#lydia davis the short story person?

[necklacings]

#poetry #lydia davis #lydia davis the short story person?

[soldatrose]

got some unexpected free time and not enough braincells to be productive which means it's the perfect occasion to write something vaguely resembling a personal review. saw giulio cesare. holy shit! some messy and too long notes about it.

the bad:

honestly laurent pelly's staging and costumes don't really do it for me. which is too bad because while it's absolutely not revolutionary, the idea of setting the story in a museum storage area could still be used in really interesting ways, especially for a story like caesar and cleopatra's! but idk i felt that there wasn't enough coherence or subtlety to hold everything together. the museum workers alternatively interact with the characters or ignore them and those interactions never seem particularly meaningful. at some points the direction choices made me straight up uncomfortable, including the whole group of workers following cleopatra around. the story already has its fair share of sexual harassment, adding some wasn't really necessary. cornelia was treated in a similar way, she's constantly cornered against walls and shelves to the point where you just wish the direction could let her take some space on the stage.

also yeah those costumes are really ugly. :/ cornelia's asymmetrical dress pissed me off a little.

(i liked caesar's cloak though. mmmmh folds. i wonder what material they used)

the ??:

cleopatra's boob out was funny the first few minutes and then i started feeling cold for her tbh. problem of seeing this opera in january. also shout out to the two ladies behind me who were whisper-wondering whether it was a real boob (it was not)

sorta-related is ptolemy getting an apparently disappointing bj from a male slave in the harem. diversity wins your orientalist caricature is bisexu-oooh. oooh no. it was funnier when it was whatever ptolemy and achillas had going on in the glyndebourne prod.

still on ptolemy. i'm putting it in the ?? category because it's not a requirement but some of the prods i've seen choose to make the domero la tua fierezza aria a semi tragic moment of irreconciliable fracture between two siblings and i quite like that. you don't have to like ptolemy to admit that he's also caught in a vicious circle of violence. that prod didn't go that way and ptolemy stayed a sort of comic relief from beginning to end. it's a choice, i respect it, but it does make the character and his arc less interesting.

the painting collection moment (i think it was during the se in fiorito?) was cool because woohoo artworks but also. it felt a little bit like watching a bad youtube history edit about cleopatra ngl. still amusing to hear caesar contemplate marrying lydia like we didn't just see a painting with calpurnia on it.

looked it up afterwards because i didn't know this painting and the british museum describes it as caesar discarding pompeia for calpurnia. and now i'm wondering whether the production knows that because all the other portraits were of caesar and cleopatra or cleopatra alone??? confusing for no reason

the handel portrait and nireno going "???" made me laugh though. hi genius

emily d'angelo didn't sing caesar. i hope she will one day i know she would be amazing in that role.

the good:

my first baroque opera live!!!

honestly just. this opera. you can't really fail (or at least you can't fail me) with this opera as long as you put an okay orchestra and okay singers. the whole cast was great and the orchestra amazing. i wish we could have clapped specifically for the horn player because they did fantastic.

EMILY D'ANGELO SEXTUS. HI. HI.

i already knew gaelle arquez's caesar from the champs-élysées prod and i still like her a lot! greatly enjoyed iestyn davies's ptolemy too, his voice is truly wonderful and that video of him in agrippina is also why i'm a bit disappointed they didn't give him a short despair moment. i loved oropesa's cleopatra, i don't think she does many ornaments (?) but her se pieta left me genuinely breathless (one of the moments where the staging actually supported the music instead of hindering it!) and so did her piangero.

did i mention emily d'angelo's sextus? yeah holy fuck. do i have the words. obviously i was biased from the start on account of. everything. but her voice is fantastic and so warm (and constantly carried over the music, which wasn't a given) and she almost brought me to tears in the cara speme. also those quick moments where she's almost screaming. mmh.

still the cara speme but i desperately need an hd pic of her sextus in that "fragile" wodden packaging box.

looks like this btw. get in the box boy we're shipping you to libya:

ok last cara speme comment but it seems to be the only moment in the prod when the characters seem to purposefully leave the stage to leave space for another character's aria.

pompey's decapitated marble head is still a goddamn hit, so is the picture of his wife and kid mourning under it. was weirded out (half in a good way) by the fact that the alma del gran pompeo was performed with a funeral urn when pompey's head was very much. still there. behind bars.

the funeral urn looked like an amphora without handles though.

you have heard of caesar flirting with cleopatra during pompey's funeral, get ready for caesar and cleopatra almost getting it on in front of pompey's urn. somehow i had forgotten that "caesar will find me more attractive than pompey's decapitated head :)" is an actual cleopatra moment

all the statues! *parisi caesar's statue being brought onto the stage wobbling on its forklift* my brain immediately: kick it down :)

hyperfixating on sextus and cornelia real quick but once again the priva son d'ogni conforti introduces a distance between them and ough, the way he looks at her and she ignores him completely. which well. fits the aria. technically you could see the son nata a lagrimar as a reparation of that, esp with the parallel priva son d'ogni conforti/il dolce mio conforto. also we still had the non ha piu che temere with an absolutely elated cornelia and a sextus still reeling from ten different traumas. i love that, especially because i just re-discovered that sextus is supposed to have already left.

btw it was an unclear struggle but i think cornelia was the one to actually stab ptolemy??

*sextus asks caesar how he survived* *something huge falls in the wings, which i'm assuming was the deus ex machina leaving the stage*

cleopatra contemplates suicide, pulls out a snake. for all the caesar and pompey hauntings in the antony&cleopatra story it didn't occur to me that a&c could haunt giulio cesare. i need to think on that a little. (esp because it's not the only thing that happens in reverse, ex: cleopatra comes out of the carpet at the very end of the opera)

well anyway, i'll maybe watch the scholl&bartoli prod some time next week or the week after. to complete that deck.

#sa mention #spam tag #gc #currently reading the programme it's so nice

[adz]

Hi... so, I've been wondering, what are your favorite books/authors? Or books you wish more people would read? Your writing rocks.

aw thanks!! i read voraciously for like 20 years but slowed down in college, and now i've got this massive stack of stuff i want to read... so i am probably not the best person to go to for contemporary book recs. when I was 18 i wouldve had a bunch of suggestions for you, and now i'm like... how many years can i go back lol T-T

I did recently finish William Gibson's "Burning Chrome," a collection of short stories, and absolutely loved it. the science fiction genre is replete with visionaries but not so much with artists, and Gibson is rare in that his writing has a beautiful literary quality - his metaphors are so tangible and carefully crafted that they place you on the ground in whatever world he's created instead of merely describing it. as someone who finds it easier to fall into technical description in my writing, i find his work inspirational.

as far as books I wish more people would read... i don't want to recommend anything lengthy that i read when i was younger, because i think our brains have been altered to make things like that a slog now. Sebald's "Rings of Saturn" is maybe my favorite novel. early Coupland is really fun (Microserfs is my fave) but his work is so of-the-moment that it reads like a time capsule; a quality i enjoy but others won't.

i like comics by @michaeldeforge, @patrickkyle, @connorwillumsen, and @samaldencomics. Cory Doctorow's "Walkaway" is readable and energizing. i like "Hard To Be A God," I like some of Lydia Davis's microfiction stories. i think writers should read less hemingway, eggers, franzen, ellis, murakami, & PKD and more le guin, faulkner, nabokov, guibert, porpentine, carson

[chrissmou]

My March Books

Hi! Everyone these are the books I have read this month, there are 8 of them. As you can see most of them are romances short stories, and a mystery. As always I have the Goodreads links for you to check out:

Snowed Inn (Freedom Valley#6) (Erin Branscom): The last installment of this series had glimpses of our couples from the previous books and introduced us to a new one with great chemistry and a love for food. Holly was funny, spunky, and a great cook and Beau was the perfect example of a grumpy exterior and soft interior protagonist with a painful past. I also loved the side characters of Hank, Beau’s brother, and Ophelia, Holly’s best friend, and their respective romance. I want a short story of their relationship after this book so that I can return to Freedom Valey. I liked that this book was in the winter and the Golden Gable Inn and the scenes with Sasha, the cook, and the igloos in the yard. I recommend all the series. You can only read this one but the whole series is amazing.

Lemon Meringue Pie Murder (Hannah Swenson #4) (Joanne Fluke): I like this series of cozy mysteries as I love Hannah Swenson and her family in Lake. I like the recipes the author gives every five chapters or so. I like that the mysteries are easy and if you think a little you can help Hannah solve them. I loved in all of them to see how Hannah’s relationships with her neighbors are faring, especially those with Mike and Norman. I loved her little sister Michelle whom we were introduced to in this one. Overall, it was a delightful book to read.

The Undercover Santa (Spying on Love #1) (Jo Davies): That was a fun short story with a double point of view and a fun open ending. I read both in the same morning on my commute to work, so it was a great and fun start for me.

The Undisclosed Panda (Spying on Love #2) (Jo Davies): The second part of the previous story with a happy ending and unexpected twists, but not too many for a six-chapter short story, to the story's mystery. It was a great detour of the tea district in Shanghai too, as the two go there to solve the mystery and have their first date.

Pardon My French Press (Coffee Loft #2) (J. P. Sterling): The second short story of the Coffee Loft series was based in New York City, which I loved as it was a good development of the characters and the shop itself. I liked the personalities of the two protagonists, Portia and Christian, who have a sense of humor with lots of sarcasm. I loved the relationships of the two protagonists with their families and neighbors. It is a classic enemies-to-friends-to-lovers romance in a coffee shop in New York something that made it special to me as one of my films, You’ve Got a Mail. I will recommend it to someone who is searching for something small to it.

A Pinch of Salt (Lucy Marin): This retelling of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice set in a Canadian cooking show was pretty good and has the preceptive of many of the characters, especially those who participate in the competition. I loved that the author did not include the affair between Lydia and Wickham but had their characters as close to them as she could in these circumstances.  It also has the main themes and the personalities of the characters are the same as the original. It was really with good description of the food and the emotions of the two protagonists. It was a good modern retelling of a classic.

The Sitcom Star (Chu’s Restaurant #1) (Jackie Lau): This was a cute novella with two former classmates who reacquainted and started to spend time together. The difference in the novella is that the female protagonist is a famous star of an Asian- American sitcom which she produces and writes the script. I loved the fun and cute moments the protagonists had with each other, their friends, and their families too.

The Reluctant Heartthrob (Chu’s Restaurant #2) (Jackie Lau): This cute novella and second story of this series surrounds the male protagonist of the series who is a grumpy Shakespeare-loving actor. The female protagonist is a data scientist who might have autism but she hasn’t had a formal review, so she doesn’t know for sure. I loved the representation in this one and the relationship between them as I love the grumpy/ sunshine type of books.

#my reading #books #freedom valley series #jo davies #spying on love series #joanne fluke #hannah swenson #coffee loft series #pride and Prejudice retelling #lucy marin #a pinch of salt #chu's restaurant #jackie lau

[kilgorefish]

Blog post week 4

The writing style of Lydia Davis has variation but possesses a recognizable voice that makes her collection of works cohesive. I enjoyed the variation in both story length and complexity because I didn’t know whether to expect a short story or one sentence on a page. I like her stories What You Learn About the Baby, Helen and Vi: A Study in Health and Vitality, and We Miss You: A Study of Get-Well Letters from a Class of Fourth-Graders because the formats are a bit unexpected and unconventional. I personally liked that they are taken apart and organized in categorical ways. I like writing research papers for my psych classes, and I really enjoy the formulaic organization in them. I realized I was reading them a bit like research papers as well and it helped create a whole picture as my mind, putting each chunk of information into a whole picture.

I enjoy flowing narratives, but I feel like those readings require a different level of concentration so as not to miss a sneaky detail. I enjoy these types of stories, but it was refreshing to have examples of telling a story differently. I struggle a bit with my own perception of the dichotomy between research paper writer and writer of creative nonfiction, because I’m afraid that my creativity may be stunted by habits of convention and that convention be derailed by creative input; however, I know that both can be complimentary to one another and make my writing unique in clarity and imagination. Lydia Davis’s collection of works made me feel more hopeful about my writing in the future.

On the other end of her story formatting, I really enjoyed Cape Cod Diary because of it descriptive detail and ambling pace and I loved How She Could Not Drive because it reminds me of my sweet but particular mother in her Prius. The Cape Cod Diary reminds me of my writing style in the Urban Drift assignment, though the former is much longer. I enjoy writing in a descriptive and meandering way but saw few examples of these styles because of the media I have consumed in recent years (it is very likely that I have accidentally shuttered my creative expression in an attempt to find validation from others in the STEM fields). How She Could Not Drive is a great example of Lydia Davis using seemingly neutral and unemotional language, or grammar, to communicate a larger emotional theme or elicit an emotional reaction from the reader by using the collective impact of the sentences that make up her stories.

Lydia Davis is incredibly talented, and her writing is distinctly human. I think that her writing is the type of art that will always remain inaccessible to artificial intelligence both in comprehension and replication.

[grandhotelabyss]

I'm planning to spend some time reading only short stories. Could you recommend any current practitioners of the genre apart from Cynthia Ozick? I've heard people speak highly of Alice Munro, Lorrie Moore, Lydia Davis, Joy Williams and Deborah Eisenberg. It seems female writers are more inclined to the short story form. Any theory as to why?

I've never read Joy Williams but have heard great things about her; the other writers you name don't interest me much. You could literally die of boredom reading Alice Munro. I think the female skew you're perceiving is just the female skew of contemporary literature in general, also present in poetry and the novel.

Anyway, I'm probably the wrong person to ask. I don't read much contemporary short fiction; even at its bygone best in the likes of Chekhov and Maupassant and Joyce, the realist version of this genre tends toward the cramped and dismal, the precise portrayal of lost little lives. Frank O'Connor theorized in The Lonely Voice that short stories have in place of the novel's "hero" a "submerged population group" instead.

And then it went from being perhaps the most commercially viable literary form in the early and middle 20th century—the way Fitzgerald sold out before he went to Hollywood, how he financed the writing of The Great Gatsby and Tender Is the Night—to the least, a wholly artificial form with a wholly pedagogical reality, which is to say an unreality, propped up by university patronage. Back when she was an enfant terrible, Elif Batuman was very witty on this topic:

“New American fiction” is, to my mind, immediately and unhappily equivalent to new American short fiction. And yet I think the American short story is a dead form, unnaturally perpetuated, as Lukács once wrote of the chivalric romance, “by purely formal means, after the transcendental conditions for its existence have already been condemned by the historico-philosophical dialectic.” Having exhausted the conditions for its existence, the short story continues to be propagated in America by a purely formal apparatus: by the big magazines, which, if they print fiction at all, sandwich one short story per issue between features and reviews; and by workshop-based creative writing programs and their attendant literary journals. Today’s short stories all seem to bear an invisible check mark, the ghastly imprimatur of the fiction factory; the very sentences are animated by some kind of vegetable consciousness: “I worked for Kristin,” they seem to say, or “Jeff thought I was fucking hilarious.” Meanwhile, the ghosts of deleted paragraphs rattle their chains from the margins.

(This is how you use otherwise crushing Marxist terminology in a Socratic and self-parodic way, incidentally.)

I prefer the truly unreal tradition of the story—tale, parable, thought experiment—from Poe and Hawthorne through Kafka and Borges. Heresy I'm sure, but these four mean more to me than Chekhov, not that Chekhov isn't wonderful, if a little too close for comfort to Alice Munro. This fantastical-philosophical tale-mode was probably inherited closer to our own time by the practitioners of genre fiction like Samuel R. Delany and Octavia Butler. Maybe read Butler's sensational alien fable "Bloodchild," but not while you're eating, or, for something less disgusting, Delany's elegiac "Driftglass."

