#How to write bestselling fiction

[szollibisz]

been thinking about this a loooot recently (even if my "writing style" annoys the shit out of me now) but yeahw.. my little guy my favourite doomed gay.....

[nobie]

I love being moots with writers y’all really make my day!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Against Lore

For the rest of May, my bestselling solarpunk utopian novel THE LOST CAUSE (2023) is available as a $2.99, DRM-free ebook!

One of my favorite nuggets of writing advice comes from James D Macdonald. Jim, a Navy vet with an encylopedic knowledge of gun lore, explained to a group of non-gun people how to write guns without getting derided by other gun people: "just add the word 'modified.'"

As in, "Her modified AR-15 kicked against her shoulder as she squeezed the trigger, but she held it steady on the car door, watching it disintegrate in a spatter of bullet-holes."

Jim's big idea was that gun people couldn't help but chew away at the verisimilitude of your fictional guns, their brains would automatically latch onto them and try to find the errors. But the word "modified" hijacked that impulse and turned it to the writer's advantage: a gun person's imagination gnaws at that word "modified," spinning up the cleverest possible explanation for how the gun in question could behave as depicted.

In other words, the gun person's impulse to one-up the writer by demonstrating their superior knowledge becomes an impulse to impart that superior knowledge to the writer. "Modified" puts the expert and the bullshitter on the same team, and conscripts the expert into fleshing out the bullshitter's lies.

Yes, writing is lying. Storytelling is genuinely weird. A storyteller who has successfully captured the audience has done so by convincing their hindbrains to care about the tribulations of imaginary people. These are people whose suffering, by definition, do not matter. Imaginary things didn't happen, so they can't matter. The deaths of Romeo and Juliet were less tragic than the death of the yogurt you had for breakfast. That yogurt was alive and now it's dead, whereas R&J never lived, never died, and don't matter:

https://locusmag.com/2014/11/cory-doctorow-stories-are-a-fuggly-hack/

Hijacking a stranger's empathic response is intrinsically adversarial. While storytelling is a benign activity, its underlying mechanic is extremely dangerous. Getting us to care about things that don't matter is how novels and movies work, but it's also how cults and cons work.

Cult leaders and con-artists know that they're engaged in mind-to-mind combat, and they make liberal use of Jim's hack of leaving blank spots for the mark to fill in. Think of Qanon drops: the mystical nonsense was just close enough to sensical that a vulnerable audience was compelled to try and untangle them, and ended up imparting more meaning to them than the hustler who posted them ever could have dreamt up.

Same with cons – there's a great scene in the Leverage: Redemption heist show where an experienced con-artist explains to a novice that the most convincing hustle is the one where you wait for the mark to tell you what they think you're doing, then run with it (scambaiters and other skeptics will recognize this as a relative of the "cold reading," where a "psychic" uses your own confirmations to flesh out their predictions).

As Douglas Adams put it:

A towel has immense psychological value. For some reason, if a strag (strag: non-hitch hiker) discovers that a hitch hiker has his towel with him, he will automatically assume that he is also in possession of a toothbrush, face flannel, soap, tin of biscuits, flask, compass, map, ball of string, gnat spray, wet weather gear, space suit etc., etc. Furthermore, the strag will then happily lend the hitch hiker any of these or a dozen other items that the hitch hiker might accidentally have "lost". What the strag will think is that any man who can hitch the length and breadth of the galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through, and still knows where his towel is is clearly a man to be reckoned with.

Magicians know this one, too. The point of a sleight is to misdirect the audience's attention, and use that moment of misattention to trick them, vanishing, stashing or producing something. The mark's mind is caught in a pleasurable agony: something seemingly impossible just happened. The mind splits into two parts, one of which insists that the impossible just happened, the other insisting that the impossible can't happen.

You know you've done it right if the audience says, "Do that again!" And that's the one thing you must not do. So long as you don't repeat the trick, the audience's imagination will chew on it endlessly, coming up with incredibly clever things that you must have done (a clever conjurer will know several ways to produce the same effect and will "do it again" by reproducing the effect via different means, which exponentially increases the audience's automatic imputation of clever methods to the performer).

Not for nothing, Jim Macdonald advises his writing students to study Magic and Showmanship, a classic text for aspiring conjurers:

https://memex.craphound.com/2007/11/13/magic-and-showmanship-classic-book-about-conjuring-has-many-lessons-for-writers/

There's a version of this in comedy, too. The scholarship of humor is clear on this: comedy comes from surprise. The audience knows they're about to be surprised when the punchline lands, and their mind is furiously trying to defuse the comedian's bomb before it detonates, cycling through potential punchlines of their own. This ramps up the suspense and the tension, so when the comedian does drop the punchline, the tension is released in a whoosh of laughter.

Your mind wants the tension to be resolved ASAP, but the pleasure comes from having that desire thwarted. Comedy – like most performance – has an element of authoritarianism. You don't give the audience what it wants, you give it what it needs.

Same goes for TTRPGs: the game master's role is to deny the players the victories and treasure they want, until they can't take it anymore, and then deliver it. That's the definition of an epic game. It's one of the durable advantages of human GMs over video game back-ends: they can ramp up the epicness by "cheating" on the play, giving the players the chance to squeak out improbable victories at the last possible second:

https://wilwheaton.typepad.com/wwdnbackup/2009/03/behind-the-screen.html

This is so effective that even crude approximations of it can turn video-games into cult hits – like Left4Dead, whose "Director" back-end would notice when the players were about to get destroyed and then substantially ramped up the chances of finding an amazing weapon – the chance would still be low overall, but there would be enough moments when the player got exactly what they'd been praying for, at the last possible instant, that it would feel amazing:

https://left4dead.fandom.com/wiki/The_Director#Special_Infected

Critically, Left4Dead's Director didn't do this every time. As any showman knows, the key to a great performance is "Always leave 'em wanting more." The musician's successful finale depends on doing every encore the audience demands, except the last one, so the crowd leaves with one tantalyzing and imaginary song playing in their minds, a performance better than any the musicians themselves could have delivered. Like the gun person who comes up with a cooler mod than the writer ever could, like the magic show attendee who comes up with a more elaborate explanation for the sleight than the conjurer could ever pull off, like the comedy club attendee whose imagination anticipates a surprise that grows larger the longer the joke goes on, the successful performance is an adversarial act of cooperation where the audience willingly and unwillingly cooperates with the performer to deny them the thing that they think they need, and deliver the thing they actually need.

This is my biggest problem with the notion that someday LLMs will get good enough at storytelling to give us the tales we demand, without having to suffer through a storyteller's sadistic denial of the resolutions we crave. When I'm reading a mystery, I want to turn to the last page and find out whodunnit, but I know that doing so will ruin the story. Telling the storyteller how the story should go is like trying to tickle yourself.

Like being tickled, experiencing only fun if the tickler respects your boundaries – but, like being tickled, there's always a part where you're squirming away, but you don't want it to stop. An AI storyteller that gives you exactly what you want is like a dungeon master who declares that every sword-swing kills the monster, and every treasure chest is full of epic items and platinum pieces. Yes, that's what you want, but if you get it, what's the point?

Seen in this light, performance is a kind of sado-masochism, where the performer delights in denying something to the audience, who, in turn, delights in the denial. Don't give the audience what they want, give them what they need.

What your audience needs is their own imagination. Decades ago, I was a freelance copywriter producing sales materials for Alias/Wavefront, a then-leading CGI firm that was inventing all kinds of never-seen VFX that would blow people away. One of the engineers I worked with told me something I never forgot: "Your imagination has more polygons than anything you can create with our software." He was talking about why it was critical to have some of the action happen in the shadows.

All of this is why series tend to go downhill. The first volume in any series leaves so much to the imagination. The map of the world is barely fleshed out, the characters' biographies are full of blank spots, the mechanics of the artifacts and the politics of the land are all just detailed enough that your mind automatically ascribes a level of detail to them, without knowing what that detail is.

This is the moment at which everything seems very clever, because your mind is just churning with all the different bits of elaborate lore that will fill in those lacunae and make them all fit together.

SPOILER ALERT: I'm about to give some spoilers for Furiosa.

