Bronwyn Green

The Corner of Quirky & Kinky

flashficphoto

46036540 - colorful dreamy; foggy autumn forest scene background.

I’ve decided to do something I don’t do often, and that’s continue an existing flash fic story, but I think this photo prompt will do nicely. I’m hoping that you’ll be able just pick up here and read if you haven’t read the others. But, just in case, here are parts one, two, and three.

Eion’s muttered “fuck me swinging” was still ringing in Hollis’ ears as she blinked, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

“Hello,” she called out.

The figure on the rock froze then leapt forward and vanished, the golden glow swallowing it. They scrambled toward the light, stopping abruptly, as the glow becoming the warm shades of an autumnal forest. Somehow, in this room, in the sub-basement of the university’s library, was not only a cave system, but an entire forest. At least, it looked like there was an entire forest.

They stepped from the shelter of the rock formation, into crisp leaves and sharp air. It not only looked like there was an entire forest, it smelled like it, too. The sharp fragrance of fallen leaves mingled with the more pungent scents of long decayed vegetation and dank earth. And the figure they’d seen was nowhere to be found. At this point, she was beginning to wonder if she’d imagined it altogether.

Brilliant red oak leaves blanketed the forest floor, while mist slithered through the tree trunks and the bare, low-hanging branches. The sky was that odd greenish-gray color it only ever seemed to turn in autumn–right before an early snowstorm. A cool, damp breeze brushed her cheek, lifting her hair slightly and sending a chill down her spine. She pulled the sleeves of her oversized sweater over her suddenly cold hands. There’d better not be an early snowstorm while they were…wherever they were.

She glanced at Eion. His blue eyes were wide, and his lips were parted slightly as he looked around, seemingly taking in everything around them. “What the actual merciless fuck is this place?” His tone accusatory, he turned to face her.

“How the hell would I know?”

“You’re the one with the bloody key.”

“Well, I didn’t know it would lead here. Besides, didn’t you say something about Faery?”

“That was a mistake. I shouldn’t have said it,” he muttered more to himself than to her.

He reached out, and his fingers brushed across her neck as he caught the cord the key hung on and pulled it from inside her sweater. She tried not to shiver again.

“Where did you get this, anyway?”

“My grandmother kind of willed it to me when she died.”

Standing far closer to her than was entirely comfortable, he turned the key over and over in his long fingers, inspecting it from every angle. “How does someone kind of will something?”

Hollis explained about her cousin and the trade they’d made in the lawyer’s office.

Eion frowned. “Who would have a tantrum about an inheritance?”

“Kylie Edgerton. Back row of the eight am session of History 101.”

Eion laughed. “You two share DNA?”

“Not willingly,” she muttered, snatching the key from his hand and turning away. She needed to put some space between them. He was even more attractive up close, and the last thing she needed was for her TA to realize yet another college freshman had a crush on him.

Glancing up, she realized that the mist had crept closer, swallowing the few evergreens that grew in amongst the oaks. “Eion?”

“Yeah?”

“I think it’s getting darker.”

He glanced around. “It’s definitely getting creepier.”

“Maybe…” she willed her voice not to shake, “we should go back the way we came. Maybe the door’s back and we  can come back and explore later–you know…during the day?”

He glanced around, his unease apparent. “How do I know you won’t come back without me?”

“Really? You think I’m going to go to a spooky magical forest by my damn self?”

His eyes widened, and he looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “I don’t recall anyone forcing you to sneak down to the sub-basement and open one of these doors, love.”

Okay, he wasn’t wrong about that. “Well, I don’t know that I would have gone in if not for you and whoever was coming down the elevator.”

Crossing his arm over his chest, he raised an eyebrow at her. “Right.”

“Fine,” she muttered. “I promise I won’t come back without you.”

“Good.”

They turned back toward the cave, and Hollis’ lurched forward, her head swimming violently. Eion caught her, tugging her into his side as they both stood there and stared. The opening they’d come through was gone as if it had never been there.

