great! we tried out some new recipes and all of them were a success :D

[atlaskrr]

im scared im phasing into a depressive phase AGAIN. i dont wanna go back to when i couldnt even brush my teeth and sat on a window contemplating every day but it feels like i might. things are better but everything still feels so weird. yeah i have friends now but im just kind of there. i realize that my voice is just never loud enough. whenever i try and speak up or voice something not just to friends but in general nobody hears or listens to me i feel like i did when i was a kid again. and then someone else says what i said and theyre seen, people listen. worst part is its also my other friends so i just feel shitty of beung envious of them. i see people whove spent less time on their skills and just why are they so much better than me. i just realize how the person i click with best has their own friend group and then in my friend group my 2 friends click better together than i do with them so what am i then. and i have no mativation to do anything these days, nothing of worth anyways. so when im there and theyre talking its like im invisible and maybe i should just start talking and i try but sometimes nobody hears me and i dont feel like trying again in case they did but just didnt react or cause i didnt want to disturb their time with others or maybe i didnt speak up at all in the first place cause i feel so empty and tired which sounds so cringe amiright but how tf else do i describe it. i just want someone to ask me something or try and get me included why do i always have to take innitiative or question if somethings an open invite. thats just friends. at home my dad had an outburts, bruised my brother, and made my mom feel useless recently. then he starts acting all nice and ik hes just trying i mean his family are a bunch of trash but i just cant anymore. i feel like im the one breaking thw family apart now by being angry and spiteful and distant and i feel like im becoming my dad and the thought makes me want to throw up. but whenever i see myself acting nice to him because hes being nice it makes me want to throw up too because hes part of the reason my moms depressed. and i realize i dont even know who i am or what i want i lack the direction or long standing passions everyone else does. the only consistent thing i have is writing but i dont write a lot like other writers and nobody cares for it its not that impressive. ive managed to tone done my old tendency to tell small lies to seem like im so simillar to other people but its still there so in reality nobody really sees the true me (great im sounding cringe again but once again cannot find the words) i think thats why i love rp and writing sm because i can be someone with a set mould and identity. meanwhile im a walking contradiction with blurred lines. i think if i dissappeared people would be sad for a bit but theyd move on faster than youd think. it wouldnt be hard to go back to normal because i wasnt much part of it. maybe my parents would be the saddest but theyd be happier after no. worst part is i often put my emotional burden onto my friends and i feel like the shittiest person for venting so i think theyre nice out of pity. sometimes i exaggerate my problems so others feel more pity, so even if its not genuine ill feel like people care for me but at the same time i cant tell when im exaggerating or not. its more like leaving it vauge so i dont seem like the ungrateful bitch i am. cause my life isnt as bad as others so why am i crying and complaining. i come from a rich family with parents who are home more than other families. my parents are not pressureful and they are nice and i just lash out. i cant tell whats the truth of that situation anymore if im frank. i have a good amount of friends and a group, i have people to text and call. yet why do i still feel like this? i was just feeling happy yesterday. i really dont get it.

[peepeepotter]

Chapter 2: You have a very beautiful...wand.

Pairing: George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Draco kinda body shaming George/male body insecurity, and just...so many uncomfortable moments. If you’ve watched the show you’ll probably get over it sooner. Also cursing but y’all might have to get used to that with me, I curse like a sailor.

Word Count: 2.5K

Series Masterlist

A/N: If you would like to be added to the tag list you can message/ask/comment and I’ll add you! If you asked to be added and you weren’t on the tag list, let me know! I forget a lot of things, haha.

“So where are you taking her for dinner?” Draco sat at the island in the kitchen, staring at George as George reached into the fridge to grab a beer.

“Uh. I don’t know. The Three Broomsticks? I don’t really know if you can call it a date.”

“Well, first off. The Three Broomsticks? Our bar? Don’t ruin the bar, dude. Take her literally anywhere else. Second off, why wouldn’t it be a date?” Draco asked.

“I don’t know, she’s the first person I’ve gone out with since Angelina.”

“Woah, big deal alert!” Y/N said as she walked into the kitchen, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl. “I wanna be included in these conversations! I’m a girl, I can help.” She smiled.

“Yeah, but you’re Y/N. You’re like...you’re more like a puppy than a human girl.” Draco turned, giving her a disappointed look.