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FURIOSA SPOILERS AHEAD!

Last night, we went to see Furiosa, the latest Mad Max movie, a prequel to 2015's Fury Road, which is one of the greatest movies ever made. Like most prequels, Furiosa functions as a lore-delivery vehicle, and as such, it's nowhere near as good as Fury Road.

Fury Road hints as so much worldbuilding. We learn about the three fortresses of the wasteland (the Citadel, the Bullet Farm, and Gastown) but we only see one (The Citadel). We learn that these three cities have a symbiotic relationship with one another, defined by a complex politics that is just barely stable. We meet Furiosa herself, and learn something of her biography – that she had been stolen from the Green Place, that she had suffered an arm amputation.

All of this is left for us to fill in, and for a decade, my hindbrain has been chewing on all of that, coming up with cool ways it could all fit together. I yearned to know the "real" explanation, but it was always unlikely that this real explanation would be as enjoyable as my own partial, ever-unfinished headcanon.

Furiosa is a great movie, but its worst parts are the canonical lore it settles. Partly, that's because some of that lore is just stupid. Why is the Bullet Farm an open-pit mine? I mean, it's visually amazing, but what does that have to do with making bullets? Sometimes, it's because the lore is banal – the solarpunk Green Place is a million times less cool than I had imagined it. Sometimes, it's because the lore is banal and stupid: the scenes where Furiosa's arm is crushed, then severed, then replaced, are both rushed and quasi-miraculous:

https://www.themarysue.com/how-does-furiosa-lose-her-arm/

But even if the lore had been good – not stupid, not banal – the best they could have hoped for was for the lore to be tidy. If it were surprising, it would seem contrived. A story whose loose ends have been tidily snipped away seems like it would be immensely satisfying, but it's not satisfying – it's just resolved. Like the band performing every encore you demand, until you no longer want to hear the band anymore – the feeling as you leave the hall isn't satisfaction, it's exhaustion.

So long as some key question remains unresolved, you're still wanting more. So long as the map has blank spots, your hindbrain will impute clever and exciting mysteries, tantalyzingly teetering on the edge of explicability, to the story.

Lore is always better as something to anticipate than it is to receive. The fans demand lore, but it should be doled out sparingly. Always leave 'em wanting more.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/27/cmon-do-it-again/#better_to_remain_silent_and_be_thought_a_fool_than_to_speak_and_remove_all_doubt

[perpetual-stories]

Eight Strategies for Improving Dialogue in Your Writing

Well, hi! Oh my… wow! It’s been a long time since I’ve posted! I’ve been very busy and I am genuinely sorry to all my followers, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about this account, but here is one final post for the year!

Hopefully next year I become consistent with it again!

Let’s begin!

One of the best ways to help a reader connect with your writing is by crafting excellent dialogue. Use these tips to learn how to write dialogue that showcases character development, defines your characters’ voices, and hooks readers.

Why Use Dialogue?

Good dialogue performs all sorts of functions in fiction writing. It defines your characters’ voices, establishes their speech patterns, exposes the inner emotions, and showcases their character development. Beyond mere characterization, effective dialogue can also establish the setting and time period of your story and reveal information in a way that doesn’t feel overly expository.

Authors use lines of dialogue to reveal a character’s personality and express their point of view. For instance, an archetypal football coach might speak in short, terse sentences peppered with exclamation points and quotations from famous war generals. By contrast, a nebbish lover with a broken heart might drone on endlessly to his therapist or best friend, speaking in run-on sentences that circle around his true motivations. When an author can reveal character traits through dialogue, it cuts down on exposition and makes a story flow briskly.

Eight Writing Tips for Improving Dialogue

The first time you write dialogue, you may find it quite difficult to replicate the patterns of normal speech. This can be compounded by the concurrent challenges of finding your own voice and telling a great story overall. Even bestselling authors can get stuck on how a particular character says a particular line of dialogue. With practice and hard work, however, lackluster dialogue can be elevated to great dialogue.

Here are some strategies for improving the dialogue in your own work:

Mimic the voices of people in your own life. Perhaps you’ve created a physician character with the same vocal inflections as your mother. Perhaps your hero soldier talks just like your old volleyball coach. If you want to ensure that your dialogue sounds the way real people speak, there’s no better resource than the real life people in your everyday world.

Mix dialogue with narration. Long runs of dialogue can dislodge a reader from the action of a scene. As your characters talk, interpolate some descriptions of their physical postures or other activity taking place in the room. This mimics the real-world experience of listening to someone speaking while simultaneously taking in visual and olfactory stimuli.

Give your main character a secret. Sometimes a line of dialogue is most notable for what it withholds. Even if your audience doesn’t realize it, you can build dynamic three-dimensionality by having your character withhold a key bit of information from their speech. For instance, you may draft a scene in which a museum curator speaks to an artist about how she wants her work displayed—but what the curator isn’t saying out loud is that she’s in love with the artist. You can use that secret to embed layers of tension into the character’s spoken phrases.

Use a layperson character to clarify technical language. When you need dialogue to convey technical information in approachable terms, split the conversation between two people. Have one character be an expert and one character be uninformed. The expert character can speak at a technical level, and the uninformed one can stop them, asking questions for clarification. Your readers will appreciate it.

Use authentic shorthand. Does your character call a gun a “piece” or a “Glock”? Whatever it is, be authentic and consistent in how your characters speak. If they all sound the same, your dialogue needs another pass.

Look to great examples of dialogue for inspiration. If you're looking for a dialogue example in the realm of novels or short stories, consider reading the great books written by Mark Twain, Judy Blume, or Toni Morrison. Within the world of screenwriting, Aaron Sorkin is renowned for his use of dialogue.

Ensure that you’re punctuating your dialogue properly. Remember that question marks and exclamation points go inside quotation marks. Enclose dialogue in double quotation marks and use single quotation marks when a character quotes another character within their dialogue. Knowing how to punctuate dialogue properly can ensure that your reader stays immersed in the story.

Use dialogue tags that are evocative. Repeating the word “said” over and over can make for dull writing and miss out on opportunities for added expressiveness. Consider replacing the word “said” with a more descriptive verb.

[nanowrimo]

Plot vs. Story: Why the Difference Matters

Is there a difference between plot and story? NaNo participant Hedi Mohammed walks us through this question and talks about how knowing the difference can help you in your writing.

You may be wondering why this is a question at all. While it might not be an obvious problem, many writers tend to mash together the words “plot” and “story” and use them interchangeably. How accurate is that assumption?

It turns out that there is a notable difference between them, and knowing it gives you an edge over plot bunnies, characters acting out, and all kinds of other problems!

What is a Plot?

A plot is a collection of events that happen in a certain order in a story. More importantly, plot is what your characters respond to; it’s the combination of this action and reaction that moves a story forward. Therefore, the plot is considered a building block rather than the whole.

What is a Story?

On the other hand, a story is more than the sum of its parts; it includes the plot events, characters, worldbuilding, themes, and wording of your book. All of these different building blocks come together to form a complete, well-written recount of the story you want to tell.

Why is Knowing the Difference Important?

As you can imagine, trying to force the idea of plot, a building block, being equal to the entire story is a recipe for disaster.

By equating the plot to the whole story, you might find yourself focusing primarily on what happens in the world of your characters. This can make you accidentally compromise on other equally important parts of your story, like better characterization, without you realizing it.

Remember that plot events mean nothing without the reactions of the characters to them. There are many sides to a good story; events can be seen as heartfelt, cold, or scary depending on how characters react and how you set the scene.

How It Helps You Improve Your Writing

Simply knowing the difference between plot and story can clear up a few of the issues that writer’s block can stem from, like not knowing which direction your story is taking. Additionally, you can:

Prioritize different parts of your story. By moving away from the plot every now and then, you start to notice other areas that may need more work.

Improve the characterization of your characters. With the relationship between plot and characters in mind, you can develop your protagonist(s) and antagonist(s) alongside the events that affect them.

Explore more creative ways to make use of your worldbuilding/themes. Develop your mood in less common ways, or take advantage of simple sentences to make punchy statements.

Stay motivated and power through writer’s block. If you consider writer’s block a mystery to be solved, then you just made a breakthrough!

