#my phone does it twice if my connection is dicey

[amygdalae]

If I ever reblog something twice its always an accident but 3 times is always on purpose

[reesewestonarchive]

10 questions tags

so in my absence I ended up with something like... fifty tags? a lot of tags. and they’re now all in my reading list and I’m going to draft them all so I can read and reblog and reply and whatnot, but holy shit, you guys keep busy.

I’m not tagging back because this is really long haha

tagged by @sleepy-and-anxious for questions

Do you have a writing routine?

noooooo lol. I don’t even write when inspiration strikes, haha. 

Early bird or night owl?

usually I’m awake at night? but having a scheduled job that needs me at eight am tries to put me to bed at a more reasonable hour haha

Who is your least favourite oc? Tell me about them.

...ooh. jon, probably, though even he has badly-justified reasons for doing what he does. maybe one of his clients, because there’s no good reason for them doing what they do, just that they do. (also I just... don’t like to talk about them haha)

How do you come up with plot ideas?

who knows! how do I come up with anything? I consume a lot of media, and it used to be that any time I’d watch a movie I’d be hit with inspiration. now my anxiety doesn’t let me watch a lot of movies so there goes that idea

Do you make playlists for your wip?

I do! oftentimes they suck or have very flimsy ties to my wip but hey

What software/type of document etc do you write on?

pages, evernote now apparently, also notes, because before I had pages on both my phone and my computer I wanted the cloud to help me keep shit straight. I used to email it to myself if I wrote on my phone... that was not fun haha

Do you like to gush about your wip or keep it secret?

a little of both? from the roof of my mouth gets talked about a lot. shadowed’s a little more secret just because it’s darker and I’m concerned no one’s going to want to hear about it?

If you could pick one song to describe your wip what would it be?

everlong :p

Did you make a writeblr for any specific reason?

I just wanted to connect with other writers? and it’s been great, up until my own bullshit made that difficult haha

also tagged by @writerachel

what are your top 3 favorite movies? 

can’t hardly wait, back to the future, and... oh. I blanked.

do you listen to music when you write? 

not usually. from the roof of the mouth is the first time I’ve been able to in a while, at least stuff that isn’t instrumental.

who’s your favorite character from any book you’ve ever read? 

oh. um. ...that’s a very good question.

what’s your favorite line from your current wip? 

less of a line and more of a passage, but when Nakoa uses the ‘dicey’ pun on dice’s nickname. also the ““I love you,” he says, and his voice holds steady.”

which of your current wips would you want to be a movie? (IF YOU HAVE ONLY ONE WIP: what book would you want to turn into a movie?)

well. that’s a good question. uhh.

do you have anything/anyone in your life that influences/inspires your writing? 

other writers here, and I’m lying if I don’t say raven specifically haha. otherwise, I mean, not really? I don’t write based on my own life because I get anxiety about it. 

starbucks or dunkin donuts? (I HAVE TO KNOW I’M SORRY!!)

I drink dunkin donuts coffee at home so I guess them? haha

can you write anywhere or do you have to be in a specific place? 

nah I can write anywhere. apparently my favorite is when I’m trying to fall asleep though

worst book you were forced to read in school? 

the alchemist. I also don’t care for to kill a mockingbird, and I read it twice for school

do you have any pets?

I do! some kitties!

tagged by @quill-and-ink-writer

What is your favorite time to write?

at night, hahaha.

Is there a book you would rewrite? If so, how?

I feel like I’ve been asked this before, and honestly... I don’t usually think like that? like I read books and usually they’re either good or great, ‘cause I don’t finish books I don’t like haha

Have any specific authors influenced your work?

I’m sure they have but I couldn’t name them.

Where do you draw inspiration?

from other media, other writers. I already mentioned one in particular up there :p

What’s your style/voice?

...? I don’t know?

Which of your OCs could become your best friend?

oh. um. I think I’d get along well with dice, or aero. nakoa’s probably too rowdy, haha. otherwise, there’s a character in autumn moon I’ve yet to introduce that’d fit the bill.

What’s the last book you read?

our bloody pearl by brynwrites which was way better than I expected (which isn’t to say that I didn’t expect it to be great but I was enamored through the day as I read it)

Are you proud or anxious when other people read your writing?

anxious, hahaha. I am never proud.

Do you nail down a character’s personality before you write, or do you prefer to let it grow in the story?

