shouldiwritetoday

[shouldiwritetoday]

WHY YOU SHOULD WRITE HORRIBLY:

1. You’ll never write anything if you don’t

[shouldiwritetoday]

After beating the hero near death, the villain is finally told that the hero isn’t even 18 yet. Now the villain is taking the hero to go fight the gods who had sent him, looking to stop them from endangering kids for their own benefit.

[shouldiwritetoday]

[shouldiwritetoday]

[shouldiwritetoday]

“My lord, I know you are the demon lord and I am but a lowly advisor, but please listen to me. I suggest that instead of sending the hero slightly stronger demons to kill each time, we just send the strongest one right away”

[shouldiwritetoday]

Sorry if some of these overlap a little/if I left out something obvious kajbdsjkd I tried my best haha. And that's why there's an "other" option!

[shouldiwritetoday]

i wish i could scoop out all the words and stories inside my head with a butter knife and spread it onto a document and that was it

[shouldiwritetoday]

“Oh my god you’re a writer? Can I read your stuff?”

[shouldiwritetoday]

writing should be fun.

make oc playlists. spend hours on moodboards that have no purpose. write self-indulgent fluff that’s never going to be published. scribble three lines of poetry in the back of your history notebook. draw fanart of your own characters. write stupid dialogue that your publishers might hate. start new wips that you might never finish but write those three chapters that make you happy because if you don’t write them, who else will?

writing shouldn’t always be about “will publishers like this” or “i have to reach this word count” or “how do i get the most likes”.

have fun with your writing.

[shouldiwritetoday]

Camp Nanowrimo 4/6/2021

Words: 2239/10000

So about 300 words of that is not actually WtNH and is instead words of an essay about Chaos Walking (2021) because I have plenty of thoughts. Anyway, writing is going pretty okay. Moved into a rental house yesterday and that was exhausting, but happy to be out of the hotel lol

Snippet:

“It’s fine,” she choked out. “We can work through this together.”

He shook his head again. “See this is what really bothers me about you. You’re too naive, too forgiving. Some people don’t deserve second chances, let alone five hundred. People walk all over you because you let them, Lyla. Don’t add me to that list.” His eyes hardened as he took a step closer to her, his blue eyes boring into hers. “I’m selfish. I’m thinking about myself when I say I’m leaving.” And then quieter, he added, “If I think about you, everything will be worse.”

What in the fuck was that supposed to mean? Bee felt her blood boiling, years of suppressed anger rising to the surface in a righteous fury over how Lyla had been treated by this man.

“Selfish,” she repeated in disbelief. He looked as if he had more to say, but she cut him off so fast. “Damn right you are.” That caused him to blink in surprise — she knew she was breaking character a little by being so direct and profane, but goddamnit, she felt like letting loose!

She took a deep breath to steady herself before continuing on. “For this entire marriage, Jackson, I’ve been non-stop thinking about you. What would make Jackson happy? What can I do to ensure his happiness? How can I make his family happy with me for his sake? Well, you know what? For the first time, I’m not thinking about you. I’m not asking questions about you, anymore. I’m not going to waste my time if you don’t want me to.

“Because…. What about Lyla? What about Lyla’s happiness? What can I do to make Lyla happy? That’s what I’m asking myself now. There’s so little time to make Lyla happy now. Have you ever asked yourself these questions in our marriage? Have you ever put me first?”

Judging by the look on his face, no. He hadn’t. Bee never realized just how much she loathed him. But holy hell, she did. Making him feel guilt was glorious, but it was way too fucking late. Lyla deserved better than him.

“I… I had every intention of forgiving you for your indiscretions,” she said honestly, because she had. Because Lyla would have. But he didn’t want Lyla’s forgiveness and Bee was more than happy to keep it. “I had the rest of my life planned out before I even left the doctor’s office. I’d come home to you, we’d patch up our problems, and I’d spend what time I had left by your side.

“But that plan has gone to hell.” Her voice grew artistically thick. “All I wanted out of life, Jackson, was to be your wife. I wanted to be the mother of your children and you promised me that would happen in any way we could make possible together. But I’m never going to be a mother, not now.” A deep breath. “I can hardly be called your wife. My dreams are shattered.

