chisaki apologizing to eri and he just got proshetic arms and is still getting used to it so when eri wants to shake hands as a first step he feels awkward and says “sorry, i bet it’s not very pleasant to the touch. they’re cold” and eri just smiles big and goes “don’t worry. they become warm when other people touch them” and that single handedly changes chisaki’s perspective on physical touch

I don’t wanna taint the poll by adding this to it directly, but the thing that prompted me to creating it was that I’ve been working on sort of rewriting/refurbishing someone’s fanfic, and I was wondering if that was considered “taboo” amongst fanfic writers. No disrespect intended towards the original, but it was full of a lot of typos, grammar errors, and even just outright narrative inconsistencies so I’ve kind of been using it as an outline of sorts to write my own version.

I’ve also been like quadrupling the word count (that’s not hyperbolic either, their first chapter has like ~900 words whereas mine has ~3900), so I’m in this weird conflicted state where I’m like okay, it’s technically someone else’s idea, but I’ve added so much to it that it really feels more like mine than theirs. So I’m unsure of where the line is. I’ve added my own elements and completely changed the tone (it was one of those Y/N fics that I’ve completely changed to a pseudo-self insert/OMC).

I guess I’m just conflicted about whether I should draw attention to the fact that it’s someone else’s idea, or if since I’ve added so much to it already that it’s more mine than their’s anyhow and should just post it as unaffiliated.

Selfish R.C

okokok so I’m kind of nervous, it’s been awhile since i’ve really wrote stories so this could be shit but I was at work and the song Selfish by Madison Beer played in my headset and I got this idea and I spent the last two hours writing and rewriting. 

No warnings really, cursing, I probably have typos that I didn’t catch it’s 1am where I am and I am a tired girl but I wanted to post this now instead of waiting so I hope who ever reads this enjoys!

Rafe Cameron X Reader

(y/n) = your name

angst filled, one fluff moment

My requests are open, I do not do domestic violence, I do not write rape/sexual assault/self harm, I can imply it but I will not write it.

Rafe being an addict, no inclusion of his family or the pogues

Two years were being washed down the drain, you had finally decided to walk away and it was the most heartbreaking thing you could’ve done, no the most heartbreaking thing you could’ve done was sit and watched the boy you loved continiously treat you like shit while he threw his life down the drain. Rafe Cameron was perfect, or at least at some point, he had been. When you and Rafe started dating you felt like the stars were aligning. Girls want a fairytale and you couldn’t lie, it was never a fairytale with him, but he had those beautiful blue eyes and his smile...his smile was like watching a dad hold his child for the first time. He looked t you like you were the best thing to ever walk into his life, he made you feel welcomed and love, and though he was an asshole you were so blinded by the love that you thought he was giving you. 

You were sixteen when he asked you out, you had hung around him and his friends, his old group before Topper and Kelce. He asked you to the winter formal and who were you to refuse the ocean eyed boy. Your mother had been more than delighted when you told her Rafe Cameron asked you to the formal.

“Keep that one around, you’ll marry rich.” She told you as she helped you with your hair and this light makeup look she had told you would keep his attention, boys liked a natural look, although her hair was pinned up and her face caked on. She’d always say ‘the older you get the less a man might find you attractive’

“Money isn’t everything.” You mumbled at to your mom, “What if his family goes bankrupt?”

“The Camerons could never go bankrupt, if they do you run, your father’s money can only get you far but marry a man like Rafe Cameron and you’ll be set for life.” She told you pressing a kiss to the top of your head. A man, Rafe wasn’t a man, he was a boy who couldn’t get himself together but you didn’t know. 

When Rafe picked you up, his tie matching your dress, hair slicked back, and the brightest smile on his face when he led you out to his dads’ car. He took you to dinner and picked up the check, he opened the door and helped you out, he danced with you all night, and when he dropped you off he didn’t expect a kiss goodnight though you did give him one for a great night. Where was that boy? 

Boy, you're such a lost cause

Now your name is crossed off

How you gonna fix this?

You can't even fix yourself

Rafe was snorting a line at another kook party, you sat on the chair next to him tending to your drink, “Cmon babe.” He said as he handed you the rolled-up bill, you accepted handing him your drink as you looked at the white powder that was lined up perfectly, courtesy of your boyfriend. 

“If she isn’t going to do the line give it to someone who will,” Topper said as he reached for the bill aking you slap his hand away, you got off the arm of the chair lining the bill up as you snorted the line, you threw your head back, Rafe’s hands tending to your waist as he pulled you into his lap. One line and you were good, that’s what you said every time though you knew that you shouldn’t do any. Rafe turned your head that way you’d be looking at him, he brought his lips to yours and you accepted the kiss kindly. Topper snatched the bill out of your hand so he could do his line, the bill got past around and soon it was Rafes’ turn again. “Babe cmon, it’ll be here when you come back.” You told him but he accepted the bill anyways, denying your request to get some fresh air instead. 

I bet you thought you gave me real love

But we spent it all in nightclubs

All you ever wanna do is lie

Why you always such a Gemini?

On your two year anniversary, the plan was to get done up nice and have a nice dinner. Rafe said that was the plan but soon you were on the same route to Barrys’. You stayed silent and when he asked if you wanted to come in you denied, he said he’d be right back but you knew that lie. He left his suit jacket in the car for you before heading inside where he resigned for the next fifteen minutes. When he came back you could instantly tell he was high, you slipped your heels off so you could get in the drivers’ side. 

“Babe I’m fine,” Rafe said but you shook your head pulling open the car door slipping into the seat. He got inside the passenger side taking your hand in his pressing a kiss to the back of it. “After dinner, we have a nice little surprise.” He said holding up the baggy. 

“Almost like I said I wanted you sober.” You told him but shook your head as you backed out of Barry’s yard, “Can you pull up the GPS? I don’t know the way from here.” You asked trying not to spend the entire night upset with him. 

“One more detour.” He said which only causes you to sigh and follow the GPS to the location he set it to. “You have to come in, we’ll be in and out, I got some for Topper.” He said once you pulled up to the country club, it was kind of late but Topper had a way with words and now there were some of their close friends inside waiting for him to bring the goods. 

