Tag: fiction

Cozy artist workspace with an open door to a glowing moonlit forest
About Me

Reclaiming My Bag, My Time, and My Voice After Marriage

Autumn

There was a moment of realization that happened recently. My bag that I carry with me everywhere — that through the years has contained emergency pull-ups, diaper wipes, band-aids, and various other-people miscellaneous — now carries my headphones and my Kindle.

My stuff.

Mine.

What in the world? Did I stumble into an alternate dimension?

Heck, even the bottle of sunscreen is more for me than anyone else, because I never know when I’ll be caught in the sun and I burn easily. Have I really reclaimed my life?

So I’ve been reading A Court of Thorns and Roses. In my middle-aged perspective, I find myself thinking that it depicts sexual coercion more than anything genuinely romantic (so far, since I’m 50% through the first book). Between the spells that force people to have sex, and assaults that leave bruises (complete with a “It’s all your fault that I did that to you” afterwards), I’m not seeing much that I would consider “healthy relationships” going on. Then when Tamlin said, “I’ve had many lovers, but none of them understood me,” I snerked and thought, Oh no, he’s that guy. 😆

And that’s why I’m not the heroine of a romance novel. Because Mr. “I’m so misunderstood” can go take his wounded self and whine about it somewhere else. I have a microwave dinner to eat and a bag that I’ve finally reclaimed as my own, so please keep your issues to yourself and don’t burden me. I’m not carrying around your glasses wipes and acetaminophen in my bag anymore! Maybe the real problem is that people do understand you and they don’t like what they see. Ever consider that? Sheesh.

But I don’t blame women for writing and reading that sort of stuff. Honestly … I wrote stuff when I was married that I wouldn’t write now. And today I started writing a story that I would have never been able to write when I was married. That got me thinking about the subtle ways that a writer’s immediate social circle could influence what they write, particularly with heterosexual relationships. I think the question of “What women want” is difficult to separate from, “What women think they should want,” and “What women think men think they should want.” With a fawn response thrown in for good measure. It’s kind of a mess.

A series of quotes expressing concerns about writing female characters and perceptions of male expectations in literature.

I want to make it clear that I actually do really like ACOTAR. I’m not overcome with enjoying the sex stuff, but the dark scenes are delightfully dark. Romance novels tend to have a surprising amount of gore and murder in them. 😆

Last week I dusted off my old flashdrive and read some of the stories that I’ve written, going clear back to 2003. You know what conclusion I ultimately came to?

I liked my writing style better before I got married.

I remember being told over and over that I needed to drop the dreamlike poetic prose because my communication style was too blunt and terse for that to truly be the way I thought. Yet … It actually is the way that I think. I like painting stories as expressions of emotion and atmosphere, not as a technical explanation of events. What I don’t like are heavy visual descriptions, but a metaphor that sends chills down the spine is irresistibly delicious.

And isn’t that what storytelling is supposed to do? Inspire emotion?

Enchanted multi-level library with spiral stairs, stained glass, bookshelves, and fireplace
About Me

Minecraft, ACOTAR, and the Invisible Load of Modern Motherhood

Autumn

I have finally gotten myself a library card.

For years I imagined the horrors of trying to keep library books around small rambunctious children, and decided that it was a stress that I didn’t need. However, over the last year I’ve started hearing more about how libraries have expanded out from traditional book-borrowing, and a few days ago my soul-sister told me about Libby.

My soul-sister then informed me that if I didn’t read A Court of Thorns and Roses, she would blackmail me by releasing my old roleplay from 2007 (total fabrication, such a threat never occurred😂).

So, I popped into the library on my way to Walmart to buy Minecraft (a story there), and I exited with a sparkly new library card in hand. Once home, I downloaded Libby, requested A Court of Thorns and Roses, and sent the book to my Kindle. Hurrah, I am literate! There’s a whole new world at my fingertips, just waiting for me to explore it! And the kids can’t rip any pages!

Then 24 hours later it dawned on me that I have only 2 weeks to read this book. Trivial. I read The House of My Mother in about three days, including when I had kids to care for. And yet I still have deadline anxiety.

