#write500

[assorted-bean]

part of me is like i said id write500 before i let myself to go bed and ive done that so eepy time. another part of me knows that effort and time wise im probably about 2/3rds of the way to being done.

Which is a lot

[cargoshortsenjoyer]

I shove the cotton swab into my ear, sighing when I realized I just pushed it back even further. I might have to go back to the doctor’s. I can here her no:

 “Now, what did I tell you last time? Not to use cotton swabs. Just showering more often is healthier, and you won’t have this problem anymore.”

And I’d say “Of course, yeah.” But I never do. 

I make a lame effort to fix things and get another swab, thinking that maybe I can unclog it. I can’t.

I put my headphones on anyway, and simply turn the music on louder. I squeeze my eyes shut and bite down on my lip. I know a clogged ear is nothing to cry about, especially when there are others out there with no homes, being assaulted, or tortured, but I can’t help but feel a prickle at my eyes. I choke out a laugh, running a hand through my hair while trying to remember some breathing exercise my friends taught me back when they still considered me a friend. 

Then, suddenly, my clogged ear starts ringing loudly, and it hurts. A lot. So I take my headphones off and stifle a scream, it gets worse by the second. 

I clamp my hands over my ears. I cough my lungs out. I see only hazes and black dots. I’m coughing up blood, I didn’t even know ears could do this. 

I feel rage at old memories of things that never happened to me. I feel contempt for people I never met. 

My hands ball into fists though I can hardly remember commanding them to. I’m rage-crying into a pillow, when suddenly I feel very...light. 

Like a breeze could easily cause me to evaporate. 

Then I look at myself. 

Not through a mirror, like I’m used to, but as if I was another person. 

I..-

I jump off their bed, running a hand through their hair. It had been so long since I had inhabited a body. 

And it felt so.

Damn.

Good.

I begin to laugh at their music taste, since I can still hear it softly coming from the headphones. I try to make sense of the device and change the music. I’d never seen a model like that, so it was a fruitless choice of mine. 

I toss it back onto the bed, and pull on one of their coats. Nothing I’d choose, but it was snowing outside, and I didn’t wish to kill this body so quick. 

I smirk at myself in the mirror they have beside the door and make finger guns. I make multiple expressions in the mirror and can’t seem the get one eyebrow to go up or down without the other one following. I scrunch them up together.

How lame that this person can’t even seem to do the littlest of things? No matter.

I have people to find.

[caitlin-elias]

500 Words Writing Challenge!

Writers! Friends! Writer Friends! I’m setting a goal for myself in the new year, to write 500 words a day (so I can maybe finally finish a first draft). I would love to open it up to my fellow writers to join in!!

If you want to join, comment below! I will tag you in a reminder post before the new year, and encourage you throughout the process!

I will be tagging my process at #write500 so feel free to do the same!!

[bookishdiplodocus]

#write500 Day 1

@pen-and-sword-writing invited people to join them to write 500 words per day in 2019. I will do this as well, as long as it takes to finish my first draft. Which means I will write at least 15,500 words in January.

I’m currently around the 80% mark in my wip, so I hope to finish my first draft before my birthday in April. I think I have around 25-30,000 words to go, worldbuilding included.

Feel free to poke me if I haven’t reported any writing in a while, motivate me or join me.

Day one. Here we go. *salutes you and opens Word*

[renee-writer]

Proper Home Chapter 4 Men!

"He had the unmitigated nerve to criticize what I wore, or went to wear when he let her place her hands all over him!" Claire swings her feet as her hands angrily move, demonstrating on herself where Sandy's hands were. She and Faith sit with their feet over the portico outside the english building at uni where they are both in a creative writing class.

"First, ain't no bloody way I would have changed. Second, both Sandy and Frank would have been missing some teeth! Christ Claire, you deserve so much better than that."

Claire sighs, placing her hands behind her as she stretches looking up toward the blue sky. She watches the clouds drift for a moment as she thinks about what her mate said. "He is steady. A strong reliable presence."

"A controlling auld-fashioned arse! And nae respectful allowing her to touch him thus and then defending her!"

"I see your point but.."

"Hi sis." A new Scottish voice says. Claire opens her eyes and encounters a pair of jeans on some very long legs. She follows those jeans up to a tight blue shirt, and, to a very handsome face topped by wild red curls partially tamed by being tied back.