You walked inside with Rafe, Topper, and Kelce cheering for him as he tossed them the baggy.  “You have to join us for a couple of lines since you did us the honor of bringing the goods,” Topper told him with a smirk, and Rafe being Rafe could never turn down a line. You sat in the corner of the country club watching as Rafe joined them for line after line. At this point you might as well had walked home, Rafe couldn’t drive and you weren’t driving him just for him to think you’d stay the night like normal. You walked outside back to the car leaving the keys inside the side console, hopefully when he found them he’d be sober enough to get himself home. 

I wanted you to change, yeah

I shouldn't love you, but I couldn't help it

I always knew that you were too damn selfish

“Rafe you aren’t going to change! You constantly say that you will, that you’ll get better but you don’t.” You yelled at him as he stood at your bedroom door, “You lie and you lie and you blow me off for drugs and for Topper and Kelce and I’m done! I’m so fucking sick and tired of it.” Yout old him your eyes were wet but no tears had fallen, not yet at least.

“So what, you’re going to give up on me? On us, because I relapsed?” He yelled back his face red, the veins in his neck and forehead popping, but you shook your head. 

“You don’t get to guilt trip me, you can’t relapse when you haven’t tried to stop. Telling e a week ago if even a week that you’re going to stop and then doing some he moment Topper calls you up isn’t a relapse.” You said your voice quiet, “You’ve gone longer than a week before, I know you have.” You said licking your lips. 

“Y/N….baby, I’m trying okay? I’m trying so hard and it’s hard to stop, I- please don’t give up on me, not yet.” He said softly as he reached out for you, “Please.” He asked you could’ve taken his hand. You could’ve said yes, you could’ve told him that you’d help him but you’ve heard that same plead before, word for word as if he memorized it just for times like this. When you were finally slipping away from him because Rafe was selfish and he knew he had something good and that he was fucking it up. Rafe knew that you were fed up and you deserved better, that you could find better, Rafe also knew if he lost you because he refused to get help them he’d lose everyone else to so why not hold onto you for as long as he could? Why not keep the one thing that had been his no matter how many times he fucked up. 

But it's not possible

Plus I'm not responsible

For your self-made obstacles

You shook your head when Rafe stepped closer to you, “No.” You said firmly the tears finally starting to fall, “No Rafe, I...i’m not giving up, I believe that you can fix it, I believe that you will get better, I know that you will but I can’t, I can’t fix you, I can’t help you when you don’t really want help. “It’s not possible to help someone who doesn’t want to be helped and i’m not responsible to fix you or to help you anymore.” You told him trying to wipe your face but the tears kept flowing. “I love you Rafe, so fucking much do you get that? I have loved you more than you deserve, I have loved you more than my heart could allow but...you are do damn selfish.” You said your voice breaking as you finally let the tears freefall. “You never pick me, you’ve never picked me. You pick coke, you pick the boys but me...i’m an afterthought and I can’t be an afterthought anymore.”

“You’ve never been an after thought y/n...I, everything i’ve done has been for you, everything I want to do is for you, to make you happy, to keep that smile on your face, that’s why I took you out the other night you remember? I did that because I love you, because i’ve wanted you to know that I can get better that I can and I will.” He said as eh tried stepping towards you, stumbling a bit. “You have to believe me.”

“Rafe.” You said softly stepping towards him, you grabbed his face in your hands looking into his eyes, “You’re high?” You asked in disbelief, “You’re so full of shit.” You told him pushing him away from you as you turned away from him. “Get out, I need you out of my room and out of my house.”

“It was the last time, i’m all out, I was going to flush it but i-”

“But you what?” You yelled turning to face him once more, “One last line was still more important.” You told him, you licked your chapped lips as you walked past him opening the door. “Maybe you should try some therapy,  you should lose a couple home boys, 'Cause I need you to understand that I can;t be with someone who can;t evens say no to one line.” You said holding the door wide open, “I loved you, I won’t lie and act like I didn’t or that I don’t but this can’t work, we don’t work.” And just like that Rafe Cameron, high as a kite walked out of you life, the same way he walked in. 

Two years were indeed being washed down the drain, because the most heart breaking thing you did for the last two years was watch the boy you loved continue to treat you like shit while he threw his life down the drain. You put yourself through hell trying to keep up, you changed yourself and your way of thinking to make him happy and though he never asked you did. Rafe Cameron was perfect, or at least at one point he had been.

Long anon has thoughts and I’m here to reply but also I’m fucking wasted

Okay, different anon, but I love giving unsolicited advice (joking, joking... kind of), so I had to chime in. Plus I think I’ve read RtL like 2 or 3 times in full now (way more if you count all the times I’ve read a chapter because of the sex scene and then just kept reading after that), so I’m very invested. God you’re better than me. I didn’t mind chapter 30. It wasn’t my personal favorite scene (that’s just really not my jam, if I wanna revel in the angst, I prefer the later chapters), but with some tweaks I do think it was a good addition. Like, it did give the relationship a little more, I’m not sure if this is the right word, respectability? Realism? Weight? It showed that they’re not just clouded by lust or the honeymoon phase. Which is where I get into the conflict of fanfic imagine writing vs fiction writing. Most fanfic readers seem like they don’t want the plot and the character growth and the realism. The point is fantasy. I can do that short-term, but in a long-haul series like this…angst is necessary. Tension is necessary. Their relationship doesn’t exist in this perfect little bubble, it’s “perfect” because they’re really compatible, and that’s even more important than love in a longterm relationship. It showcased how much Brendon is devoted to his work, which is one of the reasons the reader loves him, but it has the real possibility of causing real issues that they need to address and work through. Now, again, it needs a little work. I don’t love that B basically accused the reader of being intentionally malicious, and I also don’t love that she was more of the victim rather than it being a two-way conflict. I think it could’ve had more of a build-up (I know you said you sort of wrote this without a plan so it makes sense that the build-up wasn’t as much as I think it needed to be, but, hey, that’s the beauty of rewriting it.) and oh rewriting it will be a thing eventually. Like she doesn’t love that he’s overworking and she brings it up a few times throughout like 3 to 5 chapters before nationals, and it sort of gradually goes from the reader going, “hey I think your hyperfocus on your job is starting to affect both your quality of life and our relationship” (obviously in a way that’s more writer-y and less information dump-y lol) to “I’m starting to feel like a toy you play with when you’re interested and completely ignore when you have homework.” And then Brendon’s responses starting at, “oh I’m sorry, babe, I’ll manage my time a bit better,” all the way to, “why don’t can’t you respect my career?” Then in chapter 30, it all comes to a head and they full on fight instead of the previous semi-passive-aggressive communication they had before. I like you; you understand what my brain is trying to do with this rewrite.