I try to nail it down. nakoa was supposed to be way more laid back and chill and his story was much less heartbreaking, but alas that’s what first drafts and rewrites do to you

Where’s your favorite place to write?

in bed, apparently

also tagged by @trevorparece

Standalones, trilogies, or behemoths of a series?

if I’m writing it, standalones. if I’m reading it, I like things that have more than one installment, because then it gives more opportunities for other people to get into it and then I can live in the world a little longer :p

What is your favorite line of your own writing?

oh, man. I don’t know. I write a lot of garbage.

What would your book’s epigraph be?

I’m really irritated that I can’t answer this question because it’s a very good question

How about its movie poster slogan?

AUGH THIS ONE TOO

If you were going to challenge yourself to try something new, what genre would you venture into?

scifi, lol. I already am trying it. it’s not my forte.

Who’s the first person you show a draft to?

me! just me. I don’t usually work in drafts so I’m nervous about it.

Is there an idea (be it plot or character or world) you’ve been tugging along since childhood, just waiting for the right moment to use?

nahhh. I either write them down and forget, forget them, or start writing them.

What’s the first creative thing you remember writing, and what did you learn from it?

something about aliens, or possibly a fantasy book that was meant to be a series? honestly--that it was easier to write than I thought it was.

What’s the strangest characteristic you’ve taken from real life and given to a character (could be yours or someone else’s)?

oh, I don’t know, haha. I don’t do this consciously. I’m sure I’ve done it, but I wouldn’t know I did it :p

Choose your fighter: Enemies to Lovers, There’s Only One Bed, or Pretend Dating Makes Real Feelings.

PRETEND DATING. fake dating is my most favorite thing

and @editedandwrittenbyhannah

How old were you when you started taking writing seriously (assuming you do now)?

guess it depends on the definition of serious. if it means publishing, it’s been back and forth because I don’t always want to publish, and I don’t always think everything I write could BE published. if it means attempting to write true to characters and plot and whatever, then... always?

How old do you think is the best age to start writing and why?

whenever. if the story’s in your mind and your heart, then put it to paper. you can always grow older and change it, if it needs to be, but there’s no such thing as ‘too old’ or ‘too young’ to start writing.

What is your ideal setting for writing?

in bed, before I fall asleep, lol. this is a popular question :p

What is the weirdest thing that has ever gotten your writer brain going on overdrive about a new idea?

oh. I don’t know. I don’t question inspiration these days, haha.

Do you edit before you post your writing to tumblr?

sometimes. actually, no, usually. and then I forget that I edited it. and it doesn’t make it back to my draft. don’t be like me.

What blogs have inspired you AND/OR motivated you to write? Tag ‘em so they know what they did for you.

@forlornraven @indecentpause @infinitelyblankpage @riftversus @lavenderas @theshadowsofthenight, but also, kind of the entirety of writeblr as a whole is good. I dig this community and watching everyone craft their stories has been kind of incredible. I don’t know writer people in real life, so the internet’s kind of how I find them, and I haven’t had a community of sorts since I was in high school. it’s nice to see everyone so determined and in love with their own work. reminds me it’s okay to not hate my stuff.

Who is your favorite tumblr writer?

...look I’m just gonna say I mentioned them by name already :p but the ones I mentioned in the question just before this are equally as awesome.

I just realized technically I mentioned all of writeblr. look how that works out :p

What is your favorite topic to write about? Read about?

I don’t know, I like contemporary fiction, stuff that’s realistic to write about because it’s the world I most know, obviously, and I’m used to reading about lgbt+ characters and a lot of the times those aren’t in genre fiction--at least not mainstream genre fiction)

or they weren’t, anyway.

but I like scifi too.

How old were you when you read your favorite book for the first time? How many times have you read it since then?

I don’t know that I have a favorite book. if it is, probably room, and I don’t really know lol

List 3 songs that you would NEVER listen to while writing because they’re too distracting for any reason at all.

all of them. ;;

[pixelsandpins]

A Year Later: Joseph

It’s Friday night, and I wrote this in an evening. Let’s keep the series going. This one was super cathartic, not gonna lie. 

profanity, minor violence

2,127 words

The bright sound of ice clinking against glass punctuates the gentle murmur of Jim and Kim's. Mary, Robert, and I sit in one of our usual corner booths. Some nights are "watch Mary flirt with unsuspecting twenty-somethings" night. Some nights are "throw rocks at stop signs" nights. Some nights are "call it slightly early to let Robert take advantage of my need for validation and desire to sleep with hot guys" nights.

This night is none of those.

Tonight we've all just settled on the fact that we're terrible parents and our lives are a mess to varying degrees, but there's also nothing we can do about it at the moment. So we might as well drink the hell up.

