LT: 23, a lesbian immigrant from Texas who is living in the United Kingdom. I've been the token American friend since 2005. Have finished a MA in Scriptwriting at UEA, and I'm lucky enough to have an incredible girlfriend that supports me completely through my ridiculous writing binges.
I reblog random shit and I occasionally post some of my writing, when time allows.
Personal posts happen, as this is a personal blog.
I'm currently attempting to recover from an ED. It's a work in progress. I post about it sometimes, but with TWs if applicable.
PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I NEED TO CHECK MY PRIVILEGE.
I'd rather know, learn and apologise than be a jackass.
escilict: aw yiss, Marcus is a total mama’s boy. Sword fights are definitely gonna happen.
jbrwky: oh, definitely agree with you there! If anything, only the Queen is going to be surprised that Ingrid is gay, and it’s not going to be an enormous angst-ridden deal. More that she just imagined something different for her daughter and needs time to come to terms with it. The main plot is more about sibling rivalry over Princess Ava, who both Ingrid and Marcus like for equally valid reasons. She disappears, they assume that she’s been kidnapped and go out to race to win her heart. I’d rather write an adventure than just another coming out story, haha.
scorpiocious: I hadn’t thought of that! It makes perfect sense though, and is definitely something that I can easily add in. After all, who says Ingrid is the only gay in the village? Haha. Plus, positive mentor figures are what it’s all about when you’re growing up and treating them as just a normal facet of life would be a good way to go about it.
Thanks for your thoughts, you guys! I’m really revving up for this project - it could seriously be a lot of fun. I’ve just gotta resist the temptation to buy art for it… haha.
ok ok ok, so I know what I’m doing for nanowrimo / scriptfrenzy
I’m writing the feature length LGBT+ disney movie I’ve always wanted based off of this short adaptation I did of the Princess and the Pea a couple years ago
granted, it’ll be a first draft, but
LESBIANS AND THEORETICAL DISNEY ANIMATION
and PRINCESSES and HAWKS
and FUCK YOU GENDER NORMS, etc
so this could be cool, maybe?
I mean, I wanna write for Disney eventually anyway, so why not start trying now? Nothing’s stopping me, and they don’t have to ever read it, so whatever! Freedom! Etc!
I really oughta figure out a villain though - every Disney flick needs a villain and I’m not gonna make my main character’s straight brother a villain because that’s not cool - he’s just a picky prince dude, not too much of an ass really.
now I just gotta keep myself from hiring a buncha artists to draw my ladies for me. Gotta be clever with my money. Hnnng.
would people be interested if I posted up the first draft of my Princess and the Pea story, even though it is old as balls? I haven’t poked at it since 2010 but it’s got stuff in there that I can definitely play with, and now I’ve got enough space to roll around in and have bonding!hawk!scenes and stuff. But yeah, anyone interested in that?
in my hand is the second draft of The Flood Walls. My buddy has his first draft of his ridiculously complicated action film, which, take it from me, is brilliant.
And we are both DONE WITH OUR MASTERS PROGRAMMES
not only do I have a complete script, I CAN RETURN TO FANDOMS AND DO WHATEVER THE FUCK I LIKE
I have sooooo much to catch up on in TV, it’s going to be brilliant. I’m absurdly excited.
I finished it.
I have never had the honour of writing ‘FADE TO BLACK.’ before, and I just… wow. Wow.
106 minutes worth of script. That means an hour and 46 minutes worth of a film, at the very least.
And it’s done.
oh my god I am so close to finishing my first COMPLETE feature length film I’m freaking out a little
IT’S THE CONFRONTATION SCENE
I’M ACTUALLY WRITING IT
I KNOW HOW IT ENDS
AND I’VE NEVER WRITTEN A FULL FILM BEFORE AND IT’S IN FRONT OF ME AND I ACTUALLY DON’T HATE IT
AND THERE’S A LOT OF GAY SUBTEXT THAT IS PRETTY MUCH NOT EVEN SUBTEXT AND A LOT OF CURSING AND NOIR STUFF AND I’M GOING TO SEND IT TO MY MUM AND DAD WHEN I’M DONE AND THAT’S BOUND TO BE WEIRD
BUT IT’S COMPLICATED AND IT’S COMING TOGETHER AND I ACTUALLY LIKE SOMETHING I’VE WRITTEN I THINK?
I DON’T UNDERSTAND?
I’ve had an AWESOME day for writing. Not necessarily for output (although I’ve managed three pages of redrafting) but for epiphanies. I’ve had epiphanies out the wazoo, seriously.
