@andveryginger and I were joking about Lana overhearing something in the hallway thinking Theron was talking to the Outlander, but it turns out to be his jacket instead. Then @keldae begged for it to be made into fic, and apparently my brain wanted to write more crack instead of finish the angsty whumpfest I accidentally left lingering a few weeks ago.
It was Umabara Eve, and Lana Beniko couldn’t sleep. Tomorrow, everything would change, and she was starting to have doubts about the brilliant plan that she and Theron had put together to root out the true mole within the Alliance. Her traditional whisky-tea combo that she drank every night had started at a 30% whisky, 70% tea ratio, but as tomorrow’s date drew closer, the balance had tipped, and she was now putting a few drops of tea in her mug of lukewarm whisky. It was a rather disgusting combination, but a Sith had to sleep.
Apparently she wasn’t the only ones with doubts, as she rounded the corner, she heard the hushed tones from her co-conspirator, and slowed down. It did not sound like a conversation she should intrude on.
“Hey, Baby, I know this is going to be hard, but I’m going to have to leave you behind. It’s far too dangerous where I’m going to bring you along.”
Oh, Theron was finally telling the Commander about the plan? Thank the Force.
When they had both hatched this ruse after their mole hunt was proving fruitless, she had agreed that leaving their friend in the dark was probably the best. The Commander had a tendency to giggle like a schoolgirl when attempting to lie, which was handy for Lana beating her at Sabacc, but less so for initiating an elaborate sting operation.
However, she could tell that the weight of what Theron was planning to do to his beloved Jedi was weighing heavily on him, evidenced by the empty bottles of scotch and the dark bags under his eyes from sleepless nights. Lana was starting to wonder if he could actually pull off the fake betrayal they had carefully orchestrated. It was one thing to get Theron captured and tortured so he could maybe get information from his strange zombie ancestor, but Lana’s suggestion of “maybe we should try that with you actually knowing this time” had been taken to… extremes.
Somehow the simple act of him being caught on holo where the Order could see him betraying his true love had evolved into a spectacular show of pyrotechnics, rampant property destruction, and Lana being a heroic self-sacrificing hero while Theron monologued terribly to hidden cameras. She had seen his script and it needed… work. But he didn’t seem very open to constructive criticism and just told her she needed practice being stunned and seemed to take far too much satisfaction in tazing her.
This was the last time she let him plan an undercover operation.
“I just want you to know that I love you, no matter what you see or hear, remember that. I wouldn’t be doing any of this if I didn’t think it was necessary.”
Well, now that was out in the open, they could all have a discussion about this like reasonable adults. Lana left her accidental eavesdropping perch and rounded the corner—
—to see Theron facing a coat rack, lovingly stroking his red jacket.
“What the blazes are you doing?”
“Lana!” He had the good sense to look startled, one hand absently reaching for his blaster. Paranoid spy. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
“It looks like you were just talking to your jacket.”
“Okay, it’s exactly what it looks like.”
“Seriously?”
“What I do to calm my nerves before a dangerous mission is my own business.”
“In the middle of a hallway? Discussing our secret plans?”
“Well, I certainly couldn’t do it in my room.”
“And why not?”
“Well, the Commander might overhear and—”
“Please tell me that the next words you were going to say are ‘think I’m insane for talking to a jacket’.”
“No, she thinks it’s cute. She even got Baby his own coat rack and painted it to match.”
“You two are the strangest people I’ve ever met in the galaxy!”
“You’re just jealous.”
“I am not—and you named your jacket ‘Baby’?” Lana asked incredulously. “And gave it a gender?”
“I never pegged you for the judgmental type, Lana.”
“I am not— and you’re changing the subject!” Theron cursed quietly at being caught at his favorite tactic. “We need to tell the Commander about this plan.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Yes, we do. You’re pickling your liver, talking to inanimate objects, and probably most importantly, I’m pretty sure we’re going to break her if we don’t give her some hint of what’s going on.”
“Sure, and what would happen if we tell her, what do you think she’s going to do?”
“Probably say ‘no, please don’t taze Lana, she’s my favorite’.”
“You’re still getting tazed tomorrow! And I’m the favorite!”
“Damn it, Theron!”
“And we can’t tell the Commander. Because… reasons™…”
“The reason being that she’d agree with me that this plan is idiotic. If we had just gone with my original plan of you shoving us into a locked closet while broadcasting it to your recruiters within the Order, I’d be able to—”
“No, it needs to look real. These people are crazy, Lana, if I’m to be accepted as one of them I need to appear equally as insane.”