Amanda wanted distance. I can respect that. She was right in that we both really needed it. I had gotten a phone call from her for the first time in months telling me she landed safely with her host family in France. An e-mail told me about her acceptance to the semester long art program only about two months ago, and details had been sparse. All communication had. Maybe it was for the best.

Hugo and Damien pass by the window of the bar hand in hand, and I let out an involuntary grunt of disgust.

"I told you I could hook you and Dames up, but noooooo," Mary says lightly.

"He's just a little too weird. I can't deal," I respond.

"I keep telling you he's more normal than you think."

"Whatever. They're a cute couple. They deserve each other."

Becoming friends with Mary wasn't an all at once thing, but it was still insanely weird. After the...unpleasantness...with Joseph, I didn't think she'd ever want to talk with me again. She was the one to come and sit next to me at the bar, though,  and initiate conversation the night after Amanda left for school. Then I found out about Robert and Joseph. That's when I realized what we had all formed was less a friendship and more of an alliance. A tiny coalition of people who had been both metaphorically and quite literally screwed by Joseph Christiansen in various ways.

"I'm beat. I'm gonna go home and hit the hay," Robert says, squeezing me on the knee under the table. His glance dips low at me, and he raises an eyebrow.

"Have a good night," I say pointedly. He gives me a small wink as he slides out of the booth. The back door will be left unlocked in case I change my mind. I've told him we need to stop a hundred times. A hundred times, still, I've banged the ever loving shit out of him, so I can't blame him for not taking my words at face value.

I know what this behaviour is, though. It's self-destructive and dangerous, and I fell into most recently when I lost Alex. They only thing that kept me from spiraling out of control at the time was Amanda. Without her around…..

"Want me to get Neil to set you up another?" Mary leans over to me, her hand resting loosely on the top of her vodka on the rocks. I shake my head. She's actually been drinking less and less since we started spending time together. I'm not a heavy drinker, really, so I think she doesn't feel the need to either. I don't know. She definitely talks about her kids more.

"I think I'll head out a little early, too. The twins have their final rehearsal for the church's summer pageant tomorrow, and I said I'd come help get all the costumes finished or whatever. It's this Saturday. You should come see it. I might need to tap you for some extra help on the punch bowl." I give a little noncommittal shrug, and Mary smiles at me. "Catch you later, stud." She pats me on the head on her way out. I stare down at my half-empty whiskey sour. I can stay here and finish it or take Robert up on his innuendo or go home and try to bury myself in Real Crimes: Boise. Either way it's going to be a long night.

I don't know why I'm here for this thing, but I at least found someone interesting to sit next to.

"I didn't take you for the churchgoing type, Mat."

He looks up at me as I pull up to the aisle where he's sitting.

"Not really," he says quietly and pats the seat next to him. "One of Carmensita's friends in the school choir is also in the youth choir here, and they needed some extra voices or something. I don't really know, but she'll take any chance to sing she can get." I nod. The girl's good. I've heard her at open mic night at the coffee house.  

"But what are you doing here?" he asks.

"Man, I barely know myself. Mary asked to me to help with the refreshment table afterward, though, so I guess I'm here to support the kids?"

Mat gives me a skeptical look, and I don't blame him.

A tap moves through the speakers hanging from the ceiling of the sanctuary, and we cringe at the sound.

"Hello, everyone!" Joseph is at the microphone, white knuckling it nervously. "Thank you for joining us for the summer pageant. The kids have pulled together a great program for you, so, without further ado, the music director!" Joseph passes the mic over to a very affable looking middle-aged woman in a flowery skirt and cream-colored blouse. Joseph moves down the center aisle toward the back of the hall. He nods to Mat with a smile as he approaches. For just an instant as he passes, though, he squints his eyes at me and sneers. In the blink of an eye, he's back to the pleasant youth pastor, though, and I feel a knot in my gut.

This is the part I can't stand, and I don't know how Robert's done it for this long. Come to think of it, he keeps his distance from the family, at large, though. But not me, no. I'm so desperate to be a part of a family again no matter how dysfunctional that I have to borrow Mary's on occasion. Bake sales. Youth functions. Anything Mary's forced to go to, she finds ways to drag me along. Which means I have to see him far more often than I'd like, considering.

It wasn't that difficult, at first. We were able to actually kinda sorta remain friends. I thought we could put the whole fiasco behind us. Then a switch flipped. I don't know what happened, but now he can't hide his utter disdain for me. Not totally sure what I did to deserve it, but as long as he keeps it civil I guess...I don't know. I don't know what it means.