“And the thing is—” her voice cracked “—what was the point of all this?” Tears slipped down her face, but she brushed them away like they barely bothered her. “You’re right. I need support right now. I need to be happy. And you can’t— can’t do that for me.”

“Our marriage,” Jackson said, “wasn’t pointless.”

#my writing #camp nano 2021 #camp nanowrimo #marriage problems #rental houses

[shouldiwritetoday]

Camp Nanowrimo 4/1/21

Words: 385/10000

I went back and forth between doing this. Ultimately, I decided I really wanted to finish Welcome to New Houston and this year they are encouraging people to finish their Nanowrimo novels, so I'm going ahead and doing it. My goal is 10000 words because I don't think I have much more than that left.

I don't know how often I'll be able to write. I'm using my sister's school-issued computer to write/make these posts. This year has been awful, but I going to use this month as an opportunity to try to turn it around a little and finish the story.

Snippet:

“I’m leaving.”

Her breath was stolen. Of all the things he could have said, that was it? Something so serious without any forewarning?

“What?” she croaked in surprise. Her throat was evidently more parched than she thought it should be, as if she was nervous. Perhaps Lyla would be, but Bee was a professional. Or at least, Bee was supposed to be, but even this was too much.

Jackson lifted his head and looked her straight in the eyes, unwavering, unflinching. “I think it would be best if we take some time from each other.”

What a fucking double-whammy! Jesus Christ! How pitiful were they planning on making Lyla? What kind of sick joke was this?

There was nothing else Bee could do then just stare at him flabbergasted to cover up her frustration. How am I supposed to respond to that? Be a professional, Bee! Improvise!

Well. Ripping it off like a band-aid was still an option and would lay everything bare out in front of them. Besides, Lyla would do anything to keep him.

With practiced ease, Bee swallowed hard and steeled herself for what could possibly be the greatest performance of her life.

“Jackson, I—”

“No, it’s okay,” he cut in quickly, holding up a hand. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Fuck him.

#my writing #camp nano 2021 #nanowrimo #camp nano #finishing my novel #hopefully

[shouldiwritetoday]

Nanowrimo Week 4

Days: 24-29

Words: 50027/50000

I did it!!!!! I actually did it!!! This is the first year I didn’t give up and quit. Of course, not having a job or school work helped. I am listing away at home in quarantine, but hey. I wrote words. :)

I am so proud of myself. Really I am.

Excerpt:

Bee ended up having to wait an hour and a half for Elijah to come back. She had been sitting right in front of his door in an empty hallway, twiddling her fingers and tapping her toes. Her phone hadn’t provided much entertainment provided that it was Lyla’s and had bad off brand social media.

Elijah saw her there and immediately began laughing like he had played the best joke on her. She got up as gracefully as she could with barely awake legs. He swaggered over to her, smiling like a tiger honing in on his prey. To her credit, she did not waver and met him in stride.

“Back so soon?” he taunted, unlocking his door and letting her in without much fuss.

Once again she found herself on his couch, watching him cagily. This time though, he didn’t sit across for her. Rather, he continued to putter around his apartment, throwing his jacket off to the side and didn’t give a care as to where it landed. The keys were similarly tossed on the kitchen counter as he opened the fridge and pulled out a snack that he did not offer to share. He stopped behind the counter and stared across the room at her, leaning against it and chewing, waiting for her to make her move.

“You distracted me earlier,” she told him, causing him to raise an eyebrow. “I meant to invite you to Jackson’s birthday party on Sunday.”

“Oh, really,” he said like he didn’t quite believe her. He pushed off the counter, went around it, and sauntered towards her. He came to a stop in front of her, just standing there with his arms crossed, looking down his nose. “What could I have possibly done to receive this honor?”

Bee wanted to snap at him, but couldn’t. Lyla liked to keep a level head. “You’re his brother,” she said, a puzzled tone infusing itself nicely into her voice so as to conceal Bee’s very real agitation. To him, all it would sound like was Lyla being mildly baffled at the idea of not inviting her husband’s brother to his birthday party.

