sawyerquinnbrown
Sawyer Quinn Brown
Writer of plays, fiction, and blogs!
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femalebodyinspektor
The female form is Amazing and beautiful.
dogwaterdish
Dogwater
elendsessor
rolling eyes fall, ruling dies out
tenderbittersweet
Ta da!
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Spotlight on: Murder in a Cemetery
Here’s the cover for one of my published plays, Murder in a Cemetery, which is available for purchase at Next Stage Press!
A group of unusual characters gather for the vampire Lady Sanguina’s crypt-warming party. But halfway through Sanguina’s after-dinner speech, she coughs up blood and falls down dead. In this zany comedy, a vampire, a nonbinary zombie, a werewolf who doesn’t know she’s a…
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Everyone's Sick of Hearing about Gay Pirates
And now you will be, too! You’re welcome in advance.
As long as I can remember I’ve engaged with media differently than a lot of other people. You know how when you were a kid you would watch one movie over and over again? (Mine was the animated Cinderella.) Now that I am grown I still do that and am, if possible, even more annoying about it.
I go through phases: I will find a piece of media,…
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Spotlight on Space Team Go!
Here’s the cover of my published play Space Team Go!, which is available for purchase on Next Stage Press!
Space Leader Grizelda Braithwaite, Space First Officer Keem, and Space Officer Expendable are sent on a dangerous mission to recover a space diplomat – or is he a space prince? – from his kidnapping by the Big Dipper Syndicate. Along the way they encounter any number of obstacles, hula…
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Hey my dash is dead, can you reblog if you're a writer over 18? If you write mature themes and original work that's a plus, but I'll follow anyone who's writing.
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A Civilized Habit (Probably)
About five to six years ago I walked into work one day and told my coworkers, “I’m going to be a Tea Bitch.” My coworkers showed polite interest in this declaration, inquiring as to what being a Tea Bitch entailed.
“Basically,” I said, “I’m going to drink fancy tea. Probably with a pinky up.”
I had long since lost my tolerance for caffeine, so I began slowly, with the Twinings I remembered from…
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When A Craft Happens To You
It starts innocuously. You say to yourself, I used to have so much fun making origami stars. I should fold some more of those, it’s a fun way to spend a Sunday, making something with my hands. So you dig out some old scrapbooking paper you have laying around, hunt down your paper cutter, and cut yourself some strips.
Just a few, you tell yourself, and put on a YouTube video essay/episode of CSI/episode of The X-Files. You descend into a fugue state, the folding is meditative, and when you reach the end of the video essay/episode, you count your stars and say, I should do something with these. Have I started making my holiday gifts this year?
You dig into the depths of your OneDrive for the Word docs you made a few years ago, with the affirmation messages on them. Cute messages hidden inside origami stars, for gift recipients to open on a bad day for a phrase or sentence or quote to make them smile. Yes, you say to yourself. Holiday gifts.
It is June.
Over to the craft store you trot to pick up some cutesy little cork-topped jars, with accompanying twine to attach adorable labels reading ‘Lucky Stars’.
While I’m here, you think to yourself, in the aisles of Michaels, I should just drift through the scrapbooking section, in case they have some paper on sale.
The paper is on sale.
You spend $60 on jars and paper.
At home you print out your affirming messages on your beautiful new scrapbook paper, cut it into strips, and put on CSI starting with Season 1, Episode 1. The fugue state once more descends. Soon your coffee table is entirely covered by paper strips, little jars, and folded stars.
Next thing you know it’s time for dinner, and you’ve realized that if you’re giving these as gifts, you’ll need appropriately-sized gift boxes to wrap them in, with some fancy metallic tissue paper to go with them. While you eat, you make an Amazon order, costing you $60.
After dinner, back to folding. You disappear inside your head as your fingers fold, fold, fold. You look up: Netflix is asking you if you’re still watching. There are a thousand paper stars on your coffee table, and a number of them have fallen to the floor.
The cats have stolen fifty of the stars and are playing with them, losing star after star underneath the fridge.
Your fingers are tired. You need more paper. You have somehow spent $170 on this project in a day. You’ve finished the first season of CSI.
(If you have roommates, they are very annoyed at you.)
It is time for bed. The next day you awaken to the piles upon piles of stars, the filled jars piled haphazardly into a cardboard box. There are 30 plastic orb ornaments filled with 60 tiny stars apiece and covered in glitter.
It is time to stop, you tell yourself, and pack away the stars, the ornaments, the jars, the paper cutter. All disappear into your over-stuffed craft closet. That’s this year’s holiday gifts taken care of, and then some. You contemplate opening an Etsy shop, then slap your own wrist.
The coffee table is clear. You sit down on the couch.
I wonder if I can find some yarn and crochet hooks. I think I still have them tucked away under my bed.
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Laughing at Inappropriate Times
Sometimes things are just funny, okay? And sometimes they’re funny to you even if they’re funny to no one else.
I have a terrible habit of laughing at inappropriate times. I blame this at least partially on my family. For instance, when we were in the theater watching Spider-Man (the first one) (the one with Tobey Maguire) (I realize that this dates me, here, I was a teenager), my family and I…
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Poltergeists, Et Cetera: Chapter Eight
“Oh, it’s the plumbing,” said Mrs. Shins, dark skin looking thin as tissue paper with a voice to match, as she let them into the house. It was a detached house painted a cheery yellow, and as they had approached the shutters started banging open and closed and the lights began flickering from room to room.