The opening was gone.

The cave was gone.

The rocky outcropping was gone.

There was nothing but blood-red leaves and creeping fog all around them. And in the distance, a shadowy figure darted between the trunks of trees

That’s it for me this week, be sure to check out Jess and Siobhan’s stories, too.

monthlycheck-in

It’s that time of the month, again–time to see what I accomplished, and what I didn’t.

Okay, so last month, I said I’d:

  • Release Rewritten (Yep!)
  • Finish all my scheduled blog posts (Yep)
  • Continue writing daily (Mostly)
  • Finish building the websites (Two out of three…)
  • Make progress on some re-releases I’ll be putting out (Nope!)
  • Complete the assigned audio preps (Yep)
  • Complete the spreadsheet for my friend’s business (Yep…but, it wasn’t quite what she was hoping for, so it needs to be redone.)
  • Finally sort out the bedding and purge my clothes (Nope)
  • Finish two very late Christmas presents (Nope, but I made progress.)

So, for October, my goals are:

  • Finish the rewrite of Under Your Spell
  • Finish all of my scheduled blog posts
  • Finish building the last website
  • Complete the assigned audiobook preps
  • Sort bedding and purge my clothes
  • Finish the two very, very late Christmas presents
  • Start holiday shopping
  • Send out review requests
  • Finish the coursework for the surprise class I took in September
  • Complete scheduled client edits

I think that’s all I’m actually going to schedule for right now. Be sure to check in with Jess, too, and see what she’s got going.

 

This year has been a bit of a suckfest writing-wise–mostly because of constant, unrelenting stress and anxiety–both personal and environmental. And the constant, unrelenting stress led to depression and more stress and anxiety over being depressed and unable to write. (Hello, vicious circle. I see you there. Now, move the fuck along.)

However, I’ve been working really hard, since our annual writers retreat in June, to reorganize my life. (hahaha) Okay, I’m at least making sure I write every day – or as close to it as I can get. Even with all of the editing and other day job work I’m doing, I’ve still been writing, and I’ve been SO. MUCH. HAPPIER.

I love the stories I write. Obviously…I wouldn’t bother writing them if I didn’t. Duh, Bron. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have my favorites. For the longest time, Drawn That Way held the top spot in my heart for many reasons. And I’ll always love Rory and Tristan, but I believe they’ve been dethroned by Angus and Eliza.Writing their story was incredibly emotional for me–because of their shit and my shit–all the shit, really. But I’m pleased with how it came out, and I’m so happy to share it with you guys!

Because…it’s here!!!

Rewritten is finally out!!! It’s the next book in The Bound Series that I share with my girl, Jess Jarman.

Here are the people I envisioned while writing. Because, really, any day I can spend fantasizing about Aidan Turner and Karen Gillan and call it work is a good day.

That came out all weird, but I feel like you guys know what I mean.

And here’s the blurb:

Betrayed and completely exposed, she’d sworn off kink. Hell, she’d sworn off men. But she hadn’t counted on him…

One of the hottest voices in Sci-Fi, Angus Domhnull is renowned not just for his sweeping sagas, but for his stupidly gorgeous looks—and the fact that he’s taken almost five years to finish his latest novel. Now, assistant editor, Eliza Burrows, is stuck minding him, and his brooding nature is pushing every sexually submissive button she has. But even if Angus wasn’t her publisher’s star author, he’d be off-limits—after a painful betrayal, Eliza doesn’t play anymore, and she’s not about to start again with him.

Unable to deliver his long-awaited manuscript, Angus is saddled with a keeper—and her creative input—that he never asked for. Despite the resentment and animosity brewing between them, he finds himself drawn to Eliza. As he learns more about the intriguing woman behind the prickly facade, he falls for her, hard and deep.