A reader recently recommended Mavis Gallant, however, and I did read a few of hers and found them denser, more intellectual, less depressing than Munro or Eisenberg. I also intend to read A. S. Byatt's Selected Stories, recently released, after teaching "The Thing in the Forest" a few years ago because it was in a Norton Anthology and finding it extraordinary (it's half realist, half not, with the heft of a much longer narrative). David Mitchell wrote the introduction to Byatt's Selected, and I like his novels built of stories, such as Ghostwritten, which I just read, and Black Swan Green, which I'm currently reading.

The proliferation of vaguely dissident and countercultural online venues has the potential to bring the short story back from the historical brink: Forever, Heavy Traffic, Hobart, Expat, Apocalypse Confidential. The last collection I read was Earth Angel by Forever's Madeline Cash, because some Verso leftoid said she was fascist, and I thought it was brilliant, hilarious and enviably inventive, though not especially realist, just set in the present. The voice was lonely, yes, but wonderfully energetic.

#literature #short stories #literary criticism

[andreafmn]

I'm Not Afraid - Chapter 5

xWord Count: 3,374

Characters: Female Reader Argent Character, Original Male Argent Character, Derek Hale, Allison Argent, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, Chris Argent, Jackson Whittemore

Story Description: (Y/N) Argent arrived at Beacon Hills to put to rest her father’s sister, Kate Argent. For the first time, her family has decided to settle down and sustain a life in this interesting small town. After 17 years, (Y/N) has the opportunity to establish interpersonal relationships but will she be ready to face the complications that come with relating to her cousin’s, Allison, friends; especially, the infamous Derek Hale. She will face the adventure of being associated with the Derek and McCall pack as well as being faced with the discovery of certain aspects of her life she never imagined.

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Teen Wolf, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Jeff Davis and MTV Network. The only thing I own is Argent Reader insert, her immediate family, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others’ storyline.

Chapter: 5/?

A/N: If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

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Chapter 5

I woke up to a heavy and warm wight around my waist. As my mind started registering the scene around me, I noticed the soft snores that were filling the room, the strong smell of cologne, the rough skin encircling me, the chest in front of me that raised and fell at a slow pace. At some point during the night, Derek must have crawled into bed, and I couldn’t say that I minded.

He looked peaceful when he slept. No supernatural problems, no feuds, no hunters, just peace. My hand unconsciously landed on his cheek, softly stroking his cheek. Still succumbed to slumber, he leaned into the touch, nuzzling his head onto my hand like a puppy. I wish this could be the way it always was, but now that I knew the reality of the world we were in, there was no chance it would ever stay this way.

Deciding to let him sleep longer, I tiptoed down the stairs to the kitchen where breakfast had already been prepared. I looked around and noticed that their car keys were gone, which meant they had left early in the morning to do whatever it was that they always did. I greeted Brody who had trotted my way from the living room, and filled his dog bowl, adding a few tasty treats. While I served two plates, I put the coffee machine to run, ensuring the freshest pot for the morning. I looked around for a tray to take the breakfast upstairs in case my parents came back at any moment, eating my food as the coffee brewed. Placing some cream and sugars on the tray, I made my way back to the bedroom where Derek was starting to wake up, Brody following behind.

“Morning, sour wolf.” I softly pushed open the door, the tray in front of me. Derek was rubbing the night from his eyes, a soft smile playing on his lips. Upon seeing the man, Brody jumped on the bed greeting him with slobbery kissed. Derek laughed and petted his head as he laid at the foot of the bed.

“Morning,” he yawned. “Whatcha got there?”

“Some eggs, bacon, and hash browns. Also, some coffee.” He took the tray from my hands and set it on the bed. Taking one of the coffee cups, I sat over on my desk to work on the homework I had left pile during the week. Derek grabbed the plate and came to stand behind me, leaning down to rest his chin on my shoulder.”

“What are you doing?” He inquired, downing the food from the plate quickly.

“Homework. You know, the thing people my age have to do to be able to graduate from high school with good grades.” I looked to the side, my heart beating faster noticing the closeness of our faces. “I’m sure you wouldn’t know much about that.”

“I’ll have you know I was a good enough student.”

“Emphasis on good enough.” I booped his nose with my pen and continued my work. “When you’re done you should head home, don’t want my parents catching you here just in case.”

“Why? We’re not doing anything.” He sipped his coffee and sat down on the bed, Brody laying his head on his lap. I turned my chair and faced him, a laugh escaping my lips.

“I think you’re forgetting who you are and who my family is. Apart from that, I don’t think my dad will particularly enjoy the fact that a 21-year-old werewolf is in his teenage daughter’s bedroom, alone.” I grinned. “But suit yourself. I’d love to see how it will play out.”

“Alright, but can I at least take you out some time this week?” My heartbeat quickened, the sound loud enough for me to hear. “Is that a yes?”

“It’s not a no,” I grinned.

“I kind of need an answer,” he pressed. A grin played on his lips by the point he had stood and rested his hands on the arms of the chair.

“How about, I’ll let you know?”

“I’ll take it,” he smiled. “I’ll text you.”

“Alright, I’ll be waiting.” He kissed my cheek and grabbed his jacket to head towards the door. “Where are you going?”

“Home?”

“Not through the door you’re not.” The dumbfounded look on his face was hilarious. “what would I do if my parents walked in.”

“I’m fast, you know. Like supernaturally fast.”

“Mm, I’ve seen you. Not fast enough.”

“Fine,” he surrendered. “Keep watch of your phone.”

“I will,” I smiled. He took a step back and in the blink of an eye, he was gone. Brody got alerted by the sudden move and jumped off the bed to bark at the window, standing on his hind legs to prop his eye out. I joined his side and saw Derek standing normally in my backyard as if he hadn’t just jumped out of a two-story window. He waved and I waved back as he became a blur, vanishing before my very eyes.

I slumped down on my bed and ran my hands over my face. What was I doing? There were so many things that were pit against us. My 18th birthday was still a little less than a year away, he had something going on with Erica, my family and he are natural-born enemies, we are currently under the terror of a reptilian shapeshifting Jackson, and that was just scratching the surface. I couldn’t scrutinize why he would ask me out too much, it was probably not even in a romantic way. It could just well be that he wanted to keep an eye on me since I was new to this whole werewolf, Kanima, hunter thing.

A couple of hours went by where I took Brody out for a walk, finished what was left of my homework, and started watching a movie when my phone went off.

“Hey, I heard the good news! You’re staying in town.”

“Hey, Allison. Yeah, it looks that way.”

“Well then, I believe you owe some people an apology.”

“What could you possibly mean?” I scoffed. But she was right, as hard as it was to admit.

“Don’t act dumb, (Y/N). You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t like it when you’re right,” I sighed. “What do you think I should do?”

“I could invite them over to your house and you could apologize to them. They never object to free pizza.”

I was glad. Instead of sulking on the 'he likes me, he likes me not' nonsense, I prepared the house for Allison and her friends, the people I hope to win over. One by one they arrived at my doorstep. Scott, Stiles, Lydia, and Allison. I had put out some snacks and the pizza I had bought. Scott and Stiles were not shy about their hunger as they dove in right away.

"So, what's the purpose of this meeting?" Lydia asked, her usual cocky attitude on full show.

"Uh, well, I wanted to apologize for being such a bitch these past few weeks."

"Hm, understatement of the century." Stiles chuckled with his mouth full.

"Actually, she can be 1,000 times worse. That was just level 1 bitchiness."

"Point taken. But why would you apologize? We get it you don't want to be our friend."

"That's not it, it's just... ugh... Look, it’s honestly a very long story, but moving around it’s hard to cut ties and start over for so long. After a while it’s easier to builds walls up and maintain everyone at arm’s length." They all stared at me. Hopefully I was getting through to them. "But this time I'm changing that. I want to be your friend and that's why I'm apologizing."

"Well, I don't know about the other guys, but I've always considered you my friend. I mean, I've considered Lydia my friend and she hates me."

"Oh, please, Stiles. I don't hate you, you're just, um.... special."

"I'll take it."

"We understand. And of course you're our friend, (Y/N). You were just too stubborn to notice." Scott smiled at me. "Now, is there more pizza?"

"How the hell did you two boys just finish two boxes of pizza?"

"We're growing?" Stiles said with his mouth full.

"Barely," Allison mumbled.

"You know I can hear you, right?"

"That's the point, Scott."

The whole room laughed and continued to enjoy a very pleasant afternoon. It felt weird to finally feel like I belonged somewhere; that there were people around me that cared for me despite my flaws. As I looked around the faces of the group that had welcomed me with open arms, I couldn’t help but feel that someone was missing; the person that had first accepted me.

The clock had hit 4 o’clock when the last piece of food was gone, and the gang had gone home. After cleaning up, I decided it was time to call Isaac. I didn’t like the person he had become after the bite. But I couldn’t say I didn’t understand. He felt confident, strong, but he was using the wrong outlet. Just like I was.

“So, you’re finally talking to me,” Isaac chuckled, a cocky tone to his voice.

“Only if you’re done being a douche.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ever since you turned into a werewolf you’ve been nothing short of unbearable with your cocky behavior and holier-than-thou attitude.” I could hear him shifting on the other line, the news taking him aback. It seems Derek hadn’t told his pack that I knew everything.

“H-how… who told you?”

“Derek, your alpha. He told me everything the other day. I know all about werewolves, kanimas, hunters, pack, blah, blah, blah. But none of that excuses your behavior,’’ I sighed. “So, are you done being a dick?”

“Maybe,” he chuckled. “Can I see you?”

“Sure. Why don’t we go grab a bite? I’ll pick you up.”

“Alright!” He sounded excited. “I’ll text you the address.”

After hanging up I decided to take a quick shower before leaving. I threw on a white t-shirt and jeans and paired them with my leather jacket. As I tied my boots, I reached for the keys of my dad’s Chevrolet Suburban. Hopefully, I didn’t crash. In the car, I typed in the address Isaac had sent me. It was an industrial loft not too far from my own home. I honked my horn to notify Isaac I was there as well as sent a text.

“Are you stalking me now?”

I jumped at the sound of Derek’s voice and the knock he left on my window. . He appeared like a ghost and leaned on my door. “I could say the same about you. I’ve never been here before.”

“I live here,” he laughed, pointing at the building. “It’s my loft.”

“I’m here to pick up Isaac,” I said sheepishly. “So, he’s been staying with you. I thought you live in the woods.”

“It’s my family’s house and it’s under my ownership, but it’s not under livable conditions. And, yes, Isaac has been staying with me.”

“Hey, Derek.” Isaac finally emerged from the doors and jogged up to my car, patting Derek on the back. The man’s expression rapidly changed as soon as Isaac joined the conversation. The playful smile he wore had been replaced by a menacing scowl. “We’re going out for a while. I’ll see you later.”

We said goodbye and as I drove off, I stared at Derek. His body was tense, and his jaw was clenched. He was angry, but I didn’t know why. When we were alone, he was a completely different person than what he showed to others. There was this terrifying façade that was impenetrable by everyone else, yet he was a completely different person with me; he was an Alpha to the others, but he was just Derek to me.

I parked the car at a small burger joint Isaac directed me to. It wasn’t too full, so our food came out quickly. We sat at a table in the back, far from any prying ears.

“So, what did you mean about this cocky attitude?” He popped a french fry into his mouth, playing around with his food. “You seemed quite mad about it. Mad enough that you avoided me for some time.”

“Ever since you transformed you’ve been carrying yourself like you’re above everyone, you don’t even bother to be respectful of teachers or anyone for that matter. I miss the old Isaac.”

“You mean the pushover wimpy kid?” He scoffed. “I can’t say the same.”

“That’s not what I meant.” My hand reached out to his clenched fist and his hold softened. “You were nice and respectful, and knew how to treat others because you knew how it felt to be mistreated. Of course, you could have done with more confidence, but that’s not what this is. It’s almost as if you’re turning into Jackson, heaven forbid.”

His eyes softened and I knew I was getting through the wall he had built up.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N). It's just… this is the first time in my life that I have felt powerful, like nothing and no one can touch me. I've dealt with so much shit that I thought I deserved to act like that," he sighed. "Can you ever forgive me?"

“You’re practically my best friend, how could I not?”

“Thanks.” He gave me a smile that I happily reciprocated. For the first time in a while, I was seeing the Isaac I had met some time ago. “So, what is it that you needed to speak to me so eagerly.”

“Remember how I mentioned that I would be moving at the end of the year so you shouldn’t get attached?” He nodded. “Well, it seems you’re gonna have to put up with me for a long time. Beacon Hills is now my home.”

“What?! That’s great!” He exclaimed a little too loud. Heads turned towards us and Isaac tried to hide his blush. “Does that mean we can truly be friends now? Not just study partners or casual conversation acquaintances?”

“Yes, Isaac. That’s exactly what that means,” I laughed. His face had lit up as the hard mask he wore finally broke apart. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you, what happened the night that I picked you up? It was such a weird night.”

His whole demeanor changed, clearly a sore subject to talk about. "If Derek told you what we are I presume he told you about everything else." I nodded. "The Kanima. It killed my father. We, um, had gotten into a fight and I ran out. It seems he went out looking for me but didn't get to me. I found him dead in his car, but I ran and called you."

" Isaac, why didn't you tell me? I mean, I know why you didn't tell me, but something; you should have told me something.” I looked into his eyes, worry evident in them. He had gone through such a traumatic event basically by himself. “Is that why the police were looking for you?"

He nodded. "They thought I had something to do with his murder because of something Jackson said. He was unfortunately my neighbor and had seen me running out of the house, but there were no tracks leading to me. I'm not a fugitive anymore." He smiled softly.

“I’m glad, Isaac, really. And I’m truly sorry for everything you’ve had to endure alone for all these years. You didn’t deserve it.”

“Thanks, (Y/N). At least that part of my life is over.”

“Now we just have to get that damn Kanima and get on with our lives.” We laughed.

Before we knew it, the sky outside had turned dark, signaling the arrival of the night. The car ride back was filled with mindless chitchat and soft background music. It had been a long few days and exhaustion was evident in both of us. Soon enough, the grey building had come into view.

“Do you want to come in for a bit?” Isaac leaned into the open window of the driver’s side.

“I think I’m just gonna head on home. I’m a bit tired and we have school tomorrow.” I smiled. “But, I’ll take you up on the offer someday.”

“Isaac, good to see you’re back,” Derek announced himself, his two betas following behind. “You’re late for training.”

“Sorry, Derek. Time slipped away.”

“Sorry won’t cut it.” His voice was commanding and a bit intimidating. I could see why everyone around me feared him. “Go with Erica and Boyd. Get started.”

'‘Bye, (Y/N). I’ll see you tomorrow.” I smiled and nodded, trying my best to comfort him.

“See you.” Derek stood back as we both watched the three figures disappear into the building. His chest moved, heaving, and he reeked of jealousy. “What’s your problem?”

“What?” Did he truly believe I was that oblivious? “I just…”

“You’re acting like a prissy child, Derek. You knew where Isaac was, who he was with, and that there was a possibility that he would come back late. There’s no need to grill him that hard.”

“He’s old enough to manage his time correctly, (Y/N). He needs to learn discipline. This has nothing to do with you.”