Elijah scoffed, believing her to be naive. He knew of her predilection to give people an endless supply of chances and it was one of the many things he took advantage of, as well as denounce her for. “Why should I go?”

Why indeed when I don’t want you there? There were a million things she wanted to say. She desperately wanted to tell him off, to speak her mind like she had at the jeweler's. Holding it in was so hard and it was getting so tiring. But she had to hold it together, less she completely ruin everything.

“It’ll be nice.” It was meant as an offering of a truce, but it was said through her teeth. He noticed. She tried not to show that that bothered her, doing her best to reign in her very obvious dislike. “And he loves you. He wants you there.”

His eyes turned critical, head cocking to the side. “Does he? He never listens to me, so I wouldn’t know.”

Bee kept her huff to herself by concealing it with a sigh. Petty. As always.

“Since when do little brothers listen to their older brothers?” she asked diplomatically.

His returning wolf-like grin sent a shiver down her spine. “Never,” he purred. He languidly took a seat upon the armrest, leaning over and bracing a hand on the back of the couch. Invading her space seemed to be a talent of his. She tried to not make it too noticeable that she was leaning away from him, but she didn’t think she succeeded by the way his eyes glinted. “I never expected him to. Just sort of… hoped.” 

She huffed and looked away from him, crossing her arms. He was playing with her, intentionally trying to make her blow up. Well, she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

“But,” he continued in a lighter tone, “if I can’t make him change his mind, I could at least endeavor to help him out.” That caught her attention; she turned back to him, curiosity piqued. He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Less than twenty-four hours until the plane leaves, Lyla.”

Her heart constricted. What was she supposed to do? How was it that she had been presented with this decision! She was truly and terribly at a loss. She didn’t think it could be this easy.

Clearing her throat, she began to say, “I’d have to talk to Jacks—”

“And risk the opportunity?”

His eyes bore heavily into hers and she knew she was fighting a losing battle. No matter what she said, no matter what she tried, he would come out on top. Her mouth felt dry, parched. She couldn’t be bothered to hide how much at a loss for words she was.

That smirk returned. He knew he was winning. “I have your plane ticket all ready to go. Shall I get it for you?”

Bee swallowed. She imagined herself declining politely, facing whatever aftermath that entailed complete with Elijah’s extreme ridicule. She imagined herself accepting and what that would mean in the long run, to deal with Elijah’s disdain and haughtiness. Both situations, she would lose to him. There was really no choice, though. Lyla had to be happy, too.

She opened her mouth to accept and—

And she could see how it all played out in her mind’s eyes, to a T. He would laugh at her expense, make scathing comments about motherhood and destiny and balderdash. She would go to the airport without much word of explanation to Jackson, merely a lie about a job that was taking her away for a while. And he would accept it because what reason had she to lie? But… but she would never make it to China.

How often did people go away in shows when an opportunity so great came their way? And how often did those people come home?

No. No, the plane would never land. Likely, it would explode in magnificent fashion somewhere over the ocean. That was big, that was bold, dramatic and exciting. Abrupt, off screen, and utterly stupid. Just like everything else in this show.

“No,” she said harshly, jerking away from him. That smirk flipped upside down into a cold hard frown. “No, I’m not missing my husband’s birthday for some— some— some whim without even discussing it with him first.” She stood up, becoming eye level with him now as he continued to sit on the armrest. It reminded her just how much taller he was than her, how much power he liked to pretend he had over others just by mere size alone. “Thank you for your help, but it was unneeded. Now, are you coming to the party or not?” 

Elijah’s scowl deepened, clearly upset that his plan and manipulations had not worked. In fact, it appeared that her reprimand had sucked the life and joy out of his wickedness. He fixed her with an even and defiant stare. “I’m bringing Brandon.”

She sighed. She wasn’t too happy with that, but if it meant that he wouldn’t insult her at present and would let her leave without too much more trouble, then fine. It also occurred to her in the back of her mind that it was a little unusual that his immediate thought went to inviting Brandon rather than Olivia. In fact, it seemed to her that Olivia wasn’t on his mind at all. Perhaps they had a fight. She hoped it wouldn’t be an issue at the party.