When the attraction between them ignites, Eliza lets Angus bring her to one place she swore she’d never go again—her knees. He wants more than just her submission, but her past and the secrets she’s hidden could destroy everything…

**Content Warning: Some violence, discussion of suicide and assault — not committed by the hero. 

 

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(excerpt)       Amazon  *  B&N  *  iBooks  *  Kobo

Also, I’m looking for reviewers, so if any of you are willing to review on Amazon and Goodreads, please email me at bronwyn (at symbol) bronwyngreen (dot) com, and I’ll hook you up.

This bird is my Patronus.

So, I’m not really big on risk-taking, really. I like to be comfy. I like warm sweaters and toasty slippers. I like cwtching up under blankets and reading books. I like tea and toast. I like rainy autumn days.

I guess I’m basically a hobbit. I think that explains everything, because I also like second breakfast. And elevensies.

But anyway, like I said, I’m not into risks. Which isn’t to say I haven’t done stupid things that were also risky. But typically, I only realize the risks after I escape certain death. (Crossing the Mackinac Bridge about 45 minutes before the poor driver of the Yugo was blown over the side in her car, hiking on the rock formation that makes up Devil’s Wash Tub on a high wind/heavy wave day, driving through a stretch of road that Lake Superior was in the process of washing out at the time. All risks–all stupid as fuck because I am so, so bad at math.)

But, I guess I’ve also taken some intentional risks, though they’ve mostly been the emotional kind. Like this whole writing gig. No, not all of my books are written from personal experiences–I’m not out banging ghosts or lesser known Celtic deities, or killing vampires, or dealing with bad tempered Scottish authors who look like Aidan Turner. Though, I’d totally sign up for that one. But I think there are always elements of every writer in the stories they tell. I think that someone who knows me decently could easily pick out the bits and pieces of me that end up in any given character.

A lot of writers have a cool public persona. I hate to disappoint anyone, but I’m not one of them. What you see is what you get. Mostly, because I don’t have the time or energy to cultivate anything else. You either like me or you don’t. And that’s absolutely fine. I don’t imagine that I’m everyone’s cup of tea, and I’m okay with that. After all, not everyone is my cup of tea, either. But it is a bit of a risk to put myself, my feelings, my opinions, my whatever, out here like this on the regular.

But here’s the the thing, even though sometimes I feel awkward and exposed and self-conscious, the benefits outweigh the risks. Depending on the prompt and what I’m motivated to write about on any given day, some posts end up working as an online journal. Some posts end up being therapy where I learn new things about myself/life/etc. And some posts end up forging connections and friendships, and those are things that I wouldn’t trade for anything.

If I hadn’t taken the risk to pursue publication and put myself out here, awkward weirdness and all,  I never would have met so many of my fantabulous friends. Absolutely amazing people that I only get to see once or twice a year. Some even less than that. Some that I haven’t met IRL yet,  and some I may never meet physically. But these are all people who are very dear to me, and I’m grateful for all of you.

Being oneself as unapologetically as possible isn’t always comfortable, but the risks are more than worth it when the result is the friendship and camaraderie of some of the best people I’ve ever encountered. In addition to a career that I love, I got a tribe that I love just as much, if not more. No, more. Writing wouldn’t be half as much fun without you. So, I’ll probably continue to do stupid shit and realize later it was risky, but I’ll also keep on taking this particular risk. The gains are too great not to.

Be sure to check out Jessica and Paige’s risky behavior, too.

I’m lucky enough to have tons of amazing people in my corner when it comes to the business side of writing. One of those people is my friend and cover artist, Kris Norris. Se does amazing things with cover art and she basically has the patience of a saint when it comes to dealing with me.

I’m the worst. The absolute worst.

I get an idea for cover art, and I love it. And she makes it. And then I squint at it and think of all the reasons it’s not really right. Reasons that St. Norris has been subtly hinting at for days, but she indulges me anyway. Why? Because for some reason, she loves me. And also she’s a glutton for punishment.