I wake up startled to a banging on my front door. Probably shouldn't have fallen asleep on the couch, but I wasn't expecting anyone to just show up on my doorstep at noon on a weekday. I stumble my way to the door as the banging continues. I take a look through the peephole. It's Joseph.

I fling the door open quickly.

"Joseph, oh my god! Is everything okay? The kids? Mary?"

"Oh. Worried about Mary are we, you son of a bitch." Joseph takes a swing at me. It doesn't connect, but not for lack of trying. My half dodge was enough to avoid it, though.

"What the absolute hell Joseph?!" I scream at him. "Come inside." I grab him by the collar and pull him into my living room. "What the shit is this?"

"Are you sleeping with her? Huh? Is that it?" He's breathing and heaving, his shoulders hunched in anger and desperation.

"I am very very very gay, dude. This is a well-known fact."

"Then what bullshit have you been feeding her?"

He's still insatiably mad, and now I'm just annoyed. I put my hands out in front of me in a sort of half shushing motion.

"I don't know what you're talking about, so you better tell me what I'm supposedly guilty of, soon."

"She left me. Says she's staying with her brother with the baby if I need her. Thank God the older ones are at bible school."

"Then go over there and talk to her. Don't drag me into this."

"Damien won't let me talk to her, and that doesn't matter. She left me divorce papers on the kitchen counter."

Oh. Well. This is a little more serious. But still not my business. I'm irritated, though.

"Good," I say simply. He pushes me.

"So you did say something to her?!"

"The only thing I've ever said to Mary is that she deserves to be happy. And it's true. She deserves to be in a marriage where she feels wanted and loved. Where she truly feels like the queen of her household. And she's, obviously, not finding that with you."

He sneers at me like he always does.

I'm starting to understand what's happening.

"Oh… I get it, now." I seethe. "You can go away and sleep on your sex yacht when things get a little dicey, and that's all well and good. The minute she says that she's had enough, though, and wants to end it, you're all big man throwing punches at her friends because heaven forbid-" this time he clocks me in the jaw. His wedding band grazes my chin, cutting it open. It stings, but by the way he's holding his fist to his chest, only half as much as his hand.

"She doesn't have a right to just leave," Joseph spits. "Not after everything I've gone through with her. We said we'd try to make it work. She doesn't get to just give up on us."

"And what were you doing when you were fucking me on your boat, Joseph?" I'm spitting now, too, but it's blood from my cut lip. "'Waaa waaa my marriage is falling apart, and I just want to be happy again.' That's what you told me, right? Tell that to Robert, too?" Joseph goes pale. He didn't know I knew, it seems. "How many others were there?"

"There weren't-"

"Bullshit. You just only go caught twice."

He growls at me.

"Right. Blame it all on me while she's out flirting with every guy in town."

"I never said she was perfect. She loves you and the kids so much, though. But she's breaking under the pressure of being married to the youth minister. The perfect man. The golden boy." She might not remember telling me this. I barely remember it myself, we were so hammered. There were hot tears and shaking hands, though, in the back corner of the pub. That I can recall with crystal clarity. "Being Mary Christiansen is too much and she can't take it and she just wants you to see her." I spit again as blood fills up my mouth. "But you're too busy with your Margarita zone and your knots and maintaining your perfect little WASPy suburban life to notice that your marriage has fallen completely apart."

Joseph is faltering, his flared nostrils the only thing left still consumed by rage. The rest of him is defeat and uncertainty. He knows what I'm saying is right, but he's still so mad. So angry. At himself, hopefully, the bastard.

"You know just as well as I do that sometimes you just can't save it. So what are you gonna do? You gonna man up, or whine like a little baby and blame everyone else for your problems?"

Joseph makes another low rumble in his chest at me.

"This isn't the end of this conversation," he threatens.

"Good. Have the other half with Mary. Now get out of my house before I call the police and have you arrested for assault."

"I was already leaving." He turns on his heel, yanks the door open, and slams it behind him as he leaves.

I collapse to the floor, every ounce of energy gone, zapped by my rage. I stare at the doorknob, considering it. I find my cellphone somewhere in my pocket and send a quick text to Mary giving her a highly paraphrased version of what happened and telling her she can call me for help if needed. She won't respond right away, but it's something.

Only a year ago I had lamented that a new romantic start for me was going to come at the expense at the ending of someone else's. And yet only now, in the midst of decay, did it feel like there was a new beginning on the horizon...for one person, at least.