“Clearly, that’s not what’s happening here,’’ I laughed dryly. “Look, pardon the metaphor, but this whole alpha male act is gonna get very tiring, very quickly. If this is how you’re gonna be, don’t bother on scheduling that date this week.”

“Don’t be like that, (Y/N). I swear this has nothing to do with you. There are certain rules that we have to abide by, a different life. It’s complicated.”

“You’re not making any sense, Derek.”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Yesterday we said no secrets, Derek. What changed in the hours that have passed?”

“Nothing’s changed. I’m sorry if I seemed too harsh on Isaac, but I have to be. They’re young and reckless, and it’s my job to make sure they stay safe. No matter the cost.” He ran his hands across his face as he let out a loud sigh. “Why don’t we just keep the supernatural and our personal lives apart.”

“We can try that for a while, but they’re bound to intersect at some point.”

“I know, but…”

“Let’s play it your way and see how it goes, okay? And lay off Isaac and the others? They are just kids.”

“I’ll try,” he smiled softly. “Text me when you get home, okay?”

“If I remember.”

I backed the car up and sped back to my house. When I opened the garage, my father was sitting on the spot where the car usually went. I had forgotten to tell them I would be gone, and my phone’s battery had died a while back. I was in so much trouble.

“Good to know you’re alive, darling daughter.” The sarcasm spewed from my father’s mouth, and it stung.

“I’m so sorry. I went out with a friend and my phone died. And I know I forgot to say I was leaving the house, but I rarely do that, so please forgive me.”

“Calm down, (Y/N),” he laughed. “We just wanted to make sure you were okay. You weren’t answering your phone, so we got worried. But remember, there’s a tracker on the car. We figured you were out. And I’m glad to hear you have a friend. It’s about time.”

“Thanks, dad.” He wrapped me in a hug and patted my head. If he knew who my friends were I’m sure he wouldn’t feel the same way. “But, if you knew where I was, what was this whole scary setup? I for sure thought you were going to kill me.”

“Nothing like that, honey. But your mother and I have something we have to talk to you about.”

“What is it? You can’t take back that we are staying.”

“It’s not that, but it is serious. Let’s go, your mom is waiting in the kitchen.”

My heart was beating at a rapid pace, a million thoughts running through my head. Although, at the bottom of my heart I knew what this talk was going to be about.

Tag List: @hellowinterlane​ @lokisgoddesofpower​ @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @malar-region

#derek hale #derek hale imagine #derek hale angst #derek hale smut #derek hale x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf angst #teen wolf smut #scott mccall #allison argent #isaac lahey #isaac lahey x reader #erica reyes #vernon boyd #lydia martin #stiles stilinski #writing #fanfiction #ao3 #wattpad #andreafmn #im not afraid #angst #slow burn #jealousy #reader insert

[phandombigotryarchive]

Trigger warning:

Discussions of sexual assault, transphobia, transmisogyny, chattel slavery and violent antiblackness.

Good afternoon,

It may come to many people's great happiness in this community that I am no longer interested in muling for a fandom that wants my community dead and excuses our deaths.

I am not here to hold your hand on why you should see Black people as human beings if you are unable to do so.

I'm not here to sit around here to convince you that the Black trauma that you are excusing is of real live human beings. That enslaved Black people were mothers, fathers, cousins, siblings, aunts, nephews, loved ones and by brushing off the pain that they went through, you are dehumanizing literal human beings.

This is a fandom that excuses white supremacy, discrimination of people with facial differences, transmisogyny, orientalism, the objectification of m/m ships (often involving a party of color), ableism, transmisogyny/transphobia, general anti-Blackness, colorism and we can go on for just about forever.

It protects those and their enablers and in addition to this, excuses and normalizes the use of chattel slavery as a fanfiction trope.

Think about this before you consider aligning yourself with the people in this fandom or joining it at all.

Therefore, this archive serves a reminder of what the true nature of the Phantom of Opera fandom holds and no matter how many times you block me, you cannot erase this. It serves as a resource for current marginalized fans and future fans to heed warning of the false respectable aura these bigots parade.

I would like to thank our allies for doing as much as they can for the sake of protecting themselves from this fandom. Don't worry. I saw your posts. I thank you.

To all non-Black people of color that stood by and watch this happen without a care, I'm not surprised that you would have such lack of feeling for Black fans. I would implore you to do better but that would imply that any of you actually had spines.

Anyways. Keep the Black names of actors under Phantom of the Opera out of your mouths and gifsets. I know who you are and that you're seeing this. No, posting pictures of Norm Lewis and Derrick Davis along with others will not solve anti-Blackness in a fandom that excuses chattel slavery.

Non-Blacks cannot accept "apologies" for anti-Blackness and slavery apologists.

Take your performatism somewhere else.

Blackness, being Irani and the beauty of being trans is something to be celebrated. Do not forget this even in such a bigoted, white supremacist fandom.

To all those who are affected by the phandoms bigotry, let me say this. You are not alone.

Now, I will recount these past months events of transphobia and antiblackness. for anyone who was lost within the narrative.

We begin with @transphantomweek. @cefantomeenhabitnoir noticed that i-penna and filthybonnet, both big names in the fandom were perpetrators of transmisogyny. When he called this out, they were instantly shut down, blocked and isolated from the fandom.

@cefantomeenhabitnoir has an entire Google doc dedicated to the harassment they faced and the transmisogyny perpetuated in this fandom and you can find it on his page and in my phandom bigotry callouts tag.

Kept Below is the fic that @cefantomeenhabitnoir is referring to.

See my phandom bigotry callouts tag and @cefantomeenhabitnoir 's transmisogyny/transphobia call out for more details, which is also in that tag.

Now we bring ourselves to our current situation. Madamefaust.

On February 25th, 2021, I called out madamefaust for using the tragic mulatto trope, exploiting the usage of the Dumas Family (real life victims of the Haitian-French slave trade) to racebend Raoul De Chagny as a biracial. Black-French Man in her since deleted fic, "Strange Sweet Sound".

I will explain to you why this is bad.

"Do you even know the implications of naming a Black/White biracial child a bastard and flat out stating that their white side was involved in the slave trade? It means that child’s mother was possibly raped. You are implying that Raoul’s mother was a victim of slavery and sexual trauma. You are playing into the tragic mulatto trope. You are anti-Black."

- Me in my original call-out post (which you can find on my pinned.)

The tragic mulatto trope is trope born from slavery times involving a Black/White biracial child who was the product of rape between a white and enslaved Black party (typically female). They are pitied for their Blackness.

"Lydia Maria Child introduced the literary character that we call the tragic mulatto in two short stories: "The Quadroons" (1842) and "Slavery's Pleasant Homes" (1843). She portrayed this light skinned woman as the offspring of a white slaveholder and his black female slave. This mulatto's life was indeed tragic. She was ignorant of both her mother's race and her own. She believed herself to be white and free. Her heart was pure, her manners impeccable, her language polished, and her face beautiful. Her father died; her "negro blood" discovered, she was remanded to slavery, deserted by her white lover, and died a victim of slavery and white male violence."

After I called this out, many people in the fandom blocked me and began to post very cryptic things regarding cancel culture.

Madamefaust is not exempt from participating in my harassment. Madamefaust is a pharoga writer and a large number of the people harassing me were pharoga shippers. You can find the list of names in @cefantomeenhabitnoir 's bigot call out list.

Even her literal friends and mutuals were posting things regarding the words, "you don't have to care about anything" about a Black woman calling out the literal fetishization of slavery.

Madamefaust did nothing to stop my harassment. Only posting a cryptic post "to stop" while these people still kept indirecting me.

Why didn't you tell them to disengage until the damage was already done? Why didn't you confront them personally and not in some text post? You knew what you were doing. You were watching. This fandom is small.

I hope you feel ashamed and that the shame follows you forever. You were playing with literal Black lives and the deaths of many people who were murdered. Slavery wasn't a fun game. It was endless brutalization and loss of self. Black people's lives were treated as products. Me and many people's ancestors literally had nothing.

Life as an enslaved person was either get raped by the slave master or labor until you die.

And this fandom has the nerve to excuse using that as a fanfic trope?

Now, we move on to @strength-to-try

@strength-to-try dubs themselves an "anti racism" page yet allows antiblack slave trade apologists and their defenders to interact with their posts.

When a Black woman criticizes them (me), they refer to me as a "Black Individual" and flat out state that they aren't going to block out literal

SLAVE TRADE APOLOGISTS, ANTIBLACK PEOPLE AND BLACK FETISHIZERS.

YOU ARE NOT BLACK. I CAN TELL.

You cannot "forgive" or accept apologies antiblackness if you aren't Black.

The entire reason that page exists is because I was calling out ANTIBLACKNESS AND SLAVE TRADE APOLOGISM IN PHANDOM.

FUCK YOU AND FUCK EVERYONE WHO SUPPORTS @strength-to-try and their anti-Blackness, slave trade apologism and willingness to stand with white supremacists all whilst throwing me, a Black woman under a bus.

IF YOU SUPPORT THEM, YOU ARE ANTIBLACK. YOU ARE STANDING IN LINE WITH SOMEONE WHO LETS WHITE SUPREMACIST SLAVE TRADE APOLOGIST ANTIBLACK RACISTS INTERACT WITH THEM.

TAKE IT FROM AN ACTUAL BLACK PERSON (ME!)

FUCKING LISTEN TO BLACK PEOPLE WHEN WE SAY THE SHIT YOU'RE DOING IS RACIST.

The Phantom of the Opera fandom is especially not safe for Black People and Trans Women. It houses, protects and defends WHITE SUPREMACY.

But it is also not safe for darkskinned people, Muslims and Iranis.

It is reeking with people who fetishize the Daroga, a darkskinned Irani Muslim man. They lighten his skin, barely even mention his religion unless they're trying to strip it away or demonize his home country. They write him hyperaggressive and hypersexual towards Erik. They call him a monkey. This is not love. This is racism.

They also hyper-sexualize Irani women and refuse to think critically about why Gaston Leroux describes the Little Sultana, an Irani woman as so blood thirsty and Erik (a white man's) main abuser.

You can find examples in my phandom bigotry callouts tag. Or just read any pharoga fic. It's filled with this prejudiced shit.

Also I encourage you all to stop demonizing Erik's facial difference and to educate yourself on the history of ableism regarding the discrimination of people with facial differences. You can find some of these resources under my ableism tag.

So, in all, go run your money to @cefantomeenhabitnoir for the transphobic trauma you've put him through if you have a single bit of sympathy for them. You know who you are.

I don't expect much from a fandom who condones literal anti-Blackness and slavery apologism. But if any of you do feel remorse, I encourage you to run your money to Black people. Especially darkskinned, disabled and LGBT Black people whenever you see a donation post as reparations.

Silence is violence.

Also, I have put together an artist blacklist of people who supported madamefaust's use of slavery in her fanfic, defended it or flat out refused to stop interacting with said defenders of it.

In addition to this, I have added said artists who have contributed to the racist orientalist sentiment against the Daroga and, of course transphobes/transmisogynist defenders.

You can contact @queerangelic or @cefantomeenhabitnoir for the list to know which in the fandom to avoid.

More than many of you are guilty.

For new Phantom of the Opera fans considering joining the fandom? Read my pinned and check out my phandom bigotry callouts tag.

I suggest that you do not join this hellscape fandom or get out of here while you can.

Avoid this fandom as much as possible.

And Phandom? I'll see you all in hell.

#poto #the phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera #pharoga #erikstine #raoul de chagny #Daroga #raoulstine #the phantom #Christine daae #gaston leroux #the daroga #meg giry #carlotta giudicelli #Madame Giry # le fantome de l'opera #megstine #susan kay #phantom #musicals #Broadway #andrew lloyd webber #alw #fandom racism #phandom bigotry callouts #le fantome de l'opera #erik the phantom #the persian #NonBlacks ok to interact/reblog

[researchforuni]

Books I’ve read in the last year that I’ve been thinking about

Pond by Claire-Louise Bennett. A book of 20 short stories about an unnamed woman living in a small costal village, alone in a stone house. They’re about solitude, nature, pleasure and domestic life --> FERALISM. This is my favourite book!

Can’t and Won’t by Lydia Davis. A book of short stories on her relationship to herself and the rest of the world. Again, it’s about joy and nature and the noticing of small things. Incredibly touching and sweetly innocent, but without being coy

My year of rest and relaxation by Ottessa Moshfegh. A book about a girl who self medicates on prescription drugs and tries to sleep for a whole year, only finding purpose in her sleep. Incredible and touching and somehow relatable. I love this book!

Homesick for another world by Ottessa Moshfegh. Fucking fantastic short stories. The blurb on the back correctly claims “...big mind, big heart, blazing chops, and a political acuity that is needle-sharp. The needle hits the vein before we even feel the prick”

This is how you lose her by Junot Díaz. A collection of short stories on love, love, being “foreign in the west”. Made me cry more than I care to admit

Diary of an oxygen thief by Unknown. An account of a real bastard who lost everything when the woman he fancied humiliated him and stripped him of his facade, and how he tries to recover. Made me think about forgivness, healing,  and what attracts us in another person

#Bibliography

[ollyarchive]

Olly Alexander and Stephen Fry lead cast for Russell T Davies’ new drama Boys 

Adam StarkeyThursday 3 Oct 2019 8:00 pm

Olly Alexander, Stephen Fry, and Keeley Hawes lead the cast for the new drama from Boys from writer Russell T Davies. The new five-part Channel 4 drama will follow the joy and heartbreak of four friends growing up in the 1980s, as the rise of AIDS tests their lives more than ever before. 

An official synopsis reads: ‘It’s 1981, the start of a new decade and Ritchie, Roscoe and Colin begin a new life in London. Strangers at first, these young gay lads, and their best friend Jill, find themselves thrown together, and soon share each other’s adventures. 

‘But a new virus is on the rise, and soon their lives will be tested in ways they never imagined. As the decade passes, and they grow up in the shadow of AIDS, they’re determined to live and love more fiercely than ever.’ The young cast of Russell T Davies’ new drama Boys (Picture: Channel 4) 

Olly Alexander, known as the frontman for band Years & Years, plays 18-year-old Ritchie Tozer, who is described as the ‘family’s golden boy’ who keeps his secrets hidden from them. 

Omari Douglas plays 17-year-old ‘wild and brittle party boy’ Roscoe Babatunde, while Callum Scott Howells plays quiet and unassuming Welsh boy Colin Morris-Jones. 

Lydia West plays Jill Baxter, who is Ritchie’s straight-talking friend from college, and Nathaniel Curtis plays faithful friend, Ash. 

There’s a bunch of big names in the supporting cast, including Keeley Hawes (Bodyguard) who plays Ritchie’s mum Valerie, Shaun Dooley (Gentlemen Jack) as his dad Clive, Neil Patrick Harris (How I Met Your Mother) as Henry Coltrane, Stephen Fry as MP Arthur Garrison, and Tracy Ann Oberman (Friday Night Dinner) as Carol Carter. 

Speaking about the show, Olly said: ‘I feel like the luckiest boy in the world to be a part of this project, I’ve been a fan of Russell T Davies ever since I watched Queer As Folk in secret at 14 years old. Olly has some choice expressions for the table read (Picture: Channel 4) 

‘His work helped shape my identity as a gay person so I’m absolutely over the moon we’ll be working together. The script was amazing to read, I laughed and I cried a lot, it’s a privilege to be helping to tell this story and I’m so excited.’ 

Neil Patrick Harris said: ‘I’m so pleased, and incredibly proud, to be a part of Russell T Davies’ new series. 