So, I found this stock art for my upcoming release, Rewritten, and fell in love with the idea of it. When the story begins, Angus and Eliza’s relationship is a bit combative. Here, this is the blurb–it explains things pretty well.

Betrayed and completely exposed, she’d sworn off kink. Hell, she’d sworn off men. But she hadn’t counted on him…  

One of the hottest voices in Sci-Fi, Angus Domhnull is renowned not just for his sweeping sagas, but for his stupidly gorgeous looks—and the fact that he’s taken almost five years to finish his latest novel. Now, assistant editor, Eliza Burrows, is stuck minding him, and his brooding nature is pushing every sexually submissive button she has. But even if Angus wasn’t her publisher’s star author, he’d be off-limits—after a painful betrayal, Eliza doesn’t play anymore, and she’s not about to start again with him.

Unable to deliver his long-awaited manuscript, Angus is saddled with a keeper—and her creative input—that he never asked for. Despite the resentment and animosity brewing between them, he finds himself drawn to Eliza. As he learns more about the intriguing woman behind the prickly facade, he falls for her, hard and deep.

When the attraction between them ignites, Eliza lets Angus bring her to one place she swore she’d never go again—her knees. He wants more than just her submission, but her past and the secrets she’s hidden could destroy everything…

So, St. Norris took my annoying stock photo (inevitably, I always like a landscape orientation when a portrait orientation would work better) and made this fantastic cover that I really adored. I loved the torn paper, the partially erased writing, the couple crabbily sitting back to back. I thought it was the cutest.

rewritten.jpg-11.jpeg

And it is the cutest. However, at best, it looks like a straight contemporary romance. It doesn’t look like an erotic romance and definitely not an erotic romance with BDSM elements.

That usually leads me to texting her the phrase: Hey, Norris…please don’t hate me, but…

So after some discussion and agreement that it looked a little too sweet and looooooooooots of scrounging for cover models, St. Norris came up with this.

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Definitely more of a steamy romance look while still keeping the ripped paper/erased words thing that I loved so much. I loved it–though part of me was still stuck on the cutesy cover. See? The worst.

Jess Jarman (also a saint, frankly) and I share the Bound series. And we love it. It’s so much fun to write a series with one of your BFFs. Sometimes, we even borrow each other’s characters. For instance, one of her upcoming characters, Kit Sterling, puts in a brief appearance in Rewritten. It’s  both awesome and nerve-wracking to write someone else’s character (probably why I don’t write fan fic) but I know that she’ll tweak whatever doesn’t work for her. And I’ll do the same when she’s got one of mine.

Anyway, Jess and I were talking, and several people had mentioned to that we might want to consider rebranding the whole series. Freshen it up a bit. So, we hemmed and hawed and eventually I said: Hey, Norris…please don’t hate me, but…

And Norris, amazing woman that she is, rebranded our whole series. Look at all of our new pretties!

 

And here’s Jess’ upcoming release, Safeword Protected!

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And here’s the final for Rewritten!  I absolutely love it, and it totally fits the book!  (I promise, Norris, I won’t change my mind again!)

And you can pre-order it now at:

Amazon  * B&N  * iBooks  *  Kobo

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musicalmusings

I don’t dislike songs as much as I dislike musicians or bands, and I have a list of them that make me stabby. That list is long and colorful, but topping it is any iteration of Van Halen. I don’t know if I have sufficient command of the English language to fully describe the depths of my loathing for Van Halen’s entire music catalogue. But the opening chords to any of their songs, but most especially, Hot for Teacher or Panama, or god help me, Jamie’s Cryin’ cause me to rage impotently. Once, I had fucking Jamie’s Cryin’ stuck in my head for two hellish months. I don’t know why I was being punished. Maybe I wronged David Lee Roth in a past life? But Van Halen (and yes, that includes Van Hagar)… *full body shudder*

As for a song I can listen to all day without getting tired of it? Let’s see…there are quite at few, but topping that list is probably Rusted Root’s Send Me On My Way and Walk Off the Earth’s Gang of Rhythm. 