The problem with coming from a “trad wife” background (which thus far I haven’t heard anyone acknowledge), is that now I struggle with feeling like mom is allowed to look at something other than family and chores. The shaming didn’t just come from my immediate surroundings, but also from every internet post criticizing women for looking at their phones. Do I stare dutifully at my children on the playground, or do I allow myself to read? Guilt free? I can’t finish reading a book in two weeks if I’m stuck staring at children all the time.

Besides, you and I both know that I’m not reading ACOTAR as a mom. I’m reading it as a woman — a woman who is sharing in a bond with other women through common fiction. A woman who is allowed to have friendships with other women.

So ACOTAR starts with the stereotypical thing of the main character being the strong one holding everyone together, while everyone else consumes resources and pitches in nothing. At first I thought that it seemed like a Mary-Sue depiction, establishing that the main character is “not like other women” by portraying other women as inept and spoiled. Then it hit me that what readers were connecting with wasn’t the “not like other women” trope, but instead the feeling of holding the entire damn world together without any help.

That I can relate to.

Oh boy can I relate to that.

Which brings us to my Minecraft story.

I’m sure that everyone knows that Minecraft is basically a staple of childhood. Heck, my kids have had school courses that were heavily integrated with Minecraft, because Minecraft is where it’s at. Modern childhood includes flooding villages with a bucket of water (or lava) and blowing up so much TNT that the computer can’t render the explosion. C’est la vie. But thus far, my kids have all been sharing one account for Minecraft.

Lately my kids have discovered the modding community. They have also discovered Minecraft creepypasta. And they melted my heart when they told me that they wanted to play the creepypasta mods on multiplayer together. I vowed that I would make their dreams come true.

Which ended up being kind of a mistake.

First I created their own Microsoft accounts, which was straightforward. Then I attempted to purchase Minecraft on one of their accounts. It showed up on my credit card, but I received no confirmation email and it wasn’t on the account. I navigated the Microsoft website, which was a labyrinth of links and “self help articles”, until I finally found the “chat with a human” option. I was informed that the purchase was stuck in “payment pending” limbo.

We waited. The kids (disappointed) went to dad’s house for his custody time. I continued waiting, checking everywhere I could think of to see if the payment cleared. Then, after three days, I saw that the purchase had been refunded on my credit card. Payment pending failed.

I tried to purchase Minecraft again. This time I got a message right off the bat about not being able to process the payment. I tried putting money on the kid’s account to buy it directly, and again got the same “unable to process payment” error. Tried a different card. Tried a different browser. Headdesk headdesk headdesk. OMFG Microsoft! Just take my money!

I consulted ChatGPT, who suggested that I buy a copy of the game from Walmart then activate it on my child’s account.

So I stood in line at Walmart, clutching a little piece of cardboard with a picture of Minecraft and a $30 price tag, feeling a bit ridiculous for it. Video games have been a purely digital transaction for years now, yet there I was going old-school-but-not-really. I was so anxious that something else would go wrong, and then I’d be stuck trying to get a refund from Walmart.

I was scared to try activating Minecraft right away, so I did other stuff for awhile like exploring Libby. Once I worked up my courage, I sat down and entered the activation code. I probably didn’t breathe until I had confirmation that it had worked.

Aaaaand that was when I realized that Xbox defaulted the child’s account to block all forms of multiplayer, including LAN. I had not expected that … considering that LAN stands for “Local Area Network” which entails existing in the same house using the same wifi so why would it be blocked?

Seriously, you have no idea how hard it is to find the parental control menus. Between Microsoft, Minecraft, and Xbox, I didn’t know which site I needed to be looking under (Xbox, for you other parents out there). Click click click, ask ChatGPT, ask Google. Go crazy. Finally find the settings, check “Allow multiplayer,” and pull up the Minecraft game again. Still blocked. Close game and launcher to see if that needed to be refreshed. Still blocked. Start a single player game on child’s Minecraft, open to LAN, join using my account. Works. Open Bedrock and discover multiplayer works there. Java multiplayer still blocked. Die a little inside and decide to give up for the day.

