#pep talks from aub

[the-writers-bookshelf]

As a writer, allow yourself the headspace to be imperfect and you’ll realize how liberating that can be if you’re feeling pressured to get things *just right* all the time.

Each story is there to teach you something. At some point, by going over it again and again and again, you’re simply treading water. You’re not learning anything new. You’re not allowing yourself to advance to the next story that has something else to teach you - something that is vital to your growth and abilities as a writer.

So put THE END on your project and move on. 

“But…but….it’s not perfect yet!”

That’s okay. That’s the point of moving on to the next project. You can get a better view of the mistakes you’ve made in the past by learning new perspectives and skills in the future.

Consider this your permission slip to release a project you’ve been fiddling with for ages. Let it go. Stamp it with a big red DONE.

Then you’re free to explore your next adventure with a new project!

[rhetoricalrogue]

Wayhaven Week: Day 4

For the @otomefandomevents Wayhaven Week 2020.

Prompt: Tranquil Pairing: Adam du Mortain/Aubrey Miller Warnings: none Word Count: 2,786 Summary: Sometimes facing fears means tying on pointe shoes. Note: I’ve been listening to this playlist practically nonstop while writing this. I also have zero knowledge of dance, so this is mostly me doing the Internet Researcher mode and I apologize for any term I may have gotten wrong.

“This is so stupid,” Aubrey hissed, looking at her reflection in the full length mirror that spanned from one side of the wall to the other.  Bright afternoon sun filtered in through the windows overhead and the playlist of piano music, while a bit tinny through her phone’s speaker, was a tune she was used to.

Aubrey knew for a fact that the majority of Unit Bravo was out of the Warehouse, Morgan being the only one who gave her a brief greeting as she came through. She hadn’t really looked at the bag Aubrey had slung over her shoulder aside from a short curious glance. Even so, it was enough to make it feel like Aubrey had stored a ton of bricks inside instead of the few lightweight items she knew were in there.

She was grateful it was only Morgan hanging around. While she loved the enthusiasm that Farah had for most things, especially bits of her personal past, Aubrey didn’t think she could handle a barrage of questions right now.  She was also grateful that all Morgan did was give her a lazy head to toe look-see when she bumped into her again in the hallway leading from her room and the training room. The tiny half-smile at the short, fluttery skirt and pastel blue knit wrap top Aubrey wore over a grey tank top and black leggings and the brief have fun in there told Aubrey that she wouldn’t be disturbed as she did...whatever she thought she was going to do.

“Come on, Aubs,” she grumbled, sitting on the floor and digging through her bag. Without looking, she found the roll of tape and even though it had been years, taped up her toes as easily as if her last practice was the other day instead of over four years ago. After putting on a pair of lambswool toe pads, her pointe shoes went on just as easily and she exhaled, going into a series of warm up stretches she still did every morning to keep herself limber.

It wasn’t until she was back on her feet and facing the barre that she faltered again. Her eyes went to her phone and she had a brief thought to call up her former dance partner for a pep talk, but then talked herself out of it when she realized that Tony would still be in practice for the production he was gearing up to perform. “This doesn’t have to be scary.” Her hands trembled on the barre. She frowned and pulled her shoulders back, glaring at her reflection as she balled her hands into fists to stop them from shaking. “This shouldn’t be scary. No expectations, just do some basic steps. You can do a beginner class, you’ve taught students half your age how to do the same things before. Now stop overthinking and show me what you’ve got.”

Taking one last deep breath, Aubrey rolled up onto her toes, pushed over her toe box for a good stretch, rolled down through demi pointe, and laughed.

--

Adam walked through the Warehouse and tried not to feel aggravated at the sight of the detective’s car parked outside.  Aggravated wasn’t quite the right word for how he was feeling, but he didn’t know how else to describe the way he felt out of sorts that she hadn’t called him to let him know that she was planning on dropping in on her day off. If she had, he would have…

I would have done what? he thought, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring as he sank into an easy chair in the living room. There had been something between them only a few days ago and he flexed his hand. If he focused enough on the memory of watching fireworks at the carnival, he could all but feel her hand still in his.

“That’s an awful grouchy look for someone who knows Aubs is home,” Morgan told him, perching her hip on the windowsill before she slid the window open enough to let a breeze in.

“She isn’t home,” he countered. “She’s somewhere here.”

Morgan scoffed and tapped out a cigarette. “Okay, sure.” Sparking up, she exhaled a plume of smoke. “To save you time, she’s in the training room. Said something about wanting to get some practice in.”

That got his attention. “By herself? You know she’s not the best at combat, you could have offered to help.”

She shrugged. “Didn’t think she needed my help.” Smoke seeped from her lips as she turned towards the open window. Nate would be pissed if she smoked up the living room too much.  “Why don’t you go check in on her progress?”