‘This drama, Boys, is two things: it is an irresistible, funny, jubilant story of young people discovering their true identities and the unalloyed joy of living life to the fullest, it is also a deeply resonant exploration of a decade when so many of these lives were cut short by the devastating effects of the nascent AIDS pandemic. 

‘Russell’s scripts chart the highs and lows of this time so beautifully and deftly, it’s an honour to help tell this story.’ 

If you’re unfamiliar, Russell’s past writing credits include Queer As Folk, Years and Years, A Very English Scandal, and Cucumber, so it’s hard to imagine this being anything other than excellent. Filming begins on Boys next week and will air on Channel 4 in 2020

#olly alexander #acting #boys #years & years #yearsandyears #russell davies #television #channel 4

[sterek-bingo]

New year, new themes, we hope you lovely senpais out there will notice us!

That's right folks, the official Sterek Bingo 2019 themes are here!! A little delayed, as this year, we decided to release the descriptions and themes at the same time, so without further ado, click "Readmore" for our list of themes- we hope to see you in May!

The Raven- Quoth the raven, nevermore! According to Teen Wolf, there are three kinds of tricksters, a fox, a coyote, and a raven, in the series the raven bit fell a little short, but now with this theme you have the chance to fix that- if you want to! Otherwise, using a normal raven is just fine, perhaps a witch's familiar or even taking inspiration from the famous poem, anything you want, as long as it involves a raven of some kind, is accepted! You could even take a note from Teen Titans and use The Raven as a superhero name, sounds a little like Stiles if you ask me

Masquerade- Historically, masquerades have always been a great device used in literature, plays, film, and just about any other art form you can think of, a great way to move stories along or develop them from the ground up, with beautifull costumes and elaborate masks, now is your time to play with the creativity that the beauty and mystery of a masquerade will bring

Opening a door- Often times when people call out to spirits- through oujia boards, EMFs, and even ghost hunting- it's said that they're opening a door to the other side, letting evil in.... your job with this theme is to decide what door opens, what opens it, and what crosses over- or lies within- once it's ajar, it could be paranoia that says opening a door always invites evil spirits.... or it could just be the truth in plain sight

Astrology- According to the official Teen Wolf calander released with season 3A, Stiles is an Aries, and Derek is a Capricorn- the ram and the seagoat, what a cute combination! ... Ofcourse, other sources say that Stiles may be a Gemini and Derek might be a Scorpio, in the end though, you don't even have to use official sources, what matters is that astrology comes to play into your peice in some form, it could be real, or fake, or ambigous- it might not even apply in terms of birth dates at all, as long as astrology plays a role, this is the theme for you!

Revenge- Perhaps it's a dish best served cold, or perhaps the best kind is living well, however you take revenge, it's appropriate for this theme, use the theme however you wish- Stiles or Derek getting revenge for eachother, or for a loved one, or perhaps someone getting revenge on them, maybe revenge doesn't actually even take place, but is persuaded against, all that matters is that the subject of revenge pops up somewhere in your peice

Flower Language- Red roses mean true love, blue violets mean love between women, and those are just two of the most promising, despite it's name, flower language doesn't stop at just flowers, all plants have some sort of symbolism- grass represents homosexuality, Witch Hazel means magic, and there are thousands more where those come from! You can feature any plant, any meaning, as long as flower language is featured in some way, you're coming up roses for this theme

Music- Music is the language of love... and heart-break... and just about every other emotion, music can communicate what's often too hard to say in conversation or to express to people directly, music can make us feel, it can inspire us, and that's what you need to do for this theme- get inspired by music, or feature it smewhere in your peice, unlike other themes, music doesn't have to be directly featured, it can serve merely as inspiration if that's preferred

Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things- A popular tag on AO3, and an even more popular sentiment amongst Teen Wolf fans, Derek Hale has been long deserving of some nice things in his life, a break, a vacation, even a nap, your job for this theme is to give him some of those much desired good things, or atleast one of them, make up for all of the wrongs Teen Wolf did by giving this sweet boy something nice!

Foxes- Ever since the nogitsune, fox!Stiles has been a staple of the fandom, and now you have the choice to join the trend... or throw a curveball and do something else! Fox!Stiles, fox!Derek, or perhaps somebody else, hell it doesn't even have to be a werefox or fox-shifter at all, it can be a normal fix or even a toy fox- any fox will do, as long as it's featured in your peice

Vampires- From Buffy to True Blood, The Vampire Diaries to Twilight, vampire-centric media has often been apt to feature werewolves, but the opposite isn't necessarily true, one promise Jeff Davis came through on was that vampires would never exist in Teen Wolf, but now it's your chance to change that! Canonverse, AU, crossover, it doesn't matter, choose your opportunity to bring vampires to the world of Sterek

Disney- When you wish upon a star.... the dream of Sterek may come true, depending on who you ask, Disney could represent a great number of things, childhood innocence, dreams coming true, cooporate monopoly and the sustaining of puritanism... hopefully that last part won't play into your peice too much, be it a crossover with an existing Disney property, Disney-fying your art or writing style, or simply using Disneyland, Disney Studios, or some other real-world example of Disney as a part of your work, this theme offers as many different choices as there are stars in the sky

Chocolate- Mmmmm ... chocolate!! Milk chocolate, dark chocolate, white chocolate, hot chocolate, chocolate ice cream, chocolate sauce, chocolate cake, and just plain ol' chocolate candy, it's hard to come across a sweet treat that doesn't have an association with chocolate of some kind, all you have to do is choose your favorite flavor and design a peice around that, what a treat this theme is!

Murder Husbands- Though the phrase was popularized when Freddie Lounds proposed it in Hannibal, the theme of "Murder Husbands"- a couple, be it romantic or platonic, who kill together- has been around since atleast the 40s, with Alfred Hitchcock's "The Rope", and has even existed in real life, the cat-and-mouse aspect also can't be ignored, from Hannibal it's self to the more recent Killing Eve, there's definitely something to be said for the thrill of the chase, described by Rachel Roth of "Fansided" as "a modern day Hades searching for his Persephone; an innocent's descent into Hellfire", there are plenty of ways to go for a killer theme like this- partners in crime, vampire boyfreinds, a cop-and-killer chase, the only thing that can be truly certain is that this theme is recomended for those who like their Sterek with a darker twist

Games- From the intellectually stirring challenge of chess, to the athletic trial of lacrosse, to even the magical feilds of Quidditch or the strategy-straining Duel Monsters, games can be anything from a fun pass-time to a freindly competition, or, as seen with examples such as the Triwizard Tournament, Shadow Games, and even game-based horrors like SAW and Escape Room, trials of life and death, even these themes are a game when you think about it, all you have to do now is decide how to play this one

Dragons- Here be dragons! One of the world's longest standing magical creatures, dragons can be found all over the globe, and in every form of media too, from the dangers of Harry Potter and The Hobbit, to the excitement of How To Train Your Dragon and Avatar: The Last Airbender, it's hard to find fantasy media that doesn't atleast mention dragons... and yet, there's Teen Wolf, wich sadly, only ever came as close as kanimas, but now is your chance to fix that! Take to the skies and use any kind of dragon you like to make the world of Teen Wolf better, brighter, and more fire-breathing than ever!

The Lake- Depending on your personal veiws, lakes can represent all sorts of things, from a fun family vacation, to a romantic summer date, to a spooky atmosphere with something lurking just beneath the surface... your peice can be any tone or atmosphere that you like, as long as a lake is featured in some way, perhaps Sties is a merman living in the local lake, or the pack takes a vacation to Lydia's lakehouse, or maybe whatever is living in the lake in Beacon Hills finally makes it's self known, however you want to spin it, time to dive in with this aquatic theme!

Puppy Pile- Aww, puppy piles! What's cuter than a puppy? An entire pile of them, and what's cuter than a werewolf? Well, you get the picture, the fun thing about this theme is that you can use humans, werewolves, normal wolves, or even actual puppies! The choices for who piles up for a nap- or a night of sleep- in this theme is all up to you!

Triskelion- The sun, the moon, the truth; Alpha, beta, omega; past, present, future.... triskelions can represent alot of things, and that's just what they signify on Teen Wolf, in real life, there are even more things for triskelions to symbolize, this theme can be used in just about any way- Derek's tattoo, the mantra-disc he tried to use as a teenager, a rune, or even just what the triskelion means (IE: a peice about the past, the present, and the future) however you twist and turn it, all that matters is that a triskelion is somehow featured in your peice

Faeries- One thing I really wish had been better explained in Teen Wolf is the fact that banshees are technically a type of faery, meaning that faeries are canonically part of Teen Wolf- and everything they bring with them as well, from faery!Stiles, to "Faeries made them do it", fae folk are a common theme to be brought up in fanfiction, as well as in folklore, throughout history fae have been presented as everything from good to evil to morally ambigous, weather they have wings or magic or telepathic abilities, living in their own realms, communicating with nature, or controlling their size, there are a million different ways you can go with the faery theme, now's your time to take off and fly with it

Strangers On A Train- In 1951, Alfred Hitchcock's "Strangers On A Train" was released, featuring two strangers making a murder pact after meeting on a train, wile this theme is certainly one that you can use- it's been used ever since in both media and in real life, after all- it doesn't *have* to be, the theme can be much more fun and fluffy, or mysterious and strange, or dark and twisted, the idea of meeting someone on a train who ultimately changes your life hasn't dimmed with time, even if trains are significantly less common of a transporation system these days, they still make a splash in media, from the iconic Hogwarts Express to the setting of 2017's "The Commuter", it's time to get on board with this peculiar theme

Other Realms- One of the things that was touched on, yet not nearly explained enough, was that there are in fact other realms in Teen Wolf, The Wild Hunt made that more than clear, but what extent exactly does this go to? Faery realms? Atlantis? Afterlives? It's up to you to decide, you can use as few or as many different realms as you'd wish, and are as always, free to make it an AU, just as long as you feature atleast one alterante realm in some way in your peice

Cosplay- One of the greatest forms of expression in fandom, cosplay has turned "Dressing up" into an Olympic sport, be it a simple store-bought costume, a pain-stakingly hand-made costume, one that's affordable or one that takes your life savings, cosplay isn't about looking theatrical or professional, it's about having fun! Be it for Halloween, a convention, or a party, let the fan flag fly with this theme

Cabin In The Woods- Peacefull life of flannel and fireplaces.... or horror movie setting of death? The Cabin In The Woods, much like The Lake, has two very conflicting atmospheres to them, the peacefull, content relaxation of being away from society, in the woods or the mountains, surrounded by nature and without the stresses of every day life.... and being in the middle of nowhere, without the use of electronics, where anything can happen and no one can hear you scream... it's your choice for wich version of the theme you'll use- or perhaps you could even use a different one, alot can happen when your theme is only the setting after all!

Mechanic- Finding a good mechanic is every non-car-person's deepest desire, and that's probably even more so for Stiles- who drives what I'm generously calling a "fixer upper", and Derek, who's Camarao is probably worth more than my life value, now's the time to give them the car help they need- or perhaps allow one of them to be a mechanic himself! Fixing cars is no easy task, but hopefully finding a way to plug a mechanic into your theme won't be nearly so daunting

Unicorns- This theme is a very special unicorn.... literally! Much to my surprise and delight, unicorns are a pretty common theme in this fandom, and now is your time to make it your own, from unicorns who follow virgin "maidens", to those who are attached to folks with good hearts, or maybe they aren't necessarily attached to anyone at all, perhaps they're just minding their own business when Stiles or Derek stumbles upon them, maybe one of them is a unicorn herder, or possibly something else that I've yet to describe, the magic of this theme is that you can get as creative as you want

Urban Legends- From Diet Coke and Pop Rocks to organ harvesting in a bath of ice, urban legends have a tendency to be odd, macabre, and ... questionably realistic, after all, it wouldn't be an urban legend if there didn't atleast sound like a crumb of truth was contained inside, your job is to use any existing urban legend- or to create your own!- in your Bingo peice, it can be a rumor gone wrong, a legend disproved, or perhaps even that grain of truth inside the urban legends, whatever you decide, I'm sure it'll be legendary

Past lives- Reincarnation is definitely one of the most fascinating themes I can think of, it has the potential for everything from mystery to angst to even fluff, so when one starts exploring Stiles and Derek's past lives, you know you'll be in for a treat, or, perhaps, Stiles and Derek *are* the past lives being explored, it's perfectly possible that your peice focus on future incarnations of their souls as well, as long as we can tell that it's these two idiots in love, any incarnation is applicable

Pack parents- Pack Mom, Pack Dad, whatever you call them, it's clear that Stiles and Derek are the "parents" of the pack, even without either being the Alpha (though if you want to Alpha-nize either of them that's definitely fine by us) Stiles and Derek have, since the beginning, treated their packmates like children, and with good reason, now is your time to capitalize on that! Be they literal parents or just using that as a figure of speech- maybe even a sarcastic one- it's time to have a sit down with the pack parents and feel young again

Alpha & Emissary Gathering- Werewolf symposiums, supernatural conventions, Alpha & Emissary gatherings... they're all essentially the same thing, an opportunity to show off the fun of a convention with the stress of a supernatural hot spot, be it Alpha!Derek and Emissary!Stiles, Alpha!Stiles and Emissary!Derek, or some other combination to surprise us with, it's time to gather your ideas and ready one of them for this fun theme

Wild Card- This is the obligatory bingo square in the very middle where you can do absolutely anything you want! That’s right. There’s no restriction, no guideline, no THEME! It’s your freebie to do anything you may have been wanting to do, but haven’t really had the time or inspiration to do until now- here’s your chance. Now go forth and create Sterek!

#sterek bingo #sterek bingo 2019 #sterekbingo2019 #sterek #stiles x derek

[english-ext-2]

Inspired by a question from @perfectlytinymilkshake: I was just wondering, in regards to researching form (my form is a short story), what are some resources or ‘key words’ that I should use in my research?  

Great that you’re thinking about form early! There are three ways to research form, and I’ve listed a couple of resources under each section.  

1. Find examples of your form and critically evaluate them

Writing a short story? Read short stories. The more of the form you encounter, absorb and analyse, the more you deepen your understanding and appreciation of it. Your research may be guided in part by key words, but you’ll ultimately need to expand your search beyond “short stories” or “how to write a short story”. As for where you can find short stories:

10 Outstanding Short Stories to Read in 2018

Short Stories You Should Read

My list of literary resources and links 

Short stories category on Goodreads  

Project Gutenberg is a great place to look for classic short story writers 

Filter your library’s online catalogue by the short stories tag

The short stories you read don’t need to be about whatever you intend your theme(s) to be – the point is to read widely to expose yourself to as much of the form as possible. You can start with the classics (e.g. Guy de Maupassant, Katherine Mansfield, J.M. Somerset Maugham, Anton Chekhov) but you should branch out to modern and contemporary writers too. And there’s certainly no shortage of them. Just to give you a taste, here are some of the short story collections I read last year:

Sour Heart, Jenny Zhang

Tenth of December, George Saunders

Portable Curiosities, Julia Koh

An Account of the Decline of the Great Auk, According to One Who Saw It, Jessie Greengrass

Stone Mattress, Margaret Atwood

Would super recommend Saunders’ work, but some of my other personal favourites include Janet Frame, Lydia Davis and Tim Winton. Other authors worth checking out are Ray Bradbury, Raymond Carver, Alice Munro, and Gail Jones. And because I’m me, I’d strongly recommend you read foreign authors and translated short stories; if you want as broad an exposure as possible, you’d do well to read from other cultures and countries (hint: Asymptote magazine is your one-stop shop for translated fiction).