Here you go, a tidbit of information for your writing needs! While the misunderstanding may seem small, resolving it can have an incredible effect on your writing process.

Hedi Mohammed is an up-and-coming content writer and editor of MIST: After the Apocalypse, an Egyptian bestselling novel. Now that they have much more time to dedicate to writing, be on the lookout for fiction and poetry books of their own coming soon! Photo by Alina Vilchenko

[goodluckclove]

Stop Calling Yourself an Aspiring Author: A Proposition

So this post is dedicated to @dreambigdreamz, who asked me a question about when you can stop calling yourself an aspiring author. I had to wait until I could go to sleep to properly answer, because this is going to be a long one, probably. I'm actually doing this before I get to work for the day, because if I could get one goddamned person to stop labeling themselves like this I will feel success for at least three days.

It's a question for new writers - the difference between a writer and an author. If you Google the difference it appears there are two camps:

Writer and author are synonyms

You are only an author if you publish your work/write as a career

This is odd to me already. It's odd and it's immediately gatekeep-y, and it's so fucking surreal that ours is the only artistic field that has this strange distinction. For most other outlets there's still a separation between hobbyist and professional, but that's considered optional as far as I've seen.

Someone who paints or does digital art isn't likely to call themselves a hobbyist artist, even if they aren't doing it as their main source of income. They're just an artist.

If someone practices the piano but isn't actively in a performing band or symphony, they probably don't call themselves an aspiring pianist. They're already doing it. They're a pianist.

I briefly considered cook versus chef, but in that context cook doesn't necessarily mean amateur. There are line cooks and prep cooks and fry cooks and sauté cooks who work professionally. I have the qualifications of a prep or line cook, but I'm currently only cooking meals at home. So does that mean I'm an aspiring cook? That's weird. That doesn't sound right.

So by this point it should be clear that I find it deeply reductive to say that you can only call yourself an author if you've professionally published a work of writing. Maybe that was the case, like, a hundred years ago? Even then, though, one of the definitions of author is a verb describing the act of writing something. You could author a scientific paper. You could author a poem.

It's 2002. The scope of what it means to publish is infinitely vaster than it was in the days of Virginia Woolf or Ernest Hemingway. You could traditionally publish your novel - that's still an option. But you could also indie-publish. Or self-publish. Or produce your own zines or chapbooks and distribute them online. Or send our newsletters on platforms like Substack. Or serialize through websites like Wattpad, Tapas, Itch.io, Patreon, AO3, or even tumblr.

I never called myself an author, but my reasons have nothing to do with whether or not I've been published. I prefer writer, as it has a more versatile feel that tracks whether I'm working on a novel or a poem or a play. But that's beside the point.

Personally, I'm in the first camp. Writer and author are essentially synonymous, only in my eyes an author is someone who writes fiction or nonfiction prose. That's it. Have you done that? Cool. Good job no longer being "aspiring".

If you have the words aspiring author in your life somewhere, there's a good chance you're actively gatekeeping yourself from feeling good enough to do your own thing. Why not replace it with something like the following?

future bestseller

soon-to-be published

new author/writer

growing author/writer

developing author/writer

practicing author/writer

author/writer in training

just author/writer

If someone does the whole "you're a writer? what have you published?" welcome to the conversation that all writers have to tolerate at some point. People are dumb. People typically don't know our industry and how it functions, and that's fine. Just smile and nod and shrug your way out of the conversation.

Yes, there's infighting within writers who should very much be spending less time arguing who gets to wear the nametag and who doesn't. Those people are lame dipshits who should shut the fuck up and get back to writing. If you have a passion for writing, be it fanfic or scripts or short stories or novels, you are my peer and colleague. I might not like the structure or content of your writing - which is fine, by the way - but I would never even say that you aren't a writer holy shit.

I don't care if you use every genre and trope that I find trite and excessive. If you genuinely care about the stories you tell and you still present yourself as an aspiring author, you have a duty to take yourself more seriously than that.

You are a writer. You are an author. This should not be a question.

We need to move past this and start asking ourselves the real questions that come after you answer "Am I an author". Am I a safe author? Am I an advocate and an ally? Am I a supportive member of the community? Am I still learning? Am I a capable author? Am I adaptable? Am I resourceful? Am I determined?

I'm running out of steam here. I need the writers here, especially the younger writers, to move past this stage of their creative careers as quickly as fucking possible. I was there too. I get it. And I'm telling you it's time to soak the label of aspiring so as to loosen the adhesive, gently peel it off, and throw it in the trash forever. Don't even keep it for sentimental reasons to look back on later.

Toss it. Burn it. Eat it. It is not helping you.

Okay that's all. You should close this now and write three hundred words of whatever the fuck you want. I love you.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

The Parent Trap 👨‍👩‍👧‍👧 | Lt. Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw Imagine

Inspired by Disney’s ‘The Parent Trap’

Link to my TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Lt. Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x novelist female!reader (romantic), Lila L/n and Caroline Bradshaw!OCs (daughters), Marilyn Brooks!OC (Bradley’s love interest), Ollie Tomas (platonic, Y/n’s bff), Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell (platonic) & Hannix (Phoenix x Hangman)

Content Warnings: fluff, light angst, profanity, pregnancy & childbirth, separated twins, second chance romance troupe, assault (reader punches a character) | female reader—afab!reader (she/her) | wc: 18k+ this is long folks.

Premise: It was quite literally love at first sight for aspiring aviator Bradley Bradshaw and writer Y/n L/n, but the relationship ended as fast as it started. It did result in the birth of their beautiful identical twin daughters, Lila and Caroline—but even they couldn’t keep them together. An agreement was made in the divorce, Caroline would grow up with Bradley, and Lila would be raised by Y/n so the former couple never had to see each other again. What neither anticipated, however, were the sisters coming face-to-face at summer camp the year they turned 14…..and forming the ultimate parent trap to reunite their parents for a second chance at love.

Note: I rewatched ‘The Parent Trap’ the other night and gosh I remembered how much I loved that movie as a kid. I immediately got to writing this because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Just to be clear I do NOT support the idea of separating children especially twins & not tell them. This is of course for fictional purposes & I do not own Disney, The Parent Trap or the TGM characters. Hope you enjoyed! (Also I envisioned Dan Levy as Ollie when I wrote this & Margot Robbie as Marilyn😂

Thank you guys so so much for 1k!!!! I’m over the moon and cannot believe that I hit 1k just as I’m celebrating 1 year of coming back to this writing account and actually keeping up with works ! 🥹🥹 I love you all and appreciate all the kind words left on my stories 🤍🤍 you guys are the best!! — Bee 🐝

——————————————

“I know you’re upset, honey,” Y/n brushed Lila’s dirty blonde hair behind her ear, “But it’s for the best. Just think before you know it’ll be the holidays and then next summer I’ll fly you out there.” All she got in response was a sad nod, the fourteen-year-old turning to look out the window. Sunny California soon turned into cloudy New York as the plane traveled from coast to coast. The entire journey the novelist thought back to the past two weeks, which did nothing to heal her aching heart. Not only did she mourn leaving behind her second daughter, but she mourned what could’ve been with the man she thought she’d spend the rest of her life with almost fourteen years ago.

The one who made her believe in love at first sight.

In 2006, aspiring writer Y/n L/n was on the verge of college graduation, planning to move to New York City in hope of accomplishing her dream of becoming a New York Times bestselling author.

For as long as she could imagine writing stories was her escapism from the hardships of reality. A hopeless romantic, most of her work was romance—dabbling in fantasy or historical fiction from time to time but keeping a romance troupe involved. She first started writing fanfiction on the internet when it was just starting out, focusing on some of her favorite characters which resulted in her profile becoming popular with readers. It soon progressed to her attempting to write an actual novel.

The story she envisioned to write one day was keeping her up at night, so she finally sat her ass down the summer going into her senior year and started writing. In between classes and working at the campus library at UVA, where she was studying literature and psychology, Y/n was nose deep in her Apple iBook she literally got because of Elle Woods in Legally Blonde. Pages upon pages, the words flew from her mind and onto the screen, forming dialogue and descriptions. She didn’t know what would come of the book, unsure if she would even send it to literary agents and publishers once completed, but for now it was purely for her entertainment.