ALL OF THAT BEING SAID, as much I think fighting and arguing can be healthy and necessary, I HATED the fight in chapter 19 (at least I think it’s 19. The one where he’s like, “just talk to him, you’re being crazy”). No it’s totally bullshit I hate it too; even writing it I was like ughhhh. I love your work and I don’t want to be rude, but this is just how I feel about one chapter in an otherwise beloved series. It’s not rude; that was jammed in there for the plot and god I hated it then and I hate it now it’s just bad writing. It’s that I just think it was so out of character, for both of them to some extent, but especially Brendon it was. Maybe it’s just the reader projecting her ex onto Brendon when she’s feeling distressed, so that’s why he seems SO different from the way he was in previous chapters (hell, even earlier in that chapter no it took a sharp left turn it’s a bad chapter) and than every other chapter afterward which okay can we agree Chapters 18-26 are whaaaat is happening and 27-31 are ?? and 32 is steamy forgiveness and then 33-36 are smut but so little plot and…oh god I have so much to rewrite I’m gonna cry but he’s so fiercely passionate and protective over, not just the reader, but sort of everything that he cares enough to invest time into (teaching, music, the reader, lovemaking 😏😂, etc.) that don’t think he would’ve proposed talking to the ex at all, much less become all cold and calculating and downright rude when talking to her. I almost think it would be more realistic if she said, offhandedly, “maybe I’ll just talk to him, try to get rid of him, give him some money, I just want this over with,” and Brendon AT THAT POINT would be like, “no absolutely not, you’re being crazy/irrational .” And then it would turn into a big fight because the reader not only feels condescended and invalidated, she’s starting to feel controlled and smothered, which in conjunction with all the feelings that have been brought up with the ex in town, makes her feel like she just needs to get away from B. I guess that wouldn’t have the same effect later on at the end with the lockdown drill which I really want to cut, good lord Cece it was so extra wtf (full disclosure: at the time of writing, the school where I was a teacher had an active shooter in the area but not on campus, so I was probably processing that?? See my note below about writing as therapy), but it would still kind of work. Instead of B realizing that the reader was right about the ex, it would be the reader realizing that B really just cares for her wants what’s best for her, and ofc B would have to apologize for saying that the reader’s crazy because that’s sooo shitty. Actually, now that I think about it, that might be more effective. Other than that one argument, there wasn’t a big question of whether or not B respected the reader and her judgment, but with the ex showing up, the reader was getting scared about being in another serious relationship and being so dependent on someone else oh definitely. Doesn’t help I was using writing as my therapy since I was very out of a mentally abusive six-year relationship. I just peppered in my own trauma left and right (drunk Cece put left and write at first lmao) and left the characters to figure it out and that’s not fair to y’all so it would be much better narratively to confirm to the reader that she can trust Brendon and that he cares for her even if he messes up rather than to just have an argument that gets resolved. Which would work too if it weren’t for the fact that the characters and dialogue were so off, just maybe not quite as well. Lots of changes to be made; you’re not wrong.

Okay, I’m sorry for talking your figurative ears off omg no I love it this is a craft revision and I’m so here for it. Feel free to say I’m way overstepping because, well, I am, but I’m a fan okay!!! Idk if you’re overstepping I’m too drunk but I don’t deserve fans I’m crying yall are so wonderful And I overthink EVERYTHING, so there’s that too haha same though. These are just things to consider and jumping off points, so don’t let it change whatever you have planned. I’m sure it’ll be great, and frankly, I mostly read for the smut anyway so I don’t know why I’m so invested in the plot LMAO this is why I’m worried about Dulce being a slow burn y’all just want the smuuuut and @beautiful-tragic-fallout can tell you there’s a huge difference between my fanfic writing and my fiction writing though you’d think they’d be similar. Maybe I’ll just write it as a novel, never post it here, hope it sells, and one day y’all can be like “this book plot sounds familiar… I remember this slut who wrote a bunch on tumbl—wait, is this author actually Cece?!?” Because, reminder, Cece is an abbreviation of my second middle name and very few people actually know it at all and my published fiction writing isn’t under Cece (I’m mostly joking, but really, as long as the porn’s good, you could write anything well, thank you.) I’m sure this whole ask is riddled with typos and forgotten words and bad grammar (brevity has never been my strength), so I’d also like to apologize for all that. Listen I’m so drunk right now…I didn’t even notice. And my responses probably are too.