After finishing a story, you should ask yourself what was or wasn’t effective about the story. What hooked you in? Did anything ruin your suspension of disbelief? Did any literary devices stand out? What effect did they have? Was there a turn of phrase you liked? How would you describe the author’s style and tone? It’s only through this critical analysis and reflection that reading short stories will be of any use to the development of your MW. Ultimately, you want to come out a story having learnt something, even if it’s something to avoid. (Which is not to say you’re not allowed to enjoy the reading! EE2 is a chance to read both for pleasure and academia.)

2. Learn from composers

Authors frequently reflect on the processes of creation and writing; what it means to be a writer; their personal style, language, preferences and writing habits. You’ll most commonly find these thoughts in interviews and feature articles that appear in places like The Paris Review (meaty, lengthy interviews that provide massive amounts of insight) and The New Yorker, but all literary magazines to some degree or another will feature chats with authors, however short or long, that provide a window onto their writing.

You may not like sifting through a Paris Review interview for the parts most relevant to your form and/or major, but I’d strongly recommend you sit down and read at least one interview in full. If you’ve chosen to do a short story for EE2, you know writing isn’t a purely technical task. It’s not all about picking the right word and crafting elegant metaphors; the tools of the trade are only one part of the whole. Authors feel things (greatly!) and try to translate their emotions into a form they can share with other people. Taking us through their process, from what they wanted to achieve, what they felt, how they felt; through the creative choices they made and why, and then to the final product, invariably reveals aspects of their identity that might, and will, I hope, invite your empathy and understanding.

It’s also just terribly nice to get to know an author, however cosmetically, to connect to them despite the many differences.

Or in practical terms, they provide excellent models for your reflection statement.

I’d recommend you read a short story before finding out a bit more on the author. That way you have a chance to form your own opinions on the text and compare them to how the composer sees their own work. A great example is Lydia Davis’ explanation of her word choices for Head, Heart (a poem).

3. Consult reference books 

One step removed from short stories and authors are ‘how to write’/reference books that guide you through the writing process (if you like, books on books! Which is coincidentally a section name in Kinokuniya). If you think of these three methods as three concentric circles, with short stories themselves at the centre, then these guides sit in the outer circle. They offer a bird’s eye view, laying out the cogs and gears that make up a short story and enabling you to create your own.  

I’m thinking primarily of The Art of Fiction (David Lodge) and The Writing Book (Kate Grenville) but there are hundreds of other books out there where you can get advice on the technical aspects of short story writing. The aforementioned two are good places to start. How you use them will depend on you and your major. I personally only looked to them to supplement the gaps of my own knowledge and experience, and to put to words things I’d only ever understood in a nebulous, airy sort of way. They basically came after and in between the other two methods.

I wouldn’t recommend you read these books cover to cover, as their greatest utility comes when you actually need the advice on how to plot, or build tension, or whatever it is you’re struggling with.

#english extension 2 #my posts #form #ee2 #hsc #hsc english

[creativitytoexplore]

Everything Old Is New Again: An Interview With Co-Web Editor Adam Soto https://ift.tt/2WdSDbp

Writer and editor Adam Soto has long been a part of American Short Fiction‘s editorial team. As one of our assistant editors, he regularly read submission to the journal, wrote copious feedback for authors, and helped determine which stories would ultimately appear in our print edition. So, when we made the decision to bring on another web editor this spring, Adam was a natural choice for the role. This month, he joins our longtime web editor Erin McReynolds as our website’s co-editor, and together, they’ll determine which stories are published here at ASF Online. I recently emailed with Soto to ask about his work, his approach to editing, and his aspirations for the magazine.

—

Nate Brown: Adam, we’re so thrilled that after having served as an assistant editor with us for so long that you’re stepping up to the plate as a new web editor who’ll be working alongside web editor Erin McReynolds. While we know you around these parts—you’ve been a member of Austin’s literary community and of our team for years—I want to start by asking you about your own fiction writing. You’ve got a novel coming out next year. Can you tell us a bit about it?

Adam Soto: Joining ASF was one of the first things I did after coming to Austin, and it’s really been like being part of a family, so I’m really grateful for all the time I’ve had with organization, all the stories I’ve read through the years, and I’m really moved to have the opportunity to contribute more to what the journal is doing, which is something special. 

The novel is called This Weightless World, and it’s out on MCD/FSG fall 2021. It’s a sentimental sci-fi, a kind of Contact for misanthropic millennials. January 1, 2012, Earth detects an alien signal from a planet 75 lightyears away and a group of characters—a Chicago Public School teacher; one of his students, a musical prodigy; and his ex, a programmer who dumped him for a gig at Google—anticipate a major paradigm shift, an alternative to late stage capitalism, the neighborhood’s cycle of violence, an escape from their own personal guilt. I mean, aliens are supposed to be game changers, right? Habit, human nature, laziness, and fear, however, prove to be a greater obstacle than the 75 lightyears between us and them, and when the planet suddenly falls silent, leaving us alone in the universe once again, collapsing the distance between who we are and who we hope to be feels harder than ever. While the characters sort out their lives, our planet’s biological clock keeps ticking, our dependence on technology distorts our sense of reality, and our most vulnerable continue going mostly ignored. If all of that sounds too depressing, I should add that there are also loving pen-pal letters and lyrical dispatches from deep space woven throughout.    

NB: It’s funny, Adam, but I remember you from back in your Iowa City days, when you and my wife, Thea, were MFA students at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. Was this a project you were working on back then, or is the novel more recent than that? And how does the novel compare to the work you were writing then? 

AS: I remember the two of you as well. I started the novel on January 1, 2012, so, right before the start of my last semester at Iowa. Marilynne Robinson was going to be teaching a novel workshop in the spring, we’d all been in a novella seminar with Peter Orner, so all of my friends had suddenly pivoted from writing short stories to writing novels, and I thought, I wanna get me some of that!

I was staying with my parents for the holidays, and I had a dream featuring an image and a wordless interpretation. I saw this fuchsia-colored planet and felt that not only I but the whole human race was being shunned and shamed by it, like the planet was Earth’s twin and we just weren’t going to be friends. With absolutely nothing else to go on, I set up my laptop in my parent’s kitchen, took a look around the room, and typed the first thing that came to mind. “So, this dude wakes up on Jan. 1, 2012…” Most of my work, up to that point, had focused on alienating readers. They were mainly plotless, kind of nihilistic, and tried really hard to redeem themselves with lots of catchy sentences. It had never occurred to me that I could cut back on my affect and keep alienation as subject matter. It took me three whole drafts (re-written, top to bottom) and four years to figure out what the story was about, three years working with my amazing agent, Marya Spence, to turn an 800+ page sprawling tome into an actual novel, and it’ll be another year and a half before my editor, Danny Vazquez, and the rest of the team at MCD/ FSG and I turn it over to the public.

NB: Did you have any particularly great workshops or instructors at Iowa? What ideas about writing have stuck with you? And for those considering an MFA program, do you have any advice on what they should expect to take away from the experience? 

AS: My very first workshop there was with the late James Alan McPherson. He was so funny, sage, and generous, and my workshop group became my best friends. Peter Orner was also very inspiring. He taught me a lot about teaching and reading. Teaching and writing were the natural byproducts of reading and paying attention to others for Peter, and this has proven vital to me as a middle-school English teacher. Michelle Huneven, however, changed my life. The way I saw it, I was just this kid who got into this really nice writing program for one reason or another, but, somehow, Michelle took me seriously and told me to take myself seriously. There’s no shortage of people taking themselves seriously in MFA programs, so, I guess my advice is to expect to find something out about yourself. A lot of people find out they don’t like teaching; hell, some people find out they don’t like writing that much, at least not enough to spend the rest of their lives trying to get published. Either way, no matter your age, or where you’re coming from, you’ve got to let the MFA years be formative in some way.

Back in the day, there used to be this expectation that you could join a program and graduate with a book deal, or at least a “cushy” teaching gig that’d hold you off until you got a book deal, and because it was more of a rite of passage, these programs could get away with being deeply unfeeling. I felt nurtured and supported, but I know a lot of people who didn’t and who don’t. But I think if everyone comes in expecting more, and if everyone is willing to accept that that something more probably isn’t going to be more book deals—taking on publishing is a whole other nightmare—then I think a lot of the criticisms of MFA programs could be addressed, and not just by faculty and directors but by the student communities that hold them accountable. Because there’s no real promise for what you can expect, especially from program to program, until you start laying out those expectations. For starters, funding and diversity.

NB: In addition to writing, a big part of editorial work is reading submissions. What kind of work grabs you? What excites you? What do you love coming across in submissions? 

AS: I like something that commits. Something that assures me that it wants to tell me something, even if it’s reluctant to, even if it fails to. Commitment is huge. To voice, a structural procedure, a deep study of character, a memory being pulled apart, a woolgathering.  

NB: Our web exclusive stories have long been capped at 2,000 words (though this is changing), and I’m wondering what you think the short form—whatever you may call them: flash fiction, micro fiction, short-shorts—offer that longer works do not? What are the advantages of really short work?  

AS: Whenever I get a new album, I always start with listening to the longest song. With short story collections, I always start with the shortest story. This is something I’ve done forever. Whatever they’re called, I’ve always been attracted to these brief things, and, over the years, reading them, writing them, I’ve come to appreciate their different intended effects. You read one of Babel’s Red Cavalry Stories and the story’s length isn’t really the first thing you notice. Similar to your feelings after a shorty by Chekhov, you’re struck by the wholeness of the experience, the funny asymmetry, the dropped details—as in the details the writer does and does not drop. Compare that to a sprint by Thomas Bernhard, one of Lydia Davis’s illuminating punchlines, or a haunting by Peter Orner, and I think you get a mixture of dedications to singular things, which is rare in our Wikipedic, FOMA world. And the fact that that one thing can be so many different things—grief’s manipulation of time, light’s impression on a memory, an anecdote, extensive alliteration—is really a gift. Such dedication taken to greater lengths is often awkward or dull until it ventures into the obsessive and becomes genius again.      

NB: Are there writers whose stories you find yourself returning to over time? If so, who are those folks, and which stories do you think demand re-reading? 

AS: Mavis Gallant, constantly, and especially her early and long story “The Cost of Living.” I love that long story for its failure to commit, for dragging out what it means to say for pages and pages, for pretty much being a 36-page novel. Leonard Michaels’s Nachman stories and his list story “In the Fifties.” Anything from Joy Williams’s Escapes, but especially “White” over and over again. Andrey Platonov’s “The Motherland of Electricity” (it teaches you how to build a generator), James Alan McPherson’s “The Silver Bullet,” and, more recently, Sara Majka’s “Saint Andrews Hotel,” “Especially Heinous” by Carmen Maria Machado, and Brandon Taylor’s ASF story, “As Though That Were Love.”  

NB: Jesus, there’s so much good work in there. That Brandon Taylor story has really stayed with me. I taught it at Johns Hopkins last semester, and it made a couple of students (and me) cry. Taylor has so much to say about loneliness and the unbridgeable spaces that exist between people, even those who are dear friends. Come to think of it, the Williams, McPherson, and Majka stories you mention are sort of about that, too. Would you say that the tension between isolation and collectivity, between personal spaces and social spaces are of interest to you? Based on what you’ve said about your own novel, that seems central in that work, too.  

AS: Yes, definitely, definitely, the isolated and the collective, isolated collectives, and, now that we’re all getting a taste, the collectively isolated. And that tension, too, I think you’re right, between the singular and the collective, I’ve always been fascinated by where it pops up, how places and moments of intimacy can leave us feeling so isolated, how fractured our alliances and coalitions can be, how hard it is to come together behind a common goal. But most of all, over the years I’ve become obsessed with characters who, against their better judgment, still seek community, and I’m really attracted to the tensions that arise when those seekers interrogate their intentions or test the authenticity of their communities. One of the unique features of our world today is our ability to not only witness but quantifiably measure the efforts being made by ourselves and others as we vie for each other’s communion—it’s something both beautiful and grotesque. And that reality really takes the characters in TWW for a ride, from pulling them out of their recessional depression to overloading them with worldly concerns to leaving them feel completely isolated. 

NB: American Short Fiction has been around since 1991. Why do you think that journals like ours—large and small, from all parts of the country and the world—abide? What role do you think we play in the broader literary culture, and has that role changed over time? 

AS: Like the few healthy corners of the internet, lit journals are places for spaceless communities, folks looking for a common thing; in our case, a certain flavor of fiction. With every issue, you’re excited to share in the discovery of someone new, eager to read someone familiar, and happy to sustain the practice of an old art form. And before the internet, and now through the internet, lit journals have always offered deeply reflective but also relatively immediate reactions to the worlds we live in, which is something I’m excited to play a part in as a web editor. As a utility, we broaden the spectrum of representation in culture, and although our nets require wider and wider casting, what we discover here increases the expectations we have for other literary institutions, as well as the world at large. 

    Adam Soto is a co-web editor at American Short Fiction. He holds an MFA from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop and is a former Michener-Copernicus Foundation fellow. He lives with his wife in Austin, TX, where he is a teacher and a musician. His debut novel, This Weightless World, is forthcoming from MCD/ FSG fall 2021. 

#American Short Fiction

[politicsprose]

2017 Holiday Newsletter

Welcome to the 2017 Politics and Prose Holiday Newsletter. As always, we’re proud to present a selection of some of the year’s most impressive books. Happy holidays to all!

American Fiction

Jennifer Egan’s Manhattan Beach (@scribnerbooks) captures a time and place on the verge of momentous change. Set in Brooklyn in the 1940s, the novel tells the story of Anna Kerrigan, a young woman who has dropped out of Brooklyn College to contribute what she can to the American war effort. Unsatisfied with her job of inspecting and measuring machine parts, she attempts to enter the male-only world of deep-sea diving. Manhattan Beach is rich and atmospheric, highlighting a period when gangs controlled the waterfront, jazz streamed from the doors of nightclubs, and the future for everyone was far from certain. - Mark L.

Shaker Heights is a perfectly planned town full of people with seemingly perfectly planned lives, but when Mia and her daughter Pearl move in they start a series of little fires, small rebellions, that shake the community to its core. Celeste Ng brilliantly explores the nature of art, family, and identity in her second novel, Little Fires Everywhere (@thepenguinpress). The writing is beautifully elegant and layered, and you’ll find yourself immediately swept up in the lives of the characters. At the heart of the story are four mothers: one whose carefully planned family was nearly derailed by a high-risk pregnancy and who watches her youngest daughter so carefully that she forgets to show her love; one who leaves her child at a firehouse to save her life in a hopeless moment; one who longs for a child and fears her chance will be snatched away before she can experience the wonder of motherhood; and one who made a dangerous choice to raise her child on her terms. Whether you are a mother or a child, the story of these women and their families will stay with you long after you turn the last page. - Tori O.