And a song that grew on me… There have been a ton of them. But the one that jumps out at me right now is Uptown Funk. I know, how can anyone not like that song, right?! In my defence, I was in a bad mood when I first heard it, so that didn’t help. I remember thinking, “I have neither the time nor the inclination to be funked up, right now, Mr. Mars. And this reminds me a lot of Jungle Love. Does Morris Day know you have his song?!” But it’s so damn infectious, you can’t help but get into it. Also…Bruno Mars.

 

I just had to play this song a couple times because Jamie’s Cryin’ was trying to crawl back into my head. *shudder* What are some songs that have grown on you? Also…anyone else loathe Van Halen with the burning passion of a thousand fiery suns, or is that just me?

Be sure to check out Jess and Gwen’s posts, too.

flashficsong

This month’s song fic is inspired by Criminals by Ms Mr. Here are the lyrics and video if you want to give it a go.

 

Doug looked around the conference table, not letting his gaze settle anywhere for too long–not even on Vanessa. How in the hell had they ended up here? Christ, he wasn’t even sure if he meant the two of them or the nation as a whole.

“Look,” Tony said. “I’m just saying, it’s hurricane season. There’s probably not a better time to roll this out.”

Vanessa nodded. “And it’s the start of the school year. According to our our studies, anxiety for both parents and students–not to mention teachers–is at an all time high.”

Doug’s skin crawled, and he shifted uneasily in his chair. That uneasiness grew when the guy from marketing, whose name he could never remember piped up.

“With all of the on-campus protests and demonstrations, not to mention the rise in shootings, we’re golden.”

“Don’t forget all the marches held by the general public,” Katy said. Ticking them off on her fingers, she added, “Trans rights, women’s rights, Black Lives Matter, healthcare, LGBT rights, marches for and against white supremacy. Eddie’s right, we’re golden.”

Eddie. That was his name.

“And there’s always the threat of nuclear war,” Tony said. “I don’t know anyone who isn’t worried about that. ”

At least eight people frantically scratched notes on pads of paper or typed rapid-fire on their laptops, others nodded thoughtfully.

Someone Doug didn’t recognize added, “We may have to work with the media to amplify the coverage some of these, but there’s really no better time to roll this out.”

Murmured agreement flew around the table.

Vanessa leaned forward and smiled at Doug, then addressed the room at large. “I’d like to introduce you all to Doug Freeman, one of our top scientists and developers here at PharmaCaresNational. He’s going to explain how the drug affects brain chemistry and neurotransmission.”

How was his wife–the love of his fucking life–sitting here, completely at ease in this meeting? How was he still in his seat, let alone in this company?

Tony gestured toward the wall. “We’ve got a whiteboard here, if you need it Doug.”  Turning to the others, he said, “Pay close attention everyone. If you have questions for Doug, save them until the end. And remember, if you’ve got an idea for marrying the effects of this drug with any of these specific fears, jot them down. There’s a lot of money to be made here, people.”

Doug’s stomach lurched violently, and his hands began to sweat. Jesus-fucking-Christ. They were all criminals.

_________

No…I’m not feeling cynical, this morning. Why would you even ask that? Anyway, be sure you check out Kris and Siobhan’s stories, too.

promptlypenned

Prompt: They say I’m a traitor. Maybe I am. All I know is that I did what I had to do.

 

“Hi, I’m Roxanne,” I said when she answered the door. “We spoke on the phone earlier.”

“I’m Alicia.” We shook hands, and warily, she invited me inside, leading me to her dining room table. I carefully moved some macaroni artwork off the chair before I sat.

She smiled, but she kept shifting in her chair as if she were considering running away. “I’m a little nervous. Can you tell me a little more about how this works? I mean how did you even get into this…business?”