"Jamie, meet my new mate, Claire Beauchamp. Claire, my big brother, Jamie Fraser."

"Nice to meet ye lass." He smiles down at her ans she smiles back up at him.

"Can I join ye lasses?"

"Sure. We are just enjoying the nice day." Claire replies. He takes a seat between them.

"It is a remarkably nice day, for Scotland."

"Aye. We were catching up and discussing.."

"So, are you a student here Jamie?" Claire quickly changes the subject.

"Aye. Studying Business Administration."

"Jamie will be taking over the family business." Faith says with pride.

"Very nice. And what is the family business?"

"Lallybroch Estate. We are a bed and breakfast. And a wedding venue. The estate has been in our family 300 years."

Claire whistles low. "Impressive."

"Aye, and what is your area of study Claire?"

"I am pre-med."

"Now, THAT is impressive."

"Thanks." Her phone rings and she looks down at it with a frown."

"Frank?" Faith guesses.

"Yes. I will talk to you guys later. Nice to medt you Jamie. See you in creative writing Faith." She hurries off and the Fraser siblings watch her go.

"Who is Frank?" Jamie asks.

"An arse." Faith replies.

[thejollyroger-writer]

Write500: another great day for the books! Clocking in at 11:06 pm with 1190 words! Just a few more scenes and my first CS January Joy is ready! Tomorrow should be another good writing day, since all I have to do is laundry until 6:30! Thanks, @pen-and-sword-writing for continuing to inspire me to keep it up! I hope you’re feeling better!

[awkward-writing]

Write500: Day 2

~2100/500

This, so far, is chapter 5 of my WIP and I'm proud of what I've written thus far. Gotta keep it up if we wanna get this bread. (That bread being 15,500 words).

Words in total: 4100/15500. 26% completion!

[thewritershub]

So for the next Write500 we decided to do song titles. Music is a big influence in writing so we thought it’d be interesting to see what you come up with. 

Today’s is ‘Clean’ by Taylor Swift. Go listen to the song and then write 500 words. Just see what happens. 

Good luck, 

L&E x

[it-takes-everything-in-me]

Feeling “clean”. CLEAN. I wonder how that feels.

I’ve been listening to this song on repeat for a long time, you know that if you follow my tumblr. And you know how much I love that song, and how much Tay’s speech about it means to me, you also know I’ll get a tattoo from those lyrics soon. And I thought I’d write something about what that song makes me feel and how I relate to it. Hope it doesn’t sound like a pointless vent. It’s just that writing things down helps. I usually do it on my personal blog, but this is Taylor-related so, this is where it belongs. (I also submitted this to thewritershub for their Write500 about songs).

You know it’s all about you, about wrong choices, about you being stupid and about you finding reasons to justify your behaviour. About you being the worst you can be because it means to please someone. Being no one, erasing your own self, never finding your own self. I want to be clean and I don’t even know what clean is, for me.

You realize you’ve been stupid. You decided it wasn’t important to be You, it was important to be enough for someone else’s selfish ego. I know now, there was a moment, an exact moment when something happened in my mind and I accepted the fact that there wasn’t going to be nothing more than what it took to have him. Not to have him, to be enough for him, for someone. Whatever he asks, whatever he wants me to be will be fine. I can be something else, I must have thought, but I’d be alone. I won’t have any other chance. No one will ever want me I thought, no one ever did. I can be what he wants me to be. It’s going to be fine, I thought. I was just giving myself up. I decided not to exist as an individual. That’s what I did. It became addictive. I had a purpose. A sick one, but still.   

You can hide yourself on the outside, but you can’t kill yourself in your own mind. And soon you feel like like you’re drowning in a life it’s not meant for you. You’re weak. Because he couldn’t afford to have a strong person beside him. That’s what you signed up for. Being the weaker counterpart of a weak man. So he would feel powerful. You did this to yourself. He didn’t, it’s not his fault. He is just a pathetic mess. You did. To yourself.

And after years of this, it feels like drowning. Every single day your lungs filled with more water. You can’t breathe. It’s the breaking point? What comes after? You die? You save yourself? You’ve been so stupid, of course you have no idea how to save yourself. Is it even worth it?