Morgan didn’t have to look to know that Adam had already left. Shaking her head, she smirked and took another drag.

Adam hadn’t even gotten a few feet away from the training room’s doors when the sound of music hit him, the pop song familiar from Farah constantly blaring the tune from her bedroom at volumes loud enough to make the windows vibrate. Yet instead of being irritating, this version was both softened by being played on the piano and at a volume low enough that it was more than likely only barely audible to human hearing. His steps faltered as he listened to the rapid beating of Aubrey’s heart and the occasional hard slap of feet against the floor. Curiosity got the better of him and he quietly made his way to the door, opening it but not entering. Part of his reasoning was that he wanted to see how long it would take for the detective to be aware of his presence, but the other was because he wanted to observe her progress without her going tense or stopping only because she thought he was judging her progress and finding it lacking. She had the basics of combat covered due to her police training that he found satisfactory, but there was always a fear clawing at his gut that her training wouldn’t be enough to help her while facing more supernatural foes.

It was something that they were both going to have to work on, she to improve her skills and he to actually let her without worrying so much.

What he found Aubrey doing was definitely not practicing fighting stances.  Adam stared transfixed as he watched her glide across the floor with a grace that he had only caught glimpses of in her everyday movements.  Aubrey was definitely unaware of his presence as she rose fully onto her toes and performed a series of small steps before going into a pirouette and then making multiple turns around the room at a speed that should have made a human dizzy, but Adam only saw a look of utter peace and serenity on her face that made his chest constrict at the emotion she elicited from him.

She was beautiful.  It was something he was well aware of, but seeing her dancing - something he knew she had loved and something that had pained her to leave behind - made it all the more obvious. Her arms moved to balance her as she rose again on one foot, her other leg lifting up and almost impossibly high near her head before she moved again, dropping her leg to extend it in front of her and folding herself over it in one fluid motion.  She stayed like that for a moment and Adam was sure she would move into another dance position, but she suddenly folded in on herself and sat on the floor, her arms coming up to circle her knees as she let out a loud sob.

He was at her side before he even registered moving.  “Are you hurt?” he asked, his eyes zeroing in on her left foot, hands going to her shoulders in concern. The ribbons of her shoes hid most of the silvery pale surgical scars he’d only glimpsed the few times he’d seen her barefoot, but nothing looked amiss.

Aubrey jumped, jerking up to look at him. “Adam?”

“You’re crying.” He couldn’t help but reach out and brush a tear away from her cheek, his breath catching when she tipped her head towards his hand.

“Oh.” Her hands went up to wipe at her face and she gave a little laugh. “I’m not hurt, at least I don’t think so.”  He watched her flex her foot before she nodded in affirmation that everything was fine. 

His brow furrowed in confusion. “Then why are you crying?”

She blushed and leaned back on her hands. “You know that before I joined the police force that I was a dancer.  Becoming a ballerina was the only thing I’ve ever wanted to be since I was six.  I spent twenty years dancing and after hurting myself and leaving, everything has felt...off, like something was missing in my life.  The instructor at the dance studio down the road’s given me an open invitation to perform at any of her programs, but I keep telling her that I’m retired. I haven’t danced since, partly because I was afraid of hurting my foot again, but mostly because I was afraid.”

He sat down next to her. “Afraid of what?”

She bit her lip. “That I wouldn’t be able to do steps I used to be able to practically do in my sleep. That no matter how much warming up I’d done that I wouldn’t be able to dance without pain. That the part of myself I had put so much of my effort into had truly died and the hole in my chest I’ve felt ever since would never go away.”  She laughed again, a trait that Adam had since realized was a nervous tell. “I told you I needed a lesson in self-assuredness.”

He let out a brief huff of laughter before sobering. “And now? Did you find the answers to your fears?” 

“I did.  I was so used to dancing at a certain pace and quantity that when the doctors told me that I’d hurt myself even more permanently if I kept it up, so my answer was to stop completely.” She tightened her arms around her knees. “My all or nothing thinking did more damage than risking the occasional recital or program here in Wayhaven making me miss my former schedule ever did.”

Anxiety suddenly latched its teeth into his chest. “Does this space displease you then?”

She jerked upright. “Displease me?  Adam, this…” she glanced around at what she could only describe as a miniature dance studio. Whoever had built it could have shuffled her to a corner of the training room, but she had been given an equal amount of space as any of the other equipment that dotted the area. “This is wonderful.”

He let out the breath he had been holding.  “Good. When your mother told us about your previous profession, I had hoped to give the architects enough direction to…” He stopped himself, heat dotting his face when he realized what he had said.

“You did this? For me?”

He frowned and tried to brush off the more serious implications his statement had brought up. “Even if you hadn’t utilized the space, an area for flexibility and agility practice would have…”  Whatever he was going to say next was knocked away when Aubrey launched herself at him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders.