I studied the woman across from me. Her hair was falling out of her messy bun. It wasn’t a cute Instagram messy bun. It was a straight up mess, complete with what looked like crusted baby food in there. Squash, if I remembered my pureed vegetables correctly.

I looked like her not too many years ago. Exhausted, frantic, inside out shirt, and a leaking nursing bra. Though, my kids prefered to slime me with peas.

“To be honest, I didn’t even intend to make it a business, but my brother-in-law left me no choice.” I sighed. “I don’t want to sound cold. I’m actually pretty fond of him, but when his kids were little and his wife was out of town, he’d drive for five hours, show up on our doorstep with his infant and toddler, and basically move in until his wife was back from her business trips.”

“He did not.” She looked furious on my behalf. I liked her already.

“Oh, he did. And he and my husband would sit around and play video games and I was stuck with five kids under the age of four. But my favorite was when my husband was at work, and my brother-in-law decided that that meant it was naptime for him.”

She leaned forward. “I have to know. Did you kill them? I think I would have killed them.”

“Honestly? I came far closer than I’m comfortable with. That’s when I started studying the occult.”

Alicia got up. “Keep talking, I’m going to get us some coffee. You want creamer?”

“And sugar, please.”

“Okay, so tell me more about how the occult figures into all this.”

I shifted in my seat. I was pretty sure I was going to stick to it when I stood up. “Well, I didn’t go full bore. I started out looking for protection spells and binding rituals. And while I was researching, I discovered sigils.”

Alicia placed a huge cup of steaming coffee in front of me. “I wanted to make a mocha, but all I had was Hershey’s syrup.”

I took a sip. “You know what? This is great. Trust me, I’ve made much worse. And I drank it anyway. Because caffeine.”  I took another sip then shook off the memory. “Where was I?”

“Sigils.”

“Right, sigils. These things are so incredibly versatile. You can use them for protection, hexing, attraction, but as far as I’m concerned, their best use is warding. It was getting so bad, that my brother-in-law was coming up two or three times a month and staying for three to five days at a time. I snapped. I couldn’t take it any more.”

“What did you do?”

“Dude is a pig. Seriously, doesn’t pick up after himself at all. So, I took a pair of his dirty underwear he’d left wadded behind the door and hair from the shower,” I shuddered, “various herbs and oils, and boiled it together under the light of a full moon. Then, the next time he called to tell use he was coming, I took a small brush and painted warding sigils on every side of the house, the garage and the cars. And I waited.”

Alicia had slid forward in her chair, her eyes wide. “What happened?”

I tried not to smile, but it was almost impossible. “He called a few times. Said he was lost. My husband thought he was pranking us, but nope. He turned around and drove the five hours back home.”

“No.”

I nodded. “Couldn’t find the place at all.”

“That’s brilliant!”

“When my husband pisses me off, I do it to him, too.”

She laughed and clapped her hands.

“These days, I let my brother-in-law visit every two to three months. And now that I’m not stuck at home with nursing babies, I leave, and let my husband and his brother parent all the kids.”

Alicia shook her head. “I’m impressed. Seriously impressed.”

I shrugged. Some people would say I’m a traitor to family togetherness.” I shrugged. “Maybe I am. All I know is that I did what I had to do.”

“You absolutely did. And,” she added, “you didn’t go to jail for murder.”

“Exactly.”

I pulled my spellbook out of my purse. Technically, it was one of those planners with all the stickers for things like doctor’s appointments and soccer practice, but it doubled and a mighty fine spellbook. And hey, I’m a busy mom, makes sense to combine the weekly menu with my side gig.

“Now,” I said, clicking my pen. “Who are we warding against? Tell me everything.”

That’s it for me this week. Be sure to check out the other bloggers’ stories, too.

Kris * Jess * Siobhan * Deelylah

top10-09sep

Soooooooo…this month’s Top Ten post is all about how not to piss me off. These are in no particular order. They all piss me off equally.

Welcome to the unloading.