After all, look at Stephenie Meyer. Home girl wrote a book based on a dream and it turned out to be one of the bestselling series of all time.

Graduation came in a blur. Her plan was to go to the ceremony, get her diploma, and then head back to her place to finish writing. She was only a few chapters from being done. The last thing she wrote was the big twist which could be the make or break for the main character to be with the love interest, all that was needed was the resolution.

What Y/n didn’t expect that night was going to a party, at the insistence of her friend, and meeting who she believed was the man of her dreams.

Bradley Bradshaw was everything a girl would fawn over. Handsome, funny, flirty, the life of a party, who had dreams and aspirations. While his friends clowned him for having the typical 80s porstache, they secretly envied how well he pulled it off. Which was obvious by the amount of women throwing themselves at him.

Y/n’s friend had her eyes on him that night….but little did they both know, he had eyes for Y/n.

The second she walked in he was drawn to her. “Who’s that?” He asked his buddy, Fabian, interrupting him from his flirting with a pretty redhead. Annoyed, Fabian looked in the direction of Bradley’s gaze, catching Y/n in his line of sights.

“You talkin’ about the girl in the white pantsuit? That’s I think Y/n if I remember—we had psych 101 together ages ago. She doubled majored with English and worked at the library….” he raised a brow at Bradley, who was already walking toward Y/n with a determined look on his face.

Her friend Tanya spotted him first, immediately smiling with hopeful eyes. Only it fell to a small frown when she realized he wasn’t looking at her, but Y/n.

“Hi,” the greeting has Y/n turn around, red solo cup in hand and becoming puzzled at the sight of a gorgeous man standing behind her.

“U-uh hello.”

Bradley extends a hand, “I’m Bradley.” Y/n shakes it, both flinching when a spark ignites at the contact.

“I’m Y/n. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Y/n,” he beams, now aware she wasn’t alone. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if you’d like to dance?”

“Oh um,” she glances at Tanya, seeing her saddened look and becomes apologetic. “I-I don’t know…”

“Just one,” he insists, “and then I promise to leave you alone afterwards.”

Y/n still appeared hesitant, not wanting to upset Tanya further, but the woman gives her a soft smile, “go on,” she takes the cup from Y/n, “I’ll be right here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Totally. In fact,” Tanya bites her lip when she connects eyes with a guy she had a class with the previous semester. One she thought was cute and wouldn’t mind getting to know. When he gives her a wave and gestures for her to come over, Tanya blushes, “I’ll be over there talking to Grayson. Take all the time you need.” She was already on the move before Y/n could say anything else, leaving her with Bradley.

“Sooo…” he holds out a hand, nodding his head to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the house the party was at.

Heart racing, Y/n gives a small smile and takes his hand, letting him lead her to the floor. It was the first time a guy had asked her to dance at a party. Though she didn’t date or go out much in college, the times she did Y/n often got left alone because Tanya or one of their roommates/friends were hit on and she didn’t. Plus with school, work, and writing her book, a social life was pretty much nonexistent.

One dance became two, then three, and four. Before she knew it three a.m rolled by and she and Bradley had danced and talked the whole night, ending with the two sitting in the back of his Bronco with sonic Route 44s and milkshakes. Never had Y/n laughed as hard as she did that night, almost to the point of tears. There was warmth all through her veins, even after the two parted ways, only sharing a sweet kiss when he dropped her off at her apartment.

It was the closest thing she felt to love at first sight.

Maybe it truly was.

Things went by fast. Literally. So fast it was starting to make Y/n worried. Not only were the feelings getting stronger, but the terms of the relationship in general. Within a weeks they were living together, Bradley going as far as to propose to Y/n with the news of his commission into the U.S Navy.

“Marry me, Y/n,” he told her after the ceremony, the shiny Ensign ranks on the color of his uniform. “I know it sounds crazy, but I wanna share my life with you—every part of it. Till the day I die.”

Part of her was conflicted but the overwhelming love for Bradley had Y/n say yes. That weekend they were at the courthouse, exiting as Mr. & Mrs. Bradshaw.

But unfortunately the love story ended before it could really begin.

A few short weeks after the wedding, Y/n found out she was pregnant while Bradley was at flight school. It terrified her as much as it excited her. They were only twenty-two, with Bradley’s Naval career just starting out and Y/n trying to get her food in the door on hers. Having double majored in literature and psychology there were many career paths she could go into. Many would involve her having to get a Masters, but the couple were already paying off student loans from undergrad that she didn’t want to have to take out anymore financial aid.

Personally Y/n wanted to write books. She had yet to finish the one from college, with plenty more ideas safely tucked in her mind. The news of her pregnancy would have to put any potential job on hold.

Bradley was beyond excited when she told him, lifting her in his arms with glee, “I’m gonna be a dad!” His excitement was what really made Y/n look forward to bringing their baby into the world. She still had worries no doubt but having Bradley, who was now known to his fellow aviators as Rooster, made it easier.

But the couple were in for a much bigger surprise.

“TWINS?!” They both shrieked in the hospital room, eyes bulging the monitor showcasing two sacs in Y/n’s womb. Rooster nearly went into cardiac arrest, the woman bursting into tears which had him hold her tightly in his arms. Lips pressed to her head as he mumbled, “We got this baby. This is exciting! Just think, they’ll be best friends forever.”

“And it looks like,” the technician moved the wand across Y/n’s stomach a bit more to get a better angle. “You are gonna be blessed with two girls, Mr. and Mrs. Bradshaw.” That had Y/n cry even more, Rooster shedding his own at the excitement and love that filled him.

“Girls,” he breathed in awe, kissing all over his wife’s face making her cries turn into giggles. “We’re having little girls—I’m so happy, Y/n. I can’t thank you enough for giving me this gift.”

In April of 2007 Lila and Caroline Bradshaw arrived. Identical twins who literally could not be told apart unless they were dressed differently. So the couple bought matching necklaces with gold pendants on each with the letters ‘C’ and ‘L’ for each girl. That way they could always know who was who.

Named after his mother, Caroline was a daddy’s girl even as a newborn. The only time she ever really wanted Y/n was when she was hungry, other than that little Caroline wanted to be in Bradley’s arms. She’d fall asleep in them, whine if she were in someone else’s, and make grabby hands for him when he’d come home. Caroline’s personality resembled Rooster’s, literally the life of the party whenever people were over.

Lila on the other hand was her momma’s mini me. The name came from a character in Y/n’s book. Not the protagonist, but the best friend who Y/n enjoyed writing for more than the main character. It was a name she always loved, and the moment Y/n’s eyes landed on the baby girl the name was perfect for her. Opposite of her sister, Lila was quiet and reserved. She loved to be held by Y/n and would beg for her attention. Like Caroline was a daddy’s girl, Lila was momma’s angel.

Life seemed to be good. It was good.

But then when the twins turned six months, things started to sour. They were living in Virginia with Bradley assigned to the Golden Warriors and Y/n was at home taking care of the girls. She’d get a little bit of writing done within the week but had major writer's block. Almost twice a week she and Bradley were arguing over something whether it was money, work, or the girls. They’d go to bed with their backs facing each other, Bradley leaving in the morning with little to no goodbye and when he’d return home he’d be so exhausted the two would rarely talk like they used to.

It was apparent the honeymoon stage was over. Both realizing it just wasn’t working out and even with their daughters the relationship was becoming strained.

What really ended everything was the night of the officer’s ball. A disrespectful comment was made to Y/n about wanting to be a published romance author by one of Bradley’s superiors. And he didn’t stand up for her. In fact, the man had the audacity to laugh with the men.

Heartbroken and pissed off, Y/n threw her napkin onto the table and removed herself without permission to be excused. Everyone stared with wide eyes, Bradley’s superiors watching with disapproval and making snide comments to the licensed pilot. Now he was angry, feeling humiliated by the scene and raced after his wife with an apology to the guests.

When they got outside both were feeling the heat. Spitting off words that they knew were going to fuel the fire.

“What the fuck was that, Y/n?”

“What the fuck was that?” She repeated with malice, “How fucking dare you sit there and laugh while they insult me! I’m your fucking wife, Bradley—you’re supposed to stand up for me! Instead you humiliated me!”