“Whatever, either way. I guess I’m nervous so I asked this girl out because I don’t really care how things end up with her.” George offered as an explanation. Y/N cringed at that. She knew she had to start getting used to how the men in this loft talked about women, but she couldn’t help but think of herself in that same scenario.

“Well, are you going to go hit the gym?” Draco asked. George furrowed his eyebrows.

“Why?”

“To get rid of your belly.”

“What are you talking about?” George asked, looking down at his stomach.

“The little pouch where you keep your extra cookies.” Y/N smiled, pinching her own little “kupa” as she and Ginny called it.

-

George stood in front of his mirror in his bedroom, his shirt lifted just enough to see his lower stomach. His brow was furrowed. He didn’t have that big of a tummy. Sure, he wasn’t carved like Draco, but who the hell had time to work out to be that muscular? It’s not like he had—what did Y/N call the look she liked?—a dad bod. He took his shirt all the way off.

He turned around and started playing music on his record player. Y/N had started showing him more muggle music, which was a bit more his vibe. Reggae started playing when he put the spindle on the vinyl. He turned it up as loud as it could get.

Y/N looked up when she heard the reggae music playing from her bedroom. She smiled, glad that George was enjoying the music she had introduced to him. She looked back down at the paper she was trying to grade, but kept getting distracted by the blaring music. She sighed, and thought for a moment. She didn’t want to ruin his appreciation for muggle music, but she really wanted to have these papers graded by the end of tonight so she could give them back to her students tomorrow. She got up from her bed.

“George!” She shouted over the music as she walked across the hall to his bedroom.

“George!” She called again, now knocking on the door. She supposed he couldn’t hear because of how loud the music was. She sighed, just opening the door as she rolled her eyes.

“Geo—oh my god.” She covered her mouth with her hand, the other hand still on the doorknob as she walked in to see George fully naked.

“Y/N! Get out!” George yelled, grabbing a pillow to cover his manhood. Y/N squealed out a giggle and slammed the door shut, running to her room. She closed the door to her own bedroom, now both hands covering her face. Just when she felt like she had gotten close to one of the guys in the loft, she saw him naked! She felt so embarrassed, and she couldn’t imagine how George felt.

-

“I saw George naked yesterday.” She whispered to the other three men in the loft’s kitchen.

“What?!”

“How?”

“Wait, you’ve seen George naked before I have?” Draco asked.

“Well, he was playing music really loud, and I kept yelling to turn it down. I even knocked on the door and waited, but I figured he couldn’t hear me, so I just walked in.”

“Oh god.” Harry put his head in his hands, leaning onto the kitchen island.

“Poor guy. He must be so embarrassed.” Said Neville.

“Well, not much to be embarrassed about, amiright?” Harry offered, lifting his head up and chuckling.

“Well, that’s true.” Neville laughed. It helped cheer Y/N up, and she laughed, nodding too.

“Wait, so all of you have seen George naked except for me? I haven’t seen one of my best friends—”

“Only friends—” Harry interrupted.

“Naked?!” Draco finished.

“It’s not a big deal. Why are you making this a thing?” Y/N asked, turning to Draco.

“Well, wait, how have you two seen him naked?” Draco asked, ignoring Y/N.

“He’s basically my brother. We grew up together. Shared locker rooms, bathrooms, pools, penis fights.” Harry shrugged.

“We were in the same house at Hogwarts. The guys all shared the bathrooms.” Neville offered.

“Literally what the fuck—” Draco droned on. Y/N heard George’s door open and rushed to the front door, attempting to block it.

“Listen George, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to butt in on you while you were...well while you were doing whatever you were doing but you couldn’t hear me over the music!” George had sunglasses and a hat on, attempting to avoid anyone looking at him at all. When Y/N blocked the door, he walked up to her. Her breathing stopped when he came close to her, not expecting him to get so close. He picked her up from the armpits and moved her to the other side of him, quickly turning around and opening the door to make a quick attempt at leaving.

“That was awful.” Draco said from behind Y/N. “But at least you’ve seen his penis.” He sighed.

“Why do you WANT to see it?” Harry asked, also behind Y/N.

“What if he dies, and aurors need me to identify his body, but the only thing that’s left is his penis. I’ll have to say ‘Sorry officer, I can’t help, because I’ve never seen his penis.’” Draco said dramatically.

“Again, why do you want to see his penis?”