…when I was drowning That’s when I could finally breathe…

Pain demands to be felt, I guess it’s just another way of saying this. It’s useless to fight the water when you’re drowning, you just need to think, and calm down, and float.

You’ve already lost yourself, there’s nothing else to lose.

So you’re still not clean, but at least you’re tired of drowning. You’re sick of hating every single cell of your body and every single neuron and nerve in your brain and you’re sick of feeling sorry for yourself.

So now you have to build yourself again. To decide who you want to be. It’s far too late, you’re not a teen anymore, but still, you have to find your own way. You have to fix the bad things you’ve done to your mind and to your body. You ruined yourself. And you have to fix yourself without any help. You can’t travel this path with someone, it has to be you. It has to be your decisions, every single time. You’ve spent years having someone else influencing your choices.  Being alone it’s for sure better than being someone else’s puppet. Not again, not this time. You’ll be clean, and it will feel amazing.  

[theliteraryluggage]

Write500: Noise & Silence

“You killed me.” Alistair woke with a start and cold sweat upon his brow. Sitting up, he strained to listen into the night, but he heard nothing but his own laboured breathing. He swallowed hard and ran a hand through his damp, tangled hair. Victor's voice had sounded so real in his ears, like he was standing right next to him.  But in the twilit room there was no one, just grey walls and dust around his lumpy mattress on the floor. No one was talking to him except the faint echoes of the hard, cold words he had heard in his dream. Alistair felt his hands trembling and wrapped his arms around his knees. His heart still beat painfully in his chest and he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. It had been almost a fortnight since the last time he had dreamt, had almost dared to hope that the nightmares were finally over. He should have known better. The nightmare is never over, he thought to himself, surprised at his own bitterness, not until... He hesitated, not knowing how to finish his thought. When would the nightmare be over? Even if – he hardly dared thinking about it for fear of his hopes being disappointed – even if Victor was still alive and came back to him one day, even if their plan succeeded, or if they even managed to get out of the city... the things he had seen and done in the Vindectorium would not leave him for the rest of his life. He could feel it, a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach. Exhaustion weighed down his eyelids and his eyes fell shut for a second. At once, the image of Victor in the entrance hall of the Vindectorium appeared before him, bleeding heavily from a cut to his side, blood-spattered and sweat-soaked but still standing, surrounded by soldiers. The last that Alistair had ever seen of him, before Private Sheppard had dragged him out the back door, telling him to run. It was like the image was burned into his retinas. He was scared to go back to sleep. The scratchy blanket draped around his shoulders, he got up and stepped out of the room into the cold, draughty factory floor. The sound his naked feet made against the rough stone echoed through the whole hall. He had half a mind to go down into the cellar, make Marc stay up with him until he felt better, or until sunrise – whichever came sooner. But it was still early in the night, he had hardly had two hours of sleep. It wasn't fair to bother Marc with his problems. Uncertain, what to do, Alistair stood in the middle of the factory hall, nothing but darkness and silence around him. Then he heard a whisper. Startled, he flinched, then turned around, staring wide-eyes into the dark. Was this another nightmare? Had he fallen asleep without noticing? He took a few steps backward, straining to listen for another sound. No, he hadn't imagined it. He could hear steps, distant at first, then closer, more determined. He felt paralysed, unable to move, when he saw a faint light approaching across the hall. As it got closer, he saw it was a lantern, the silhouette of the person who carried it becoming more distinct with every step. Alistair didn't dare to believe what he saw until he heard his voice calling out to him. “Ace!” A wave of relief washed over him and he thought he might collapse there and then. The Victor in his nightmares never called him by that name. Only the real Victor did.

[awritersnook]

Write500: Day 3

“Take Me to Church” by Hozier 

This song gives me some serious feels, and it’s going to be interesting to try to put it to words. 

Inspired work below: Decided to continue my characters’ stories from yesterday’s work. Think of this as a prequel to the last one I wrote. 530 words.