Larry McMurtry has always been ambivalent about the success of the fiction in which he portrays the cowboy myth and the rugged Texas machismo that comes with it, but as you read the three novels collected in Thalia: A Texas Trilogy  (Liveright) you won’t be of two minds. Actually, upon learning that McMurtry wrote all these books in his twenties and that they were the very first three he wrote, you’ll be burning with envy. In Horseman, Pass By, McMurtry sets Lonnie Bannon with his love of his Granddad’s ranch and way of life against Hud, his step-brother, who is endlessly crude and cruel. At the center of Leaving Cheyenne are Gid, Johnny, and Molly, a rancher, his cowboy hand, and the woman they both love. They each take a turn telling the story of their unconventional lives in small-town Texas. Finally, there’s The Last Picture Show, in which we see Thalia as a dead-end place. Of the three, this is perhaps the most darkly comic, as nearly every character engages in self-deception in order to eke out an existence in a town where every day is the same. Amid the fantastic and perhaps unbelievably melodramatic events, McMurtry finds a bottomless well of compassion for his characters. This is one time capsule was worth re-opening. - Sharat B.

Described as an “illustrated novella,” and looking like a quirky coffee table book, A Field Guide to the North American Family (Knopf), by Garth Risk Hallberg, is neither. This work, which Hallberg wrote before his 2015 New York epic, City on Fire, is an ingenious maze of a narrative based on the concept of the North American Family. Reminiscent of Lydia Davis’ seemingly quotidian pieces of pointed brilliance, Hallberg’s work is multi-layered, surprising, and deft. At one level the book uses a series of flash-fictions to recount the story of two families. At another, it’s an index of terms that readers can reference while reading the main plot—or savor for the wisdom they offer on their own. Then there are the photos. Each episode comes not only with its keywords but with a visual image. These are sometimes directly related to the text, like conventional illustrations, but often their relationship to the narrative is more elusive. Some pages look as if they’ve been torn from one scrapbook and pasted into this one, others look fresh and new. Grab this emotional map of North American family life and get ready to wander – it’s sure to be a warm, nostalgic trip. - Justin S.

In Paul La Farge’s The Night Ocean (@penguinrandomhouse), Marina Willett’s husband, a famous-turned-infamous literary historian, has disappeared, seemingly a suicide case but maybe that’s just what he wants people to think. From this hook, the book’s tentacles spread into a kaleidoscopic series of investigations, as Marina double-checks her spouse’s leads to get to the bottom of a mysterious bit of H. P. Lovecraft apocrypha called “The Erotonomicon.” Cameos extend from Lovecraft to William Burroughs, Isaac Asimov, and more, becoming something like “The Savage Detectives of American weird fiction.” To follow this book’s incredible story, you don’t need to like, or even know, these figures, which are all fictionalized creations anyway, despite the author’s deep knowledge of their histories. La Farge critiques and parodies but does not romanticize these writers. He’s deeply attuned to how our human sympathies toward icons we learn about from afar can morph into blind obsession despite our best intentions. His narrative is a seamless combination of trickster humor and utter heartbreak, plumbing the depths to which people will go to forgive, embody, and take revenge upon their former idols, all while preserving their own reputation. The best writing lives inside you —even possesses you. The Night Ocean does just that. - Jonathan W.

Lily Tuck, whose novel The News from Paraguay won the National Book Award in 2004, is one of our finest writers of novels-in-vignettes, and her latest, Sisters (@theatlantic), takes compression to extremes. Its “chapters” are often over in a page, a paragraph, sometimes a sentence, but they’re such vivid shards that you feel like you’re catching all the other pieces in a mosaic without having to see them spelled out. This is the story of a woman reflecting on her shaky marriage, whose trappings—her husband’s children, passions, and memories—all come courtesy of a prior spouse. Tuck centers on her narrator’s relationship with this other woman, who, though living across town, always seems to be in the air. What could turn spiteful in another writer’s hands comes off as gentle and empathetic in Tuck’s, as her lead character seizes on snatches of imagery (“a messy ponytail,” “did not wear rings”), to think through what her ostensible rival’s life must be like. Is it the narrator and not the man who links the two of them who truly understands this woman, she who sees that the bouillabaisse dinner he fondly remembers from France might have made her pregnant body sick? For such a short novel, Sisters is full of these kinds of insights, simply but inimitably framed. - Jonathan W.

One of the most talked about books this autumn, and my favorite, was My Absolute Darling (@riverheadbooks), by Gabriel Tallent. Shocking and unsettling, at times difficult to read, the novel follows fourteen-year-old Turtle Alveston, who feels more at home in nature than she does with her survivalist and damaged father, as she searches for freedom and fights for her soul. Roaming the woods one night, wondering if her father would be able to find her, she meets two lost teenage boys and guides them safely out. And that is the moment she starts questioning her home life. The way Tallent brings you steadily into Turtle’s mind makes you almost feel her pain. He manages to capture her deepest thoughts, her internal struggle, her will to survive. Obviously suffering from Stockholm syndrome, she debates with herself over whether to stay or leave, doubting her worth every step of the way. But she fights and she survives. She is the kind of girl, brave and determined, with whom readers are almost duty-bound to fall in love. Tallent grew up in Mendocino and spent a lot of time outside. His love for the region is evident in Turtle’s view of the place and Mendocino itself is a strong character in the book. This is Tallent’s debut novel. And what a remarkable debut it is! - Marija D.

Friendships seldom get the sustained literary treatment that romances do, but Claire Messud’s insightful novel The Burning Girl (@wwnorton) shows that these relationships strike as deep, stir as many emotions, and do as much to shape a person, for better or worse. They can have special force when formed early in life, and Messud’s protagonists, Julia and Cassie, are best friends from nursery school to roughly seventh grade. Narrating the friendship and its aftermath, Julia, the one who takes paths already there rather than striking out into untrodden territory—the one who sets limits—insists that she and Cassie are as close as sisters. Their two families never mesh, however, and Julia comes to realize that her notion of “home” is not Cassie’s. Much of Cassie’s home life is guesswork, and while Julia does that work, her version of Cassie is partly made up; at times Cassie seems like one of the characters Julia, an aspiring actress, inhabits on stage. Messud uses the inherently self-dramatizing period of adolescence as a lens to view more difficult questions of how well any two people can know each other, and she brilliantly demonstrates how the typical rites of passage—fantasizing about an alternative family, surviving junior high cliques—can suddenly yield “one of those events that that was little and big at the same time,” bringing about the kind of understanding that a person never forgets. - Laurie G.

#books #Holidays #american fiction #2017

[andreafmn]

I’m Not Afraid - Chapter 2

Word Count: 4,585

Characters: Female Reader Argent Character, Original Male Argent Character, Derek Hale, Allison Argent, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, Chris Argent, Jackson Whittemore

Story Description: (Y/N) Argent arrived at Beacon Hills to put to rest her father’s sister, Kate Argent. For the first time, her family has decided to settle down and sustain a life in this interesting small town. After 17 years, (Y/N) has the opportunity to establish interpersonal relationships but will she be ready to face the complications that come with relating to her cousin’s, Allison, friends; especially, the infamous Derek Hale. She will face the adventure of being associated with the Derek and McCall pack as well as being faced with the discovery of certain aspects of her life she never imagined.

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Teen Wolf, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Jeff Davis and MTV Network. The only thing I own is Argent Reader insert, her immediate family, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others’ storyline.

Chapter: 2/?

A/N:  SOFT DEREK, SOFT DEREK!!!!! If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

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Chapter 2

5:00 am my phone read. 

It was usual for my brain to be awake at this hour. Since before I can remember it was part of the schedule I followed, everywhere I went. It was a small thing, but the sense of normalcy was a comforting friend. It made sense to follow a routine I could have anywhere. I was out of bed and into workout clothes, ready for a quick jog around the woods. 

I started off with a slow and comfortable trot before speeding up once I reached the tree-filled terrain. The smell of wet soil, the sound of birds chirping and leaves rustling, the crunching of leaves under my feet was oddly comforting. There was a strange pull that came from the heart of Beacon Hills. I had lived in many places in my short lifetime but this place was different, the atmosphere was different, the people were different. One of those people was Derek Hale, the mysterious, broody, sarcastic man that had bumped his way in. 

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"Why are you stopping?" He asked, a small chuckle escaping his mouth. 

"How did you get here? Where the hell did you come from?"

"You're not the only person who jogs in this town and this happens to be the trail I take. You know, you should work out on a trail that is closer to your house. Makes it easier to actually go back."

I looked around. Once again, I had trailed off and didn't know where I was. "Lucky for you, I have a great memory. We can finish off running and I'll instruct you back to your house."

"You know you sound like a stalker." We started to jog once again.

"How so?" 

"Well, you've only been there like two or three times and you already know the way back. Creepy!"

"Oh, come on, it means that I have a very sharp memory. Unlike you who can't seem to remember what house you live in."

"Touché."

The con and occasionally laughing at something. It felt good talking to him, almost natural. There was a supernatural attraction that I felt when I was near him, an unusual need for his closeness. Our relationship came easy, as the cliché would have it, it felt like I had known him all my life. 

We ran for about an hour and a half before we turned back. "I think it's time we went back. You have school in an hour."

"Whoa, take the stalking down a notch."

"Oh, come on, I went to that school before you, I think I know the schedule."

"Alright, grandpa. Let's head back. It's time for your breakfast smoothie and then some bingo."

"Very funny." He ruffled my hair whilst fake laughing.

"I try." We ran and ran until I came into view of the curb that led to the house. "Well, this is my exit. Would it be too much to ask for you to take me to school?"

"Not a problem. Meet you back here at 7:45?"

"That would be perfect." He kissed my cheek and left to run to where I believe was his house. My face turned red, and I ducked inside.

"Mom? Dad?" I entered the kitchen and noticed a note over a covered plate. "Left for work early. Eat your food and go to school." I read out loud.

I took my time getting ready for school. My bag was already packed, as was my lunch. A long shower and a slow breakfast were in store as I awaited Derek's black Camaro to roll into my driveway. 

"Thanks so much for the lift. I packed you some breakfast." 

"No problem and thank you." He smiled. "You know, maybe after school, I can finally give you a tour around town. So you can familiarize yourself."

"That would be wonderful." I checked my schedule. "Actually, you can pick me up an hour before school ends. I have study hall at that hour, and no one would care if I left."

"I think I can make that arrangement." He looked at me showing a perfect set of white teeth and a smile that would make anyone melt. "But wouldn't your parents know that you left school? I mean, you won't be there when they go pick you up."

"I'll just tell them Allison gave me a ride or walked home," I said thinking of more excuses I could tell my parents. Distracted by my thoughts, my hand started reaching out to the powered-off radio and I didn't notice that so did Derek's. A sharp current went up my arm as our hands make contact. We both quickly pulled away and I could feel the blood rushing to my face turning it a deep shade of red.

"Sorry, I shouldn't impose. It's your car." I spoke up, quick to start picking at the skin around my fingernails to busy my hands. Derek perceived the nervous nature of my actions and stopped my fussing by putting one of his hands over mine. 

"Don't worry it's fine. Just put the radio on whatever station you like." He smiled reassuringly and I reached to the radio and just turned it on, leaving it in the last station it had been on.

"Ugh, I absolutely dread going to school. Most of it I'm gonna forget either way."

"I'd tell you to ditch but that would be shame on me, so I won't. But think about it, this day you'll only get 7 hours of school and then you can hang out with me. Best present ever."

"Yeah, don't think so highly of yourself. Maybe I'll just wander around town until I find my way home."

"Very funny." He stopped at the drop-off zone. "This is your stop."

"Thanks again for the ride, awfully kind actions from such a sour wolf" I laughed at his scowl. "I'll see you in the afternoon."

"Looking forward to it." I exited the car and he waited till I was on the sidewalk to speed off.

"Was that Derek Hale that just dropped you off?" I turned around and was met face-to-face with Scott.

"Yeah. What's the problem?" Not that it will matter.

"You shouldn't trust him, he's bad news."

"Honestly, Scott, I understand your good intentions, but I'll sort out the wrong kind on my own terms." He looked taken aback at my response, probably thinking I would not talk back.

"I'm sorry if I offended you, but he is not a person that anyone should be with." With that, he left with worry evident on his face.

I understood that he was looking out for my "well-being”, but he didn't know me and I'm pretty sure he didn't know Derek either. Maybe that's what Derek meant when I met him. Everyone thinks he is a bad person, but he hasn't done anything wrong in my eyes.

I walked over to my locker and started exchanging my books. Closely next to me I could hear Scott talking to Allison about me and Derek, and my name should be out of his mouth. Once I finished with my locker, I slammed the door and they both stopped talking, noting my close presence. I walked past them feeling their worried stares burning my back. This was going to be a hell of a year. The only thing that could get me through it was the acquaintance relationship I have with Isaac. I did text him a bit last night but mostly helping him with homework. Lord knows he needs all the help he can get.  

We all stood around in gym class as Stiles and Erica climbed the rock wall. Everyone else had gone including Scott who mastered a great fall. Stiles appeared to have fun, but Erica would let out sounds of discomfort and shortness of breath as she climbed. At a point, she stopped. 

"Erica, are you dizzy?" Coach said. "Is it vertigo?" 

"Vertigo is the dysfunction of the vesicular system of the inner ear" Lydia stated in a mocking tone. "She's just freaking out." 

"Erica!" Coach screamed.

"coach, maybe it’s not safe. you know she's epileptic." Allison stated. How does no one care? 

"Wh-why does no one tell me this?!" Coach Finstock questioned annoyed. "Erica, just fall back, there's a mat that will catch you." 

She slowly let go of the wall and made her descent. No one seemed to care that the poor girl was shaken to the core; they all laughed.

When class was over everyone headed to their respective locker rooms to change. Something inside me kept pulling me back to the gym, so I walked back as I put on my shirt. As I opened the doors, I saw Erica fall from the wall and luckily into Scott's arms. He slowly put her on the floor as the class ran in behind us. 

"Put her on her side," I stated. 

"How did you know?" Allison whispered to Scott.

"I just felt it." He whispered back. 

After Erica had calmed, the coach called an ambulance to take her to be checked at the hospital and the day went by normally. I was currently in my "last" period. Tapping my nails in a rhythmic pattern waiting for the stupid bell to ring. Only 5 more minutes and I would be out of here. This was the first time I had done something like this. I always stick by the rules and make sure to follow all of them. My heart was racing, and my palms were sweating. In 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Cue the bell. I grabbed all my things and stuffed them in my bag. I used to my advantage the fact that everyone was piled in the hallway and headed outside. Waiting for me was Derek in his black Camaro. Suddenly my heart steadied its pace and I felt relaxed.

"Hey there, rebel." He smirked at me as I entered the car and buckled my seatbelt.

"Don't make small talk. Just go." I said whilst trying to hide by burrowing in the seat. If I could I would have jumped into the trunk to avoid any hidden stares from authority figures.

"Don't tell me you've never done this before." I shook my head no and felt my face growing warmer by the second. "Aw, you're so innocent. For a big mouth that is." I slapped his arm as hard as I could.

"Don't be rude." I crossed my arms, slouched down, and pouted. He looked over at me and laughed. That made me slouch farther down.

"Oh, come on. Don't get mad." He ruffled my hair and laughed once again when I swatted his hand away. "Yeesh, feisty."

"So, where's our first pit stop?" I asked whilst looking out the window not wanting to look at his face.

"A small diner I know. Wouldn't want you to starve." He smirked. "Might make you angrier."

"I am not angry, just annoyed."

"Got some feelings hurt?" He said laughing.

"Derek, don't be rude. You will regret it."

"Oh, what could you do?"

"Is that a challenge?" He didn't answer, just laughed. I rolled down the window and stuck my head out. "HELP!! This man is kidnapping me!! HELP!! Bloody he...!" 

My sentence was cut short by Derek's hand pulling me down by my jacket and onto the seat again.

"Why did you do that?" I asked innocently. I had caused the faces of a few people on the street to look at the car in horror.