-

Y/N sat at the kitchen island, eating her dinner alone. George stormed into the apartment and into the kitchen, getting a beer out of the fridge.

“I have something for you!” Y/N said, grabbing her purse from the stool next to hers. She took out a stick decorated with phoenix feathers and other various animal feathers. “It’s a feeling wand. When someone has the feeling wand, they have to share their feelings. You see, I am feeling like I want to know what you’re feeling.” She smiled, jutting the wand out towards George. He gave her an empty stare, leaning against the counter, drinking his beer. He rolled his eyes, leaning onto the kitchen island. He grabbed the wand, and held it for a long moment. Then, he broke it in half.

“Believe it or not, this is not the first time someone has broken my feeling wand.” She looked back into her purse, pulling out a nearly identical, although significantly smaller wand. “So I keep a travel-sized one.” George rolled his eyes again. “Come on! Let’s just talk about it!”

“You want to talk about it? You ruined my date!”

-

George’s date, Persephone, welcomed him into her apartment. She grabbed his face, bringing her lips to his nearly immediately. George kissed back out of instinct, but as Persephone tried to take his shirt off, he inched away from her. She pulled away, furrowing her eyebrows.

“Do you want me to go first?” “Wha—”

Before George could even finish his thought, she had her shirt off, and she had not been wearing a bra. He gestured towards her, confused.

“What—look at you!”

“Okay, now it’s your turn!” She smiled. George mimed taking his shirt off and throwing it across the room. Persephone quirked her head to the side out of confusion.

“I don’t understand. Do you want to like...take it slow?”

Which is exactly how George ended up awkwardly cuddling with this girl for two hours before she fell asleep and he left.

-

“I didn’t mean to!”

“Any time I take off my clothes I just hear your weird little laugh! This is very damaging to my ego.” He yelled, walking to his room.

“I’m sorry! It wasn’t funny!” Y/N said, running in front of him and blocking the entrance to his bedroom. “You have a very beautiful...wand.”

“Then why did you laugh?” He crossed his arms.

“It was just an awkward moment and I don’t know how to deal with that!” George once again picked her up, turning around to set her down.

“You need to stop doing this! I’m trying to have a mature conversation!” Y/N yelled while he lifted her into the air, eyebrows furrowed in anger.

“A mature conversation? You laughed because you saw my penis, you can’t even say the word penis, and I’m the one stopping you from having this ‘mature’ conversation?” He asked, turning back around to face her.

“I’m sorry.” She sighed.

“I just want to have meaningless sex with beautiful women.” George sighed.

“Maybe you don’t want that! Maybe you’re not ready for that!”

“I have a wand. I want meaningless sex with beautiful women.” He rolled his eyes, turning around and entering his bedroom.

“You know what you have to do now?” Draco suddenly asked behind her, anyone could hear the devilish grin in his voice.

“What?” She asked, hoping he could point her in the right direction of fixing her friendship.

-

Which is how Y/N ended up butt naked wrapped in a towel, in George’s room, waiting for him to get back home. Now she faced his mirror, quickly opening and closing the towel. “I can do this.” She huffed. She turned around towards the door when she heard the front door open and shut, but quickly she heard a female voice moaning at George. “Oh my god.” She whispered, laying down quickly on the ground. She had never wished so much that she owned an invisibility cloak than she did at this very moment.

George and Persephone entered his bedroom, making out. Persephone sat on the bed, asking him to take his clothes off. With renewed confidence, he took his shirt off. Y/N started crawling towards the door, hoping the activities taking place would distract the two from seeing her. However, as George pulled his pants down, he came face to face with Y/N. They both started screaming, and she stood, abandoning the towel, attempting to escape. She couldn’t open the door, it was stuck. She closed her eyes tight, and breathed out.

“Can you open the door?” She asked, turning around. This time, George covered his face with one of his hands, trying not to laugh. Persephone was horrified.

-

While the nudity fiasco was happening, Neville, Harry, and Draco sat on the couch in the living room.

“I still don’t really understand why you want to see it so bad?” Harry asked.

“Look, it’s just weird. For some reason it’s making me feel left out. And you know what? I’ve been having a rough go lately. My students are really struggling to understand this one concept that I don’t know how to reteach to make it easier for them. Plus, the girl I've been in love with for a decade is very likely going to get married here soon.” He huffed.