My dear sweet precious children, you have no idea. You are going to come home and take it for granted that you can now play Minecraft creepypasta mods together, and no one is going to say, “Thanks for scaling that stupid mountain and sacrificing your soul to the Minecraft Gods for us, mom.” Of course that’s what mom did, because that’s what moms do. The kids have no one else who would do that for them.

So yes, ACOTAR, I am carrying the world on my shoulders in my metaphorical winter. Thank you for validating that.

The cherry on top is that I still need to buy one more copy of Minecraft — all of that had been my test run to make sure that I knew what I was doing. At least this time … I know what I’m doing. Sort of. I don’t remember creating the child’s Xbox account. 😅

Anyway, after I finish the ACOTAR series, my soul-sister has a huge list of books for me to read. And I admit that, for whatever reason, having a library card feels insanely liberating.

Person with backpack standing at a forked forest path at dusk
About Me, About Writing

When Your Worldview Shifts and You Can’t Write Fiction Anymore

Autumn

Everyone lives by a personal philosophy.

Some people believe that the world is getting worse, while others believe that it’s getting better. Some believe that people are inherently good, while others believe that they’re inherently bad.

Now that I’m 38, I’ve learned to cast a suspicious eye on those who believe that people are inherently bad. Personally, I don’t come home from the grocery store and think, “Ugh, humanity is awful.” Most people want to mind their own business and buy their pumpkin spice muffins in peace. Most people respond to positivity with positivity. Most people will smile when you make a crack about having to decide what kind of barbecue sauce you’re in the mood for. I’ve come to the conclusion that you definitely get back what you put out.

The caveat, of course, is that I’ve also learned that some people are just plain bad. They are selfish, mean, exploitative, and manipulative, and you absolutely cannot love them into being better. It’s important to learn discernment and recognize the red flags.

The reason why writing fiction is currently so hard for me is because my foundational philosophy was tossed upside down and I’ve been rebuilding it from scratch. What I wrote about above is something that I’ve been painstakingly piecing together over the last two years. Before, I was heavily indoctrinated with “people are generally bad,” and I had no clue how many of my negative social experiences were actually influenced by just one person. Remove that one person, and suddenly my social world is completely different.

Fiction relies heavily on personal philosophy. The question of what happens next and why is completely dependent on what the writer believes. So when my world was turned inside out, I lost the ability to decide what happens next.

It wasn’t just the question of people being good or bad. I no longer believe that marriage is sacred or that love is worth fighting for — people really shouldn’t be claiming ownership of other people, anyway. Someone can spend years proclaiming their undying devotion, then wake up one day and tell you that you’re too boring for them to tolerate so they’re filing for a divorce. And then what? You spent years holding fast to love and marriage only to have it casually tossed aside by the other person. So don’t feel obligated to hang on just because love songs sound pretty. You are not property, and you are allowed to leave situations that have you feeling drained, depressed, and powerless, no matter what the other person says about their emotions.

As a side note, I want to make it clear that I’m not in the “just leave” camp. I know perfectly well that leaving is a complicated and potentially dangerous course of action, post-separation abuse is real and oftentimes worse, and I do wish that society was more supportive of people who stay. Staying does not mean that the person condones their relationship.

I still haven’t figured out how people are supposed to interact and relate to each other. I like the idea of separate individuals coexisting in a shared sphere, but then everyone else is always talking about “needs” and I still haven’t wrapped my mind around that. Personally, my “needs” vanished when I no longer had the source of stress creating the vulnerabilities and emotional wounds. So I dunno. What is it that I’m supposed to be needing? Because apparently things like “personal space” and “autonomy” aren’t it.

I also take umbrage over the idea of someone approaching me and saying, “Hey, I like the way you look. Devote your life to my NEEDS.” Uh, no. I don’t want to.

That means that I don’t know how characters are supposed to interact with each other.

I keep asking myself, “What attracts people to each other?” as we have learned to cast a wary eye on qualities like “vulnerability”, “dependence”, or “compliance”. We won’t be doing any “she softened his cold heart” crap in the future, that’s for sure. Basically everything that I was told about what men want and how women are supposed to be since 2009 is right out the window. Goodbye and good riddance. That ain’t my circus anymore.