It had been a long day to say the least. There’s nothing like being prosecuted by your own mother for who you choose to love. I’ve been attracted to women since I was fourteen; although, I kept that fact to myself for all these years. I dated my guy friends to fit into the mold I had been given, but ultimately I wasn’t happy. It was only when I decided to be selfish and lie to everyone who knew me that I could actually look in the mirror and love who I was as a person. It’s strange to see how people treat you differently based on something that frankly isn’t even their business. Who I fuck should not define how I rank on the heaven or hell scale, but to some it’s all that matters. God let murders into heaven in the bible, but God forbid I love someone of my same sex. In my mother’s eyes, I was born sick and needed to be fixed by the church. I’d known those people my whole life, and now they looked at me like I was a homely stranger at their doorstep. I hadn’t changed at all really, only their knowledge of me did.

I scrolled through my social feeds, hardly paying attention at all. Someone was engaged. Another had her baby finally. It wasn’t anything new. While everyone was living their lives, I felt mine crumbling. Although I had never loved going to church because of how judgmental the sermons were, there was something comforting about praying to my God, surrounded by those I loved. The sound of the front door opening brought me out of my haze. Glancing over my shoulder, Vivienne was there, watching me closely.

“Didn’t go as planned, love?” she said, crossing the room. With her arms outstretched she hugged me from behind, our old computer chair protesting against her added weight.

Pressing her lips to my neck, I arched my back involuntarily and my breath hitched in my throat.  Slowly, her hands unwrapped themselves from our embrace, and she lead me away from the screen. Catching me off balance, she threw me onto our bed. Vivienne climbed on top of me, her hair falling over me as her brown eyes bored deep into my own.

“No,” I breath, letting her take me away from my problems if only for a little while. Her hands explored me like our first time together. Softly, she groped me, pushing her body against my own. Before long, I was marking my territory as well, biting, pinching, and rubbing any place I could. We stayed like this, locked in ecstasy, neither willing to let the other go.

It was only when we started to come back down from our high that reality came flooding back. We are broken to the world, but I love it.

“I don’t want to go back,” I whispered, feeling tears welling up behind my eyes. 

“We can worship here, my love,” she said against my skin, planting a kiss there before continuing. “Brick and mortar do not define your relationship with God. Besides, we have each other here…” Pausing, she added, “She’ll come around.”

[cargoshortsenjoyer]

I wrapped up my body in the fire-orange blanket they gave me. I was nice and warm, a stark contrast to those in the concentration camps.

“Here,” She handed me a mug of hot chocolate and sat down on my new, soft bed, “I just made it, so it’s still warm.” She smiled sweetly at me. I could tell it wasn’t a fake smile, but it was one of pity.

I didn’t care. I brought the mug to my lips and drank, closing my eyes as I savored every swallow. I could feel the warmth of the beverage moving through my body as I finished it, allowing myself to smile. Tears formed at the corners of my eyes. 

“It’s lovely.” I spoke. She laughed.

“Well, of course. Anything edible it great to people who haven’t eaten anything good in years.” Then she mumbled under her breath, “You should meet my sister, she makes excellent hot chocolate. She even uses colored marsh mellows.”

My eyes widen. Better than this? I hardly believed it. I guess I just wasn’t used to food tasting this good.

“Is the war over? Really over?” I asked, my voice cracking like a prepubescent child. Again, her smile is full of warmth and pity. She holds my hand and gives it a squeeze.

“Yes. I’m so sorry for all that you have been through.” She reaches over and ruffles my hair. “But now you can rest easy knowing that no more people are dying.”

I nod my head and yawn. It had been a long night-no. A long five years.

I had gotten here when I was ten; I was 15 now. I had grown up with the men dressed in black and red uniforms controlling me and my friends. I had gotten most of my injuries from the few times I’d dared to break protocol. It was terrible and painful, and made me sick to my stomach to think about it. My heart felt hollow and worn out, and I spent the last year not talking to anyone. I think some of the people here who didn’t know me from before thought I was a mute, when really I just couldn’t trust people. But this lady had helped me so much in the past few months; it felt lovely to smile genuinely. She reminded me of my mother.

“Yeah.”

“You should go to sleep now; we can start leaving tomorrow.” 

I almost wanted to protest, to not seem as sick, tired, and hungry as I was used to, but I thought better of it. I didn’t need to prove myself useful anymore; I could allow myself rest. 

“Thank you.” I mutter as I drift off to sleep

[caitlin-elias]

Write500-Motivation #1

Hi everyone! Welcome to a new year of productivity and creativity!