10.) The phrases; “But her emails…”, “How much damage can he do in four years?”, “There’s a system of checks and balances in place.”, “I’m not racist, but…”, “Trans women and men aren’t real women/men/are mentally ill/are perverted/etc”, “Global warming is a hoax.”

Just. Fucking. Don’t.

9.) Any iteration of  “So you write porn?”, “When are you going to write a real book?”, “So, like Fifty Shades of Grey?”, When are you going to write something I can read?”, “Are the sex scenes from personal experience?”, “How can you call yourself a feminist if you write romance?”

Again… Just. Fucking. Don’t.

8.) The Pain Olympics (not those horrible videos you can never unsee – seriously, do not google them)  also known as “One Downing” – there are always a few of these types in most people’s circles. Could be a co-worker, a family member, a person you deeply regret ever becoming friendly with, but they all have the same M.O.: You’re in the midst of what you think is a conversation, but before you know it, the Pain Olympics have begun. It goes a lot like this:

Scenario 1:

You: *sad because your cat died*

Pain Olympiad: “That’s too bad. Once, my cat was kidnapped and held for ransom and after I took out a loan for a million dollars to pay the ransom, they took my money and sold my cat to a foreign dictator who said he was going to make a hat out of her. At least you got to say goodbye to your cat.”

Scenario 2:

Coworker: “Hey, haven’t seen you in a while.”

You: “I’ve had a cold. Didn’t want to give it to anyone else, so I stayed home for a couple days.”

Coworker: *strips off work attire to reveal Pain Olympiad uniform beneath* “Last year, I got a cold and spent a three months in the ICU and the doctors had to take half my lung. You’re lucky you didn’t get that.”

You get the picture. Whatever it is, they’ve had it soooooooooooooo much worse, and they want to give you all the details about how their experiences are so much more horrific than yours. In normal conversation, we all share things to let others know they’re not alone in whatever they’re experiencing. One-Downing is a little different in that these people tend to be in desperate need of all the sympathy and acknowledgement that they’re the biggest and best victim of all.

7.) Vaguebooking. Either say it, or don’t. I get that sometimes people have things going on in their lives that they’d like to talk about, but they can’t because there may be other people involved, or they just don’t know enough about an upsetting situation to make a definitive statement.

What makes me beyond ragey is the vaguebooking (or any social media) for attention thing. The kinds of posts that are designed to make everyone feel like they need to fawn over the poster. Examples include things like:

“Well, I guess I know who my real friends are.”

“*sigh*”

“I can’t believe someone would be so mean.”

“Sometimes you have to learn who you can trust the hard way.”

Unless any of those statements accompany a photo of your dog stealing your steak, just don’t. If you’re having a bad day and could use some sympathy, fucking own it. If you’re pissed at someone, own that, too.

6.) The phrase, “Well, it’s not like you have a real job.” There are some people who are under the misguided impression that people who work from home don’t actually work and have all kinds of free time for things like babysitting, or driving them places, or endless phone calls, etc. Bitch, between writing, editing, coaching, audio prepping, website creation and maintanance,  and other client assistance, I’m currently putting in 12 -18 hour days, 7 days a week. Don’t tell me I don’t have a real job.

5.) I understand how incredibly difficult it is to find the right thing to say to someone who’s grieving, but I promise you, “God needed another angel” is never ever the right thing to say. Especially to those grieving the loss of a child.

4.) I believe that often adversity can make people stronger, more resilient–it’s certainly been true in my life. But that growth typically isn’t noticeable or appreciated until well after the fact.  So when others learn of something awful occurring in the life of someone they know, like say,  a cancer (or some other debilitating disease or life circumstance) diagnosis. Saying things like, “God doesn’t give us anything we can’t handle” or “You’ll be stronger for it” or calling a disease a “health opportunity” because you’ve got that life coach mentality is never ever the right thing to do. If the person in question expresses interest in your life coaching philosophy, bring it up then. But if not, calling a cancer diagnosis a “health opportunity” is not a road you want to take.

