/gently Taps The Mic

I love this pov!! :oo Please add me to your taglist???

I N T R O D U C I N G: 996 CATHERINE CLOSE. this is a story about a house, which is to say my story, which is to say a story with walls, and doors, and people passing through them. they go and they do not stay. this seems unfair, at least to me. does it seem unfair to you?

GENRE: a ghost story minus ghosts. POV: mostly first person and some third person sections. THEMES: homes as monsters, memory, preservation and loss, good and bad families, letting go, holding on, abandonment, every house is haunted. CONTENT WARNING: abuse, mental illness, some horror elements.

All I could do was watch. 

My voice was too low. I could barely even sing to myself, the walls creaking and shuddering the tiniest bit when I tried to create voice. Jonathan had built me too well. I fit together like one of those puzzle sets, all the edges aligned perfectly, no room for air to whistle through holes and for me to rattle the walls like percussion. I could whisper. I would soften the sounds of my floorboards when Marie was bedridden with one of her headaches, her body turned away from the light streaming through the windows. I couldn’t dim that light. But I could make everything around a little quieter and a little less. She was always dearer to me than Jonathan, so I did more for her.

There were many things I couldn’t do. I couldn’t scrub my floors for her. I couldn’t remove the tiny shards of glass stuck in lines of grout that she painstakingly scoured the kitchen floor for, on her hands and knees, wincing when her palm dragged across one that she hadn’t seen. I couldn’t stitch my walls back together where Jonathan’s fist had opened holes. I couldn’t save Marie.

I’m sorry. This isn’t a tragedy like that.

I have a flair for the dramatic now, from the stories that I’ve heard throughout the years. I have always been an eavesdropper, ever since I was born. But I used to tell things better. So allow me my confusion, and I will correct it. They didn’t die here. They simply left. Only one person has died here, and if they remained as a ghost, then it is not as one that I have ever personally known. When I say that I am haunted, I mean that I am haunting myself. I asked for them to stay, and they did not, but the images do. 

I can hold onto those forever.

find out more.

TAG LIST: @phloxxiing / @nouveauweird / @pilipalea / @starrywritingg /  @carnalbanshee/ @flynnswritings / @ohsugarfoot / @reya-writes / @onfablesandfiction / @reeseweston / @cohldhands / @klaythestoryteller / dm or reply to be added!

It’s so hard being a writer sometimes because you can tell yourself over and over again that you’re writing for yourself, and yet you will always crave the interaction, you will always want to share, and for people to like the thing you put your heart and soul into. It’s just hard when you can see the numbers, and the constant comparing, having the self-doubt and wondering why you even bother trying when there are people much better than you.

All you can do is keep reminding yourself that it’s your story to tell, and no one else can tell it like you. You love it, and there are others out there who will love it, too, and the numbers absolutely do not reflect your worth or your storytelling.

You’re incredible, and you’ve got to keep writing because your story is worth telling.

I’m back, and currently drafting the final chapter of Project A.M.

PLEASE, I can’t wait to start draft two and whip this project into shape. But I always rush endings. Perhaps I should slow down and savour this first draft.

about me 🌱 Age: 20 (she/her) 🌱 Turkish-Canadian living in Ontario, Canada 🌱 English major 🌱 Visual artist 

genres: used to be fantasy, now mostly lit-fic. writerly habits: soft spot for unlikeable characters /// flower power description/metaphors galore /// recently started dabbling w poetry but idk if I’m any good?? /// garamond forever, single spaced. I like big blocks of text. c:

some of my wips 🌱 Yellow Houses /// adult lit-fic novel. Unhinged university students vandalize houses, painting them school-bus yellow, then write about wondering who did it in the local paper. Hmm... 🌱 Liquor and Locusts /// adult modern fantasy novel. TW because this is a pandemic story! A squatter crashes at a countryside manor during a pandemic, befriending an elderly gardener and his very emo apprentice. There is somehow also a talking locust who loves brandy. 🌱 Red Pleather /// lit short fiction. A teenage girl’s relationship with her older brother who constricts her from the world outside their crowded apartment complex. Warning: a lot of stair climbing and internal monologues in this one.

you’ve made it to the end! writerblrs, please interact so I can catch up on all your beautiful wips. Also feel free to tag me or hop in my dms for a chat, I’m probably online ;). ♥♥♥

tolstoy, vladimir nabokov (trans. dmitri nabokov)

🍟 @/aetherwrites

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IT’S GENE MAGIC AND/OR TURPENTINE: A SHORT STORY

the narrator doesn’t know what’s going on and neither do we: surrealist version.