I don’t care anymore.  I used to have some type of social relevance in my act, and there was a point where I really gave a shit about stuff to a point where it was ruining my life.  And I guess like 10 years ago I thought well, yeah, you know, I’m gonna change the world. I’m gonna talk about stuff. In 20 years of comedy, I’ve probably had a dozen good points that I reflect on and go, “That was actually a really Fucking good piece, and it really, it had a point that made sense.”  But that whole changing the world thing never really kicked in.  The revolution I was starting where I thought I could yell at 200 people in a bar every night and change the world, yeah, it’d didn’t quite happen like Egypt or Syria.  Yeah.  And it’s frustrating, because you do a bit and then you’d go, “Oh, that’s a fucking really good-” and then it just appears, the problem is still there.  And someone will say, “Oh, abortion is back in the news.”  And you go, “Why?  I already solved that on a 2004 release.  How can it possibly still exist?  I’ve yelled at thousands of drunk people about that.  Maybe I’ll rewrite it and repackage it.”  It gets frustrating as shit where you’re like, I don’t care.  Fuck it.  Fuck everyone. It’s as frustrating as if you lived in a world full of starving people where occasionally you could point out food that no one else seemed to notice, for a living.  Where you go on stage and you’d go, “Did you ever notice there’s a plate of nachos right over there?”  And people would go, “Oh, he’s so right, there is a plate of nachos.  I never noticed that.”  But instead of eating them, they shove them up their noses and assholes for entertainment value and get no nutrition out of it even though they’re fucking starving to death. And it’s not just the audience or the world, even my own social circle, people who fucking, “Doug, you know, what you said about gay marriage, that was right on the money.  Marriage itself is an antiquated institution.  It has no place in a progressive society.  It has nothing that anyone needs to do.  I’m still getting married on Saturday, though, cause Janice doesn’t really get your act.  She doesn’t think you’re funny, so we’re getting married. [pouring beer in eye]  But it’s a really good point, though. “And what you said, that one thing you said, overpopulation.  You’re right, Doug.  You’re not really funny anymore, but you’re right.  What you said about overpopulation, most of the world’s problems are based on overpopulation.  There’s just too many goddamn people.  We’re still gonna have the baby, cause Janice’s biological clock is ticking, and plus, we live in a gated community.  It’s not really overpopulation if you can afford to send them to a Montessori School, is my take.  But it’s right, what you’re doing is a good thing, and you should keep doing it, and don’t die on us. "What you said about drugs, you’re right on the money, Doug.  Drugs, I never thought of it like that.  It’s a private property issue, all drugs should be legal cause your body is your own private property.  You own your own meat.  If you own nothing else in the world, you own the fucking meat that’s packing your bones.  Yeah, so all drugs, yeah, it doesn’t matter what it is.  Drugs, put a fucking needle in your arm, tattoo yourself, pierce yourself, fucking eat cheese sandwiches, throw cheese sandwiches down your top hatch until you’re so fat you have to pay for two seats on Southwest Airlines.  That’s your prerogative, cause you own your own meat, do whatever you want to it.  Drink yourself silly.  You find something living rent free in your uterus?  Evict that motherfucker.  This is private property.  There’s no squatter’s rights, pay rent or quit.  "That’s a good point Doug, drugs should be your own prerogative, whatever it is.  Huffing a gassy rag, that’s what you wanna do.  Except for heroin, cause that’s what killed Hedberg.  That’s why we really need the federal government to come in and stop this.  And I can’t understand why I’m so fucking thirsty all the time! [pouring beer into nose, ear, and eye]  You’re so right.  You’re so right.  I just don’t listen.  I just don’t listen.” So I just don’t give a shit anymore.  That’s what I do for a living, I try to write more fistfuck jokes and enjoy myself more.  It doesn’t matter.  We ain’t winning shit.  I got to a point where, like my act was making my entire life miserable where it’s just…and it’s still not good, but it’s, I just hate everything and fuck it.  It’s so dumb.  Doesn’t anyone see how dumb this is?  Like some people go, “Isn’t the world a crazy place?”  And they’re fine with that.  And I’m like, “This is fucked up.  This is really fucked up.  We’re like Dark Ages people and I’m not even smart.  And that’s the most terrifying part, when you realize I’m not even a bright person, but I’m still probably in the top 3% of the smartest people on this planet and I’m pretty fucking dumb.  And you go, "How alone are we?”  And then you go, “I don’t give a shit.”  At one point, you go, “I’m 44.  I’m way closer to dead than I am life of the party.  And I don’t have children, so why am I getting so enraged about all this nonsense?  I don’t care.  I don’t care getting all upset about the fucking planet.  I’m gone pretty soon.  I left no litter behind.  That’s your problem.  I’m treating this planet like the fucking rental car that it is and I’m turning it in trashed with a bumper hanging off.  Fuck your insurance.  Fuck the environment, I didn’t ask to be here.  Someone created me.  Yes, I know that’s a selfish thing.  It’s a selfish thing.  But you know what?  I’ve cared about other stuff and yeah, me not caring about stuff will affect it as much as me caring about stuff, which is none.

Doug Stanhope

Fuck there’s a typo in We Don’t Write Love Letters but i am Afraid to try and edit it because occasionally Ao3 fucks with spacing a bit if you edit a piece and I don’t wanna have to check over all of that shit again

I mean, I DO have the plain text html version saved, because like hell i’m ever typing that out again if something happens, so THEORETICALLY if Ao3 does screw it up I can always just delete the text & recopy/paste and everything should be good, but godddd that’s annoying (plus I’m a little worried Ao3 might delete the comments or something if I completely ‘rewrite’ the text of a full chapter?)

I wouldn’t even bother except that it’s Momo’s name missing the second “O” which looks like “Mom” which is enough that it threw ME for a loop when I saw it and I had to think about what it should have been

From Signing to Signing

Congratulations! You’ve signed with your first literary agent, and they love your manuscript! Huzzah! Bravo! Cheers! Mazel Tov!

… now what?

What happens next?

Working with your Agent

After you’ve had “The Talk” with your agent, and agreed to sign on as a client, one of the first things you will likely discuss with them will be what revisions they would like to see done on your existing manuscript (unless you already revised the book as a condition of offer).

You will likely also have a conversation about what other manuscripts you currently either have already complete, or what ideas you may have for future books or - if the book you signed on has series potential - where to go with the next books.

Remember, your agent is your ally for your future career, and they are the ones with their eyes on the market.

Shopping your Manuscript

Once your manuscript edits are complete and your book is ready to be sent out to publishers and editors for consideration, your agent will work with your to build a Shopping or Pitch package. This is where those Back Cover Copy, 1-3-5 Page synopsis, Market Comparisons, Series Potential, etc. documents that you ought to have been writing while you were sending the books out to agents to consider come in.

When you’re both happy with what you have, your agent will start sending out letters of interest (these days, more like emails of interest) to the industry connections they have. Editors, publishers, etc. They’ll talk it up at conferences and list it in their available properties if that’s something they do. They’ll work with the agency’s foreign rights partners and dramatic adaptations partners to pitch the manuscript around those parts as well.

