This Really Shitty Intro Post!!!

yess a bonus vid! 🤩🤩 my question is, as a discovery writer, what signals to you that a chapter isn't working? And do you rework them, store away in a doc--or scrap entirely? much luv, hope you're staying safe :)

Q&A - ask me questions!

Helloooo! I thought I’d do an end of year writing Q&A for a bonus vid in my YouTube channel. If anyone has questions, leave them as a reply on this post or send me an ask (make sure to indicate it’s for the Q&A)!

We're all stuck in the perpetual hell of creating wips and then never writing them

SPACEMAN SPACEMAN WHAT DO YOU PLAN ON DOING NOW?

transcript

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Excerpt #1: The Waiting Room

    Seated in the doctor’s office I peeked over my magazine, causing the collage of perfume bottles to distort until they resembled vague, pastel coloured light-bulbs clustered at the brim of my vision. Across me slouched a woman with a house shaped cage on her lap, a string of drool snailing down her chin as she snored. I made a face at her green-cheeked conure as it inched down its tightrope towards me, bobbing its head. The middle-aged man a few seats down, his cowboy hat flipped over his eyes, fanned himself with a lung disease brochure even though the air conditioning had been set to blast. My eyes followed their thought bubbles as they bounced off the oily walls and popped. The severed letters puffed up to the ceiling in a cloud of confetti, mundane details they’d already forgotten. The parakeet’s thoughts were less entertaining, a string of staccatos that fizzled out before they could even form. 

     When the secretary, a bullnecked woman with streaked green hair grated down to a pixie cut, waved her faux quill pen at me, I placed my magazine back on the rack and followed her down a hallway tiled with domino doors. She kept glancing back to confirm I was still on her heels and hadn’t wandered off like a sneaky child. Once we reached my cubicle she finally left me alone, her black heels clacking against the shiny floor as she trotted off. I crunched down on the paper spread out over the bed, dizzy from the reek of iodoform. Fortunately the doctor arrived quickly, tapping a clipboard against his palm as he asked why I’d come. I lied that my back had been killing me and we both shrugged and nodded at the hardships of old age. 

hello world! you’ve severely disappointed me! i’d sound like my mother if i went on about your mistakes, but i’d rather spare you the grief! save room for me in my unlikely return, even if you’re a hard place to call home! ciao!

This is beautiful, I'm obsessed??!!!!

TABBY | SHORT STORY UPDATES #4

In Tabby, a reclusive man who’d rather exist as a phantom than a human notices the neighbours aren’t feeding their cat, and is sucked into a world that breaks the stillness of his own.

Genre: literary fiction, “soft” noir (??)

POV: 1st person present, very observational and detached for most of the narrative

Setting: late 1940s/early 1950s, unnamed US city but implied to be Los Angeles 

Atmosphere: a summer that’s sickly, orange juice, the smell of paint, shaky hands, peach skies, sunflowers, blood splatter, a cats purr, the gut feeling that something is very, very wrong

Literal Logline: this cat is my friend and he doesn’t judge me over silly little things like the murder i just committed (also i think he might be god??)

Hi I wrote a story about a cat and got way too into it and accidentally made it about murder and now it might be my favourite thing I’ve written! Lets talk about it! cw for murder and blood imagery!

general taglist ; @kowlazovdi​ @avi-burton-writing​ @ryns-ramblings​ @melpomeny​ @kitblogsthings​ @ezrathings​ @aetherwrites​ @bookphobe​ @haldimilks​ @alicewestwater​ @bookpacking​ @shaelinwrites​ @writingamongthecoloredroses​ @harehearts​ @zemnian​ @onlyganymede​ @theelectricfactory​ @write-like-babs​ @oceancold​ @notphilosopherstudentblog​ @veiliza​ @sidhewrites​ @wolf-oak​ @feverdreamwritings​ @oasis-of-you​

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i’ve been a big fan of your work and always keep an eye out for your posts, very fascinating person you are, keep it up!

Thank you! This is incredibly kind.

So I edited another chapter of my wip that burned the heart out of me. Decided to do some sketches this morning of a cafe in Project Istanbul, some tea and mosaics. It was kinda therapeutic.

tolstoy, vladimir nabokov (trans. dmitri nabokov)

the painter’s mistress

The oak cottage has grown mushy in the rain, susceptible to mold.

The boggy air - a warm, wet rag, plugs my mouth 

as I sit and snap split peas into a Blue Black bowl, nostrils blaring 

at the stink of rotting leaves.

My hunched figure is molded from swirls of oil, greasy smears 

of Yellow Ocher, Permanent Mauve;

colors you’d so thoughtfully selected, seen in me.

Now, under coats of glaze, spotty like a bride’s moth-eaten veil,

I’m just a mute, colorless oval to you.

It’s needless to hide my bloated, decaying face;

you turned away before I could.