“Well, if you send them a holo of you speaking to a garment of clothing like a lover, I’m sure they’ll take it under consideration.”
“You know, Lana, sometimes your words hurt.”
“Good, then we can both march down to the Commander’s quarters and tell her—”
“No. We can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” Theron whipped his coat off the rack where it had been lovingly hung and slipped it on in one overly melodramatic motion. “This is just something I have to do. One day, she’ll understand… and maybe forgive me.”
Lana massaged her forehead, feeling the beginnings of a stress headache coming on. “I should have stuck with the Empire. Sith are saner than you lot.”
The challenge: write for 30 minutes straight. Post what is written with the tag #ndow challenge before or on October 20th.
I had to ask for a prompt because my mind was totally blank and I wanted to get this done tonight, and got a rather good one that brought me out of my comfort zone somewhat.
Anyway, here’s the result. 694 words. I think I’ll call it How Sergeant Sky Blue Got Her Name.
She woke up to the sharp pain of something jabbing her at the inside of her elbow, followed by the sensation of something like shards of glass made of fire crawling up her arm. She shouted in pain, eyes opening wide to find herself looking straight into the enormous green eyes of a Pralian with equally green skin made of tiny glittery scales that looked like individual jewels.
"Oops," the Pralian said, their green eyes blinking in something that might have been regret or confusion or shame.
"Oops?" Cianna said, looking down at her arm which was turning blue, spreading from the point where the injection had been done. Then she spied the syringe the Pralian held in their hands and her eyes widened. "I don't want to hear an oops when you're injecting me with some light blue mystery liquid!"
"About that," the Pralian said, and by now Cianna had noticed the medical emblem on their purple smock.
"Are you the only doctor on this ship?"
"I'm the only doctor for several star clusters, actually. Did you say you were allergic to prismatic ant venom?"
"I didn't say anything, I was out cold, dammit! Wait a minute. What the hell is prismatic ant venom?"
"Right," the Pralian doctor said, blinking their huge eyes again, the manner of the sideways lids snicking shut and open disconcerting to a human like Cianna. But something in the way the doctor shifted toward a tray full of instruments told her that the doctor had gone into full emergency doctor mode. "Not to worry. We'll have this fixed in a jiffy. That's the word, isn't it? Jiffy?"
Cianna shook her head, looked at her arm again, which was now completely blue, from the tips of her fingers to - she pulled up the sleeve of the gown she wore - the shoulder and still the colour was spreading. The burning sensation of glass in her veins had vanished, but had been replaced by a maddening itching. "You didn't answer my question. What the hell is prismatic ant venom?"
"Nothing you need to worry about right now, Sergeant. Just let me see here..." the doctor mumbled, having grabbed a data tablet to look through, muttering under their breath as they tapped the screen. Cianna overheard the words 'human', 'ant venom', 'antidotes'. "Ah! Good news! It's not lethal to you. But I'm afraid the antidote has some, um, unfortunate side effects."
Scratching at her blue coloured arm, Cianna glared at the doctor, eyes narrowed with deep suspicion. "What kind of unfortunate side effects?"
Putting the tablet down, the Pralian held up a hand in a way they must have learned from being around humans. The kind of gesture to say 'just wait a minute'. Then they walked off, over to the matter printer, tapping in a request for the equipment to create what Cianna imagined would be the antidote she needed with side effects that the doctor wasn't all that keen on explaining. And if the side effects were that bad, then what exactly would the ant venom do to her?
"What side effects, doctor?" she repeated, more forcefully as the Pralian came back to the infirmary bed.
"It isn't anything that will hinder your performance in the field, Sergeant."
"Spit it out already!"
"Well, you see that skin infection? The blue colouration?"
"Yes?"
"I'm afraid that will be permanent."
By now, the colour had spread across her chest and if she'd had a mirror, Cianna was certain that she'd see it spreading up her neck towards her face, as well. "How permanent?"
"Well, permanent means forever, so I'm afraid that's what it means, Sergeant. Forever."
"And if I don't take the antidote?"
"Then I'm afraid death is quite possible. In fact, I'd say that death is rather impossible to avoid once a human has been injected with prismatic ant venom."
"Oh."
"So, Sergeant? Do you want the antidote or not?"
"What the hell do you think, doc? Give me the damn shot already!"