GENRE: surrealism.

POV & TENSE: third-person limited, present tense.

SETTING: an apartment in an unnamed suburb, present-day.

TONE: satirical, resentful, delirious, wistful.

STAGE: completed first draft, 1807 words.

LOGLINE: after being called back from college upon her family’s death, july contemplates her situation by villanizing and blaming her dead family.

LITERAL LOGLINE: life got you down? your entire family dead under mysterious circumstances? don’t worry, your friendly shoulder demon’s got your back, just smoke it out!

CHARACTERS:

july is a college student who was called back in the middle of her course— something that she worked super hard to get into— to go vacate her now-deceased family’s home. she’s angry about this, because she feels robbed of her dream. as time goes on and the story progresses, july continues to detach from her pain over her family’s death and reality itself, subsequently leading to her unravelling.

hale is the shoulder demon. they’re a fun and sarcastic person, and secretly worries for july and her increasing detachedness. nobody knows why they’re here, what they’re doing, or even if they’re real in the first place.

WHAT GOES DOWN:

july is called back from college to attend to her now empty home following the sudden death of her family— mother, sister, grandmother— under mysterious circumstances. this is a source of dual emotions for july. on one hand, she’s grieving for them immensely, and this is signified through the various memories she has of them + her relationships with each member. on the other hand, she’s extremely annoyed by this, because she knew they would die together eventually— it’s implied to be something that runs in the family, and had happened to her father before— and the timing inconvenienced her.

july is,,,, pretty unhinged. a lot of surreal things happen in the story and it’s difficult to distinguish reality from her mind. she also has a friend in hale, the demon on her shoulder. the story chronicles the short period of time she spends in her home, trying to collect her thoughts and prepare for her own inevitable death.

EXCERPTS:

this is a very short story so i don’t want to share much, but here’s one little peek into the tone + style of the prose.

July scoffs again, but now it’s silent and nobody hears. The will features meaningless drabble, small talk and verbiage typical for her mother, and she’s tempted to rip it and swallow the pieces whole. [Why, she can’t say. There’s an odd craving in every object and she’s the only one who makes herself tick.] She concludes that the house is now her’s. How wonderful. Of course July would have traded her college room for a nowhere house any fucking day.

SPARE THOUGHTS:

this is the weirdest thing i’ve written. it’s high-key surrealism and plays with form and character a lot. july is an extremely unreliable narrator. there’s a lot of funky concepts—every speaker’s dialogue is formatted differently, she’s spying on her neighbours, there’s a demon on her shoulder— and while it’s been hard threading them in coherently and fluidly, i’ve never had more fun drafting before. it’s also one of my best short story titles, hands down. feel free to ask anything about this story because there’s so much meta i can get into. [general taglist under the cut]

Keep reading

All your wips are so interesting! Please add me to your taglist :)))

Hi, my name’s Deau! Welcome to subtlefires, my writeblr!

Introduction

I’m nineteen years old [twenty on 27 Dec!]. I’m nonbinary [they/them], Black, and bisexual. I’ve been lurking in the writeblr community for six-ish months now, and I’ve decided to start my own! I haven’t written much in the way of prose since I was fourteen, so this blog will also [hopefully] get me back into that.

I am mostly into reading and writing fantasy of any kind - especially that which deals with godhood, traumatized characters, found family, and some criminal activity [especially when screwing with the government]. I very much enjoy complex relationships between any set of characters. Parent and child? Lovers? Best friends? Enemies??? *chef’s kiss*

Almost all of my wips are in some form of disrepair, either lacking in worldbuilding, plot, or characters, so I don’t have intro posts for them yet! But I’m finding myself pretty motivated these days so keep a look out!*

Trust and believe, I love to talk, so feel free to send an ask in or message me or whatever! I’m in desperate need of more mutuals to gush over so… *eyes emoji*

My Wips

A Cacophony of Mirrors

A surreal fantasy story set in the fictional town of Farley, Massachusetts.