You’ll likely get some nos, some partial or full reads and a pass, or some interest. The ideal is to have several editors at multiple houses wanting to acquire the book, which would result in a bidding war.  

Once you have an offer, you and your agent will discuss the terms of the offer (it may include a book tour, it may not; it may include an advance, it may not; it may include an audio book, it may not, etc.), request any desired changes to the phrasing or clauses, and then sign it.

At this point, the work of turning your manuscript into a book passes out of your agent’s hands and into your acquiring editor’s.

Working with your Publishing House

Editing

Once all the paperwork is signed with your publisher, your acquiring agent will reach out to you with a formal Editing Letter. You will likely have been in contact with them already, talking about the book and what they loved about it, and where they see it fitting in their hourse’s roster and marketing plants. But this will be the first real notice that it’s Go Time.

The letter will outline the strengths of the manuscript, and discuss any changes they propose. You can always talk with your editor if something is unclear, doesn’t seem to sit right, or would impede future narrative plans. Always make sure you guys have a through understanding of what you’re each talking about and are completely on the same page before diving back into revisions.

Sometimes these revisions are substantial and include complete burn-and-rewrites, and sometimes they’re like, four little notes. It all depends on what serves the manuscript best to make it a strong book product.

Once you and your editor are satisfied with the rewrites, a timeline for publication will likely be set, and the great spinning wheel of turning this manuscript into a Book starts cranking into motion.

Copyediting

Next, your manuscript will be handed off to a proofreader and copyeditor. Their job is to hunt down and destroy all those typos, comma splices, and mistaken homonyms.

Depending on the size of the publishing house, this might be the same person as your acquiring editor, or a freelancer they hire, or an in-house copyeditor. Either way, these edits should all serve to strengthen your manuscript, so if at some point you’re reviewing them and something is clashing, or they’re stripping out the voice, talk to your acquiring editor about it.

You may have a few back and forths, depending on what you want to accept or reject in their proposed changes.

Cover

Likely, you’ll have already been discussing your ideas for the cover with your acquiring editor. Remember, you as the writer don’t actually have the power to dictate or veto the cover ideas, but of course as the person who knows the story best you will be asked your opinion. Different publishers include authors to different extents in this discussion process.

Usually a cover is completed far enough in advance of the book that it can be used as the jumping off point for the Buzz Building that will take place in the 3 -12 months prior to the book’s release date.

Discuss with your editor what their marketing department has planned for the cover release, and loop your agent into this discussion so all three of you can strategize together.

Interior Design & Galleys

The next time you see you manuscript, it will be book shaped! After everyone’s signed off on the edits, your manuscript is forwarded on to a typesetter/interior designer, who will lay it out in book format. This is the time when they’ll add things like illustrations, if your book comes with them, or specific fanciful scene separators, or the title page.

Any specific imagery or layout choices will have likely already been discussed with your acquiring editor before this time, so now is the moment to review the book and make sure that it was translated onto the page correctly.

A “galley” is basically a dress-rehearsal for your book. You’ll be asked to review it (and hopefully with at least a few weeks lead time so you’re not rushed), and make sure that not only are major mistakes (like two chapter 4s and no chapter 5 ) or small weird formatting concerns (like cut off lines, or things that are italic which should not be or vice versa), or something else is wonky.

Where I’m given the lead time, I prefer to be able to print this out and see it “book shaped” to get a sense of the whole product, not just the story.

You’ll be asked to send back your fixes and then, for really reals, the book will be out of your hands forever. That’s it! No more changes! All done!

Marketing and ARCs

A lot of this work will probably actually take place alongside your work on what was requested of you in your Editing Letter.

Once you have your cover (and it’s been released), you can start using it in your own marketing initiatives. Authors are usually the ones who must design and pay for the little in-hand things like lapel pins, bookmarks, postcards, library posters, and of course whatever graphics you use for your own social media and website.

Your publisher will work to get the book out to review sites, awards, industry publications, and if they have the pull and the money, premium placement on a shelf, or book tours or appearances.  You may or may not be paired up with a publicist in the house to help with this.

You may have very little marketing support, if they’re a very small house with a very small budget, so in this case you may want to consider hiring a publicist yourself, or a social media advertiser, or a virtual assistant, or paying a friend in wine to put out a newsletter every month for you (thank you, Karen!). Or you may wanna just buckle down and do it yourself.

Either way, do some research and make yourself a plan. I have lots of advice on marketing your work in my other Words for Writers articles.

When the book is done-done-done, the publisher will make ARCs - Advance Reader Copies. Basically, pre-publication books. This should be the final book in every way except that they are available before the book’s actual release date.

These are sometimes paper, sometimes e-only. Reviewing the ARC will be the Final Chance Ever to find mistakes, but should be pretty clean.

ARCs are then sent out by either you or your publisher’s marketing team, or both, to reviewers, media outlets, contests, and industry publications. This helps to generate the vitally important pre-publication buzz for the novel.

The Big Wait

(Sometimes I think this stage is added simply so you can take a breather from your book and stop despising it after having reread and rewritten it about seventy million times. I’m always grateful for it though because it’s nice to have the time to refill your well with excitement and joy for your story.)

This is where the marketing plans start whirring into motion and you’ll start sending the ARCs out for reviews. They’ll start coming in so you can use them to support your marketing, and add them to your website.

This is the perfect down time to do all those little To Do list things you’ve been missing - update your website, write thank-you notes, get your social media queued up, arrange your book launch party, etc.

Time to go have another chat with your agent! Get them up to speed with the marketing plans that your publishing house is enacting, and talk through what you think you can add on your end, and from the agency, to support or augment that push. Makes some checklists, start some buzz going, and then…

Step back.

Do nothing.

RELAX. Catch up on sleep. Do your taxes. Spend time with your kids. Meal prep. Whatever sparks your joy.

And, eventually, when you’re ready to jump back into the creative well, start the next project you and your agent earmarked as your follow up. This might be book #2 in your series, or something else entirely. Check in with your agent, and then have fun!