And that is the story how Sergeant Cianna Toq of Earth ended up with her right arm and half her face coloured blue like the sky at home.
So I managed to find time to write for national day of writing! For anyone who hasn’t seen the posts going around its basically a challenge for October 20th to write non-stop for 30min and to post your result! You can edit if you like, not everyone is comfortable posting work that’s unedited and that’s ok! Just tag it - ndow challenge - so that disgruntledturtle can find it!
I didn’t edit mine afterwards though I changed a couple sentences and words as I wrote. I went a couple minutes over just cuz I got interrupted by the phone but I got 550 words in! So here’s my work, it is horror for Halloween so if you’re not a fan of gore or injury or evil creatures that lurk in the night maybe skip this! Please tell me if it creeps you out or scares you! I’m trying to branch into horror and would love love love feedback!
I was dragged out of bed by something with long cold fingers and no discernible body. Thrashing, I reached out for anything to ground me. My fingers clawed at the floorboards and I braced myself for impact as my body slid uncontrollably fast towards the stairs. Each step dug its way into my back as I tumbled down.
The creature never lost its grip on me. It took me out into the cold, allowing the icy path to cut into the skin of my arms and cheeks. “Stop.” My voice wavered from panic and the drop in temperature. “Please. Please.”
Sharp nails dug into me, and blood painted the snow scarlet. I squirmed, feeling the sting of pain travel up my limbs.
The woods were coming up fast ahead. I screamed and threw a stick where I expected the body to be. For a moment I was no longer being dragged. It could have been dead, but it wasn’t. The creature released my legs and I felt the same bony fingers clench around my neck. A choking sound escaped my throat and the pressure of it’s hold only increased. Black spots began to dot my vision and then I was being towed away again. The air from my lungs escaped like smoke into the winter night.
I was shivering, and red stains were smeared across my body; I had been pulled through my own wet pool of blood. My body’s struggle ended. I lay still, nothing but a plank of wood. It didn’t make it harder. The creature’s speed grew faster and low branches of shrubbery caught in my hair. I was yanked forward harder and untangled again.
I felt the water before I saw it. The fluid flooded my cuts and a scream tour through me before the pain registered. It soaked through my clothes and weighed me down. Hands clenched a bundle of my hair and forced me under.
Instinct pushed me upwards. I choked out a bit of water before I was brought below again. The hands released me. My arms swung wildly, pushing a path through the pond to reach the surface. I hit something hard. Looking up, sheets of ice began to formulate from one shore to the other.
With my heart hammering in my lungs, I frantically swatted water aside. But the cold was immobilizing. I lost energy fast and sunk even faster. My lungs burned with fury and pond water.
I couldn’t see the surface.
A hand reached out and tugged on my arm. It felt the same as the other’s but smaller. Another tugged at my bottom lip, it’s skeletal finger reaching inside my mouth and poking against my front teeth. I squirmed and whimpered and more water spilled down my trachea.
More hands gripped and pulled and scratched at me. Tiny hands, with tiny fingers.
Teeth ripped into my thighs and bit off the ends of my fingers. I kicked and pulled away numb all over.
I lost all feeling in my left arm and sight in one of my eyes.
Something whispered close and quiet in my ear, “thank you for a most gracious feast.” Then the hand that belonged to the creature that brought me here gripped me one more time, and I felt strong jaws around my neck.
Thanks for reading! Thanks disgruntledturtle this challenge was really fun!
The gentle spring breeze felt good on Aleena’s skin, offering a cooling contrast to the sun. The rays of the sun weren’t as warm as they would be in a month or so, but combined with the hike up the hill, Aleena could feel herself sweating. And she was sure Mariel was feeling their hike as well, after all the Togruta didn’t have the benefit of Aleena’s Jedi training.
The two of them had decided to take advantage of Aleena’s day off and go for a picnic. Not that Aleena had told the Jedi what she was doing. As far as they thought, she was meditating in a calm spot, instead of trekking up a path to spend the day with her friend.
“Hey! Wait up, will you?” Mariel shouted from a hundred or so meters behind her.
Aleena turned around, walking slowly backwards, before coming to a halt. It didn’t take long for Mariel to catch up. Reaching for Aleena’s hand, she curled her fingers into hers. Smiling at the human, Mariel said, “Now you won’t be able to run off again.
“Not to worry, I wasn’t planning to,” Aleena winked. “Though I worry that the tea will go cold if we don’t hurry.”