The entire drive home they were silent. Rooster’s knuckles were practically white with how hard he was gripping them, Y/n breathing heavily to control the anger. Not even the radio was playing. Only silence filled the void of the impeding argument that was to continue when they got home.

The door of the Bronco slamming alerted the babysitter, the teenage daughter of their neighbors, who met them outside with a smile only to frown when Bradley stormed past her. “Is everything—,” she went to ask but Y/n stopped her.

“Everything’s fine.” It was far from fine but she didn’t need to know that. Y/n removed a small wad of cash from her clutch, handing it to the girl. “This is for you. Thanks for all your help, Molly.”

When Y/n got in she checked on her girls first and then met Bradley in the bedroom to get out of the god forsaken dress she started to feel claustrophobic in. It wasn’t even fifteen seconds later before the couple were at it again. They tried to keep quiet for the sake of their daughters asleep just down the hall but nothing could stop the shouts from escaping.

“What was I supposed to do?” Rooster throws his arms out, face red. “Tell him to shut the fuck up? I have to work with him, Y/n. I see him every goddamn day—you want me to make my life miserable? Cause he’ll make sure that happens.”

Y/n couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Are you fucking serious, Bradley? You’re so worried about having to do more pushups than people or get hazed than standing up for me? Your own wife?! Yeah, I wanted you to tell him to shut the fuck up—I would’ve done it if was my boss! Because you’re my husband and I wouldn’t let somebody insult you like he did me!”

He sarcastically laughs, bringing his hands up to rub his face, “You know, you’re acting like a fucking lunatic right now.”

The comment had Y/n still, eyes widening as the alarms went off in her head. She waited for him to take it back, but when he didn’t all she could do was make a pained sound, turning away from him before the tears could spill. Exiting their room, Y/n went to the closet where they stored luggage. When she returned she had her large suitcase and a baby bag.

“What are you doing?” She ignored him, starting to throw random clothes in the bag from her dresser. Rooster, came around the bed staring at her in disbelief. “Y/n, what the fuck are you doing?”

“What does it look like, Bradley,” she hissed, still not looking at him. “I’m fucking packing and getting the hell out this house. And I’m taking the girls with me.”

“The hell you are!” He shouts, going after her when she enters the bathroom. “You’re not taking my daughters. Especially when I don’t know where the hell you’re going.”

“I’ll figure it out,” she gathers her makeup, skincare, hair care and shower necessities. “Maybe I’ll finally go to New York like I planned before I met you.”

“And what are you gonna do there?” He challenged from the doorway. Y/n felt her hand tighten over the first item in her hand, which happened to be a hair dryer. She could feel the words on the tip of his tongue, praying to God he wouldn’t actually say what would really tear her heart in pieces.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” But Bradley was too far gone before he could stop himself.

“Finish that book? The one you’ve been writing for almost three years and have yet to finish? And then actually get it published?” He chuckled sarcastically, breaking her soul when he added, “Yeah, sure you are. How about you wake up and start thinking about reality—where you should work on getting an actual career that’s gonna support your daughters instead of living in a fairytale.”

The hairdryer left her hand with a literal battle cry, causing Bradley to jump out of the way with a curse, the object hitting the side of his arm. When it bounced on the ground before stopping just by the bed, the couple stared at each other as though they couldn’t believe what had happened. Both were breathing heavily, Y/n’s makeup smudged with tears rolling down her face.

“Fuck you,” she whispered, seeing the immediate regret in his eyes, though no words of the sort followed. Y/n brought a hand up, turning away from him when he said her name. “Fuck you, Bradley.” She heard him leave, the door closing behind him allowing her to succumb to her emotions. The rest of the time she packed her things Y/n fought back sobs. She wouldn’t let him see her like that. That he had hurt her beyond what she could’ve imagined.

The way he took her dream and basically slapped her in the face with it. He knew she was dealing with writer’s block and had trouble focusing on the ending with having to take care of their girls. And not to mention she gave up her pursuits to follow him.

No more.

Zipping up her suitcases, Y/n picked up the wedding photo of her and Bradley. There were not many photos of them printed out and none were hung on the walls just because they would have to move with his job, but the two photos they did have were of their little courthouse wedding and the day the twins were born.

Tears rolling down her cheek, Y/n removed the photo from the frame and tore it down the middle before doing the same with the one of them and the girls. The piece with Bradley looking down at her in the wedding and the one of him holding Lila were folded and placed in her purse, leaving the one of her in her wedding dress and the one holding Caroline. She secretly put them in the drawer of his nightstand, letting him decide what he plans to do with them once she’s gone.

She couldn’t believe what she was about to do, but it was for the best in order for them to not have to deal with a nasty custody dispute. Already she could feel a bit of her heart missing. The piece reserved for Caroline.

After quietly packing Lila’s things, Y/n rolled her suitcases down the hall and placed the baby bag on top. Rooster was in the kitchen drinking a beer, ignoring when she came into the living room to gather all the things she had there.

“I have an offer,” she approached when she was done, keeping her gaze on the ground. Y/n feared she wouldn’t be able to say it if she looked into his eyes.

“What,” his voice was monotone, evident he was tired and wanting to get whatever argument out of the way so they could move on.

“I can’t stay here,” she told him, noticing him stiffening in the corner of her eye. “I just can’t, Bradley. We both know this was a long time coming and tonight was just the nail in the coffin. We’re not a good fit—we both want different things. And I can’t even look at you without wanting to scream.” She took a deep breath to calm herself, “I never want to see you again after tonight…so I don’t wanna have to go through a custody battle with you.”

“And how do you suppose that’s going to work out?” She could hear the heartbreak in his tone, getting tight with each word like he would explode if she took both girls.

Y/n let out a tired sigh, squeezing her eyes shut, “we both know Caroline prefers you, and Lila prefers me.” She waited for him to say something, but when he didn’t she knew he silently agreed. The next words that left her set in stone the next decade in a half of her life, “So I’ll take Lila with me and you raise Caroline. That way they have one of us and we never have to see each other again.” Again Bradley doesn't respond so Y/n softly says, “I’ll call a lawyer in the morning. For now I’m sleeping in the girls room.”

‘Come after me,’ she silently thought, a part of her hoping he would and convince her she was wrong and they could work this out.

‘Go after her,’ his brain screamed at him, not wanting to let go of the woman of his dreams.

But he stayed where he stood.

Twelve hours later the couple sat in the office of a divorce lawyer with papers drawn up indicating Y/n would have custody of Lila, retaining her maiden name and legally changing the girl’s to L/n, and Bradley would have custody of Caroline. They removed their rings, Y/n wiping away a tear when she did, before the two returned to the home to gather Y/n’s things.

Once the car was packed Y/n cradled Caroline while Bradley held Lila, the two facing away from each other to not show the other their emotion.

“I love you so much, sweet girl,” she whispered against Caroline’s tiny head, careful to not let her tears drop on her. Kissing her crown, Y/n softly said, “Our paths will cross again one day. But until then, I hope you have the best life and be a good girl for your daddy. You’ll always be my Caroline, my sweet girl.”

A few yards away, Bradley was saying his own words of love to Lila. “Promise me you won't give your momma too much trouble, Lila darlin’. You two take care of each other,” he kisses her forehead, eyes glistening with unshed tears, “I’ll see you again one day. I love you darlin’. You’ll always have a piece of me.”

The former couple barely glanced at each other or spoke a word the entire time Bradley was securing Lila in her car seat and Y/n reluctantly handing Caroline over. Her heart skipped, clenching at the same time Bradley surprised her by giving a soft kiss to her forehead, muttering for her to have a safe trip. Y/n only nodded, moving to the driver's seat and backing out of the driveway before pulling onto the road. Y/n finally allowed the tears to fall when she exited the gate for the last time.

When she got to her parents house roughly five hours later Y/n wanted to just go to sleep but her mind wouldn’t let her.

No, in fact, it wanted her to write.

The final piece of the book that had been nagging her for years finally played in her head. Everything from the dialogue to the final scene.