Release Day

Time to get back at it!

On the day your book is released, it will likely be All Hands On Deck. You, your publisher, your editor, and your agent will be working in tandem to execute all of your social media blasts and marketing pushes. Try to set up as much of it as possible to be automated on the day-of.

Some people have their book launch party coincide with the release date, some choose to do it after, and some choose not to have a party at all. Research what works best for you, and make sure you have enough lead time for you/the bookstore to actually receive your box of books in the mail!

The Aftermath

The book is out, the party is over, the cake is eaten and your hand is cramped from all the autographs you signed. Bravi!

Don’t forget to keep your social media and website up to date with any changes that might come with the book - new fantastic reviews worth sharing, the announcement of a foreign language edition acquisition, an audiobook adaptation, etc. etc.

At the same time. take some time to refresh, recharge, and revel in what you accomplished before jumping back to the other project you’re working on.

You deserve it!  You published a book!

*

Still have questions? Read more WORDS FOR WRITERS here or ASK ME HERE.

Epiphany

PAIRING:

Older!Richie Tozier x Older!Eddie Kaspbrak

DESCRIPTION:

SPOILER ALERT! Do not read this if you haven't read the book “IT” by Stephen King! I don't wanna ruin the end for you if you don't already know how it ends.

This is my own version of the ending of “IT”, but in the movie universe. So basically, this is how I think IT: Chapter 2 (2019) should end… a whole year before it even comes out, lmao

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

Hi! I deleted my fanfiction side-blog because I’m a self-concious moron, so I’m gonna post this on my main blog.

This idea has been floating in my head for a while now, so I wrote it down.

I wanted to write an alternate ending to the novel “IT” by Stephen King, but it’s in the movie universe; so The Losers Club are kids in the 1980s, and adults in the 2010s.

This is a rewrite of the second - and final - battle against Pennywise. I changed a lot of stuff about the battle to fit into the movie universe, however, I kept some references from the book and mini series scattered in here :)

I’m just gonna start right in the middle of the battle scene because there’s no need for me to write the entire book before this, lol.

Sorry if there’s any typos or grammatical errors. I only read through this once before posting, haha.

Story starts below the cut! I hope you guys like it :)

~Pebbs

PART I

The tunnels of the sewer were darker and murkier than they remembered. The rancid stench hit all of their senses like a hundred busses driving on the freeway and hitting a single tree. The blood and bruises on the five remaining losers are just the tip of the iceberg to the pain that they feel. The fear impaled each of them in every way that it possibly could. How did they conquer this thing before? How the hell did they beat IT?

Eddie can feel his lungs collapsing on him like he's left floundering in the ice-cold water of the Atlantic Ocean. He struggles to gasp for air as each loser is preoccupied with their own fear.

Just as Eddie is reaching for his inhaler, he feels a hand grab his with the plastic tube of placebo medication. He looks up, startled, but then quickly eases his tense shoulders as he makes eye contact with none other than Trashmouth Richie.

His brown doe eyes are still prominent and huge, even without his thick frames to magnify them. Blood drips when the corners of his lips lift ever so slightly, revealing a small, but powerful smile. Eddie’s heartbeat thumps so hard that he might have a stroke with the way his blood is flowing through his veins right now. He drops the puffer and folds his hands around Richie’s, returning the smile. All of the losers suddenly notice what's happening, and they all join in, holding hands and suddenly feeling less afraid than before.

The moment is stolen away when Pennywise swipes a large tentacle arm to separate them, throwing each loser to a separate wall in the room. Eddie sees Richie fall on his face, crushing his nose and wailing in pain. He sees his other friends, all grown up and vulnerable as they all scream and groan in pain. He sees his puffer, lying on the cold sewer floor not too far from Pennywise. He frowns, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration as he struggles to crawl over to it. If he thought he couldn't breathe before, he was truly kidding himself. His chest feels like three knives are stuck in various places. One in the back, one in the side, and one close to his heart. As he collapsed on the moist cement, he determined his ribs must be cracked from the sudden impact against the wall.

The gashes on his face start to sting as salty tears roll into them. He pushes himself up, his arms and legs shaking violently as he stumbles to a crouching position. He quickly determines he cannot walk to his desired location fast enough, so he settles for crawling again. He reaches out and grabs the cold, plastic and metal tube with fake medicine, ignoring the fact that the cut on his forearm is coating it in his thick red velvet of blood. Eddie stumbles to his feet, vaguely hearing his friend’s desperate screams for him to stop.

“Eddie!! Watch out!” Beverly croaks out in a hoarse scream. Eddie ducks, stumbling backwards as he does so whilst feeling a rush of air above him before standing up as straight as he can. He notices Pennywise's other arm swoops back in the opposite direction, but he doesn't even flinch. He just glares at the clown as he steps back, avoiding the impact before quickly pulling up his medicine in front of the clown from Hell. Pennywise frowns and starts to charge at Eddie, causing an uproar of screams behind him from his beloved friends.

“It's time to take your meds, asshole!” Eddie belts hoarsely as he squeezes the contents of the medication onto Pennywise's face. The clown stumbles backwards, holding ITs face as it shrieks out in pain. All the losers quiet themselves immediately as IT lowers its hands, revealing half of the clowns face to be melted and burnt. Pennywise sneers at Eddie, its melted mouth drooping as it does so.

Eddie’s sudden adrenaline rush allows him to punch the clown in the face, causing it to fly backwards. Eddie stumbles forward, ready to shoot more medicine on ITs face. Pennywise jumps up, grabbing Eddie as IT slowly grows and shifts into a half spider-mantis-clown nightmare. ITs jaw breaks open, pulling more and more as thousands of rows of sharp teeth reveal themselves to Eddie. The losers start to scream in horror again while Eddie's body goes limp as he catches a glimpse of ITs deadlights at the back of ITs throat.