Rolling her eyes Mariel didn’t even think that comment warranted a response. The Jedi seemed to be crazy about her tea, and Mariel honestly wasn’t sure if it was just Aleena or every other Jedi as well. Despite Aleena’s worry, they both knew that the thermos would protect their precious cargo.
------
Finally arriving to a small picnic area overlooking the meadow below, the two of them unpacked their food and laid it on top of the blanket Mariel’s mother had provided them. While Mariel was digging up the sandwiches, pie, and sweets, Aleena got her small contribution to the picnic out of her bag, some dried fruits and nuts, as well as the tea. She hadn’t dared to take more in fear of someone asking what she’d need it all for.
“You know, I’m pretty sure I could eat the whole pie by myself, it looks delicious.”
“Thanks, I baked it myself,” Mariel smiled, before sheepishly adding. “Well mom helped, but only a little.
Aleena smiled at her friend’s words. She couldn’t explain why, but she enjoyed hearing about Mariel’s life. She knew as a Jedi she shouldn’t desire a normal life, but hearing Mariel talk about her parents always made her think what it would be like.
This is the bit of writing I did for a National Day on Writing Challenge. The original post about it is on the blog in case you’re interested, but it boiled down to writing for 30 straight minutes and posting it with the #ndow challenge tag.This post comes a day early, but I wanted to be sure to get it done.
I ended up starting a short for my OC Alan, which is something I’ve been meaning to do for sometime. I’m posting it UNEDITED AND INCOMPLETE (I even left in the start of the last paragraph I got to) as I hard stopped myself at the 30 minute mark. Sometimes I feel like I’m afraid to show work until it’s gone through lots of edits, and even then I’m seldom not nervous about posting it, so this is something new for me. Alright, enough of the blah, blah, blah; here’s the story!
Alan walked across a rotting log in his little clearing that was quiet enough to dream and loud enough to feel awake. He liked to think that this place had come to be his parlor of genius and hidden palace of thought and that the emerald leaves and carpet of moss were the drapings his kingdom in him mind. The reality was his clearing was a haven in which he could daydream while gallivanting about like a fool without being judged by more than the squirrels, but in the end that was basically the same thing or so Alan told himself as he fell off the log and ate a chunk of moss and damp dirt.
Alan had been thinking of what it’d be like to walk across a tall narrow ledge while feeling the motion of himself move across the log, and hoped as he now sat on the dank ground that if the time ever came when he found himself in a higher situation his balance would be better. He loved to think of visions of excitement and grandeur while alone in his clearing and act them out in his mind and occasionally with his body like a play. He played adventure; he played hero. He daydreamed like he’d never outgrown his imagination and simply didn’t care if he should have. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he had no business imagining such things as he had no idea what effort or detail any sort of adventure would really entail, and judging by his log display and many others before it, he didn’t have the moves to pull off ‘hero’ either. Still, Alan liked to think he had all the luck in the world when a situation really counted, and that if he ever had the chance, if there ever was a change, if ever made a move…
Alan liked to think he could pull an adventure off. Whatever it was.
With a sigh he pulled went to pull himself off the ground when a soft red-brown blob landed in his lap with a thud. Alan looked stunned at the creature who stared back at him in probably a similar state of shock.
“Hello, Little Squirrel, did you fall from the tree?”
The squirrel spun about, assumedly orienting itself to its new situation before jumping from Alan to the log. It settled no too far from Alan and continued to stare back at him. He’d assumed the little animal would just run, but it remained on the log, and Alan could have sworn followed each his moves with a twitch of its own.
“Well little buddy, I’m glad you’re okay, but now the staring thing is kinda freaking me out. Unless you’re a handsome tree spirit or creek-god in disguise and you’ve become enraptured with my good looks, maybe we can go back to ignoring each other?”
Alan resumed getting up and took a few step to the creek that ran through his clearing. He rinsed away the mud and moss remaining on his face from his fall. After sputtering a bit at the cold water he turned back around nearly to step on the staring squirrel. It looked up at him with dark, clear eyes.
“Okay, friend. If you’re really a handsome tree spirit, you should know I have a girlfriend now. You’re just a little too late to the Alan-party. If you’re a demon that’s about to eat me, could you make it quick? And uh, if you’re just a squirrel then, stop or shoo? Okay?”