While her parents spent time with Lila, both of whom voiced their unhappiness with her decision to leave behind Caroline, Y/n’s eyes were focused on the screen in front of her. The only time she took breaks was to have dinner, use the bathroom, have downtime with Lila before putting her to bed, and share a glass of wine with her mother. Other than that, Y/n was writing until the early hours of the morning—going as far as to make edits to earlier parts of the book and change things she felt were unnecessary.

By the time the clock hit 4 am, Y/n was in need of a melatonin and 8 hours of sleep. But she was done. Done with the book she had spent so much time trying to get done. It was as though leaving Bradley was the awakening she needed to get it finished.

How fucking sad when one thinks about it.

That mid-morning, after popping a melatonin and sleeping for a few hours before having to tend to Lila, Y/n’s parents were visibly shocked by the difference in her behavior from the previous day. Of course Y/n was still deeply saddened by everything and they could tell it was affecting her, but there was also a sense of hope in her eyes. When asked about it all Y/n responded was, “I finished the book.”

Between looking for small two bedroom apartments in New York and part-time jobs, Y/n edited her book. For about six months she lived with parents, celebrating Lila’s first birthday where Y/n cried herself to sleep at not being able to do the same to Caroline. But then again, she had no one to blame but herself.

The break of a lifetime came a week after Lila’s birthday when Y/n finally got a response from one of five literary agents she had sent her inquiry to. “Hello Ms. L/n, Thank you for sending your inquiry. I’ve read your submission and am intrigued about your book. Please send me a copy of your full manuscript either through my email or a printed version to the address I have listed below. I’m interested to see what you have written and hope you get back to me soon. Sincerely, Yolanda Richards.”

Over the moon, Y/n sent a printed copy to Yolanda the next day. Nerves filled her with what the agent would think and if she would have her as a client. After researching for weeks on literary agents, Yolanda Richards was one of the best in the romance genre, with multiple NYT bestsellers under her name plus success at getting movie deals for the books. If Y/n became one of her clients it would be a dream come true.

The email came the following Friday: “Y/n, I am very pleased with your work and thoroughly enjoyed your story. Everything about it was captivating from start to finish. I would love to have you as a partner by representing you in getting your book published and on the market. Please give me a call or email me so we can set up an in-person meeting as soon as possible. I hope you accept my offer and I look forward to possibly working with you. Sincerely, Yolanda Richards.”

Almost 13 years later……Summer of 2021

Caroline’s heart was racing. She’d never been so nervous in her entire life than when the plane approached the New York skyline, the first time her hazel eyes had ever witnessed it. Even when she and her father were living in Virginia he seemed to avoid the city like the plague. Always insisting they go somewhere else for a vacation whenever she begged.

Now here she was at JFK airport about to meet the woman she dreamed of knowing all her life.

The whole journey Caroline thought back to the eight weeks of summer camp she’d just experienced. It was like fate had decided to work its magic on the third day when she came face-to-face with a girl who looked exactly like her. Though it’s rumored everyone has at least seven doppelgängers in their lifetime scattered across the globe, something about Lila L/n was different than a typical look-a-like. They were too alike physically. Dirty blonde hair with hazel eyes and standing tall at 5’5, the two were a carbon copy of one another with the exception of Lila having longer hair and bangs. “Actual twins” their campmates would say, but were complete opposites in terms of personality.

For example, Caroline dressed like she was going to the beach no matter the weather and had a knack for old music whereas Lila had more sweaters than t-shirts in her suitcase. Then Lila had an expanded vocabulary like she always was reading a poem in a fancy New York accent yet Caroline could barely tell the difference between there, their, and they’re. Lastly, Caroline was laid back and the extroverted jokester of the camp compared to Lila’s reserved, introverted, goodie-two-shoes nature.

Their rivalry was bound from the start. The end of the first week had the two already pissing off the counselors with the pranks against each other and their friend groups. Halfway through the camp duration was when the counselors had enough and placed them in the isolation cabin to settle their differences.

It was in the isolation cabin where suspicions became realizations.

First it started when both admitted to having a peanut allergy and their favorite food was chicken Alfredo pasta. They both loved romantic comedies and playing piano, neither a fan of licorice or dill pickles.

Finally feeling a friendship starting, Caroline complimented Lila’s necklace, who said it was a gift to her on the day she was born and had her initial on the pendant. Voicing the same, Caroline showed her own necklace with the same pendant only with a ‘C’ on it instead of ‘L’. That’s when Lila asked what day Caroline was born, both confirming they had the same birthday of April 21st, 2007.

Heart pumping with an feeling she couldn’t explain, Caroline revealed she was raised by her dad, who was a Navy fighter pilot and they were currently living in San Diego. “It’s only ever been me and him. He said he and my mom split when I was six months old.”

“No way,” Lila sat up in her bed, feeling the same emotion as Caroline. “I was raised by my mom. We moved to New York when I was a year old and have been there ever since. She told me when I was ten she and my dad divorced when I was six months old and he was in the Navy.”

Pushing aside her bag of hot Cheetos, Caroline began asking a series of questions. “My dad never said much about my mom, but at least once a year would give me some details of what she was like when I begged him. He said one year she had dreams of becoming a writer. What does your mom do?”

Lila’s eyes widened, “She’s an author—she’s written over ten romance novels.”

“Did your mom ever tell you how she and your dad met?”

“They met in college—at a graduation party to be exact. He asked her to dance.”

By now Caroline was gripping her hair, “Did they go to sonic afterwards where they had milkshakes and—.”

“Route 44s,” Lila finished, covering her mouth slightly. The reaction had Caroline racing to her desk to rummage through the drawer. When she faced Lila again, she was holding something to her chest.

“When my parents divorced my mom left behind two ripped photographs. One is of her holding me as a baby, the other is of her wedding day with my dad. They make up halves to a photo—but I‘ve never seen the rest. My dad doesn’t even know I have them.”

Gasping, Lila goes to her own desk and takes out a folder. Flipping through pages she gathers the two images in her own hands before turning back to the teenager. “These are the only photos I have of my dad. Like you, one is of him holding me in the hospital, the other is him in his uniform from the day he married my mom. They were ripped down the middle from the original photo.”

As though they read each other’s mind, the two started walking toward each other, already tearing up at the possibility that what they suspected was true. “On the count of three,” Lila softly said, “we show each other. Okay?”

“Okay,” Caroline agreed with a nod. They started to count down.

“One,” Lila took a step forward.

“Two,” Caroline echoed, mirroring her movement.

“Three!” Gasps left both girls when they extended their arms, each holding a half of the photograph, and slowly put them together. One showed Y/n and Bradley on their wedding day, smiling at each other looking as though they were the happiest people on earth, the other of them holding their daughters. Caroline in Y/n’s arms, and Lila in Bradley’s.

“That’s my dad!” Caroline beamed, in disbelief at the sight before her. There her father was with the beautiful woman she dreamed of meeting. Her mother.

“That’s my mom,” Lila sniffed, the teen overcome with emotion. Once they gathered themself over the initial shock they both couldn’t help but shout, “We’re twin sisters!!” Embracing in a hug filled with glee and laughter.

The idea that came to their head moments later was crazy, but after talking and voicing how they want to meet the other’s parents, the decision was made. Caroline and Lila would switch places. And they were gonna get their parents back together.

Lila told Caroline how their mom was a hopeless romantic at heart despite not having a long term relationship since their dad. The same was for Bradley apparently, Caroline confessing he only had maybe three serious girlfriends but the relationships ended because they couldn’t handle the lifestyle he was in. Or the fact he was a single father.

For the next four weeks the twins learned all about the other’s life and what to expect. “Mom wrote her first book in college around the time she met dad, but she didn’t get it finished until after they divorced. Since then she’s written ten novels—including a trilogy about to be adapted into a movie series and is currently working on a sequel to her debut book that her supporters have been begging for her to write for years. Most of her inspiration comes from what she hopes to experience,” Lila pauses to make a face, “Now that I think about it actually, her second book almost resembles her love story with dad….it’s the only one without a happy ending.” That had the twins frown, feeling more determined with their mission of getting their parents back together.