Neville and Harry glanced at each other when he said this last thing. They had both had a feeling that he had been in love with their mutual friend, but he had never said anything. They both knew their fellow charms teacher and friend was engaged, and she had been one of the first people after the war to forgive and befriend Draco.

“We’ll see what we can do.”

-

George stood, ranting about privacy and personal space while holding the feeling wand. The other four in the apartment sat on the couch, this time Y/N was fully clothed. Harry raised his hand, requesting the feeling wand.

“I feel like Draco has been having a very tough time lately.” George furrowed his eyebrows, confused about what this had to do with anything he just said. Neville took the feeling wand next. “I feel like Draco has been friends with you for a really long time, and has gained your trust enough to see your penis.” Neville said, George covered his face with his hands.

“Oh my god, I need to move out.” George mumbled to himself. Neville handed Draco the feeling wand.

“I feel validated.” Y/N was really struggling to keep in her giggles at this point. She didn’t really understand why Draco cared so much, but found the other boys' support kind of endearing.

“THIS! This is what I mean! I just want to go one day without someone seeing or wanting to see my penis!” George yelled.

“I feel like George is yelling.” Neville said, holding the feeling wand. George snatched the feeling wand out of his hand and stormed off to his room.

-

George heard a knock at his bedroom door. “Come in.” He said. Y/N entered, her eyes covered and started knocking on the wall of his bedroom. “Y/N,” George laughed. “I said come in, you can stop knocking and open your eyes.”

“I’m sorry I ruined your hookup.” Y/N frowned, coming to lay next to George on his bed. “I really just wanted us to get back to normal and Draco said something along the lines of ‘he showed you his now you show him yours’ and for some reason I listened.”

“It’s okay. But it was definitely stupid to listen to Draco’s advice. Next time go to Harry for advice.” George laughed, turning on his side to face the girl next to him. She stared at the ceiling,

“I’ve been working on something.” She grinned, turning on her side to face him.

“Go for it.”

“Penis.” Y/N said calmly, without any hint of a smile or laugh.

“I’m proud of you.” George chuckled, reaching over to pat her shoulder. “I’m sorry I made this such a long thing. I think, by the way, that maybe you’re right. I don’t think I’m ready for meaningless sex with beautiful women.” He scrunched his nose.

“You mean Persephone won’t be coming back.” Y/N held back a smile, avoiding dumb thoughts in her head.

“She definitely won’t be coming back.” George laughed, remembering the fiasco. Y/N sat up, ready to leave. She paused when she got to the end of the bed, looking back at him.

“Did you...did you see like...everything?” Y/N’s cheeks shone red under George’s dim lighting in his room. He giggled.

“Yes.”

“Like—”

“Everything.” He confirmed. She blushed, standing up and walking to the door.

“Goodnight, George.” She turned around to smile at him.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He smiled in return.

Tag list: @yllwtaxi @ememseay @droppingthegloves @wassup-peoples @dejayoon @astoriaplease @postsbyjenipeo @edmunds-torch @ummmlana @kennreid @charming-fan-girl @expelliarmusmyass

[bettsfic]

march pinned: ending the sex project

in the march edition of my lowkey writing-related newsletter, in addition to my writing-related post roundup and upcoming consultation availability, i have personal essay recommendations and a segment on the definition of a project!

for more information on my creative coaching services, check out my carrd.

if you want to receive my lowkey writing-related newsletter directly, you can subscribe here.

full newsletter below the cut, or you can read it here.

fuck february, amiright?

i thought january was bad. but february. february was the stuff of nightmares. my cousin passed away from covid (you can read about her here; she was really an amazing person and i feel so lucky to have known her). i was finally formally diagnosed with PCOS (bittersweet, i guess). my car broke down. i took two (2) days off and it took me two and a half weeks to get caught up again. i can only hope march treats us all a little more gently.

the good news is, i finished revisions on my short story collection to send to my agent, finished workshop submissions for the semester, and now i can return to my first love, fanfiction. that i am constantly working through original fiction to return to fanfiction has been making me think a lot about the nature of a creative, capital-p Project. so, this month’s BTALA (been thinkin a lot about) is going to inspect the concept of a “project.”

new resource

last month i unveiled a folder of my favorite short stories which i’m pleased to hear several of you have perused and gotten some inspiration from. this month i’ve compiled my favorite personal essays. there are fewer essays than there are short stories because i’ve broken them into two groups: personal and craft. next month i hope to have the craft essays compiled.