So lets subtract lovebombing, emotional wounds, patriarchal programming, and ask … what attracts people to each other?

🤷‍♀️

Beats me.

Hence why I can’t seem to write a novel about people meeting and choosing to interact with each other for longer than five minutes. While it’s one thing to have a number of pleasant acquaintances, close relationships are an entirely different beast.

Open brass compass lying on cracked stone
About Writing

Real life taught me how to write a villain

Autumn

I found this in my drafts. I wrote this outline clear back in March then forgot about it, so I never fleshed it out into a full post. I’ve decided to post it as is, since it gets my thoughts across well enough.

An unshakable belief that the average person is stupid. Gullible.
– The villain believes they have access to special information and insight.

An alternate moral structure.
– Aware of the fact that their morals are different from everyone else’s, but convinced that it’s special.

Always right, everyone else is always wrong.
– Resistance is unreasonable
– Harm is someone else’s fault
– Their cruelty is forced
– Disagreement is proof that others think incorrectly.

Treat people the way that they deserve to be treated.
– Projection

Using cruelty to cover up own incompetence.
– Gaslighting

“The ends justify the means” while the ‘ends’ is maintaining dominance.
– They genuinely believe that their dominance in noble because people are too stupid to care for themselves.

Is esoteric narcissism a thing?

Young person standing under streetlamp on empty suburban street at dusk
About Me

From Sketch to Glam: AI Art Transformation

Autumn

This is my character, Benjamin.

I used to draw all the time when I was a teenager, then quit due to circumstances. I’ve recently started drawing again.

However, a big difference between now and 2006 is that AI art exists. If you’ve looked at my past posts, then you have seen that I like AI art … and though going through a divorce and all that put an end to my AI art exploration, I still like it.

So, my latest fascination is giving my sketches of my characters to ChatGPT to improve.

My sketch is bad. Really bad. It makes me laugh every time I see it. I made this sketch in just a few minutes for stress relief when I was having a tough time while being sick. Since I laugh every time I see it, I’d say that stress relief has been accomplished.

And this is ChatGPT’s version. It has anatomy, symmetry, and detail!

Then finally, I asked ChatGPT for a full-blown “glam up” of that drawing. As in I literally used the words, “glam up” and that’s what we got.

I’ve been putting in a lot of serious thought into making a VN. Nothing too ambitious, but I would like to include character sprites, backgrounds, and maybe some simple animations. Since I am one person and a mere mortal, I’m going to be relying on AI heavily for the art. Personally, I’m very excited to use my drawings as the base for the character designs, with the AI doing the time-consuming work of adding color and details. I am still dirt-eating poor after the divorce and all.

In retrospect, I would not recommend the “trad wife” lifestyle to anyone, btw. Just because someone makes all the right promises doesn’t mean that they won’t toss you aside later, and rebuilding with the job experience of a 20-year-old but the expenses of a 40-year-old is no cakewalk. Maybe I’ve said this before, I can’t remember. 😅 But hey, it’s worth saying again.

BUT ANYWAY

I am officially kicking off my VN project. Stage one: character design. Begin.

Black rectangular folding table with collapsible legs and handle
About Me

The Silent Life of a Black Folding Table Poem

Autumn

Black Folding Table

The black folding table arrived on a Tuesday,

still smelling faintly of cardboard and warehouses,

its legs folded neatly beneath it,

like a bird that had forgotten how to fly.

No one was waiting.

No one had cleared a place.

No one said,

“At last.”

It stood in its box by the wall

while sunlight crossed the floor without noticing.

A chair has certainty.

A bed has belonging.

Even an old lamp remembers

the shape of the room it once illuminated.

But a folding table belongs nowhere.

Its whole design is departure.

It exists to be unfolded,

used briefly,

wiped clean,

and hidden again.

A temporary witness.

A guest in every room.

It dreams, perhaps,

of becoming indispensable.

Of gathering crumbs from family dinners,

holding puzzles half-finished,

supporting the weight of elbows,

coffee mugs,

and ordinary afternoons.

Instead it waits.

Patient as winter.

Silent as an unopened letter.

The house continues around it.

Children leave.

