+ What's on: Comeback, by Redlight King
Good thing I'd planned on moving in 2014--that moving fund and my credit card just barely kept us afloat. We're effectively stranded here another year, but we're finally a two-income household again. I was bitter about it when I had to make the decision to gut my savings account, but I'm too tired to be angry about it anymore. What matters is that we made it and we can start finding our feet again.
took the promotion. I was right when I said it'd be a noticeable pay
cut. I knew we couldn't afford it at the time, but I did it anyway.
Probably the only smart decision I've made this year, as I've stopped
hating going to work in the morning. It's done wonders for my sanity.
All that RL nonsense aside.... Thank you. Thank you for the comments, the emails, the tumblr asks, the tweets, the messages. I'm sorry I couldn't respond. I'd hit a place where knowing people were waiting for me to say something made me retreat further. The only way to get through the last few months was to shut out as much of everything as I could. Not a healthy mindset or the best kneejerk reaction, but.
Last time I posted (forever and a year ago) I said I got to a chapter and a half from the end before realizing I had to rewrite an entire section. I also said I was losing track of the characters' motives due to outside stresses. Followed people's advice and reread the books.. then started rewriting an entire character's arc and personality.
They say "write what you know". There should be a disclaimer on that.
When you are feeling trapped, the very last thing you should do is write
a character who has hit the end of his desperate rope. It will backfire
tremendously. I can't count how many times I opened this file and closed it again with a violent nope.
But here we are, and I can breathe again. You have no reason to believe me, and no reason to stick with me, but we are finally reaching the end of the road. I promise.
Also: today is March 31st--Neil Josten's birthday.
One more for the road, Neil.
Let's make it count.
That finally got Andrew to lower his arm. "Little leagues, he says. I distinctly remember you telling people you learned to play in Millport."
"Partial truth," Neil said. "I knew how to play Exy. I just didn't know how to play offense. I didn't want to be a striker, but Coach Hernandez didn't have any room on his defense line. It was striker or nothing, and I wanted to play too badly to walk away. Now I can't imagine playing anything else."
Andrew said nothing for a while, then, "You're more a raccoon than a fox."
Neil stared. "What?"
"A raccoon," Andrew said, and mimed holding a ball in front of his face. "Exy is the shiny object of your sad little world. You know you're being hunted and you know the hounds are closing in, but you won't let go to save yourself. You once told me you don't understand why a person would actively try to die, but here you are. I guess that was another lie."
"I'm not trying to die," Neil said. "This is how I stay alive. When I'm playing, I feel like I have control over something. I feel like I have the power to change things. I feel more real out there than I do anywhere else. The court doesn't care what my name is or where I'm from or where I'll be tomorrow. It lets me exist as I am."
"It is a court," Andrew said. "It does not 'let' you do anything."
"You know what I mean."
"Because you don't have anything, do you?" Neil said in quiet challenge. "Nothing gets to you like that. Nothing gets under your skin."
"He catches on at last," Andrew mused. "It only took him a year."