Today is the first day of the #write500 challenge! I want to encourage and support writers this year, by pushing everyone to try and write 500 words a day, for however long it takes to finish your current project!

As you begin, try to view the challenge not as an obstacle, but an opportunity! This is a chance to renew your creative energy, to band together with other writers to reach your goals!

If enough people are interested, I am happy to set up a discord server in the future to be able to chat about our current projects.

If you’re interested in joining, feel free to comment below! I will be making motivational posts about 2-3 times per week, but you are free to message me at anytime if you need encouragement/help. I love hearing about your stories!

Be sure to tag your progress as #write500 (and feel free to tag me!)

Here’s to a bright new year. I wish you all success and happiness in 2019!

—-

Tagging: @all-bridges-will-burn @bookishdiplodocus @rachelritterauthor @sulfurousmirrorscapes @carryonmycobaltangel @thejollyroger-writer @cennfaelad @renee-writer @upstartcrowofcomedy @fryingpanbouquet @prose-poetryblog @and-we-are-all-dead @tsumetai-enpitsu

[bookishdiplodocus]

Back in the saddle

I hadn’t written in almost two weeks, because I’m tired all the time. This afternoon, I did a sprint with @mareebrittenford and I managed 886 words in 25 minutes! Whoa!

This evening, I wrote some more, but not a lot. That’s okay though. Happy to be back.

Oh, and today, one of my posts reached 10,000 notes for the first time. Obviously I’m very happy with that new milestone too!

[renee-writer]

Proper Home Chapter 13 Repercussions

She didn't think and tried not feel as she packs up her bag and prepares to leave. A sweet get-a-away had turned into a disaster. She had came here a content if not quite happy partner of Frank and is leaving what? Not the same woman for sure. She feels angry and betrayed by both Frank and Jamie.

"I am sorry Faith. It isn't you. Please tell your parents and the others that I am sorry. That I appreciate their hospitality and all that."

"And Jamie?"

"What I want to say to Jamie, I won't burden you with." Her hands clench around her bag," I will see you Monday at uni."

"Claire, I am sorry that everything went so spectacularly wrong." Her chin quivers and Claire moves to reassure her.

"Not all. We had fun last night. Your nieces and nephews are precious. I so enjoyed meeting your family and Lallybroch is just..well words fail me."

"And deciding about Frank?"

"Well..."

"Please Claire dinna let what my clod heided brother did lead ye back into his arms."

"I will let you know I made it home safe." She hugs her tigjt and hurries out and Jenny rushes to Jamie's room.

×××××

"I did something stupid." Claire's weak voice on the line has Faith's heart beating fast.

"What?" She was as good as her word and had texted her to let her know of her safe arrival. But, she had heard nothing else from her the rest of the weekend. And she wasn't in class on Monday. It was now Monday evening and Faith was relieved to her from her.

"I called Frank. Just to explain Jamie's message. He asked to meet with me. He was sweet like he had been at the start. But, when I took him back to my place to talk.."

"Claire do ye need me?"

"Please.."

She grabs Jamie as she heads out.

"We are going to Claire's?"

"I dinna think she will wish to see me." He protests.

"I think Frank has done something to her." She announces as she drags him to the car. "I would take Willy if he was here or Rabbie if he wasn't in basic training. I fear she and I may need a male presence. So, ye are it." She allows no arguments. And Jamie, stunned by the thought of that bastard doing something to her, offers none.

They walk right in. At first, it seems Faith may have overreacted. There is no sign of a struggle. But then..

She lays curled up in the center of her bed. She is tightly wrapped in a robe and lays shivering. Faith joins her without a word. She just wraps her arms around her. Jamie stands still, shocked into immobility. One thought runs through his mind. 'if he had done what they think, he is a dead man.'

"At first we just talked," Claire whispers into his sister's chest. "He said he knew he had been an arse and wanted another chance. I...he is familiar. I...well...I thought maybe. But then as the night wore on he started getting possessive. Said for it to work between us I would have to quit uni, that he couldn't trust me around the other males there."

Jamie whinces. Had he caused this? He starts to speak but Faith shakes her head. He bites his lip and prepares to hear the rest.