“The more the merrier,” she said simply and then left.

#My writing #nanowrimo #nano 2020 #nanowrimo 2020 #brothers #parties #planes #soap operas #winner #im a winner #i did it #book covers #bees #lol

[shouldiwritetoday]

Nanowrimo Week 3

Days: 16-23

Words: 33400/50000

I’m a little behind, by like 5k words or something like that. But! There’s no school this week for the kids, so no homework time to help them with, which means more time to write and get caught up with! I finally named the show that Bee stars in and, along with it, the name of my project: Welcome to New Houston. I also created a cover for it. :)

Excerpt:

Jackson’s gaze pierced into her soul, searching for the truth and piecing together what he could about her interaction with his brother that day, but she was an actress. She didn’t let him see what she didn’t want him to see. She pretended all was fine, that nothing major had happened because it hadn’t. Elijah had been as he always was. And it was nothing she couldn’t handle.

“If you ever see him again and I’m not there with you,” he began, still tense and focused, “don’t engage with him. Leave the area as fast as you can — run if you must.” She frowned at how serious he was being. What did he think Elijah would do to her? “I don’t trust him. I-I don’t think you’d be… safe around him.”

Her eyebrows furrowed and she stared at him in bafflement. It took a moment for her to think of something that Lyla would say. “Don’t be silly, Jack,” she said in a placating tone. “He’s your brother. What could he do to me?”

And on top of this, Bee realized she somehow had to get this conversation back on track, to how it was supposed to be. This was all her fault, she knew, but the scene was lagging. Going on longer than it should. She was tempted to try saying a foul word to test if she could, but that, too was silly. She might be thinking of this conversation as a scene, and it might have been scripted (for her at least), but there was no way she could actually be censored for it.

What had been her original line? Before she had been an idiot and blurted out unnecessary things? How was his line supposed to end?

And Elijah had no right to share that information. I don’t even know how he knew!

Right, okay. So her line was….

That doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done.

Okay. And to modify that to where they currently were, she could say:

“Besides, all of that doesn��t matter now — whatever Elijah and your parents have said or done. What’s done is done. It’s in the past.” She took one of his hands in her own and squeezed it gently, managing a small smile that was a little too tentative to be reassuring. Bee was thoroughly impressed with herself for creating a smile with that much nuance, if she did say so herself.

“It matters to me,” he said fiercely, using the hand in hers as leverage for pulling her closer again. “And the past affects the future, Lyla. You’re the love of my life — I can’t stand seeing you cry, seeing you in pain.”

Not quite what the original lines were, but acceptable. They had the same gist.

Her smile broadened and she leaned closer to him. “I’ll be okay. I have you, don’t I?” And to emphasize her point, she leaned closer and placed a kiss on his lips.

She had kissed Will plenty of times. She was quite happy to find that this time felt exactly like all of those other times. It was a job, nothing more, nothing less. But, for his part, Jackson did look less tense than he had for the rest of the previous conversation. She counted that as a win.

A genuinely happy and content smile spread across his face. His hands came up to cradle her face and he stared at her for a long moment, long enough for her to feel a little uncomfortable. It was just one of the joys of Jackson, these long staring sessions. He’d done it since they were dating. Will, fortunately, had no such habit.

She really needed to stop comparing them.

After a horrendously long moment more, so long that she was starting to wonder if she had missed a line and was desperately trying to think of it (in fact, she was positive she was forgetting a line), his gaze turned curious. “Didn’t you say the other day that you were going to visit Arabella tonight?”

Bee’s face dropped and all thoughts of acting and lines flew out the window. “Fu-got.” Fuck. It got caught in her throat again. She had forgotten a line, a line about seeing Arabella that night. Because Bee, for some reason, did not actually want to walk to her death. So of course she forgot about it, but why couldn’t Jackson have forgotten too? And why can’t she swear? Was it because this was technically scripted? Was there no way around it? 

Jackson was still staring at her, eyebrows furrowed in befuddlement. He made a confused noise in the back of his throat and Bee realized her cover up for her swear wasn’t clear enough.

