Dark Cave

This isn't an excerpt from my WIP. It's an additional scene set during an imaginary quiet moment at an unspecified point in the story. The story itself isn't a romance; it's more of a dark, weird fantasy. However, I needed to give free rein to my romantic side, so this happened. I want to share it because I need the world to know my babies. They're so stupid and cute 💕

You made her cry?

Ember grabbed Lightara’s fingers. She held them there, suspended over the mattress, and squeezed only the pinky and the ring finger. Taking her whole hand was still a bizarre possibility, an idea that surfaced every now and then, but that she sent right back down with a sudden flush on her face. So she only took those two fingers, and pressed her thumbs against them, as if to open them up and massage them.

The attention of both focused on their fingers.

Lightara made a rustling sound against the blankets. The bed creaked just a bit under her shifting weight. Now she was on her side, in a position that calling ‘curled up’ would have been an exaggeration. She was a comma, her knees creating a curling curve above Ember’s head.

Why is Holding Absence such a perfect source of inspiration? God, they're pure emotion crystallized

My inner monster

I wouldn’t describe my inner monster—the one that tells me “I’m not good enough at writing”—as a monster in the traditional sense.

It looks more like a tall woman. With a completely crooked, hunched back. A hooked nose. Glasses that slide down over said hooked nose. The plain, monochromatic dress typical of middle-aged female teachers. Dirty, greasy hair that glistens every time the sun hits it.

She looks sour.

She gives me terrible grades, justifying them with “you’re so corny”... says the biggest stereotype of a mean teacher there is; but, deep down, she comes from my own mind, so it’s just a sign that, yes, I am corny.

She tells me I sound pompous. Then that I have the vocabulary of a 12-year-old and am too simple. So I’m just a simple pompous person.

She never laughs. It’s not like she enjoys how terrible I am. More than anything, she’s disgusted.

She moves her arms a lot. She moves her arms too much. I don’t know if it’s because she likes the idea of grabbing the whole world’s attention—“hey, look here! yeah, right here, look at the crap this one wrote”—or if she’s just hyperactive.

But hearing other people talk about it, I realized my experience has always been completely different.

I think I’m… an intuitive plotter. 'Cause in reality I’m super structured.

And that’s how I discovered that plotter ≠ outlines and Excel spreadsheets.

Not that it matters much. I mean, they're mostly joke labels. But it's nice to know myself a little better.

It seems like such a neat method. So organized. So... clever.

And yet, a disaster every time I try it.

My approach is to literally visualize the character, give them a name, get an idea of what they want, throw them into the fray, and spend at least half of the first draft figuring out how they’re lying to me about their psychology.

I can't choose for them. It never works. I can only... learn about them as I go.

Probably it's just me being insane.

I’ve kind of fallen in love with her, and I’m already planning extra prequel stories about her. So, yay for me?

Perché nella trama le ho dovute separare quelle due cretine, ma già mi manca come si prendono per il culo, come fanno le dolci imbranate per poi fingere che sia tutto normale...

E quindi sì.

Sono riuscite a rendermi "romantica". Help. I was not ready for this 💀

Il che mi ha portato tante belle esperienze, solo che a un certo punto mi ero stancata dell'implicito "io ti leggo se tu leggi me". Una regola che se da un lato mi sembra sensata, quasi giusta, dall'altro... anche no. Non ho più il tempo, non ho voglia, e ho finito per dubitare delle parole di tutti. Se leggo qualcosa, dev'essere perché mi va, non per un tornaconto personale.

Perciò adesso che non ho più un posto reale dove condividere i miei scritti, mi ritrovo a vagabondare in cerca di qualcosa. Non so nemmeno io cosa.

Sono qui per condividere pensieri strani. Scleri sul mio processo creativo. Interesserà a qualcuno? Sicuramente no, però a me un santuario alla mia mente cretina che sta sempre sulle nuvole serve proprio. Non c'è niente da fare.

Scrivo (e leggo) nei generi fantasy, horror, thriller e sci-fi. Spesso mescolandoli fra loro per creare ibridi strani. Amo il non-detto, i significati oltre le parole, l'ironia e un po' di spirito tamarro qui e lì.