Howdy! I may have spent a late morning reading about alloys and atoms and densities and tensile strengths and *sigh*

Why?

What an outrageous question to ask! But alas, it was to describe the ammunition for a railgun I may or may not really use in my #HansuLegacy books. Who knows, it might literally be a Chekov’s gun situation…assuming I at all remember them. Believe me, I do so want to see a certain character wreck havok with it, but ya know, safely…to some degree…

Okay so “both”, “either”, and “all” are in the same niche of english, but how?

Like quantity descriptors?? Anybody understand this

I wrote 27712 words into Defending Savaria. 24033 of which were during the 5 days of my disappearance.

“I’m sorry.”

The words were odd to B’s ears, but he didn't allow himself to accept them. “You’re not, and you shouldn’t be.” A looked back at him with confused eyes. “You can’t be sorry for doing nothing that is wrong. Your words and actions have always guided me, surely you must know that. You have kept me pushing against all odds.”

She turned away from him. “That’s because you’re stubborn.” She almost smiled.

“No, it’s because I love you,” B blurted. He didn’t even realize what he said until he saw the shock on A’s face as she turned back.

Her jaw actually dropped a bit. Her face and ears reddened but she didn’t know what emotions caused it. Some part of her mind turned back on. “What was in those potatoes?” she asked, thinking he was joking or had a Freudian slip.

The look in his eyes was too sincere for it to have been a joke. They seemed downcast at her comment, likely only a fragment of the devastation he felt. A felt guilty for this pain. She didn’t know how to respond to the three words she’d secretly wanted to hear her whole life. And now that she had, she had betrayed herself and hurt the sayer. A walked to the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s not a joking matter. I just don’t know how to respond right now. I don’t know how I feel,” she lied. “To hear it so suddenly and out of the blue…” she sighed. “B, B please look at me.” He did, and she nearly regretted her request. What was it about those damned hazel-green eyes that made her mind blank of all pretense? She swallowed the lump in her throat and had to look away. “I need time to think and process.”

“Is it something I’ve done?” The words were hollow as if they were the last things he wanted to say and be true.

A’s heart quickened with her mind. “No. No…?” Her shoulders sagged a little and she nearly plopped onto the bed with a heavy sigh, the upper half of her body on the mattress. She propped herself up on her elbows to see his face, but couldn’t look right at it. “I don’t think so. Maybe it’s just me,” she growled out in agony.

B reached out his hand and held and rubbed her extended hand tenderly. “You haven’t done anything wrong,” he reassured her. “Hey.” he gently used his left hand to turn her face towards him. “You have done nothing wrong.” He moved his hand back when he saw the way she looked at him. “I would give you all the time in the universe if you thought you needed it.”

She hated how his pleading eyes made her feel. She thought back to the concept of freedom, knowing that she was her own enslaver. A didn’t move lest she tightened her own chains. Oh but the way B looked at her as if he could rip them apart with his teeth. How she wanted him to, but fear kept her grounded. Fear of devastation. Fear of loss. The fear that comes with indulging in temporary things and knowing a consequence will come around sooner or later. Oh but how her heartbeat egged her to try.

FICTION!!! If I wanted real life I’d go outside and remember it’s not as great as I’d like it to be. Not to say fictional stories don’t have issues, but I don’t have to smell dog poop (we’re hoping it’s dog) when I read a character going to class like I do.

Swear, punch something, sit there like a stuttering idiot, go to reversedictionary.org , ask someone (sorry if I called you at a random hour, but I NEEDED IT), type the word I think it is even if google says it isn’t and then make a note to go back later and “put better word here, make it more _” so I know what I want when I finally get it. It’s really lots of googling words I do know and then scrolling through powerthesaurus.org until I see the one I knew I wanted. Like me remembering the close “tempestuous” and eventually getting “tumultuous”.

The war is over.

Play or practice volleyball, university assignments/studying, read, walk to a park and chill out, contact family so they know I’m still alive, play video games, or daydream a scene I want to write while doing any of the above. Listening to music is kind of a given (feel free to look at my chaotic spotify, link in bio).

Kitchi probably has a case of atychiphobia or kakorrhaphiophobia (fear of failure), and autophobia (being alone)

Considering the fact that all but my current rewrite draft have just been the previous version copy and pasted into a new doc and then edited from top to bottom…I’m going to go with revision. I avoided rewriting for a year, and I can see where my more pantser side probably shouldn’t have discovered this freedom until now.

Well it’s not going to be the sleep schedule.

I like getting lost in something that isn’t real. It’s like reading, but you sort of control what happens. If I want a certain kind of character to exist and do _, then I just tap away until I’ve written them into existence. Truly diving into something new and different from my everyday life is nice and sometimes calming (it’s my hobby after all).

Going towards NA rather than YA because there’s more graphical language. But if anyone specific…I guess my friends if they ever dare to open their copy of one of my other drafts smh. Also can I be my own ideal reader? Can I enjoy my own writing?

I dunno, I don’t really get crushes so if you’re looking for a confession…uh oh well buddy that’s rough

Love is the comforting silence. Love is a hand that perfectly fits into yours as if it was made for it. Love doesn’t fail or make excuses. Love will persevere and get you through it. Love picks you up at your lowest and encourages you with a smile or a hug or by pulling you back up and rising to the top with you. Love is always being there, not because they have to, but because they can’t get enough of you. Love is not letting go. Love is hurting with each other and recovering together. Love is acceptance and understanding. Love is late night chats and saying a million goodbyes and never leaving. Love is hearing the same story over and over to see the joy in their eyes, and that puppy-like energy. Love is forgiveness and mercy that doesn’t run out. Love is knowing so much about a person that they become a part of you; their memories become yours and your lives enter-twine. Love is motivating each other to strive for their goals. Love is watching their favorite movies, dancing to their favorite songs, and trying to re-create their favorite meals. Love is everywhere, and some mistake it for just being kindness.

Both, I’m a plantser. I make an outline, and then as I start going on with the outline I might write out a whole scene and then go back to trying to make an outline only to do it again. Or I’ll have a really specific scene idea and write it (this happened so much on W1B1’s first draft it was hectic and out of order; the only thing separating one idea from another in the document was “Idea #” and a normal person might’ve seen it and thought that meant chapters. No. No that would be too logical; I actually didn’t have split chapters until I finished the whole first draft and went in afterwards (see next slide for a little bit of what I mean).

“Don't look too far ahead. Just solve the next problem, then the next, then the next. Eventually, you'll either run out of problems or one of them will kill you. In either case, a solution.” -Joel Shepherd

“You can never get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough to suit me.” -C.S. Lewis

Don’t think you have to be in a certain mood or place to be able to write. Also, always be ready to write. What I mean by this is that you better have a pen or notes app ready at all times for when that random idea hits. I can almost guarantee that you’ll forget that plot hole patch or revolutionary idea if you wait until you come home and sit at a computer or “official notebook”. WRITE IT DOWN WRITE IT NOW; OUR BRAINS ARE AWFUL SOMETIMES ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ I beg.