Fleeting & Forever

30s, she/her, American expat in the UK.

I'm an editor of fiction, a passionate fanfic writer, and a lover of stories.

This blog is a place for me to reflect and put my thoughts. It’s okay to interact with me/my posts (asks, DMs, @ tags, comments, likes, reblogs, etc.).

Please do say hello ✨

An assortment of things I like: hearts, glitter, being alone, writing, forget-me-nots, birds, lists, all manner of baked goods, forests, fandom, when something I read or watch makes me cry, cats, meadows, reading, nail polish, finding animal bones, staying home, tea, used books, mountains, whiskey, natural light, the dreams I have at night, music, the sky, windows, lager, watercolor, autumn, sleep, driving on American highways, chocolate, Joshua Tree National Park, stationery, advice forums/columns, anti-jokes, a good buzz, photography, woodland creatures, rain…

Tags:

thoughts: personal posts and diary-like writings on my life.

my own: anything my somewhat sleepy creative side decides to produce.

me: rare sightings of yours truly.

It was a beautiful service. The chapel was full; I and a couple dozen other people stood along the walls because all the seats were taken, which was no surprise at all.

My view of the casket was blocked by a column, and it made for a dirty trick—it was so easy to think he would walk in any moment.

He would walk in to a party just for him, beautifully designed but all of us in no party mood at all. And he would be equal parts baffled and amused. He would exclaim, "What's all this, then?!"

I can hear him saying it.

Part of what made today so hard was seeing so many men—balding or white-haired British men, men from a culture famous for being emotionally restrained—struggling to remain composed, or weeping. (Men's tears always undo me. Direct hit to my heart.)

But we departed the chapel to "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life," which really was just right.

In January, in about a week's time, I produced two final essays for the first semester--4,683 words in total.

It was utterly grueling. I had little choice, though, and I did manage to do it. And my final marks were excellent.

But something I can't easily forget is this: the day after submitting my last assignment, I was sitting at my kitchen table, still wrung out from lack of sleep and feeling as though my brain had been run over by a truck.

And I just kind of dissolved into tears.

1. Imagine waking up one morning to discover apples no longer exist--apparently they have never existed. How would you handle this? How would your character handle it?

2. It was always about the fire.

3. Your character is in a situation in which they must steal something. What are they trying to steal? Are they comfortable with this? How high are the stakes? What happens if they get caught?

Hello.