For the last several years, I’ve been chasing this weird ideal of writing from when I was a kid, where I could just sit down with a legal pad and scribble out everything and genuinely enjoy it. And if I don’t feel that way, I get frustrated and feel like I’m losing sight of the fun of it and that I’m somehow doing everything wrong—
but then I stumbled across this quote this morning:
My love for writing has extended beyond the joy of scribbling down words into a passion of learning and becoming an expert on a multitude of topics. I used to write to escape from people and places, but now I write because I want to engage with people and places, because I want to be the one that shapes the telling of their story.
In other words, I now love the process of storytelling.
And just- YES. Yes, yes, yes. There’s nothing WRONG with being picky about words or feeling frustrated that it isn’t coming together immediately or that it doesn’t reflect the exact image that’s in your head.
I went back to where I lived when I was younger, and I drove around a bit. I found the creek where I wrote my first published poem (granted, it was a sham of a contest and just a ruse to get people to buy their book, but it still got published and that’s what mattered to me), and it just clicked. Everything clicked.
I wrote constantly when I was a kid and all of it was terrible, but I’ve grown. I’ve got a sense of taste, and I have a standard that I hold myself to. I write for other people, to share with other people, and that is infinitely more frustrating than just writing for yourself. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s normal. It doesn’t make me any less of a writer.
I know that this is long and rambly and it doesn’t mean anything to anybody but me, but things make sense, and I just wanted to share my mini-mental-breakthrough for some reason. Haha. God.
I actually feel good right now.
Finished my new notebook - 256 sides, motherfucker!
Started the notebook on the 24th of September, so I guess I’ve been pretty busy over the last two months.
Poltergeist - (Flash Fiction - 333 words)
Giles straightens the sheets sometimes. He tucks them in tight under the mattress, the way he used to, and he sends small gusts of wind to smooth out the wrinkles on the duvet. The pillows are always stacked, one neatly behind the other.
He rubs away the rings of tea and coffee on the desk, on the bedside table, in the kitchen. He would wash the dishes if he could, but it takes too much out of him.
The spaces between the tiles in William Shaw’s bathroom are always, and will always be, grout-free. He struggles to control the damp in the basement, but William probably wouldn’t notice if that changed at all.
He doesn’t mind doing it, really. Not like he did when he was alive and kneeling on top of the counter with a bucket of diluted bleach and a sponge, scrubbing at the stains on the walls or the spores of mould yet to come. He likes to help. He wants to help.
But when William comes home from a long day of teaching and switches off the radio, shells off his shoes, discards his coat over the loveseat and finds his bed perfectly made, he pauses. And his brow furrows and his lips part and he exhales in one low, slow hiss, as if there’s a distant ache from a long-healed scar that he can’t quite ignore.
He goes downstairs for a handle of something- whiskey, gin, bourbon, whatever’s there- and if he doesn’t fall asleep in his chair, he trudges back up to his bedroom and doesn’t even let himself look at the sheets or the duvet or the pillows. He pulls them down in one firm movement and gets into bed. The next morning, he leaves everything in shambles. A dare of sorts, asking him to prove his existence again and again and again.
Giles isn’t sure what’s worse - reminding him every night of what has been lost, or pretending that he isn’t there at all.
So I went to buy it, yeah, and it was just me and Alex and we step inside and it’s a clusterfuck of bras and pants. Like, any other day, any other day, I’d take my sweet time- yeah, you know- but the women behind the counter are staring at us and I’ve got shit to do and Alex is bright red – shut up, not being funny, I was there, you were – and we head right to the back, eyes on the prize yeah – and mate, that shit is expensive. They can’t just do with a sock like you can – yeah, I said it – so everything buzzes and twitches and I never wanna see that many disembodied dicks again, but seriously, right, seriously, no, shut up, I’m telling the fucking story, it became an issue of budgeting. Savvy shopping. Bein’ reasonable with money and shit. We closed in on this sparkly pink dildo with all sorts of ridges and bumps and shit and were checking the price and seeing whether it was – shut up – a good deal. And I did the maths and you could buy eight inflatable sheep from the pub for one of them Rampaging Rabbits, so we left and went for a pint instead. We’ll fill his back garden with sheep for the same price and it’ll be fucken’ great. You’re welcome.
I’m telling the truth. I’m just telling the truth, and it’s going to happen. It’s been all over the news here for months. They announced it – they did – I’m telling the truth, I swear. You have to promise me – just promise me – I’m being serious here, I am.
They wouldn’t announce it if they didn’t plan to do it. You need to promise me.
Shake on it?
Good. Thank you.
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