i’m always looking for more things to love, so if you have recommendations for your favorite short stories and essays, i’d be happy to hear them!

writing-related posts

how to physically maneuver the revision process

the difference between M and E ratings of fic

resources for worldbuilding (check out the reblogs for more!)

a couple syntax/prose book recs

how to break a long work into chapters

march availability

unfortunately i have to cut my coaching hours down a bit, so i don’t have any openings left in march, but i have some availability in april. if you’re interested in a writing consultation, please fill out this google form!

you can learn more about my services on my carrd.

what i’m into rn

for the past year, i’ve basically been trapped in a 10x10 room, and my health is definitely reflecting that, both mentally (does anyone else feel like they’re living in groundhog day? just, every day being exactly the same except fractionally worse than the day before??) and physically (i reorganized the kitchen and could barely move for two days).

reader, i have discovered something called “walking,” in which i put on real human shoes and go outside. it feels strange, bestial. neighbors wave hello to me. a harrowing experience.

while doing this, this walking, i’ve been listening to the lolita podcast which a friend recommended to me, a ten-episode series that dives into everything lolita: the novel itself, its context, adaptations, greater cultural responses, and — as a sticker on my laptop says — vladimir “russian dreamboat” nabokov. as far as i can tell it seems well-researched and presents the many perspectives of lolita in a fair way. i’m only a few eps in, but i’m entranced so far. highly recommended if you, like me, have a complicated relationship with lolita.

i’ve also found myself mildly addicted to a mobile otome game called obey me, which. look i know it’s like the definition of cringe but it’s also mind-numbingly fun and if i want to spend my minimal free time pretending 7 demon brothers are all vying for my affection then that’s between me and god. it’s a lot of what i loved about WoW: frequent events, bright colors, a daily to do list of simple but satisfying tasks, many many rewards, and it doesn’t take itself very seriously. and if i have 4k fic written of mammon/reader that’s nobody’s business but mine and my longsuffering ao3 subscribers.

i’m telling you this because i don’t know anyone else who plays it and am desperate to trade headcanons. so if you play, or start playing, hit me up!! i will give u mad tips and daily AP.

been thinkin a lot about

the project. the project. even the word “project.” PROject (noun). proJECT (verb). what is the project? “project” comes from the latin pro and jacare which means “to throw forward,” or projectum which means “something prominent.” a projector throws forward an image. to project onto something means to throw your perspective onto something else. to embark on a project is to make something prominent in your life. the concept of “the projects” comes from public housing projects, the government throwing forward affordable housing.

what is the project? in joseph harris’ essay “coming to terms” he says that “to define the project of a writer is…to push beyond his text, to hazard a view about not only what someone has said but also what he was trying to accomplish by saying it.” harris’ perspective is that of an english teacher encouraging his students to read critically, not just to summarize a text but to find its project, its greater purpose. and while i first read this essay in a seminar on composition pedagogy, it stuck with me as a writer. it made me reconsider the greater nature of the creative project.

how many of us, if asked to describe our writing project, would begin with a plot or character premise, the nuts and bolts of a specific story? maybe even the working title? but i wonder, is breaking out the plot really the project? is the discipline of sitting down and typing really the project? and when the story is finished, is the project over? what is the project?

in 2019, i wrote 86k words of a novel. i began revising that novel last fall, and i’m finding that i’ll probably keep maybe less than 10k of that initial draft. i’m not bothered by that. the novel i wrote before that started at 125k, then i rewrote the entire thing to 200k, then i whittled it back down to 160k, and next i’ll be tasked with paring it back down to 80k. i’m not bothered by that either. in the past five years or so i’ve written about 2 million words, and i’ve only published 20k of them. only 1% of what i’ve written, i’ve published. in the words of lauren cooper (catherine tate), i’m not bothered.

i used to see publication as the birth of the project, and writing it akin to a long gestation period. then i saw publication as the death of the project, and its life was lived in its drafting. now, publication seems irrelevant to the project. the confines of a story and its many revisions are also irrelevant to the project. the beginning of a story is not the start of the project and the end of the story is not the end of the project. the project is larger than the story, its revisions, its publication, and its eventual readership.