“I forgot,” she said quickly. “Thank you for reminding me.” 

And inwardly cringed. She could have said, I forgot. I don’t think I’m up to it tonight. I meant to call and cancel. I’ll do that now. Instead, she basically said that, Yes, I’m going. I had forgotten momentarily due to our intimate conversation. It’s so wonderful that you want me to have healthy relationships with other women. I’m so lucky to have you.

Now she had to go.

He smiled softly and patted her arm. “Best get ready, huh?”

“Um….” Think, think, think. “It’s only a little after three, I don’t think—”

“Lyla,” he chastised with a chuckle and she felt out of depth, “what better time for day drinking?”

Uncomfortable, she nervously returned the laugh with one of her own. “Right, right. Can’t think of a better time.”

Bee struggled to remember how long Lyla was supposed to be over at Arabella’s house before she inevitably left to die. The scene was a night scene, but it wasn’t really clear how late at night it was when Lyla was supposed to leave. She knew that she wouldn’t actually die until after midnight, but there was no telling how long she would spend in the hospital fighting for her life before that.

Her thoughts came to a halt when Jackson kissed her again before he scooted off the bed and pulled her up. Their bodies were incredibly close and he held her to him for a moment longer, just smiling down at her.

“Well,” he said before long, stepping away from her. “Get ready — I’ll drive you over.”

He started to leave and all she wanted to do was pull him back and not let go or leave, but he slipped through her fingers and out the door, seemingly not hearing her pathetic, “Wait!”

Soon enough she would be a step closer to her doom. Her worst nightmare. Lyla was going to die in a few hours and Bee… would Bee die too?

Her breath caught in her throat again. If Lyla was dying, and Bee was in her body with no way out or as to how she got in, then surely that meant that she would… die… as well.

What a horrible thing to realize!

She dropped back onto the bed with an emphatic, “Fuck.”

#My writing #nanowrimo #nano 2020 #nanowrimo 2020 #soap operas #weekly update #swearing #mentions of death

[shouldiwritetoday]

Nanowrimo Week 2

Days 9-15

Words: 25037/50000

I’m half-way there! I did it! I’m on track! I spent this weekend catching up on the words I did not write during the week. I started on Friday with 12400 words. I doubled that these past three days, holy cow!! I’m so proud of myself.

Excerpt:

The first thing Bee noticed when her consciousness came back to her was that she was not as warm as she liked to be. The blanket atop her felt weirdly on her arm, coarser than how it should. Like the fluffy blanket she should be feeling, the one she kept underneath her top cover for extra warmth, had somehow been pushed down the bed during the night, which was unusual because she didn’t think that moved around that much. It had never been a problem before.

And then there was the peculiar texture she was feeling against her stomach. Light. Slippery. Not at all like fleece. And her legs were right up against the top cover with no barrier or pajama pants to protect them. Odder and odder.

Bringing a hand out of the covers to scrub at her eyes, she noticed they felt puffy. She hadn’t cried last night after filming, not that she was aware of. Rubbing the sleep out her eyes, she sat up and opened them.

And shut them again. Because clearly she was still dreaming.

So she opened them again, expecting to see her pastel blue walls with a striped blue and white bed cover over her, with a desk right across from her that had a nice computer on it with sticky notes of all colors, and a comfortable chair with her bag sitting on it, and next to her on the right should be a chest of drawers with a mirror on top and photographs and the exit, and on the left would be two doors: one for the en suite bathroom and one for the walk in closet, a few shelves placed on the walls between them.

Instead, there was an embroidered purple bed cover on top of her. And her fleece floral pajamas were gone, replaced with a single silk slip that would barely cover the tops of her thighs. And instead of pastel blue, the walls were a sandy color. At the end of the bed was not a desk, but a vanity with a wide assortment of beauty products. To her right was the closet and an actual bookshelf. To the left was the ensuite and the exit. There were a few pieces of artwork hung up. The window was in the wrong place, too. The floor was carpeted instead of wood. 

There was a terrifying moment when she both understood and denied where she was. She looked up. There was a ceiling.

But that’s impossible, she thought.