Seasons change.

Ants march through unseen cracks.

The rain taps softly at the windows.

And still the black folding table waits,

carrying inside itself

the shape of a purpose

that has not yet arrived.

There is a particular sadness

in being ready

for a life

that has not started.

And so it stands,

unremarkable,

portable,

easily stored away,

holding together with steel hinges

and unreasonable hope.

-Written by ChatGPT

Student sitting at a desk writing with a dark shadowy figure looming behind her
About Me

Exploring the Dark Side: Runemaster’s Rewrite Process

Autumn

I’ve been working on rewriting Runemaster to be a dark fantasy/horror novel. That’s meant taking out all of the overly dramatic emotional language typical of romance, and instead making the prose more streamlined and matter-of-fact. Truthfully as I’ve been going back over it, I can see how the language is a reflection of the role that I was being forced into IRL … and the fact is that I’m simply not a trad wife who needs a man to stabilize my emotions. So why was I writing it?

Ha. Take a wild guess.

Anyway, I can’t remember what I’ve already written about in the past. I have a vague notion that I’ve already said something about how I like the horror genre. If I’m repeating myself now, then you get two versions of the same idea.😂

The fact is, I’ve been a major horror fan since I was a teen. While the stereotypical little girl was playing House, I was … hiding under my covers dead convinced that there was a scary pale face waiting behind the window blinds at night. I had a very active imagination as a child, and it kept me terrified a lot of the time. Naturally I ended up drawn to it as I grew older.

Since then, I couldn’t tell you how many horror films I’ve seen. I’ve called The Ring “visual poetry,” dived deep into the realm of J-horror, and shrugged as I admitted that I relate better to horror characters than any other genre.

Yet it was my shadow self — nice devoted mothers don’t wind down at night with Netflix shows about evil apps killing teens, so I wasn’t going to admit that’s what I did …

Heck, I had a very difficult recovery after giving birth to my last child, and I got through that period by reading The Shining by Stephen King. There I was, anemic with a newborn, treating one of the most famous horror stories of all time like it was a comfort object. That probably says something about me.

In retrospect, I think that the romance stories I wrote were more the product of some early-20s experimentation that stagnated due to circumstances. The only version of femininity that I was allowed to acknowledge revolved around being accommodating and vulnerable, and anything else was criticized. Nastily. So that became the characters that I wrote.

My original plan for Runemaster was for it to be much darker and morally ambiguous than what I actually wrote, but someone I used to know made some disparaging comments about my plan that made me feel insecure about it. I find myself returning to that original plan, because that’s what actually fits the story I want to tell.

Between you and me, I also like Lyra much better in the rewrite. She feels less like a stereotype and more like a pragmatic character with good survival instincts. I feel more connected to her now than I did before.

I no longer feel pressured to write female characters that he would approve of.

Vintage typewriter and scrolls on a desk overlooking a mythical castle through a window.
About Me

Creating Cohesion in Runemaster: A Writer’s Journey

Autumn

I’ve started sorting through the numerous handwritten pages I have for Runemaster to pull it together in a way that makes sense.

Now, I’m not going to claim that the first half makes sense — I’m going to claim brain damage on that, since I don’t know how to explain what was happening in my personal life behind the scenes. You ever have those periods where everything is always wrong and trying to fix it only makes the other person angrier? It’s confusing and draining, and it apparently turned my writing ability into crap.

But anyway, despite that I still think the first half is workable after plenty of heavy editing. The second half is where my mind really fell apart.

Apparently, I have FOUR versions of how the second part starts.

I’m impressed by my tenacity, because I didn’t realize that I still managed to put so much effort into writing despite my life being utterly destroyed around me. We’re talking pages of false starts here. Not paragraphs. PAGES.

I’ve decided that the best way to move forward is to consolidate the four versions into one, so I know for certain which direction I’m going. It’s about time we finally get some sort of cohesion around here.

I have also decided on a central theme for the story, to serve as the structural backbone for the plot:

Betrayal.

