Remember last February, when Vancouver wasn’t cold enough for the Olympics? We’re paying for it now.
Fabio told me, You know, we get along so well. You remind me of my ex-wife.
1. The story I wrote for Yuletide was the fourteenth story I started. That’s what it felt like. I’m going through the piles of loose leaf I share my room with, and I needed a moment to remember who Jon was, because the novel I’m trying to write is about a Nate and an Alex.
2. It was one of those false starts, which reads very much like what happens after the story I did manage to write:
Jonathon doesn’t know a lot about Henry V, but the guy playing the king is kind of cute, and the tickets were cheap. It’s playing in a theatre called The Cave, and when they file in and find their seats, Jon sees why. The ceiling is right there. If he stretched up, he could touch it with his fingertips. The seats are narrow and uncomfortable.
“How long is this thing?” he asks, leaning in to Timothy, bent over and reading his program.
“It’s Shakespeare,” Timothy explains. “Three hours, at least.”
He looks up, laughing, when Jon groans out loud. He rubs his hand over the back of Jon’s neck.
“We get an intermission,” he says. “Don’t worry.”
Timothy kisses his neck. It always puts Jon at ease–in bed, in their kitchen, in a crowded room with all their friends. That’s when Jon needs it most.
Ruta del Sol: stage 3
Francisco Ventoso takes the stage win. Bonus team-mate celebrations and runners-up faces of pain.
Those two Movistar riders with their hands raised, coming across the line well behind Ventoso, is what makes bike racing different from other sports.
This is what writing a novel feels like.
every day, i do feel like i’m getting somewhere. but it’s slow going. i’ve made a decision, though. i’m going to write this thing as best i can, and submit it to carina. if they accept it, i’m not going to continue with school. i’m going to use that time to write more. because this is what i want, for real. i just haven’t been able to figure out how to make it happen. and a big part of that is not being able to figure out how to make anything happen. i need to find a way to move out before the end of this year. i can’t be living here anymore. i need my own space where i feel like i can spread out and just be myself. where i can leave notes out to remind myself to write more. but first, i need to write this thing. it’s pretty niche, on top of being a gay romance, so carina is the perfect place for it. it’s an in. as soon as i get something published, the rest will come easier. i have a few het ideas, too. man, i’m still going back and forth a little on this idea of making alex a woman. because i love guy nicknames for girls. the thing is, though, that i can get it published as a gay romance. i’m just going for it. i’ll do straight romance next.
but i can’t do anything next if i can’t even do this one. i have all these notes. i have enough prompts to get me over 100k words. i have characters and ideas, not enough plot, but it’s there. i really believe that when i start writing, it’ll all fall into place. i just need to start writing. a big part of this is how broken gdocs is for me right now. it just doesn’t like big files. i need a better way to write this thing. which is like trying to write a novel by buying a typewriter, but seriously!
I want so badly for Bodega to be a real restaurant. I want a whole season of Dale being the straight-faced badass, Carla being the enthusiastic cheerleader, Tre being the calm centre, Fabio being the charming maestro, and Richard being the nicest chef to ever kick ass and take names. As many episodes as I can get of Fabio and Richard as BFFs, I will take.
I’m ripping mix CDs from high school. Remember “Sandstorm”?