There can’t be a ceiling because then this was real. But there could be no actual, possible, seriously real way that she could be in this room. This room didn’t technically exist. It was a set.

She was in Lyla and Jackson’s bedroom. She knew it intimately enough. She had seen its construction, seen what the set designer picked out for it, and had been in the space plenty of times for work. She had lain in this bed before, sat at the vanity, walked around in it. But there had never been a ceiling before. Only lights.

“Haha, very funny?” She tried, just to be safe. But her voice had broken a silence that nothing else filled. There was no Ashton Kutcher popping out of the closet to make a fool out of her.

She looked around again, noting how lived in it felt. She had never thought that of the set, but there were just enough subtle things to make her think that this space was actually lived in. 

The slight crack of the closet door with a jacket or something hanging out, the way a few lip glosses on the vanity were spilled on the surface, or how the books on the shelf were not all evenly placed back, every other odd one sticking out a little. There was a pair of socks on the floor by the bathroom as if they hadn’t quite made it into the hamper, though they were close to it.

Bee shook her head. “Nope,” she said aloud almost in reassurance that she was in fact real. “Nope, nope. This is not real.” But still her eyes would not change the image of the room she occupied. “Okay, Bee. Get up.” She hefted herself out of the bed that was a size bigger than the one she actually had. Her mind had to be playing tricks on her. “Look around. It’s not real. It’s not a real house.”

She continued to make assurances for herself as she entered the bathroom, fiddled with the make-up on the vanity, glanced in the closet and touched a few items that looked like they belonged to the costuming department. It was when she got to the door that led out into the hallway that she was having a harder time convincing herself this wasn’t real.

That sure did look like a real hallway. And walking down it sure felt real. And oddly enough, even though Jackson and Lyla didn’t actually live in a real house, there were a few set set-ups that mimicked a floor plan, and this floorplan really felt like that floorplan, just with all the holes and gaps fixed up. It was cohesiveness. It was a house.

A real fucking house.

With real fucking shit in it that really made it look as if Jackson and Lyla Blake lived there.

Like photographs that Bee recognized from the set. Like a jacket or two Bee recognized from the costume wardrobe left around. Like Lyla’s framed high school diploma and Jackson’s framed BBA. Like that mail pile on the kitchen counter that was addressed to Jackson and Lyla Blake. 

Jackson and Lyla Blake. Actual mail addressed to them with their fake address. New Houston. Like it was a real city.

“No fucking way,” she said to herself as she sifted through the mail feeling a lot like Jennifer Garner in 13 Going on 30 when she first jumped age. “This cannot be happening.”

#My writing #nanowrimo 2020 #nano 2020 #soap operas #waking up in unfamiliar houses #13 going on 30 #silk pajamas #jennifer garner #made it halfway #25k

[shouldiwritetoday]

Nanowrimo Week 1

Days 1-8

Words: 6668/50000 | 6668/13336

So, I’m like four days behind. Whatever. I’ll get over it. The point is that I’ve written at least like a hundred words each day. Which is a win. For me. I wrote the most today (2656). I’m just finding it really hard to find the motivation to write.

Anyway, I’m writing a story about a soap opera actress whose character is going to be killed off, but before that can happen, she suddenly wakes up in the world of the show and everyone is calling her by her character’s name, so now she has to figure out a way to not die.

Snippet:

The studio was like a second home. When Bee had first been cast, on her first day at work, she couldn’t imagine ever feeling comfortable in such a formidable building with hundreds of people coming in and out, doing heaven knows what at all odd hours of the day. Hell, she couldn’t have even imagined that she would have ever made it this far in her career.

Lyla Blake was her breakout role into stardom. Lyla was a friend Bee could never shake off by now. More soft spoken, less abrasive than she really was. She had unintentionally adopted some of Lyla’s mannerisms after practicing them for hours on end. For example, Bee had never twirled her hair before it became Lyla’s signature way of thinking. Lyla was always more simple minded, a little too eager to please, a little too willing to forgive. She had a near perfect life — a nice home with a nice husband with a nice family supporting her. Well, except for her brother-in-law, but that was another dramatic story all together. The only thing Lyla was missing was children and Bee desperately hoped that this new story arc Lowry was announcing included them.