Any resemblance to real life is purely a coincidence and blah blah blah. Oh I’m just kidding! 😂 I’m going to be pouring out my soul, oozing every emotional anguish onto the page. My pain will be my art. There are a thousand ways that small betrayals can play out, woven into the story as almost indistinguishable threads. I’m rather excited about portraying this, in a cathartic sort of way. As I learned, the Big Betrayal is often preceded by numerous small betrayals, and and people are trained into “betrayal blindness” as a matter of survival.

Let’s do this! Malachi and Lyra, we’re going to advance your plot! Finally.

I really do have tons and tons of solitude these days, and aside from all the warm fuzzies I get from knowing that I’m safe when I’m alone, I can also hear myself think. I now feel satisfied with the emotional processing that I’ve done, so it’s time to move my life forward and actively pursue my dreams again.

Stories

Concept Story – Astra & Corin

Autumn

I’m experimenting with file sharing between devices and also testing out a new compact keyboard (which mostly feels normal except for some of those middle keys), so I wrote this. Because why learn with boring content when you can exercise your creativity?

This is the same idea that I wrote about here with this concept story, only I like the new names better and I am now more mature as a person. 😆

Also, between you and me, the AI generated picture for this story is hilarious. 🤣

Astra hefted Corin on her back, her eyes locked on the boughs of the pine tree above them. She adjusted the four-year-old’s grip around her neck, but his arms squeezed uncomfortably tight. “Hey,” she whispered. “Let me breathe, will you?” She tugged at his arm again. “I’m going to run to that house over there, so you need to be good for me, okay?”

Corin remained silent and his arms stayed stubbornly in place. Astra glanced towards the house and gave herself permission to briefly feel scared that the front door would be locked despite the broken windows, then her eyes went back to the pine tree branches.

“When They start to move away, that’s when I’ll run. They won’t see us, I promise.” She felt the four-year-old’s face press into her back, so she reached to pat his head. “You know that I’d never let anything bad happen to you, right? We’re going to be okay. They won’t see us.”

The thought that Corin believed and trusted her made Astra feel more certain in herself. She wouldn’t fail him, no matter what – she’d find a way to keep her word and preserve the innocence that had been entrusted into her care. She wouldn’t allow herself any other options.

Besides, Corin’s half-brother wouldn’t forgive her if something happened to the child, and sometimes Astra thought that she was more afraid of him than of Them.

“Okay … Okay …” Astra closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, then her hands clamped Corin’s legs against her sides and she jogged as best as she could towards the house. She forced herself to keep her eyes on the ground to ensure her footing through the overgrown grass, rather than checking the sky to see if They had noticed. The clearing felt impossibly long. Her heart beat harder with the fear that she had made the wrong decision with every footstep, until finally her legs strained as she darted up the steps of the house. The front door opened easily, allowing them into safety.

About Me

Debunking Divorce Movie Tropes: Real-life Perspectives

Autumn

I’ve been watching lots of movies about divorced women lately, and a very common trope is the main character showing bitter jealousy over the ex-husband’s much younger new girlfriend. Reality is … well, different.

For starters, younger does not equal hotter. Instead of bitter jealousy, it’s more of a vague, “Huh, so that’s who you managed to scrape up.” Youth is not threatening, so much of a reminder of what it was like to be naieve, idealistic, and — frankly — easier to control. Snagging a 20-year-old who’s eager for literally any male attention is nowhere near as difficult as winning the affection of a 40-year-old who has learned discernment.

And ho boy the social judgment.

Movies don’t portray what everyone thinks of the ex-husband for dating someone half his age. Outside of the “manosphere” it totally ruins a man’s reputation, and he’s seen as both exploitative and immature.

It might just be the social script, but when a woman’s husband leaves her, there really are a hundred voices ready to chime in with “You’re too beautiful for him. You’re better off without him.” Sincere or not, it does help enormously with emotional processing. A woman isn’t left feeling old and bitter, so much as he becomes a selfish, blind … you-know-what.

Anyway, despite all that I’ve still been enjoying my divorce-themed movies, though I do think that they should end with something other than, “She found a new man.” There is more to life, you know, and strengthening bonds with relatives, neighbors, and friends counts for a lot more than fiction admits.

Being allowed to think, feel, and dream as an individual is pretty good.