Aiden closed the door and hung up his coat. He froze. Something was off. Before he could put the jacket on the coat rack to a person, someone jumped up from the couch.
Aiden almost grabbed the switchblade he kept on a small commode. But then he recognised his uninvited guest.
“What the hell?” Lily stared at him. “Dad, is that your blood?”
He looked down. Fuck. There where red stains all over his white dress shirt. Intellectually, he had known they were there, but he hadn’t given them much thought. Why should he? He had worn the coat until now, and usually he was alone when he came home.
Which led to another question… “Lily! What are you doing here?”
His daughter didn’t answer. She slowly approached him, obviously scanning him for injuries, while trying not to look at the blood.
With a sigh Aiden put his keys down and took off his shoes. This was bound to become uncomfortable. Lily might be sixteen by now, but that didn’t exactly make everything easier to explain.
“Dad…” Lily sounded like she was both annoyed that he didn’t answer her question and unsure, if she wanted to hear the answer.
“No, it’s not mine.” Aiden wasn’t sure if that was the right or the wrong answer. “Give me a second to change, will you?”
He stepped into his bedroom. The shirt went on the floor, and he grabbed a hoodie from the chair next to the bathroom door.
When he came back to the living room, Lily sat on the couch. She looked up at him.
“Dad, why is there blood on your clothes?” She was remarkably calm for someone who had just seen their parent come home covered in someone else’s blood.
Aiden went over to the open kitchen to get himself a beer. He needed some alcohol right now. And a second to come up with an answer that wouldn’t make her call the cops on him. He could still see the man’s face in head, the broken nose, the eyes glassy with pain. But there had still been enough fight in him to take another swing at Aiden. Which he had sidestepped, so his opponent ran right into the wall behind him. So, it wasn’t even entirely his fault that the guy went down.
“I got into a bar fight”, he tried.
Usually, Aiden was a very good liar, but he was still high on the violence, and shocked to find Lily at his apartment. Meaning that his words probably didn’t come out as convinced as they could have.
Lily rolled her eyes with the practice only a teenager could muster. “It’s not even ten pm.”
He took a sip from the bottle, and carefully opened and closed his left hand. Once again one of the knuckles was split open – something that happened to him much too often lately.
Lily didn’t miss the movement and raised an eyebrow. “Okay, so fight was true. Should I call mum?”
Aiden couldn’t suppress a laugh at that. It was reassuring to see Lily grin a little as well.
His ex-wife was a lawyer, and apparently that was the first person he should call after committing a crime, according to Lily.
“No, you don’t have to.” He sat down on the armchair. He took another sip and went serious again “Listen, it’s nothing, really. Someone provoked me, we got into a fight, and I happened to be a little better.”
Lily looked at him. He wondered what was going on inside her head. He couldn’t always tell, he had hardly seen her for the last seven years. But they had been catching up, and he knew there was no imminent threat that she would freak out anymore.
“My secret agent dad lets himself being provoked so easily?”
The jibe was unexpected, and Aiden actually winced a little. He really didn’t like to be reminded of his last occupation, because then he had to think about how it had ended.
“…yeah”, he admittedly somewhat hesitantly. And promptly changed the topic. This was enough explanation for one evening. “So, how the fuck did you get in here?”
He didn’t give keys away, he was much to mistrustful for that. Even if it was his daughter. There was still a lot of stuff she shouldn’t see. For example: the bloodstained shirt.
“You left me one the last time I was here, and I hadn’t given it back”, Lily revealed.
Aiden shook his head at his inattentiveness. He had to make sure he got that key back. Just to prevent situations like this one.
“Can we watch Doctor Who?” Lily lay back on the couch. “That’s why I’m here actually, your TV is better than mum’s.”
With a sound, that was both a laugh and a sigh, Aiden tossed her the remote control.
“I’ll make something to eat”, he said, and put down the beer.
So @disgruntledturtle came up with a challenge for writers. Set a timer for 30 minutes, don’t stop writing til the timer is up, and post your work here. I decided to give it a try. For the challenge, I worked on my dystopian novel, High Society, so here’s an excerpt from chapter 4, in the character Mikaylee Reynolds’ point of view.
The next day before life training, I finished the practice problems I had ignored while practicing for the TCA the night before. My eyes hurt, trying to hold them open, but I was more bothered by the idea of not scoring high enough. Beacon came to the table before sessions began, but he didn’t say a word.