She greeted those she knew, politely acknowledged those she didn’t but who had welcomed her in. As she made her way over to the offices, she wondered about the fates of other characters in the show. While she liked to believe Lyla was the one and only really important character, soap operas were ensembles and even just one scene could throw off an entire character arc with developmental issues that needed seasons to fix.

Jackson Blake was Lyla’s husband. He was played by, of course, Will Fairfax. He had been struggling with the fall out of his brother Elijah (Ryan Kelsey) abandoning him and the rest of the family upon marrying Lyla. The relationship never recovered and they had yet to figure out the reason why Elijah despised Lyla so. 

Meanwhile, Emma Caroll (played by the amazing and Emmy-award winning actress Scarlett Agapov) was recovering from a particularly bad case of pneumonia after she had been locked out of her house in the middle of a storm with a dead phone and her husband, Ian (Phillip Nicolaides), hadn’t realized she was missing as he had fallen asleep watching movies on the couch with their two children Hannah and Travis. Ian was currently in therapy for almost inadvertently causing her wife’s death. If Brandon Tran (Daniel Ho) hadn’t been coming home from his late night affair with the older and married Mrs. Theresa Martines (Vera de la Cruz), then Emma very well could have died. 

And there was that business to consider. Brandon and Elijah were best friends. Both of them schemed behind Jackson and Lyla’s back. Mrs. Martines was, after all, the wife of Jackson’s boss. However, to further complicate things, Mr. Ricardo Martines (Julio Montoya) had had a past relationship with Lyla’s father in their school days which was coming back to haunt him after the reintroduction of the Michaels family after the wedding. Mr. Martines was right back at it again with questioning his sexuality, thereby leading his wife to have an affair as they were childless. That is to say, whatever plots Brandon and Elijah cook up to pass onto Theresa to then enact on Jackson and inevitably foiled by Ricardo who wishes to do right by the husband of the daughter of his first love. Because there was a missed opportunity or something.

Not to mention, Bee also knew that with this new story arc a new character would be added. Arabella Jones. Bee didn’t know who the actress for her was yet. Some unknown, to be sure. She was also eager to learn her purpose. Most importantly, she hoped that they would get along because nothing was worse than having a coworker she couldn’t stand. The only real friends she had on set were Will and Cassidy Carmichael, who played Olivia O'Malley, the physical therapist who had an on again/off again relationship with Elijah.

Cassidy greeted Bee over by the coffee maker. Skylar went off to talk to a producer, remarking that they would chat again later.

Cassidy Carmichael was a tall woman of thirty. Her straight blonde hair came to her cleft chin in a sweet bob, extenuating the faint roundness of her cheeks. Hazel eyes sparkled at Bee like the day had grown infinitely more interesting. “So,” she said, “d’you think I’ll break up with Eli over five times, or less?”

“Hmm…” Bee pretended to think. “You’re going to break up with him twice, he’s going to call it off three times, and for extra shit, giggles, and drama, when getting back together the last time, he’s going to skip straight to proposing and you two will elope.”

“No way,” Cassidy said. “I’m going to propose.”

Bee laughed. “Right. Because Olivia loves to walk straight into fires unprotected.”

“Nah. It’s ‘cause she’s a right bitch who tries so hard to make her own life difficult.”

They shared a smile. It was one of their favorite pastimes to think up possible plot lines that the writers were thinking of and why they deemed them suitable. Guessing relationship statuses were almost too easy. Cassidy had called the exact season, episode, and page of the script where Jackson proposed to Lyla like she was some sort of soap opera prophet. Those participating in that particular bet had been thoroughly impressed.

Later, Cassidy had told Bee that she had slept with Andrew and dug through his files while he was asleep. Bee laughed for days afterwards.

“So,” Cassidy continued, a sly smirk on her face. Bee prepared herself for whatever provocation was about to be unleashed. “It’s been three months since you-know-who broke up with his girlfriend.”

Clearing her throat, Bee maintained a neutral expression. “So?”