"I told him that it wasn't happening. That I thought he had changed. He apologized. Said I made him crazy. That he can't help his jealousy. That I was just so beautiful that he couldn't help it. He kept me off balance, don't ye see?" Faith nods and holds her closer. "Off balance. And it was late. He went to kiss me and I allowed it. I ALLOWED it! After everything he had said and done. And then...I didn't want it..no, I didn't but, I wasn't sure what to do so again, I allowed it. After, he said, now you are mine and there will be no more foolish talk of classes and careers. You are mine and will be my wife and the mother of my children.' He wouldn't let me leave today until he knew my classes were over. It was only then he left promising to return tonight. I can't. Oh Jesus, I showered with as hot of water as I could stand. But, I still feel him on me. I know it wasn't..I allowed it but it feels."

"Hush Claire. Lay yer heid. I've ye and he won't be touching ye again. We will see to it."

"Aye, we will!" Jamie had never felt such rage. His body hummed with it. He knew, if called upon, he could take on Randall and everyone of his relatives single handedly.

Claire looks up. Lost in her tale she hadn't even realized Jamie was here.

"Jamie."

"I ken ye are mad at me and, if I caused any of this, oh Dhai, I will hate myself forever. But, he will nae be touching ye again Claire. I will see to him." He cracks his knuckles in demonstration.

"I..I am glad you are here. I was such a fool. How could I?"

"Stop it Claire. Frank f*cking Randall is a manipulative arse. Ye are nae at fault for trying to give him a secound chance. It shows yer big heart. Now, when did he say he would be back?"

She looks at the clock by the bedside. She shudders as she says," Anytime."

"Okay Claire. Ye and Faith stay right here. Does yer door have a lock?"

"Yes." Her voice quivers.

"Dinna flash Claire. I promise ye he willna get to ye. Ye lasses stay here. I will meet Randall." He gives her a reassuring smile and locks the door behind him.

×××××

He doesn't give him a chance to say a thing. He waits as he hears the lock turn. He makes a mental note to get Claire's locks changed and then tightens his body preparing for the first punch.

He walks in and turns towards Claire's room. He meets Jamie's fist. He staggers back and Jamie pulls him back up and punches him again. He doesn't say a word and Frank is to stunned to. The only sounds are grunts and the sound of fist hitting flesh. He punches his face a few more times becore hitting his belly. A huge 'whoosh' of air and Frank is bent over. Jamie pulls him back to an erect position and, one more thing. He doesn't use his knee. It isn't personal enough. He, instead punches him right between his legs. Frank losses all color and collapses in a boneless heap.

Jamie lifts him up and carries him out and places him in his car. He locks the doors and leaves him to come back to consciousness. He returns to his lasses. "Ye can open up. He won't be bothering ye again."

"What..we didn't hear to much?" Claire asks.

"Weel, I dinna give the lad much time to talk. He is a bit dazed outside in his auto."

"Will you get in trouble?"

He chuckles. "I ken lads like yer ex. He is a bully, ken? He will wish to but willna report what happened for he would have to admit I bested him and he dinna even get a punch in."

"Right. That is Frank alright. Thank you Jamie. I...I am not a violent person but.."

"Nor am I Claire. But, sometimes violence is necessary. And, when a brute violates and bullies a lass, weel, then it becomes necessary." He rubs his left hand. It aches a bit now that the adrenalin has worn off. Claire and Faith see and Claire tries to jump up but the long night and day, as well as the overwhelming stress drives her back.

"He needs ice." Claire tells Faith who jumps up to get it for him.

"Claire, will ye be alright?" He can focus on her mental health now that she is safe.

"I don't know. It is so strange. To go from one extreme to the other in days. I never saw.."

"I ken Claire. I ken I messed up. That I overstepped by sending that text."

"You did. But you made up for it. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't."

"Shhh 'leannen. I will be here. Faith and I. I just wish I could have prevented last night."

"I wish I would have been smarter, braver."

"Ye are the bravest lass I ken Claire." He takes a seat beside her and takes her hand with his right. "Ye seen what he is and got rid of him."

"You got rid of him."

"Aye, but couldn't of without ye deciding first."

Faith reenters and places the bag on his swelling left hand.

"I need to check out your hand," Claire announces.

"Later. Right now ye need to rest. My hand will bid for now."

[thejollyroger-writer]

Day one of Write 500 is more than a success- I hit over 1600! What a great start!

@pen-and-sword-writing