“Thank you,” she breathed, her cheek settling in the curve of his neck.  She leaned back enough to look him in the eye.  “I’ve felt so lost for so long, but this...this was me coming home.”

Adam reached up and brushed his fingers over her chin. “You’re crying again.”

“Happy tears, I promise.”

He should have moved away, but it felt right to bring his arms around her and hold her close, sighing as she hugged him again. “Happy or not, I don’t like being the cause of your tears.  I shall try to not do anything to make you cry.”

She laughed, her breath warm against his throat. “Good luck. You should know by now that I tear up at the drop of a hat.” She paused. “You thinking of me as an equal part of Unit Bravo even back then really means a lot to me. I mean it, Adam.”

He rested his chin on the crown of her head and gave in to a little self-indulgence by pulling her in closer. “You’re welcome, Aubrey.” Reluctantly, he pulled away and got up. “Though I should probably apologize: Farah’s going to insist you teach her everything you know.”

Aubrey grinned and held her hands up so Adam could pull her to her feet.  “I’m ready. I’ll have her in a leotard before she knows it.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

Her grin grew. “And maybe I just might have you doing some lifts before you know it too.”

He raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see about that.”

There was a beat where they were silent. Aubrey broke it by rocking back on her heels. “You know, this was just supposed to be a test to see if I could still dance, but I think I’m going to keep it up.  Would you mind if I came by more often to practice?”

Adam tilted his head. “Why would I mind? Like you said, this is your home.” He gave her a fond smile. “Besides, it wouldn’t be unpleasant to see you here more often. Your natural agility and speed could come in handy to offset your combat prowess.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat at the way he looked at her, his eyes soft in the afternoon light. “Maybe once I knock all the rust off, I can give a mini-recital,” she joked.

“I’d like that.” Adam cleared his throat. “We’d like that. But in order for you to do so, you need time to practice. I’ll leave you to it.”

Aubrey watched as he left the training room and closed the door behind him.  She couldn’t stop from rushing over to where her phone was to scroll through some more music. Where she had sort of butchered the flow of an actual class before to test if she could simply do the moves again, now she centered herself and began to practice in earnest. The years away had left her with muscles that still remembered how to move in the correct steps, even if being out of practice meant it took a little more effort to get into them. Even so, every plie and tendu made something dormant inside her unfurl and wake up, as if someone had opened a window to let a fresh breeze in.

Just outside the training room, Adam leaned against the wall and listened for a brief moment before heading down the hallway.  “You knew she wasn’t training,” he said as he found Morgan in the kitchen.

“Never said she was,” she replied, not looking up from the apple she was slicing.  “Besides, for her, I think that still counts as training. She needed that, you know.”

“So long as she doesn’t injure herself again.”

The scoff and rolled eyes were something Adam had grown used to. “She’s a grown woman, I think she knows what her body’s limits without you hovering.” She raised an eyebrow. “Though maybe she’d want you to hover, if you know what I mean.”

He scowled. “What are you doing?”

She gave him as innocent of a look as Morgan was capable of doing. “Nothing, Adam. Just making a snack.”

He looked down at the plate of sliced apples and cheese. “You hate cheese.”

“Didn’t say it was for me.  Don’t know what sort of calories she’s burning, but…” she shrugged. “She’ll be hungry when she finishes in there.”

He dropped his defensive posture. “So you can be nice,” he teased.

“Fuck off, Adam,” she sneered, throwing the plate into the fridge. “She’s my…” She trailed off and shrugged.

“You can call her your friend. It won’t hurt.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Ha ha. That’s real rich, coming from you.  But yeah. You’re supposed to do nice things for friends.”

Adam watched as she sauntered off. Leaning against the kitchen island, he grabbed an apple from the bowl Nate had put out earlier. Taking a bite, he frowned as he went over both the moment that he had with Aubrey and the conversation he just had with Morgan.

Maybe she’s right, he thought, pushing away from the island. He opened the fridge to make sure that there was a bottle of water set next to Morgan’s snack offering for Aubrey to find. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to admit certain things.

[itsaubreylmfao]

i am just fucking dreading going to work tomorrow so hard. my stomach is wound up so tight thinking about it. side note kinda cute actually bc this made me think about it: when i was on vacation a month ago i was really sick but pushing myself to power thru anyway so i could have fun and spend time with my family and i was talking to my dad and was like “yeah i woke up from my nap and just sat up and was like ‘you can do this aubs let’s go’” and my dad was like “oh you get that from me” and i was like ..? and he explained that, especially in the morning, if he’s not feeling well or dreading something he gives himself a little pep talk out loud and i just thought that was cute so now when i wake up in the morning and i’m absolutely dreading work i’ll walk myself through the morning just muttering little things like “u got this aubs everything’s gonna be ok just take a deep breathe u can do this” and think of him ❤️

[auburnfamilynews]

On the 3-mile drive to Plainsman Park Sunday, Auburn baseball coach Butch Thompson realized the magnitude of the game that would follow. from Auburn Tigers News http://onlyfans.cstv.com/schools/aub/sports/m-basebl/spec-rel/041518aac.html

[the-writers-bookshelf]

May you find a little gem of peace and contentment in your writing today to remind you why you love writing in the first place.