Cassidy nudged her, grinning. “Make your move, Bee. Before some other young filly snatches him up or Catherine comes back to stake her claim.”

Bee rolled her eyes and shrugged, her gaze shifting to her shoes. “I don’t know, Cass,” she sighed. “They were together for three years. You don’t exactly get over a three year relationship in three months.”

“You might, if the next girl to come along has been one of your best friends for the past five years and is super hot.” Cassidy paused to consider her next words. “And, you know, if you’ve already had steamy make out sessions with her.”

“Those were for work!” Bee cried, which only gained her a shrug in reply. “I don’t exactly have a way of knowing if he’s interested in me, nor do I know how to make it clear to him that I am.” This earned her a short laugh, to which she glared at. “Seriously, Cass. I can’t just walk up to Will and say—”

“Ooh,” a low, baritone voice that rang like a heavenly choir cut in. “What kind of gossip can you not just walk up and tell Will?”

#My writing #nanowrimo #nano 2020 #soap operas #weekly update #falling behind

[shouldiwritetoday]

October Planning Day 1

Find a prompt/create general story

I’ll admit I didn’t actually search for a prompt all that much because I kind of just stumbled my thoughts upon an idea. I can’t remember exactly where, though I’m pretty sure it was here on Tumblr, but I remember reading something about how the robots we leave behind with their inspirations names like Curiosity are the legacies we are creating and how we will be remembered even after all of us are gone.

So that being said, the idea/story I think I want to write is based on the question: What does it mean to be human?

A girl slowly comes to the realization that she is not, in fact, human. She is a man-made Artificial Intelligence. The thing is, though, is that every one else around her is also AI. They are not self-aware, unlike how she is increasingly becoming aware. These AI were created to survive the human race. They were created to believe that they are human in every sense of the word without a wayward thought to their machinery. Ultimately, knowing what she is gives her greater understanding and appreciation of humanity.

Anyway, that’s kind of the the rough idea I have so far. I’ve always loved The Truman Show and, in school, one of the books I enjoyed was The Comforters by Muriel Spark, so I’m interested in writing something similar. Not sure if I can pull it off, but I’m sure as heck gonna try.

#october planning #writing #nano prep #the truman show #the comforters #artificial intelligence #ai #existential crisis

[shouldiwritetoday]

October Planning

I’m going to prep for Nanowrimo this month so that I can participate next month. I’ve never done this before, so this will be new. I could have done what I did last year and found a prompt list and wrote poems, but I figured this would be more fun. So, what I have planned is character creations, plotting, free days to catch up/rest/other, and a couple fun prompts to fulfill.

1. Find prompt/create general story idea for Nanowrimo

2. Create a protagonist!

3. Create an antagonist!

4. Create a character! (side/second main/other)

5. Create a character! (side/other)

6. Create a character! (side/other)

7. Prompt Fill: “Signing the Trick or Treaty” from Drawlloween by Brian Soria

8. Plot Act 1 Part 1 (Ordinary World)

9. Plot Act 1 Part 2 (Inciting Incident)

10. FREE DAY

11. Plot Act 1 Part 3 (Point of No Return)

12. Plot Act 2 Part 1 (First Battle)

13. Plot Act 2 Part 2 (Midpoint)

14. Plot Act 2 Part 3 (Second Battle)

15. Plot Act 3 Part 1 (Lowest Point)

16. Plot Act 3 Part 2 (Triumph)

17. Plot Act 3 Part 3 (Return to Ordinary World)

18. Prompt Fill: “There’s a Clown in My Closet” from Drawlloween by Brian Soria

19. World Building

20. FREE DAY

21. Specific scene jotting/ideas

22. Prompt Fill: “Say Yes to the Possessed” from Drawlloween by Brian Soria

23. Scene plotting

24. Details/Themes/Symbols

25. Review character and world building sheets

26. Review and change story arc/plots as needed

27. Tone Testing 

28. Chapter Plotting

29. Reward Plotting

30. FREE DAY

31. Halloween!! Spooky-themed poem

#october planning #my own kind of not-inktober #nano prep #drawlloween #halloween #spooky time #writing #writing prep #plotting #idk if this is even gonna work