“This is the Dagger Squad,” Caroline showed Lila the pictures on her phone when the counselors gave them back for the weekend. “My dad went on a special mission two years ago before the pandemic and became friends with the people he did it with. Phoenix,” she points to the pretty brunette pilot, “well Natasha, I’ve known her since I was a baby. She and her husband have been friends with dad since flight school. And this is Maverick,” she scrolls to the next picture of her with a middle aged man in a flight suit, “He’s basically like our surrogate grandpa since dad’s parents passed away a long time ago. They were estranged for some time but became friends again after the mission.”

Lila explained the layout of their mother’s Manhattan home where they along with Y/n’s parents lived. “We always sit down to eat in the dining room as a way to have family time since mom is usually in her office writing or in meetings,” Lila explained before naming off the people in the photographs she had laid out in front of Caroline. “This is Ollie, mom’s best friend and writes romantic thrillers—he was our roommate when we first moved to New York and is often at the house more than his own. Yolanda is her literary agent who is in charge of selling mom’s books when she’s completed them and most recently got a movie deal on mom’s best selling trilogy. I call our grandmother ‘Gran,’ and our grandfather, ‘grandpa’.”

Both girls were the subject of a slight makeover with Lila having to cut her hair shorter, and Caroline getting bangs. When that happened they really were identical twins with the campmates not knowing who was who. Caroline practiced mimicking Lila’s NY accent and taught her the words to ‘Great Balls of Fire.’

“This is ridiculous,” Caroline complained when she was unable to whistle like Lila. “Is this really necessary?”

“Every teenager in New York has had to hail a cab at some point. If Mom is on the phone then I have to be the one to catch the cab—and whistling is gonna get you one more than just waving like an idiot in the middle of the street.”

Last thing to do was exchange plane tickets. Lila to SAN and Caroline to JFK.

They hugged each other goodbye, wishing the other good luck and not to forget certain things. They mostly had everything written down so they were confident they could get everything memorized by heart before they landed at their respective destinations. Caroline felt odd having to wear a long sleeve in July, but the weather for New York was cloudy with cool temperatures so she felt safer wearing the outfit Lila had picked out. She wasn’t the only odd ball, Lila was having to get used to wearing the tank top and pink Hawaiian shirt with shorts—something she never thought she’d ever wear.

They even had to exchange phones considering Lila had the lilac iPhone 12 Pro Max and Caroline had her trusty red iPhone 7 Plus. “Hey it works fine,” she defended, “until I either crack it beyond repair or it just doesn’t turn on one day then I will keep this till the end of time. So be careful with it.”

Promising to text everyday and call at least twice a week, the girls went on their way. Caroline fidgeted in her first class seat, trying to go over her notes to pass the time since it would only be a few hours for her flight compared to Lila’s cross country trip. But when the New York skyline filled her vision, the teenager was in awe.

If she wasn’t so excited she would’ve vomited from the anxiety consuming her. With her backpack on her shoulders and duffle bag in her hands, Caroline did her best to navigate through JFK until she reached the baggage claim. There her stomach did flips at the sight of Ollie waving frantically at her.

“Lila bean! Over here!” Grinning wide, she raced over to the man and was lifted into his arms. “Finally you’re back! Ugh you have no idea how crazy it’s been without you,” he set her down, making movements with his hand, “I’ve had no one to discuss the latest season of Bachelor in Paradise with because your mom’s been so nose deep in her work the whole summer—I’ve been trying to get her thoughts on if my next book should be a sexy twist on the show where every contestant has a dirty secret and one of them is a literal serial killer but she won’t budge from that computer. It’s been the only thing to distract her from being sad with you not being there—and oh my goodness,” he suddenly gasped, making her flinch, “What did you do to your hair?”

“Oh u-uh,” she stuttered nervously, praying her accent was believable. “A girl from camp cut it. I wanted to try something new. Do you like it?”

“You look fabulous,” he complimented, letting his finger run across the ends of her hair. “It suits more than I thought—you’ve always preferred it long.”

“Well I thought with me entering high school next month I was due for a change.”

Ollie gave her a look once over with an approving nod, “I dig it. Now c’mon—let’s get your bag and head out before this place gets too chaotic for my liking. Plus your mom has been texting me every ten minutes wanting to know if you’ve landed and it’s becoming exhausting.”

Caroline had to hold back cheering in victory when she successfully whistled, catching the attention of a cab driver for the pair. The drive there she was bouncing her knee, taking in the city causing Ollie to look at her confused, “My goodness, eight weeks you’re gone and it’s like you’ve never seen the city before. I promise you it’s the same as you left it.”

The teenager couldn’t help but mentally laugh at the comment, ‘little do you know….’

Arriving in Manhattan Caroline turned giddy. Before Ollie could stop her she was out of the cab with her backpack and duffle, leaving him to get her luggage as she hauled up the stairs to the three story townhouse. The door was unlocked and so she took a deep breath before pushing it open only to gasp by the beautiful interior of the home with a spiral staircase leading to the higher levels.

Setting aside her things, Caroline began to explore the ground level in hopes to find her mother or grandparents. Movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention, the teen entering what appeared to be a study with various bookshelves and framed photographs on the walls. A man was standing up with his back toward her, appearing to look for something particular in his bookshelf.

Caroline’s heart skipped at the realization it was her grandfather. “Hi, grandpa,” she exhaled, causing the man to spin around. Immediately he was in delight.

“Lila! You’re back!” She met him in the middle as he came around the desk, the two embracing. “And you cut your hair, my gosh! You look so different—but great!”

Taking in his scent, the older man looked at her confused before she said, “Sorry, I just missed the smell of your peppermint aroma at camp.” He laughed lightly, rubbing her back with his hand.

“Oh honey we all missed you too.”

“What’s all the commotion?” A female voice entered the picture, Caroline grinning when her eyes met her grandmother’s. The older woman gasped before her own smile took over, “Oh Lila!”

“Gran!” She raced over to her, meeting her in a hug. “I missed you!” The two held each other for a moment, her gran voicing the same and complimenting her new look just as her grandfather did.

Then Caroline heard her. “Lila darling?”

Freezing against her gran, Caroline felt her heart race. Slowly removing herself she hesitantly went to the middle of the foyer. Just as she appeared in the photographs, Y/n was as beautiful as Caroline pictured her to be. Dressed in a cashmere sweater dress, she looked radiant as the light from the window hit her. Hazel eyes shining from unshed tears, Caroline whispered in awe, “Mom.”

“You’re back!”

Just like in a movie it all felt like slow motion as Caroline ran up the stairs while Y/n descended, meeting halfway in a tearful embrace. The hug lingered with Caroline never wanting to let go, a faint sob escaping from the back of her throat and the tears falling down her cheeks—no doubt ruining the mascara she wore. But the teen didn't care. Not when she was in the arms of her mother at last.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” she whimpered when they pulled away, Y/n moving to brush a finger off her cheeks.

“And I can’t believe it’s you,” the writer chuckled, letting her eyes run over her daughter she believed to be the one she raised. “Look at you, your hair is so short!”

“A girl cut it at camp for me—do you like it?”

“I love it!” Y/n assured with a smile, “You look amazing—I’m surprised that’s all. And..” Y/n tilted her head a bit, “are you wearing mascara?”

“Oh yeah,” Caroline sniffed, moving to swipe under her eyes. She forgot already that Lila wasn’t into makeup like her. “A friend I made at camp wanted to see how my eyelashes looked with it since they’re so long. I forgot I had it on.”

“Oh no worries, honey. I don’t mind you wearing it if that’s what you’d like.”

“N-no it’s okay. I don’t really think it’s my thing, m-mom,” Caroline felt another wave of emotion at saying the word ‘mom,’ making Y/n frown with concern.

“What’s wrong, my love?”

“Nothing,” Caroline’s voice cracked. “I’m just so happy. I missed you so much.” Y/n awed, pulling her daughter into another hug.

“Oh honey I missed you too. It almost feels like it’s been forever.”

Caroline squeezed her eyes shut as she nuzzled against Y/n’s shoulder, “you have no idea.”