Ben, Bill and Richie try to help Eddie, but the freeze as they too catch a glimpse of ITs deadlights. Beverly shields her eyes and searches around herself in a panic, trying to find some sort of weapon. The nail-gun that Mike provided them with glimmers in the corner of her eyes, and she quickly stumbles towards it. She picks it up, readies the trigger, and climbs the piping beside the creature. She pushes the end of the gun to its heart and pulls the trigger, causing it to screech out in pain.

The three men on the ground blink and stumble out of their trance whilst IT throws Eddie as it stumbles backwards. Eddie smacks against the cement wall, a loud crack echoes with the impact before he rolls onto the floor. Every loser hurries to his aid, falling on their knees as they gingerly check his pulse.

“Eddie!” Richie cautiously holds Eddie’s face as tears begin to cloud his vision. “Eddie Spaghetti…”

“Don't...call...me...that…” Eddie sputters out, violently coughing up blood to punctuate the end of his sentence. The four remaining losers can't help but smile in this bittersweet moment.

Eddie barely notices the others since his vision is slowly blacking out, only showing Richie’s face in the centre of his pinhole-vision. He attempts to smile at his friend, but it seems to distort Richie’s features, causing him to frown pitifully at Eddie.

“You...looked...better...with...glasses…” Eddie comments.

“And you look like shit,” Richie jokes. “You've seriously seen better days, my friend,” he adds, forcing his lips to form into a faint smile.

“Beep...beep…” Eddie starts coughing again, slightly leaning over to spit his blood away from his friend’s face. Eddie tries another smile, but he knows it looks crooked and forced. He leaves it anyways, willing to spend his remaining energy on this moment.

Richie’s breathing suddenly becomes shallow as the situation sinks in. His hands, still gingerly holding Eddie's face, starts to tremble. He suddenly becomes very aware of his close proximity to Eddie, and to his pounding heartbeat skipping occasionally. His fear builds up, but it's barely for the clown anymore. Richie does not want to lose Eddie. Not again. Not ever.

Richie acts impulsively, knowing that this could very possibly be the last chance he gets to do this. He leans over to close the gap between him and Eddie, locking lips with him. Eddie’s eyes widen for a moment before he gently closes them, leaning into the kiss as best as he can from lying on the ground. Richie smiles into the kiss as he tilts his head to deepen it without hurting Eddie too much.

Ben blinks, completely dumbfounded. He respectfully leans back to not invade their moment. Beverly and Bill lean back as well, but they smile endearingly after the initial shock eases away. Ben’s lips soon tug into a smile moments later.

Richie tastes his and Eddie’s blood in the kiss, but he doesn't care. Richie suddenly feels weak, trembling hands grab onto his hair, pulling him down even more. Eddie suddenly winces in pain, causing Richie to quickly peel away from Eddie.

“Sorry!” Richie blubbered out nervously, feeling like a child again.

“I've… wanted… to do that… for a long… time…” Eddie responded, ignoring Richie’s apology.

Eddie’s eyes started to close, but Richie wasn't having it. “No! No, goddammit, you are not dying on me today!” Richie belted. The three other losers notice Pennywise behind them, sluggishly stumbling towards them for another round.

“Don't…  be… afraid,” Eddie coughs, “and kill… that fucking… clown…” Eddie forces one last smile before letting out a long, slow breath.

“No, Eddie!” Richie yells.

...

“Ed's!” Richie tries again.

...

“Eddie Spaghetti?” Richie’s voice becomes quiet as Eddie doesn't respond. Eddie’s muscles have become slack, and his lips are parted ever so slightly. Richie blinks, and Eddie is thirteen again. His skin is smooth with no sign of ageing wrinkles, and his hair lush and full of life again. Richie is a child again, too. He’s suddenly wearing his glasses, and the sounds of his friends' voices are their voices from their childhood.

“Richie!” Bill yells from behind.

“Richie, its up!”

“It’s coming, Richie!”

Richie can't even decipher whose voice is who anymore as they scream for his help. He cradles Eddie’s face and whispers, “I've always loved you, Ed’s.”

Richie sluggishly stands up and turns around, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pulled into a thin line. He glares at Pennywise who still has a partially melted face from Eddie’s puffer. ‘Don't be afraid,’ Eddie’s voice echoes in Richie's head as he marches towards the demon clown, filled with anger and determination. The losers are not kids anymore, and they’re here to kill this clown.

“First, you kill Stanley,” Richie’s voice is dark, somewhat startling his friends as he marches in front of them. “Then you almost killed Mike,” Richie leans forward and picks up the axe that he dropped a long time ago. “And then you killed Eddie,” Pennywise tilts its head, smugly raising the un-melted eyebrow. “Now I'm gonna return the favour, asshole!” Richie lifts the axe and swings it, slicing off Pennywise’s arm in one swift motion.

“I'm gonna fucking kill you!” Richie screams as he continues swinging the axe at the clown. Black tar sprays out of each gash and floats up in the air above IT as the shapeshifting alien stumbles backwards. The other losers take swings on the clown themselves with pieces of pipery from the sewer floors, impaling it and smacking it with double the force each time.

They get IT to the ground, not showing mercy as they continue to attack the beast. All of them fight with a fire in their eyes that hasn't been lit since childhood.

Richie slices the chest cavity of Pennywise, barely flinching as its black blood sprays all over him. The four remaining losers drop their weapons and kneel beside the creature. They each claw into the monster, ignoring its shriek of pain as they dig deeper inside of IT. They hear cracking and slurping noises as they bury their hands deeper until they find the large cavity they were looking for. They grab the heart together and rip it out with their bare hands.

They keep pulling as they notice a cord attached to the heart, and they rip it right out, revealing the physical form of ITs deadlights. They throw the heart onto the cement and Ben stomps on it, causing it to burst out its gooey black tar blood.

They stare at it for a while as the children and Bill’s wife slowly float down. Bill hurries to her aid whilst Ben and Beverly head towards Eddie. Richie continues to glare at the corpse of the monster, feeling completely numb.

Suddenly, Ben’s desperate voice cries out, “I feel a pulse!”

PART II

They emerge from the depths of the sewers, squinting as they make contact with daylight. Bill adjusts his unconscious wife over his shoulder whilst Richie does the same with Eddie. They all continue to rush towards their cars and they immediately head to the hospital.