Whether you’re struggling with a stubborn plot, or wrestling with low motivation or energy, I hope you find a little pocket of sanctuary in your writing that makes you feel like home.

[the-writers-bookshelf]

When you’re doubting yourself and your abilities as a writer, I hope you recognize just how far you’ve come already. Recognize the progress you’ve made. Recognize the skills you’ve developed and the fact that you have achieved what others might only dream of doing simply by putting words on the page. 

No matter where you are in your writing journey - whether you’re a brand new beginner or a hardened veteran with years of creation under your belt - you have come a long way and you have done so much.

Be proud of yourself for that. 💜

[the-writers-bookshelf]

Remind yourself today that rest is a productive and necessary requirement in the writing process. You can’t make your creative gears go without fuel! 

Rest gives you a chance to recharge. Rest gives you a chance to gain perspective on your WIP(s) and spot potential problems with fresh eyes. Rest gives you a chance to return to your project(s) with renewed enthusiasm.

Most importantly, rest gives you - the creator - a chance to simply exist.

You are not a machine. It’s not possible to produce constantly.

So let yourself rest when you need it. Your writing will always be there, ready and waiting when you return!

[the-writers-bookshelf]

With every story you write, you learn a little more about the craft and art of storytelling. Your voice and your style shines brighter with each tale you tell. Don’t be afraid to experiment and try something new because discovery is your greatest asset! 

So stock up on those WIPs! Stack ‘em high! Keep telling your stories because you never know what you’ll learn about your writing today! :)

[the-writers-bookshelf]

Please, I am begging you: take care of your mind as a writer.

Imposter syndrome is sneaky. Self doubt is slippery. Negative comments, feedback, etc. can get into your brain and spread like rot.

Believe in your abilities as a writer, as a storyteller. Cultivate your support group with care and ruthlessly weed out those who do not help you to see the potential in your writing. 

Yes, criticism can and will sting, but if you’re not being supported and encouraged, do NOT let that person poison your self belief.

Your brain holds all those stories and characters and adventures. Please take care of it because it is the #1 priceless tool for your writing.

[the-writers-bookshelf]

Friendly tip:

Absolutely do. not. share your work with people who don’t appreciate it. Even if those people are your family and friends (sometimes, ESPECIALLY so). 

There are countless obstacles when it comes to writing - imposter syndrome, writer’s block, self doubt, plot bunnies, plot holes.

The very last thing you need is someone nagging at you, weighing you down, dead weight tied to your ankle like a ball and chain.

There are people in this world who will encourage your writing, who will appreciate it, who will help you feel empowered to make it the best it can be.

Don’t waste your time and mental energy on people who don’t value your writing goals.

[the-writers-bookshelf]

You’re going to have slow writing days. Or writing days with no writing at all. Maybe it will stretch out to a week. Maybe it will linger over months. It’s all okay. It’s all perfectly normal.

You don’t qualify as a writer based on your word count. You qualify by telling stories. Dreaming them up and spinning wild adventures. Don’t worry about wordcounts. Find a way to connect with the stories you want to tell. ♥

[the-writers-bookshelf]

Repeat after me: it doesn’t have to be perfect. It has to be written.

When fear of the blank page has you in a headlock, break it down, simplify it. Write one sentence. Then another. 

It doesn’t have to be perfect. It has to be written.

[the-writers-bookshelf]

Hey. Give yourself some breathing room, okay? You’ve been working hard on your writing. You want to get stuff done. You want to make progress. But life happens. Things get in the way. Your mental and physical health take priority.

Your writing will still be there. So give yourself a break if you need it! ♥

[the-writers-bookshelf]

If you’re doubting yourself as a writer right now, take a moment to remember how far you’ve come! Think about how much progress you’ve made and how much you’ve honed your storytelling skills with every story you’ve told!

Don’t give up on yourself or your stories now!

[the-writers-bookshelf]

Be gentle with your WIP. It is growing. It is expanding. It is contracting. It is transforming. Sometimes it will take a shape that doesn’t look or feel right to you but it’s only one of many shifts as it gradually takes on the form it’s supposed to be.

[the-writers-bookshelf]

Shoutout to everyone struggling through a particularly difficult and challenging section of your writing right now. You might feel down about hard it is to get through this section. You’re probably feeling pretty discouraged too, questioning your abilities, wondering about your worth as a writer.

Hang in there. Keep chipping away at it. Trust your creative process to get you through! ♥