I somewhat feared that our friendship was straining. Often times, my trainers in advanced sessions told me I could likely raise my Session Score Average if I hung out with a more “intellectual” crowd. But I did enjoy Beacon’s company.
“You keep my feet on the ground, and I keep your head from spinning off,” he joked one time.
Lately, I’d been realizing that Beacon’s feet were indeed firmly planted on the ground. He bought into everything H. Renolk told him. I, on the otherhand yearned for change, change that may never come. I wanted something more than H. Renolk had to offer--even if I wasn’t exactly sure what.
Beacon really wanted our society to like him, but he was never at the top level. Sure, he was talented and scored average, but as the poster in the food hall read: Average is Unacceptable.
I needed Beacon much more than he needed me.
During first block today, we were periodically pulled out to meet with future planners. They would have never done it during the other six blocks, as those slots were reserved for academics. Activities were important for the glory of H. Renolk, but they did not contribute to our TCA scores.
The TCA was the most tangible form of proof of our superiority, Currently our average was 0.2 points behind Alldrim, who lead Dargosa county.
A middle aged woman smiled at me as I walked in the room. “You must be Mikaylee.”
She had a file of me on her online searcher. There were so many words it was hard to take it all in, but one phrase stuck out.
“What does it mean, I ‘ask too many questions?’“ I inquired.
She threw her hands up slightly. “Oh.” She scrolled down the screen. “That’s nothing. Those are just for our records.” She stretched out her hand. “I”m Mrs. Davis. I’m going to help you plan out your future.” After a pause she went on. “Now we can’t actually plan out the rest of your life until you take the TCA, but it’s nice to start early, so you can start thinking about your options.”
She scrolled through the file some more. “Now let’s see. It looks like on your predictability tests you’ve scored an 83 and an 85. Not too bad.”
“I have to get a 93,” I blurted out.
She pursed her lips. “Now sweetie, an 8 point jump is awfully difficult. You might want to leave those careers to smarter people.”
“I’ve been practicing,” I explained.
“As you should be,” she commented. “But even so, it’s always good to have goals, but it’s necessary to have a realistic back-up plan. Now have you ever thought about--”
“I want to be a lawyer.”
Her eyes widened and she seemed to fall back in her chair. “That;s quite ambitious, young lady.” She typed something in my file, but I couldn’t tell what.
“I realized it about last year,” I continued. “I have to do this.”
“She eyed me nervously. “Do you really think that’s what you were created to do?”
No one created me, I wanted to shoot back, but I bit my tongue.
“I just know the legal field is very intense, often too intense for women,” she noted. “Maybe you could be a secretary for a law firm. Or an early years life trainer. Perhaps if you’re looking to make a higher income than those two options, you could be a medical assistant.” She turned her chair around. “ I know I have brochures about the health professions here somewhere.”
If you read til the end: Thank you. I would love to know what you think!
Let’s see, I’ve been writing (on and off) for twenty years. It started with that project in first grade; having to write some kind of story so that it could be “published” in a book. I wrote about my family’s Easter. I had fun with that project and began writing from there. I had stories to tell. Some heavily inspired by what I watched and others that were a little more original. Either way, I just wanted to share what I wrote whether it be a love story between an angel and human, or a sci-fi story about an alien experiencing friendship and heartbreak for the first time, or a supernatural drama of a girl reincarnating just so she could be with her friends again. These are only a fraction of the things I wrote while in elementary and middle school.
High school was when I started writing because I didn’t see what I wanted in television. Yeah, I’m talking about fanfiction. A medium that I previously thought was unnecessary, but saw that not only was I wrong, but that it was fun. Sadly, outside of fanfiction, that was also when I didn’t finish most of what I wrote.
Then come college where I almost never had time to write or if I did, I’d let my growing perfectionist streak keep me from finishing anything, thinking most of what I wrote sucked. Ever since 2011, I’ve been writing more than I did in high school but no where near as much as I did in elementary or middle school. But the love for writing remains.
Now when I write, I write to explore the things I don’t understand but want to understand. I write to express my personal wants. I write to remind myself of the better things in life. I write hoping that, should I ever get published, the stories will feel like love letters to various people. To say, “I don’t know you, but I hope these stories make you feel loved. That you matter.”
There are so many things one can do with writing and sometimes I’m not sure if my reasons for writing are what God had in mind, but since the love for writing is still there, there’s definitely something He wants me to do with it. All I can do is keep writing and trust Him; He knows what He’s doing.