i think it took me so long to see this because for so many years i was still in my first project, the sex project, an exploration of trauma and sexual identity, which began in 2014 with destiel fanfiction, endured through many fandom shifts, my MFA, years adrift as an adjunct, all the way through 2020 with the completion of my short story collection. i used to wonder how anyone could write about anything other than sex. to me it was the only topic worth my attention. i was certain that i would spend my entire life being a sex writer and i’d never find fulfillment writing a young adult sci fi adventure or a highly literary novel about complicated family dynamics. i was baffled by people who were interested in other things, who could write entire novels without using the word “cock” even once.

then my sex project ended. i don’t know when exactly it happened or why, but suddenly i realized i never wanted to write another artful description of an orgasm or find a tactful euphemism for a vagina ever again (personally i prefer “wet cunt” because not only is it blunt, i find it phonetically pleasing). obviously i’m still writing explicit fanfic but it doesn’t feel the same as it used to. sex feels more sidelined to me, even if it’s still the center and drive of a fic. i no longer get any personal satisfaction from writing it, although i do get satisfaction in sharing the work for readers to enjoy.

it’s like i’ve somehow solved the biggest puzzle of my life. or i guess made peace with my meanest monster, that extremely complicated double-mind of desire that some non-sex-repulsed asexuals feel: you want to feel desire you can’t actually feel so you write it into fiction, to try to understand this thing you can’t have and which society tells you you’re missing, and you don’t even know if you don’t have it, because you still feel desire for affection and intimacy, and maybe even a desire to be desired. and for those of us who are asexual and have c-ptsd, sex you don’t actually want (but don’t know you don’t want, because maybe you’re ambivalent and mildly curious and touch-starved) and an unrelenting drive toward people-pleasing can be a dangerous combination. how can you ever know what consent is if you always put other people’s desires above your own?

maybe i’m alone in this. maybe i’m not. maybe for most people, wanting sex is a light switch: yes i want it, or no i don’t. but for me, i had to write a whole lot of words to figure out things like desire, consent, intimacy, forgiveness, the shape that good love takes. the lengthy theoretical flowchart of “i might be interested in having sex if this and this and this and this and this happens in this exact order and under these exact circumstances.”

it was hard to write something into reality that i have never seen except in pieces, in subtext i clung to with no lexicon to give it shape and meaning. te lawrence in lawrence of arabia. some of tarantino’s early work. the film benny and joon. and weirdly, the star wars prequels (that one’s hard to explain; i’ll spare you). i don’t think the sex project was about coming to terms with my asexuality as much as it was trying to organize my thoughts and feelings by continuously rendering my own experiences within a greater, shinier ideal — like how you sometimes have to unravel the entire skein of yarn to find the loose end, and only then can you get started.

i guess i’m in the infancy of the power project now. i’m moving toward themes of control, infamy, greatness. the exact circumstances in which atrocity occurs. how people rise into leadership and fall from grace. the consequences of success. i don’t know why this project has come to me, or what, if anything, it has to do with me. i’m not famous and have no intention of becoming famous; i don’t have social power or influence, at least not beyond my little corner of fandom, and i’m not interested in having it. and yet, here we are, already hundreds of thousands of words in.

my fics digging for orchids (tgcf) and a standing engagement (the hunger games) deal with the detriments of fame. and even float (breaking bad) to a degree is about the aftermath of being so close to power. my novel cherry pop, loosely based on macbeth, is about an ongoing power exchange between two teenage girls. my other novel, vandal, is about a girl who believes she has magic powers and casts a spell on her neighbor to fall in love with her. and i’m in the very early stages of a novel called groundswell, a cult story i’ve been wanting to write for years. i had no idea why i couldn’t write it until i realized it wasn’t yet my project. i’m not even to the stage of developing characters, let alone a premise or plot. i’m still just building my aesthetic pile (i discuss the aesthetic pile here, as well as vandal in more detail), watching documentaries on cults, reading books, finding inspiration, marking down ideas as they come. it may be years before i’m ready to sit down and write it.

now that i know what the project is, i have more patience with myself. it doesn’t bother me to rewrite a novel from the beginning, or to scrap novels altogether, because the story isn’t the project. the project cannot be diminished by cutting words, sentences, paragraphs, entire chapters. the project does not have a product. the project cannot be published. the project is in the practice, in dragging the impossibly large into clear, acute existence, so you can see it. so you can see the very center of what you thought was an unknowable thing.