Remembering The Why Part 4: Writing In Circles

I love those moments when something just clicks. I’ll write something for no reason other than to have something to say, and later I’ll get an amazing idea of how to connect it all together. Again, just walking through the world and seeing what I find that I want to show to others. It’s like I’ve got these dolls that I’m playing with, except that they talk to me and move on their own. Sometimes I give them a nudge or a drop them in a new setting, and then I record the simulation because of how fascinating I find it.

They’re Choking

“Are you saying you want to die?” Her voice was even, without any judgment, but her fingers tightened against his head.

“Yes. No. Sometimes. I just don’t want to feel this anymore. I do belong with those men. And that kills me. I think the same way that they do. That I deserve to be angry. That everything that happened is your fault, and that I was just some sort of victim of circumstance. That any time I thought about hurting you or almost did hurt you, that it was just natural, that it’s better that I think about it, because that’s what’s keeping me from doing it.

Graceful Jake McGuinness

So i discovered a thing. My original intention was to find one of those things where you can make a robot read a bunch of examples and then generate it’s own version of the work, and I ended up finding Plot Generator. It’s basically mad libs, where you put in a bunch of information and then it gives you a story. It can be really funny because even though you’ll be putting in info thinking it will be used one way, it ends up being completely different.

The More The Merrier

“Do you believe that he brings people together for a reason? I keep thinking I might be deluding myself that I can be there for her and Dre. How can someone like me be what they need? But I can’t leave.”

“Why do you want to leave?”

“Because I don’t deserve them. Not even a little.”

He wasn’t sure what Rowan saw in his face, because he didn’t even know that he was about to cry until she scooted over to him, and wrapped him in a hug. For a moment, he was stunned, but then he brought his hands up, and hugged her back, wrapped up in her floral, old-lady perfume. Though he was at least three times her size, he felt so small, once again.

Safe In His Arms Again

Rising gracefully, he eased the guitar to hang across his back. He was wearing a white shirt, which usually dimmed the intensity of his eyes, but today he looked so happy that nothing could erase their gleam. They were like fiery diamonds. “I’m so glad you’re alive,” he said, sitting on the bed and leaning over to kiss her.

She caressed the soft bristles of his face, then twined her fingers in his silky waves. They were longer, curling at the ends and brushing the back of his neck. His skin smelled like hibiscus, and his breath tasted like cinnamon. She sighed into his familiar warmth.

“How long have I been out?”

Just a Small Neurotic Break

Lanie was clearly going through some sort of mental breakdown. And oh, was it something to behold. The violent dance of death was beautiful. Terrifying. And strangely intimate. Jealousy prodded Ben, in the same place where she’d poked her stick into his belly. It wasn’t that he wanted to be in Jake’s place right then. But just to share that closeness with her. To have her attention fully on him, acutely aware of every inch of his body and every move he made. Jake and Lanie seemed to read each other’s minds.

Toeing the Line

“Hang the children!” snapped Wallstead unapologetically. “Do you think I’m blind? That I was born yesterday? I’ll have you know that I’m nearly twice your age, missy. I swear by our Lord above, I’ve been healing people since longer than you’ve been alive. If there’s deference to be shown, it’s to me.”

“Nurse Wallstead – ”

She crossed her arms. “By God, if you were my daughter – ”

“I’d be dead, then, wouldn’t I?”

Silence. The words were out before Lanie could stop them. They were faster than the hand she slapped over her mouth. Faster than the iron bars that slammed down over Emma Wallstead’s face. Ben’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he looked between them in horror.

“Lanie!” he gasped, a delayed reaction.

“I – I’m sorry, Emma.”

And she fled.