Erica Bennett, who has been missing for the past ten years, suddenly reappears bloody and unconscious in the woods, mirror shards spread in a perfect circle around her body. Ayla Hughes, your local gas station attendant, just wants to get her degree and move far, far away. She wants forget all about missing girls and mysterious notes left behind and terrible dreams, but something is holding her back. Is it the town? Erica’s unsolved disappearance? Or something a bit more… fantastical?

trigger warnings: emotionally abusive parents, dysphoria, blurring reality and fantasy

WIP Tag | WIP Page

The Legend of the Crow

A high fantasy novel set in the world of Rusaris, after the first war between the Gods. 

This story centers around one of four sacrifices made to the Betrayer God during the First War. We witness them crawl from their early grave alongside the others after one hundred years asleep. The All Mother, the Goddess of Creation, descends to grant the sacrifices immortality and the status of Saints, if they agree to live in her service to prevent another war amongst the Gods. We follow Asphodel the Crow as they search for the lover they lost and save the fallen kingdom of Vysteria.

trigger warnings: violence, light gore

WIP Tag | WIP Page

Psychic Nights

An adult-oriented mid-fantasy novel set in the world of Vesuvia.

Caralise Tryvern is in her final year of schooling to become a High Priestess, the highest rank a witch can achieve, when she discovers a magical conspiracy amongst the very witches she seeks to join. Now on the run from the government, Caralise and her partner, Tobiah, traverse the world searching for anyone they can trust to help them out of the mess they’ve found themselves in.

trigger warnings: none as far as I’m aware, feel free to ask me to tag anything in the future!

WIP Tag | WIP Page

The SS Pavona

A science-fiction story set in the Quisari Solar System.

This story follows the crew of the SS Pavona as they are finally able to take a deep breath after escaping from Blackstorm, a maximum security prison on the outskirts of the solar system. These five strangers have just risked their lives for one another, for their freedom - but they don’t know each other, really. In fact, they don’t know much at all; not about each other, not about themselves, not even the reasons they were sent to Blackstorm in the first place… We follow the crew of the SS Pavona as their collective and individual pasts come back to haunt them. Are they truly willing to risk their lives for one another again?

trigger warnings: none as far as I’m aware, feel free to ask me to tag anything in the future!

WIP Tag | WIP Page

Other Stuff

Here’s my Wattpad, where I may or may not be drafting and posting chapters of the above wips, poetry, or concept pieces. Here is my writing tag as well, on the off chance I decide to post excerpts and things of that sort on tumblr, too. Also, my project page which lists all of my current wips with links to their individual pages.

Thanks for reading this far! I know this intro is long, haha. Here’s some of the blogs that inspired me to do this in the first place: @vitrichor | @sprigofbasil | @alicewestwater | @elaichichais | @heartwarning

* this post will be changed and updated in the future as I, undoubtedly, change my mind about things, add/remove trigger warnings, or generally add other bits of information! 

they hadn’t prepared us for this. they left us with nothing left worth fighting for.

that is, until we found each other.

we were living through what scientists had called the worst case scenario, and we were doing it alone.

| worst-case scenario: a wip intro |

the floods, the fires, the wailing, the radio static.

there was nothing left to salvage. except for maybe the kid, and that one dog. a van that stuttered more than it moved, a pink blanket tucked inside a fathers jacket. the notebook filled with silly drawings and the notes passed between them in the dark.

GENRE: science fiction, dystopian, adventure, thriller, surrealism

POV: third/omnipient

PROGRESS: first drafting

MOOD: dark, wistful, painfully nostalgic, uneasy, cautiously hopeful

SETTING: the year is 2336, Earth. but it’s nothing like anyone had imagined.

WARNINGS: multiple deaths, biological ware fare, drowning, weapons, display of mental illness(es), end of the world scenario, not so natural disasters, alcoholism, manipulation, nothing is right, there is no normal.

VAGUE PLOT: [they] were fed up with how their lives were treated on this planet, and decided to leave. they left behind their final words, etched into the grounds they tore apart and whispered into the waves that came crashing down. the people meant to protect them all had given up, had betrayed them. but they couldn’t be blamed, they had tried to warn the world to no avail. now [we] were on our own, with a scattering of the earths population, to make this place a home again.

[they] are the scientists who had tried their hardest to keep this world alive.

[we] were five people undeserving of this hell.

[[ wip tag: wip; wcs ]]