"You know why! That was totally uncalled for."

"I told you that being rude was something you would regret. I'm not one to say this a lot but, I told you so." 

He tried his best to keep a tight scowl on his face but in a matter of seconds, we were laughing at my past actions.

"Whatever, we're here." He turned off the car and went to the passenger side to open the door for me. 

"Why thank you," I said and took his extended hand to pull my weight up. 

"No problem." I smiled at his goofy courtesy but as we walked inside the establishment I could feel my heart beating faster by the second. "Table for two." Derek pointed at a booth made for two people exactly. Once we had sat down a lady maybe in her late thirties approached us to take our order.

"What do you want to order today, darlings?" She gave us a warm smile as she waited for our response.

"I'll have the bacon cheeseburger with some onion rings, a stack of pancakes, and some chicken fillets, a Diet Coke, and afterward some pie, please."

"Would you like the kitchen sink with that?" I said in shock. "I think I'll just get the, ummmm, bacon cheeseburger also with some onion rings and an iced tea. Maybe add some pie afterward too."

The lady laughed a bit, nodded, and smiled at us as she turned to the kitchen to put out our order. 

"So, someone's a bit hungry. Huh, sour wolf?" I chuckled.

"Why do you call me that?" He said somewhat annoyed.

"I don't know. It just fits you."

"How?"

"Cause you're very sour and you kind of look like a wolf. Hairy face and crazy hair. I don't know how to explain it. It's just a nickname, though. If it makes you mad I can just call you something else."

"I'm not mad. Just wondering." He slouched on the seat looking less tense. "How is it that I'm usually so bad with meeting people yet with you, I just clicked?"

"I don't know. I'm just special that way."

"Very funny."

"I know! I could take up a career in comedy." He chuckled as he threw a sugar packet at me. "So, since we are getting to know each other we should know basic things about one another. Let me start. What's your favorite color?"

"Maybe black or blue. What about you?"

"Totally red and black." The waitress came with our drinks. I took a sip of my iced tea and continued with the questions. "Favorite place to be?"

"That house in the woods where we met." I gave him a weird look.

"Why there? It barely stands with a foundation. What could possibly be there?"

"It's the house I used to live in before it burnt down. My family was in there." I choked on my drink when he said this.

"Oh my gosh, Derek. I'm so sorry I brought it up. We can drop the topic."

"Don't worry about it. It happened such a long time ago it's sometimes relieving talking about it." After there was an awkward silence, so Derek cleared his throat and asked a question. "Um, and what's your favorite place to be?"

"I'm not sure. Usually, I like places more because of the people I'm with. But if I had to choose probably the woods, it's the calmest place I know. The only place where you can actually be free."

"Wow, Ms. Argent. So poetic. It touched me." He pointed at his heart. "Right here."

"Very funny, now, favorite sport?" And the game went on even when our food served. Whilst eating we kept asking each other questions and getting to know each other profoundly. This has been the first time I had ever opened up to someone. It felt strange. Letting someone know small details about yourself. Making yourself vulnerable to them. Showing them how they could break you. But this was different. I felt like I was just becoming closer to him.

"We should do that someday. I mean the thought of just leaving for a whole day, not knowing where you are going, just finding an adventure."

"Definitely. You decide when the first time." I smiled at him.

"That's a deal." He looked down at his watch. "I think it's time I take you home. Don't want your parents to worry."

"Alright. Let's go." I grabbed my bag and was about to pay my part of the check, but he wouldn't let me. He grabbed the money I left and paid completely. "I don't understand the need of being such a gentleman if this wasn't a date. Just two people hanging out."

"So, this wasn't a date?"

"You thought it was?" I thought about it. "What do you classify a date per se?"

"An outing in which two people go out and get to know each other a little bit more." What he said made sense. It had never dawned on me that this could have been anything other than just a casual outing, but not being too well versed in normal social encounters, let alone dating encounters. 

"Alright, you win. I have officially gone on my first date."

"No way. This could not have been your first date." When he saw the serious look on my face, he stopped chuckling. "I'm so sorry you had to have given you such a crappy first date. I promise I'll make up for it one day."

"Deal." We even shook on it. "Now let's get going before my parents know I'm late."

During the drive back, he pointed out different key places I should know when going around Beacon Hills as well as easier routes to these places. Although I was heavily grateful for all the useful tips, my brain could hardly remember the first route he showed me. 

When we got to my house, I noticed that my father's car was not in there. I guess they haven't arrived yet. I said goodbye to Derek and entered the house, thanking him for a lovely afternoon. I changed into workout attire and, deciding to stay home, went to the basement and started working out. After half an hour of running and half an hour of physical training, I decided it was enough and went to take a shower. I noticed that my parents weren't home yet.

"I wonder what's holding them back?" After my shower, I continued my current read of Pride and Prejudice. But something was bothering me, a thought that wouldn't leave my head.

I'm leaving once the year is over. Getting close to Derek will fuck me up once I leave. I've never had to say goodbye to anyone. I can't start now. I'll need to start avoiding him. Don't know how, but I must try.

I went downstairs to get a glass of water when I heard a knock on the door. It was Uncle Chris.

"Hey, Uncle Chris. What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for your father. Is he here?"

"No, I haven't seen him. I got here and neither mom nor dad was here. Is something wrong?"

"No. Just couldn't reach his cell. I'm sure he's fine. Have a good night, sweetheart." He kissed my forehead and left. I started to worry. What if something had happened?

So, I decided to call him. Fortunately, he picked up.

"Dad, where are you?"

"Oh, honey, I forgot to tell you. Your mom and I will be out for the rest of the week. We left some money on the first drawer of the right side of the kitchen island and if you want you can stay with your uncle."

"But Uncle Chris came by and he didn't know where you were. Does he know you left?"

"Oh, I forgot to call him. I'll do that right now. Goodnight, munchkin, go to sleep."

"Goodnight, dad. Love you."

"Love you too." I hung up the phone and went upstairs completely forgetting about the glass of water I went to drink.

My phone buzzed and I looked at the caller ID signaling that Isaac was calling.

"Hey, Isaac."

"Hey, (Y/N). Um, do you think you can pick me up?" Isaac said in between short pants.

"Sure, where are you?" I asked. He told me where he was, and I took the keys to my mother's car to look for Isaac. He looked scared and frantic when I neared the spot, he told me about. His physique also looked different. Usually, he would walk cowering but now he stood tall and seemed a bit more buff. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just, um, do you think I could stay with you tonight?"

"I guess." I started driving to my house. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, totally. Just tired." I took the hint. He didn't want to talk, and I wasn't going to press on.

At my house, I arranged the guest room and got him spare clothes to change into. He thanked me and left for the bathroom. Something was wrong. But what?

***

Three days had passed.

Three days that I had stayed in my house for my daily workout.

Three days that my phone had been buzzing with messages from Derek asking where I was.

Because three nights before I had decided to avoid Derek at all costs.

The only way to leave it all behind is if you don't associate yourself with anyone. That way you won't feel any remorse or pain once you disappear. One time when I left was when I was approximately six or seven years old, and I had to say goodbye to Allison since we were sharing a room at that time. The second time was when I had to leave Josie. After that, I started familiarizing myself with the feeling of loneliness.  It wasn't that bad once you remembered the fact that you would always see your parents when you got home, and everything would be better. Although, these days I had housed Isaac in my house, rare was the occasion that we interacted other than doing homework. Isaac would come home late in the night and quickly went to sleep. But, he stayed in my spare room for two nights and told me he had found a place to stay. He left thanking me for my hospitality.

When I finished my workout, I ran upstairs and took a shower. I changed from my stinky workout clothes to a plain white shirt and black jeans, obviously paired with my leather jacket. Once dressed I went downstairs and grabbed some cash to buy myself a muffin and a big coffee. Finally, I found the keys to my beautiful matte black Harley Fat Bob. My father had gotten me this motorcycle about two years back when he noticed I just kept crashing cars. The only thing I never crashed was his motorcycle and because he was worried I would, he bought me my own. I tend to wreck a lot of stuff. It's not intentional, I'm just clumsy at times.

I opened the door to the garage and noticed it sitting in a corner covered by a blanket. Once I took it off, I smiled. I passed my hand over the beautiful color, the smooth surface, the cold metal. It all felt familiar. A part of me. I grabbed my helmet and got on it. Once I sat my body felt relaxed, at ease. A spark of adrenaline was shot through my body when the engine came to life.

I backed up from the garage and went to the local café store. While waiting to pick up my order I noticed Derek walking in with his jogging clothes on. He still hasn't noticed me, too busy looking at the menu. When my name was called, he looked at me and called my name, but I ran out of the café with my order ignoring him.

When I got to the school everyone was staring at me. The new chick was now badass. I walked in with my backpack slung over my shoulder easing towards my locker.

"Hey there, gorgeous." I closed the locker door to see Jackson standing next to me. I rolled my eyes.

"Hi, Jackson. What do you want?"

"I was just wondering when you were free."

"Oh, well from tomorrow to never gonna happen. Get down from the cloud, buddy."

"Oh, come on, we both know you want some of this." He motioned over his body.

"Get over yourself." I scoffed.

"Babe, it doesn't hurt to try."

"I believe she's not interested, Jackson." A strawberry blonde girl appeared. Her confidence struck me like lightning, a very apparent aura of dominance radiating from within her.

"Why don't you mind your own business, Lydia. I'm talking to her, not you. You've already ruined everything else."

"Well, I think she has no business with you so why don't you scram?" With a huff and a puff, Jackson finally gave in and I turned to greet my hero, who was surprisingly accompanied by Allison.

"Thank you, so much. He wouldn't take no for an answer."

"No problem. I'm Lydia, but you knew that."

"(Y/N). Argent." She motioned between Allison and me. "Cousins."

"Pleasure." Then the bell rang. "Guess I have a new best friend, (Y/N)." You guessed wrong.

I entered Mr. Harris' classroom and sat down next to Isaac and as usual Mr. Chatty Pants tried to hold a conversation from the table behind us. Seriously, how much can someone talk? I took out my notebook and started writing down everything the teacher was saying is the homework on the board. Stiles had finally gotten the hint and didn't talk to me the whole class. That was a relief. Maybe it was due to the fact he was too focused on the strawberry blonde who had saved my ass from Jackson.

The day went on quite smoothly except at lunch. It wasn't the same Erica that had fallen from the rock-climbing wall. She completely changed; a more confident walk, she was wearing makeup and tight-fitted clothing, and her hair was perfectly styled. She left the lunchroom after taking a bite off an apple seductively and Scott and Stiles followed, as did I. Curiosity had taken the best of me as to this overnight transformation.

She opened the front doors to the school and there he was. Derek Hale in his black Camaro with the biggest smirk on his face staring at Scott. When he directed his sight to me his smirk kind of fell but was brought up quickly. During that Erica had gotten inside the car and they left, together. I don't know why I was jealous because he meant nothing to me, but it broke my heart. I got nervous. I think Scott noticed because he looked at me worried.

"Are you okay, (Y/N)?" I nodded rapidly and out of breath. I had no idea what was happening.

"I think you're having a panic attack." Stiles pointed out handing me an inhaler.

"I used to have panic attacks, too." I inhaled a pump and my breathing seemed to normalize. "You okay now?"

"Yeah. Thanks." I handed him the inhaler.

"No, keep it. I don't need it anymore." I said a low thanks and walked back to school to head to my next class.

I felt extremely weird the rest of the day. Why did I feel that way when I saw Erica and Derek together? It wasn't like anything was going on between us. Also, he's far too old for me. Or maybe I'm too young. I don't know. But I couldn't shake off that sour taste of jealousy that the image of them left.

I knew I wanted to stay as far away as I could from hin but at this moment there was nothing more that I wanted than to be close to him.

Tag: @lokisgoddesofpower

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A/N: Please check out my last post about the fandoms I’ll be writing for. 

#derek hale #derek hale imagine #derek hale smut #derek hale x reader #stiles stilinski #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf smut #scott mccall #lydia martin #allison argent #chris argent #jackson whittemore #fanfiction #ao3 #wattpad #writing #isaac lahey #andreafmn #im not afraid #reader insert

[spamzineglasgow]

The Reach of a Root: An Interview with Laura Tansley and Micaela Maftei

Cover illustration: Naghmeh Sharifi ~ Author photo by Stewart Ennis (@StewartEnnis)

“Life isn’t threads, it’s actions. Deeds. Childhood is when you get everything wrong and nothing makes sense.” She shuddered theatrically. “Can you imagine if that extended into…today?”

(‘The Reach of a Root’)

> The Reach of the Root is a collection of short stories with a transatlantic twist. Co-written by Canada-based Micaela Maftei and UK-based Laura Tansley, the collection features an entirely interwoven voice, whose stories tell of everyday life, secrets, sexuality, gender, work, place and displacement. Many of the stories focus on characters at the point of change, rupture or transition, women at various stages of their lives. Drama is provided from scenes of flat-sharing, dinner dates, office politics and daily commutes. Maftei and Tansley flirt with the dark and gothic, Joyce Carol Oates style, while maintaining a satisfying crispness and existential friction that puts you in mind of Lorrie Moore or Lydia Davis. Still, there’s a Scottish humour in there that feels generous and warm, if often delivered through wry or slightly absurd situations – a little Alan Warner even, although unlike with much of Warner’s fiction, it might be tricky to call any of Maftei and Tansley’s characters heroines. But even as their protagonists are often held at an ironic distance, the wit of the prose makes every situation seem recognisable, relatable, even as the narrative then dashes your expectations.

> Craftily, the authorial power duo handle objects, arguments, moments of being, sex and a general contrariness. Title story ‘The Reach of a Root’ begins: ‘Clare got caught looking at her cunt’. The book depicts desire and dislocation with the cool directness and menace of Mary Gaitskill updated for the age of Facebook, ‘wellness’ and Fjällräven backpacks. Many of the stories bear a surreal quality, held in the turn of a sentence. You think you know where things are going, this seems a familiar scenario…but then the twist. Somehow, even the weirdest parts are delivered with a smarting matter-of-factness: ‘Christy often found herself thinking, What would Caroline do? She’d throw pieces of popcorn chicken at boys she liked the look of’ (‘The Woods from the Trees’). Whole stages of life are condensed in a sentence, with the ease of your wittiest aunt telling tales of divorce down the pub: ‘She also left behind Tim, the latest example of why independence trumped headaches and someone else’s post filling the hallway and dark curling hairs left in the drying bottom of the bathtub’ (‘The Reach of a Root’). In many ways, most of these stories are about characters on the edge. Sometimes we fear for their lives, other times we laugh at them or question their poor judgment. Sometimes the characters are on the edge because they’re the dangerous ones, as in ‘What Lies Ahead’, where the narrator torments unsuspecting coffee shop customers with incongruous questions of identity.

> What the collection captures is the strangeness of contemporary life through these mundane situations, staged askew. It feels like everybody is plotting something – maybe there’s a dash of Muriel Spark in there. Maybe it’s something in the capacity of collaboration that allows for this containment of surprise or distortion with economy. Sharp and addictive, these stories are earthy, rich and tactile to the highest detail: ‘From then it was wild mushrooms, vibrant broccoli, a fat heirloom tomato that lasted two days, and then eventually on to a final graduation of avocado, goat’s cheese and fresh blueberries that she burst against her palate with a slender finger that she then drew out of her mouth, sucking the purple skins from between her teeth’ (‘Blind Spots’). For all this talk of the New Weird in fiction, what The Reach of a Root is doing, perhaps, is a twisted realism where the clarities of familiar mise en scene are knotted, crooked and contorted with the existential intensities that grow out of contemporary confusions around identity, cohabitation and hospitality, intimacy, precarious labour, leisure and general urban living. Twisted realism is a distorted sociology of the present moment that nonetheless carries us through timeless dramas of human relations; its woven voices reach towards that space, a something else, a desire in excess of what we see.