The neighborhood was quiet, as Mac had predicted, with most of the cars gone from the…
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Poltergeists, Et Cetera: Chapter Seven
Tearing his gaze away from Caden’s, Joey called, “Mac, I’m showing Caden the safe!”
“Yeah, whatever!”
Leading the way through HQ to Mac’s cluttered office, Joey reached the safe first. It was a relatively small one, black metal, atop a file cabinet in the corner of Mac’s office. Instead of a combination lock, it just had a small handle in the front. “It’s keyed to mine and Mac’s soul…
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I hate to cook for myself. Give me a house of 6, 10, 20 people and yes, cooking is fantastic! I have Contributed! I have Made Others Happy! But just for me? No, no, no. Too Much Effort. When I make food for myself, it is Curséd food. Not delicious; merely sustenance.
So for a while there I was subsisting on frozen food that I could make in the toaster oven. Okay by ‘a while’ I mean years, and by…
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Poltergeists, Et Cetera: Chapter Six
It was chilly and rainy when Joey arrived early to work, and Mac was the only other one there, in his office typing slowly with two fingers on his ancient work computer. A half-eaten bologna sandwich sat on the desk, and Joey could smell the reek of the banana peppers as soon as he stepped in.
“Expense reports,” Mac said by way of greeting, sounding beleaguered. When Joey…
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Poltergeists, Et Cetera: Chapter Five
Crying out in pain as the hellhound’s jaws closed around his arm, Joey suddenly felt the pressure recede, and when he looked up he saw the hellhound once more sliding backwards across the floor, tearing furrows in the rug. Behind the creature stood Caden, hands grasping the air as if yanking backwards with a look of extreme concentration on his face.
“Joey, the Box!” came…
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Spotlight on: Poltergeists, Et Cetera
Joey Wilson is a member of the Chicago chapter of a nationwide organization of ‘fixers’—people who handle supernatural problems for a fee. Joey is quite happy as a Researcher, staying behind in headquarters to classify creatures and do paperwork, but orders come from on high that he’s to step out of his office and into the field. At the same time a new person joins their team: a handsome and…
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This is my new web novel, the first in a series of three! It's about a guy named Joey who lives in Chicago and works as a researcher for a team of people who fix supernatural problems. There are cool characters, fun action sequences, and a cute gay romance! I'd super appreciate it if you could give the first chapter a read to see if you like it. There are four chapters up now, and it updates Wednesdays and Saturdays. If you like it I sure would appreciate it if you could subscribe for future updates! CHECK IT OUT HERE.
Behind the read more is a sample of chapter one!
When Frankie came in with the gremlin, Joey was finishing up re-reading his favorite Company Manual, ‘Magical Denizens of the Midwest.’ Dismayed at the interruption, Joey tucked a hand under the back of his dreadlocks and rubbed at his neck.
Frankie’s short, black hair was falling out of its tight ponytail and wisps of it lay against the light brown skin of her face and neck. “Brought you a present,” announced Frankie in her New Zealand accent, shoving the protesting, handcuffed gremlin ahead of her into the back room. The little creature was human-shaped but about half-size, and a lurid green.
“So nice of you,” said Joey quietly, wrinkling his nose. The gremlin brought with it a stench of B.O. mixed with sulfur that immediately spread through the small room. Joey glanced nervously at the many reference books lining the walls, hoping the paper wouldn’t absorb the unpleasant smell. “Why is it here?”
Frankie admonished, “Speak up, bro. I can never hear you when you talk.”
“Why is it here?” repeated Joey patiently.
A heavy Chicago accent came through the open doorway. “We couldn’t categorize it.” Hanging up his bow and quiver on the wall, Mac pushed gray bangs back over his pale forehead and blew out a breath. The grin he flashed at Joey briefly rearranged the wrinkles on his face. “Needed your expertise.”
The gremlin gave a loud grunt. Green goo sprayed from all the pores left uncovered by its clothing, spattering the run-down furniture and bookshelves with a wet splork.
“What the hell!” Joey threw himself over the open book on the desk a fraction of a second too late. He sat up again, grimacing, green goo on the front of his shirt.
“Yeah, it’s been doing that,” said Frankie as if remarking on a mildly concerning sound her car had been making.
Please help me spread the word about my new novel! <3
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Poltergeists, Et Cetera: Chapter Four
Bright and early on Friday morning, Frankie, Indira, Joey, and Caden piled into the team’s blue minivan (“Like we’re soccer moms,” Indira quipped. “I love it.”) to go to the first gig of the day. Frankie drove, with Joey in the passenger seat and the other two in the back. Joey was looking over the brief for the client’s problem with horror, with Indira straining against her seatbelt…
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Poltergeists, Et Cetera: Chapter Three
After two days of studying the field manuals, Joey was deemed ready for weapons training. So following Joey’s ‘weekend’—Monday and Tuesday—Frankie dragged him out into the back alley first thing in the morning and handed him an antique silver hairbrush.
“Mac said you should use this one,” she explained as Joey examined the ornate detailing on the back of the brush. He ran…
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BREAKING NEWS: Writer discovers for the millionth time that they can write whatever they want. Join us now to see if the lesson will stick.
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