3.) Okay, so I’m a fat woman. This is not secret. I’m not particularly happy about it, but overall, I’m healthy (I have the test results to prove it) and I’m working hard on self-acceptance, and when I don’t financially need to put in 12-18 hour days, I’ll work more exercise in. If I make a crack or mention something about being fat, for the love of kale, please don’t say things like, “You’re not fat, you’re pretty.” or “You’re not fat, you’re so nice.” While, I understand that you may be attempting to be helpful or kind, the way that comes off is that you equate fat with ugly  and meanness. In addition to being incredibly hurtful, it’s not a good look for either of us.

2.) “This is a Christian nation.” Hard NOPE! One of the ideals this country was founded on was religious freedom and the separation of church and state. We need to adhere to that. STAT.

1.) Other random things that set me off are;

People who lie–especially when their story changes depending on who their audience is and what they want from them.

People for whom literally every last thing in life is a goddamn competition–not people who try to better themselves, people who have a pathological need to prove their superiority to others–even those they supposedly care for

People who are awful to their children and view them as extensions of themselves or belongings as opposed to individuals.

People who leave their animals out in extreme weather.

People who try to impose their religious views on everyone else.

People who constantly assume the victim role and refuse to take responsibility for their own shit.

People who plagiarize or otherwise take credit for someone else’s work.

Okay, so…I’m thinking I should probably stop now. I’ve got a ton to do today, and I need to get moving. Feel free to share what sets you off. An be sure to check out Gwen’s post and see what sets her off, too.

flashficphoto

17241577 - color shot of a vintage car in a forest

I pulled the giant handknit sweater over my head. It was way too big for me, but I didn’t care. It was warm and cozy and something about it made me feel safe. It wasn’t even my sweater. My mom had knitted it for my brother, Kevin–hence the giant-ness–but he’d left it at my apartment a few years ago, and I’d never managed to remember to get it back to him.

I scooped up my keys and phone from the table and headed toward the door.

“Cat? Where are you going?” Jesse called from the other room.

“Just out for a bit.”

“Will you pick up milk while you’re out? The other jug went bad, and I want cereal.”

You could always get off your ass and get it yourself.

I didn’t answer, just pulled the door shut behind me and jogged down the stairs, eager to get out of the stifling heat of the apartment. Jesse constantly complained that he was cold, hated to have the windows open, and turned on the furnace at the first sign of an changing leaf.

The cool crisp air swirled around me as soon as I stepped outside, and my hair immediately blew in my face, catching on my balm-slathered lips. Tucking the strands behind my ears, I squinted into the weird autumn light. There’s no other time of year when the entire sky can look like the inside of a dull pewter bowl but the leaves glow as if they’ve been lit from within, because somehow the sunlight is still managing to get to them even though, there’s no sign of the actual sun. It’s surreally beautiful, but eerie and unsettling, nonetheless.

There was something about September… Maybe it was the start of the school year and that anticipation that pervaded the neighborhood whether you were in school or not. Maybe it was the swiftly turning leaves or the weather that grew chillier by the day. It could be the scent of woodsmoke in the air. Or the pumpkins ripening in the field. Whatever it was, it made me restless.

Too restless to walk down to the party store to get Jesse’s milk. Too restless to walk to the park. I wanted to go farther than that. I needed to go farther than my feet could comfortably carry me. I wasn’t even sure where, but I needed to go.

My phone’s text tone chimed, and I glanced at the screen. Will you get Poptarts, too?

I tossed my phone in the passenger seat of my ancient VW Bug. Well, like the giant sweater, it was Kevin’s, too. But he was gone to god knew where. On September 26th, it would be three years.  No one knew where he’d gone. No one had heard from him. Not even our mom.

I started the car and put it in drive. Maybe he’d been restless, too.

That’s it for me this week. Be sure to check out the other bloggers’ stories.

Jess * Siobhan * Kris