> After attending a workshop Maftei and Tansley hosted at the University of Glasgow on the topic of Collaborative Short Fiction, Maria Sledmere interviewed the pair over email to find out more about their writing process, friendship and the book itself.

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I believe you both met on the Creative Writing PhD at the University of Glasgow. What got you starting to write together?

We were doing everything else but! Shortly after we met we realised our lives and interests overlapped tremendously – in terms of work, research, friends, writing, everything. Writing fiction together was the last in a long list of co-‘s – we organised a conference, led postgraduate skills workshops, worked together in Glasgow-area secondary schools, became flatmates… we figured if everything else was working out, why not try this too. Initially we responded to a call for submissions for a short story collection, Tip Tap Flat, and because that process was fun and was accepted into the anthology, we kept writing.  

How did the idea for the book come about?

We pretty much just had enough stories to start thinking ‘we can definitely get enough for a collection’. That and our conviction that the work needed and could find an audience. It began to feel like readers would benefit from having a longer engagement with the work, and how the stories were informing each other by building themes.

Did you take inspiration from any previous examples of co-writing?

Not really. If anything, we took inspiration from the lack of co-written stories we saw around us. In other fields, working together is necessary/the norm, but we didn’t see anyone else co-writing short fiction.

In the co-writing fiction workshop you hosted at the University of Glasgow back in June, you spoke of how many publishers you initially approached were suspicious of your process. Although interdisciplinarity and collaborative practice are becoming more popular across the arts, often there’s still this material or institutional resistance to having your work recognised and supported. Why do you think this is?

Maybe a few reasons, or a mix of a few. I think there’s still a sense of fiction writing as the product of a unique, inner voice. We hear a lot about ‘writing what you know’ or your advantage as a writer being your own unique worldview. Which isn’t wrong, but does underscore this idea that good and/or true and/or authentic writing can only come through one person’s life or voice. I think in writing programs, which we were both part of and trained in, there’s encouragement to find that voice, to control it, access it, etc.

MM aside: I also frankly think that a lot of people don’t want to co-write. For a lot of people writing is deeply personal, and that’s one of the things that’s important about it. I have a lot of interests that I like to pursue by myself and wouldn’t want to do in a pair. I think for many people writing is something they don’t want to share. Which I completely get.

LT aside: Perhaps our experience with specific publishers was also framed by their particular need to invest in projects that are commercially viable. We’re maybe a little risky. Luckily for us we found a publisher who thought that could be exciting.

How did you manage the writing process in practical terms, given your busy lives and geographic distance?

We use email, sending the work back and forth as an attachment. We don’t have any schedule or timeframe in place when we write; I think doing so would really be detrimental to the process, in fact. We don’t push it – we’ve had stories that were more or less done within a week, and stories that have taken months. But the process is so energising that we often really want to get to it and work on it and send it back for more.

Did anything happen that surprised you? Were there any significant comprises made?

No. Together we made a choice to drop one of the stories from the collection because we thought the collection as a whole would be stronger without a story that explored a similar experience to “The Reach of a Root”. We love the story though, and it was recently published by Mechanics Institute Review.

MM aside: I wonder if the fact that we both write other material has helped offer another space in which we don’t have to feel any sense of compromise. If I have some idea, or bit of characterization or whatever, that I feel absolutely hasto exist in writing, I can just go ahead and make it come to life exactly on my terms in another piece of writing.

So far as surprises go – it wasn’t much of a surprise, but I’m always grateful to get a hit of ‘being seen’; I find often between Laura and I there’s a really deep level of understanding. We are quite different people, I’d say, and we move in the world differently and seem to want and need quite different things, but in some way, in some particular slice of life, we’ve just had so many interactions or conversations or exchanges where I feel like she absolutely knows what I mean, what I’m after, what I’m saying – I just feel convinced of it.

LT aside: I genuinely can’t think of a reason or a situation in which a compromise would be needed; that’s been my experience of co-writing with Micaela. Would a compromise have to occur because of a singular vision? Or an idea that one person is convinced of and the other isn’t? If so, that experience or practice just hasn’t been part of our process. I wonder if that’s because we have always been interested in the co- part of the writing. When I begin a project I don’t think, ‘this is an idea I want to explore’; I think, ‘this is an idea Micaela and I could explore’. That mindset is imperative. It also helps that by some piece of fantastic fortune, combined with our own work and development as people, we have a deep understanding of each other. It’s sickening really.

So much of the collection is about the movement between private and public, the space of conversation and inner monologue, motivation versus social performance. How does collaborative writing challenge your sense of ‘privacy’ as writers?

Great question. The privacy of early drafts and experiments had to go straight away, but we do write separately and always have done – even when we lived in the same city. So we do retain a sense of privacy in that the act of writing doesn’t happen in front of each other.

LT aside: I’m not sure that I would describe that process as something ring-fenced, personal, or something I feel a right to, however. But I think it’s a really interesting idea to consider writing as an act, and I wonder how I perform it differently as a co-writer, especially when everything we write is a gift intended for the other. I suppose I need to be observed but then we’d be getting in to Physics…

MM aside: We’re like married people where one’s brushing their teeth while the other has a pee. There’s no privacy and I don’t really miss it. But again – I think this is tempered by the fact that I have my own writing where I can go away and be secretive and tentative and private if I want or need to.  

Is fiction especially poised to explore the relationship between public and private? Why?

Not sure we understand fully….the relationship, within one person, between their public and private self? Or the more general concept of that which is public and that which is private, and how we might understand both? We don’t think that fiction is especially poised to explore such a relationship.

MM aside: I do think that fiction is working at its best when a ‘made-up story’ manages to access profound truths about selfhood or the human condition – the great messes we make, as bumbling humans, trying to move around each other and in this world, continually fucking up. When it gets it right, and has something to say about that, I think readers can get a deep, inner, ‘private’ sense of understanding.

You both co-edited the anthology Writing Creative Non-fiction: Determining the Form (2015). In the book’s introduction you write, ‘Unclear boundaries between fact and fiction can be freeing, allowing authors to tell stories using the structures, techniques and language of fiction, poetry and non-fiction, creating unique and personal testimony. In this way creative non-fiction can become a highly individual truth’. How do you experience writing fiction versus creative non-fiction, if we are to cautiously permit that binary of forms? Is there something particular about one’s ‘individual truth’ that is paradoxically revealed through co-writing?

Our process – an email exchange, a back and forth – has been the same for all the writing we have done together so far, although our intention is what drives us in different directions and produces those different forms.

As for an individual truth, we don’t think so, although that’s an interesting idea. For these stories, we’re committed to serving the story, and letting the story guide us. Which is such a fuzzy and ambiguous way to describe writing, but there you have it. For example, one of us might change something about a plot, or a character, which moves the story in a direction that the other may not have anticipated. And if that’s the right thing to do, and if that takes the story to the right place, then that’s where we go. If we were using this writing to give voice to our individual truth, then that would be a fundamental conflict of interest. We wouldn’t be able to permit that. Without the openness to let the other change tack suddenly and build something that is truthful for both of us I think the co- experience would be compromised (this links back to your question on compromising, above).

Would you say collaboration is a particularly feminist act? I’m thinking of how Sara Ahmed describes citation practices as a ‘rather successful reproductive technology, a way of reproducing the world around certain bodies’. Although The Reach of a Rootis clearly fiction, not academic writing, I wonder if there is something ‘citational’ about the way your collaboration works, the way you take each other’s voices and make a thicker weave around gendered scenes.

MM aside: I’m not sure I understand – a thicker weave, i.e. using two (women’s) voices to produce gendered scenes (i.e. scenes about women and women’s lives?) such that the two voices amplify each other?

LT aside: I’m curious about the idea of citationality (is it possible to make this a noun?). There’s something apt about describing co-writing as citational if it foregrounds the conversation that occurs. But it also might suggest a reference to something previous, something created separately and then brought in to the conversation, which would seek to diminish the concurrent way we co-write – always with the project in mind, with each other in mind, always simultaneous in the sense that although we might write alone, we are both always present.

You said something about your process in the workshop which really struck me: ‘Every sentence is an offer’. I was thinking about the word ‘offer’ and then ‘tend’, as in tender: an offering, a caring or compassion, a proposition but also a kind of bid, an estimate, a submission. There’s this thing Hélène Cixous says in Stigmata where she’s like, ‘Extend the hand, write, and it’s all over with the end. Writing is the movement to return to where we haven’t been “in person” but only in wounded flesh, in frightened animal, movement to go farther than far, and also, effort to go too far, to where I’m afraid to go’. I love thinking about that quote in the context of the title, The Reach of a Root and the idea that co-writing is inherently a deictic gesture that reaches between text and world, invites the reader as writer, the writer as reader. In what ways do you think fiction can reach towards this ‘movement to go farther than far’, and is fear the affect you experience when attaining a writerly intimacy with this vulnerable beyond?

MM aside: I’m going to approach this sideways, because frankly there’s a lot here, and touch on the idea of fear. I think it’s an important one, and I think very often writing can serve as a way to go to scary places. Writing itself can be scary, and/or a way to remember/explore/understand frightening things, either things that have actually happened to you, or things you are frightened of happening, or both. For me, writing with Laura always carries with it the sense that someone’s there. I don’t feel that these stories are in any way triggering for me, nor do I feel our writing is getting close to any areas where I’m scared to go, but I do feel comforted by the fact that someone else is there. I suppose again this somewhat returns to the privacy question – whatever privacy I may have given up (which is negligible, in my view) is amply compensated for by the good feeling that someone else is there, that whatever the writing needs to figure out will be done together, that wherever it leads, I won’t be alone. And again, I’m stressing that never in these stories have I come close to feeling like I’m anxious or scared about the process or the topics.

LT: There was certainly a sense of trepidation and exposure when we first co-wrote fiction together. First words, first drafts occupy vulnerable spaces I guess. I responded to that with typical self-deprecation, and a lot of our email exchanges at this time offer the other a caveat of recusal, ‘if you think this is shit please delete’ etc. I was conscious that I respected Micaela and her writing a great deal, and I wanted to meet her in that place. I was never fearful or scared, but we did care for each other in these early moments by being sensitive, and in my case, diminishing, in case what I offered Micaela wasn’t worthy of her time.

I love this line from ‘Wednesdays’: ‘Once when Monica was checking Facebook, which she always does at the end of the day, she said, “Oh jeez, look, Urban Outfitters are selling Walkmans”’. There’s this whole irony about the commodification of nostalgia, but also the fact of putting words like ‘Facebook’ within narrative prose. Does it instantly become static, a relic of ‘era’ or a code-word that activates from wherever the reader exists in time?

It’s doing some work to fix the stories in a time and a place but allows it to travel too, to meet the reader wherever they’re at. Readers will respond to those ‘era-specific’ words based on where they are, and that time and place will carry different connotations as time passes, as they move deeper and deeper into the past. That’s fine. That’s normal.

I’m interested in what we mean when we call a work ‘contemporary’. How do you see the interface between material detail in fiction and this thing called ‘the present’? The Reach of a Root feels relatable now, but somehow I reckon it’s immune to the kinds of instant-datedness found in a lot of contemporary fiction which references brands, social media and so on. Consumption, in its various forms, is a big theme of the book. Was the decision to include product names and other concrete details deliberate/critical, or was it more about establishing ‘local colour’ as such?

Ultimately it’s about being true to how the characters see the world and what’s important to them. There’s also a lot of fixedness that deliberately isn’t included – many stories lack a clearly stated setting, for example. We’re excited when writers manage to get a location or an image in my mind without explicitly stating it.

Your publisher is Glasgow-based ‘Vagabond Voices’, who describe themselves as ‘both Scottish and fervently European in [their] aims’. A lot of your characters, while seemingly tied to specific situations, are yearning for something else or somehow cast adrift – ‘vagabond voices’ might be a nice way to describe the way your own voices ‘float’ into another space within the movement of collaborative fiction. How important is this openness, this traversal of borders or spaces, to your practice and creative outlook? What was your experience of working with Vagabond Voices?

This traversal of borders and spaces is key. And as you say, it’s maybe balanced by the way a lot of the people in the stories are ‘locked in’ to certain situations or problems or places. Writing has been a way to cross time and space, to hold on to some things longer than might otherwise have been possible, to propel ourselves into new spaces. Writing is time travel, is space travel.

MM aside: It’s so, so important to me to feel that my writing can help me go places, and take me to new places, and for this project specifically, writing has been nothing less than the thing that has tied us together (but not the only thing).

LT: The funding our practice receives has allowed us to travel, to spend time together, so it has been worth the investment both professionally and personally.

You hosted several workshops on co-writing fiction around the book’s launch in June. Did you find audiences were enthusiastic or curious about collaborative practice or was there some resistance? How are you finding the book’s reception more generally?

The people that signed up were already curious, thankfully. It takes a very specific kind of person to sign up to a co-writing workshop to critique and resist co-writing; those people have been few and far between in our experience. Participants were interested in the practicalities of the process more than expected. We love to engage with the more theoretical, shall we say, parts of it – who do you become when you blend your voice with someone else’s??, stuff like that. In the workshops we felt people were really curious whether we used email or Google docs. No resistance, though – that would have been very depressing.

Anyone exciting you’ve been reading, viewing or listening to lately?

We’ve read and talked a lot about the article “Mother Writer Monster Maid”. We also just read “The Crane Wife” in The Paris Reviewand marvelled at how sometimes good writing just feels like it fell out of someone’s pocket, so easy and deceptively simple. Actually, we talked about that loads with an excerpt from Normal Peoplethat was in Granta, trying to figure out how Sally Rooney did it, before she totally exploded. (Though I suppose she does it the same way now.)

MM aside: I read Rachel Cusk’s memoirs recently. Aftermath felt more brutal than A Life’s Work (which in fact didn’t feel brutal at all),and I think I was expecting the reverse. I’ve been listening to a selection of old Rihanna songs while answering these questions, toggling back and forth between videos. What a fucking goddess. I’ve got Three Women on hold at the library.

LT aside: I’m reading A God in Ruinsby Kate Atkinson and it’s unlike anything I’ve read before. The way it moves between characters and in time, it’s really fun and compelling. I’m watching Documentary Now! which manages to achieve parody without being smug. It’s just really funny. Right now I’m listening to Steve Lacy. I like the Prince vibe and all the sex.

Anything more you’d like to say about The Reach of a Root or what you’re working on now?

We’re cracking the Canadian market with ROAR of course. And slowly building towards another co-project which we really ought to just dive into, but it’s going to be quite different again for us so we have no idea how it will turn out.

MM aside: I’m trying to get a new project. I want to start a new personal novel project. There, I said it. Now I have to do it. I’m at the stage where bits are coming to me, snippets of dialogue or description or setting. I just need to wait until I’ve got enough of them that a frame starts to emerge.

LT aside: I’m always trying to write funny, sexy, odd poems. 1 in 10 of them achieve this maybe. I’ve written a couple of scripts I like; I hope they reach an audience one day.

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The Reach of a Root is out in September 2019 via Vagabond Voices. You can order your copy here.

Published 23/8/19

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