~°*°~

Bill’s wife is fine, but she hasn't spoken a word since the incident. The doctors say that the shock of the traumatic event has silenced her, and they can't tell if she will ever speak again.

News on Eddie hasn't come back yet, and Richie can't stop pacing. All he can think about is every moment in his teens after their summer fighting IT. He remembers how every day, the kids slowly drifted apart from each other. He remembers when Ben moved away, and how they rarely saw Mike since he was homeschooled, and how Stanley made new friends that didn't irritate him as much. Stan did still talk to them from time to time, and he said goodbye at the start of summer when they all moved away for college. Richie didn't go to college, he just moved to Los Angeles and auditioned for many talent agencies until he got accepted. He then auditioned for Saturday Night Live, and the rest is history now.

Richie sits down, nervously shaking his leg as he ponders how different his life could've been if he just picked up the damn phone and called his friends once in a while. The only friend he even saw between graduation and now was Bill. Richie never approached Bill, but he saw him at one or two movie premiers with his actress wife - who may be scarred for life now since she just had to come here instead of listening to Bill’s warnings to steer her away from danger.

‘Such a stubborn lady, but I guess that’s why Bill fell in love with her,’ Richie muses to himself as he rests his chin on his hands. His thighs feel like they might become numb if he keeps the pressure he’s using with his elbows right now. Richie pushes his hands further up his face, covering his features as he groans in pain. ‘I probably should've seen a doctor. Every-fucking-thing hurts.’

Richie starts thinking about his relationships - or rather, lack thereof - throughout his adult life. He dated one girl - an actress he worked on a rom-com with in his twenties - but that lasted for maybe a month because their relationship was too public. They were constantly pestered by paparazzi, and they rarely spent time with each other outside of their press tour. He realized that their relationship wasn't real when the buzz from their movie died down a bit. It was all an accidental publicity stunt on their parts. They parted ways on good terms, and they're still good friends to this day, still working on the odd film with each other now and again.

Richie only ever had hookups after that, and he didn't enjoy any of them. He sighs, realizing that all this time, there was one person he secretly wanted to spend the rest of his life with, but it took a battle with the demon clown from his past to have this epiphany.

‘I'm a grown-ass, middle-aged man, and I just now realized that I was suppressing romantic feelings for my childhood best friend? Fuck that. I am not gay!’ Richie groans again, rubbing circles in his temples and he closes his eyes. ‘I did kiss him though. That's...pretty gay.’

“Hey, you should really see a doctor.” Bev’s voice startles Richie, causing him to sit up and look over at her like a deer caught in headlights. ‘God, I hope I didn't say any of that out loud.’

“No, I'm fine,” Richie snaps. He awkwardly looks away, feeling guilty for snapping at her. “I'll leave the medical resources for the people who actually fucking need it.”

“There are plenty of doctors here, Rich. You're not going to stop anyone from saving Eddie,” Beverly sighs, sitting down beside him. “And you do need a doctor, too. You may not be dying at the moment, but you're clearly in a lot of pain.”

“I don't care,” Richie mutters, slouching as he glares at the opposite wall. “I'm not seeing a doctor until I know that Eddie is okay.”

Beverly sighs again, looking off to the side before looping her arm around Richie and resting her head against his shoulder. Richie glances at her over his shoulder and smiles at the floor. “You're hurting my neck,” Richie mumbles under his breath, his smirk more prominent now.

“I don't care. I'm going to sit here like this with you until we know that Eddie is okay,” Beverly replies with a bittersweet smile.

~°*°~

Richie finishes by tightening his tie. He briefly smiles at himself in the mirror. He turns around when he sees Beverly walk in the reflection behind him. He watches her as she examines him, smiling and patting down his shoulders.

“You look great, Rich,” Beverly compliments with a bashful smile.

“Thanks, Bev.”

She pauses. “They’re all waiting for you outside,” she says with a small smile.

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie takes one last look at himself in the mirror, dusting his suit jacket and adjusting his tie one last time. “I always show up fashionably late to any event.”

“This isn’t just another one of your movie premieres, Rich,” Beverly pouts with a raised eyebrow. Richie sighs, suddenly becoming rather fond of his shoes.

“I hope we all continue to stay in touch after all of this...” Richie’s voice falls, and he clears his throat nervously.

“Me too,” Beverly replies, smiling brightly. Richie faces her, and she pulls him into a tight hug. He holds her just as tightly, suddenly feeling the tears overwhelm him.

“Dammit,” Richie mumbles as he wipes his tears over her shoulder. “Don’t tell anyone I cried.”

Beverly pulls back and wipes the second tear that escaped his eyes. “I promise.” He wipes her escaped tear and they give each other quick smiles before walking out of the room. Richie and Beverly meet Ben, Bill, BIll’s silent wife, and Mike in the hallway outside of the room. They all walk close together into the cathedral, and they meet the gazes of all the people who ever knew Eddie Kaspbrak. They all walk slowly, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone as they head for the front of the church. They try to ignore the whispers of people wondering who they all were and how the losers even knew Eddie. Many of them glared, knowing they must be the old friends he went off to visit - and who they believe caused his demise.

The five remaining losers - plus Bills wife - make it to the open casket. They all look down at Eddie’s features that have been touched up to look presentable. Richie’s eyes are stuck on the cleaned and stitched gash on Eddie’s cheek, remembering the blood no longer oozing from it as Eddie took his final breaths. His eyes then fell to his lips. They’re pale and cracked, and there’s no trace that they were ever coated in his own blood. Richie ponders that Eddie’s lips no longer look as soft as they felt when Eddie was still alive. Richie blinks when he realizes that his own tear hit Eddie’s nose, and he quickly started rubbing at his own face, trying to rid himself of them.

All of the losers joined hands and leaned in around Richie, protecting him like a forcefield. They all loved Eddie, but Richie’s love for Eddie was so much more, and every remaining loser learned that the moment Richie kissed him.

“Why did you have to die?” Was all that Richie was able to croak out that day before his best friend - his soulmate - was buried.