Two weeks went by of the twins living their dream. Caroline explored New York City by accompanying Y/n to her meetings with Yolanda and watching Bachelor in Paradise to not have Ollie suspicious of her. Slight worry came with how her grandfather seemed to let his eyes linger on her whenever she said something unlike what Lila would say. Three thousand miles away Lila was having difficulty being so social with their father’s friend group—her introverted self needed to get away in order to recharge at times which had Phoenix and Hangman start to question her.

“Did the social butterfly in you burn out at camp, little chicken?” Jake teased one day, “I’ve never seen you this quiet in a single week.”

Lila put on her best face, hoping he wouldn’t see right through it, “You would not believe how exhausting it was dealing with so many people on a daily basis. There were times where I dreaded going to activities and preferred staying in my cabin. They were rambunctious I tell you.” Her choice of words had Natasha eye her, bidding a look to her husband, moving closer to whisper, “Did she just use the word rambunctious?”

It seemed like everyone but their parents were beginning to catch on. The first to figure out were Nat and Jake when Bradley confessed to his daughter, who he believed was Caroline, that he was planning on proposing to his current girlfriend Marilyn Brooks. Caroline had warned Lila that their father was seeing Marilyn, but believed it wouldn’t last till the end of summer. Upset and panicked on what to do, the teenager bursted outside of the Hard Deck and began ranting to herself, accent slipping out and unaware the couple were there the whole time.

“You got something to share with the class, Care Bear?” Nat approached, head tilted down at the teenager who’d gone pale. “Because you seem to be in distress.”

“Phee, Jake,” Lila placed a hand on her chest to calm her breathing, “You both gave me a fright.”

“We gave you a fright?” Jake repeated in confusion. Never had Caroline used expressions like that before, making them more confused.

“Y-you scared me. I-I didn’t know you two were out here.”

“Are you sure you’re alright, Caroline?” Natasha crossed her arms. “Because ever since you came home….you’ve been acting odd. Your appetite’s changed, you’re not as social, Charlie doesn’t want to come near you anymore” she listed off her fingers, Charlie referring to Nat and Jake’s dog who adores Caroline. “And you use these big words now.”

“And just now it sounded like you were straight from New York or something,” Jake added, “And not in the way when you impersonate it on Head’s Up, it was like it was natural for you.”

“Jake, Nat….” Lila thought rapidly to deflect. “I changed a lot over summer—my friend’s from there and helped me perfect it.”

“Alright,” Jake shrugged, “Man if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were—.” Nat slapped his arm, eyes wide with a knowing look causing him to shut up. Jake gave a tight smile to the teen, “Ignore me, I’m just being stupid.”

“Almost as if I were who?”

Natasha shook her head, “No one, Care Bear. Forget we said anything.” As the two went to go back inside, they were stunned by what the girl said next.

“Almost as if I were….Lila?”

Chills appeared on their arms, the couple slowly turning to face her again with eyes full of shock. Both were thinking the same thing: did Rooster finally tell her?

“Y-you know about Lila?” Nat whispered.

The confession rolled off her tongue, “I am Lila.”

Jake dropped his bottle of beer, the glass shattering against the wood while Nat’s hand flew to her mouth. Just as they were about to spit off the millions of questions in their head, Rooster appeared looking relieved to find the teen. “There you are, Care. Why’d you run off like that—I needed to talk to you.” Noticing the way his friends were looking as though they wanted to cry, Rooster then said, “Guys….why are you staring at her like that?”

Seeing Lila shake her head, begging them not to say anything, the two apologized and excused themselves. Later that night Lila asked to stay at their house after getting into an argument with her father about him getting engaged, where she then explained everything after a tearful reunion considering the couple hadn’t seen her since she was a baby.

“Caroline is in New York with our mom,” the confession had the two nearly faint. “We switched places at camp, which I cannot believe fate actually brought us together that way—and we’re hoping to get our parents back together because I know my mom still loves him despite all these years they’ve been separated. But now he’s engaged to that wretched woman who I know is gonna ruin his life. I-I have to call her and get them here now!”

Phoenix gently calmed the girl down, “Lila, it’s almost midnight over there. Call her tomorrow and then we’ll figure something out together.”

The call to Caroline is what got her found out by their grandfather. She was sitting at a picnic table just down the road after jumping from her seat at the dinner table. Unbeknownst to Caroline, her grandfather had followed her.

“I thought you said they would be broken up by the time I got back!” Lila shouted on the other end of the phone.

“Well that was the hope,” Caroline voiced back, “Usually he’s with them for a few months to a year—but Marilyn’s just…ugh I can’t even explain so it surprises me she’s lasted this long.”

“Well now she’s looking to become our stepmom! You have to get mom here to San Diego so we can stop them!”

“No way I’ve barely had time with her, Lila,” Caroline argued. For five minutes the twins go back and forth before ultimately hanging up. When Caroline rose from the bench she bumped into the gentleman behind her, “Oh I’m sorry, sir.” The man turned around, the familiar face staring back causing her stomach to drop. “Oh boy.”

“Oh boy,” he repeated, tsking. “How about we take a walk while the fresh air is nice?” Coming clean, Caroline told her grandfather everything from the day she arrived at camp to the day she left as Lila. Thankfully he wasn’t angry, in fact the man was overjoyed at the news.

Now it was time to come clean to the rest of the family.

The next morning Caroline was pacing in front of Y/n’s office before knocking on the door and waited for her to respond. “Come in.” Looking over the edge of her computer, the woman smiled at her daughter. “Hey darlin’, I’m almost done with this paragraph. What do you say about us going to that gyro place you like for lunch?”

“Mom,” Caroline fidgeted with her fingers. “I need to talk to you.” When Y/n continued to type, she said with an edge in her voice, “Right now. Please.”

Taken aback by the tone, Y/n saved the document and closed out before standing from her chair. “What is it, Lila?”

“That’s what I need to talk to you about,” seeing her confusion, Caroline’s eyes glistened. “Lila.”

“Yessss? That’s the name I gave you the day you were born.”

“N-no!” Caroline finally snapped. “That’s not the one you gave me, mom.” That had Y/n puzzled, looking at her daughter with wide eyes. Lip quivering, the teen finally came clean, unable to hold it any longer. “I’m not Lila.”

At first Y/n didn’t seem to react, until a soft gasp left her as the look of absolute shock took over her expression. Her eyes filled with water, hands beginning to shake, “You’re…You’re Caroline?”

“Yes,” she nodded, a tear rolling down her cheek. “You and dad sent Lila and I to the same camp. We met there and….well I just really wanted to meet you a-and Lila really wanted to meet dad and please don’t be angry with us, I—.” The teenager was cut off by the sob Y/n let out as she took her in her arms.

“Oh my sweet girl,” Y/n cried, letting 13 years of pent up regret, sadness, and shame finally release. “Oh Caroline.” The teen’s arms wrapped around her waist, nuzzling her face into her chest as her own tears spilled. Finally it felt like a weight had been lifted off both their shoulders. Mother and daughter reunited. “I can’t believe It’s actually you—my sweet girl.”

A tearful reunion even had Ollie emotional, the author being consoled by Y/n’s father in the doorway along with her mother. “I-I’ve never been so happy in my life. O-oh my gosh this is the best day ever!” As he cried, Y/n’s father gave her a heartfelt look before gently closing the door to allow them some privacy.

“No offense, mom—well actually slight offense,” Caroline said after explaining the situation of why the twins switched places—keeping out the fact they were planning to reunite the adults in hopes of the two getting back together. “But this whole thing was not it. I mean, c’mon, were you ever gonna tell us?”

Y/n looked deeply ashamed, wiping away at her face constantly, “I know it was wrong of us. Believe me I’ve regretted it every second since the day I left. Keeping you two apart was the worst thing we did and I hope you girls can forgive us. I let my personal issues with your father get in the way—a-and I should've never left you behind. You have every right to be angry,” Y/n paused to grab a tissue. “I honestly hoped to tell you two one day—possibly when you two were sixteen, but then I just didn’t know how to approach that after keeping it hidden so long.”

Caroline took it all in, asking the next question. “So what now?”

Y/n sighed, “Well legally you’re supposed to be with your father, and Lila with me. So we’ve gotta get you back to him. Then we go from there,” she placed her hands on Caroline’s shoulder before pressing a soft kiss to her head, “But I promise you no more secrets. And I’m not letting you go again, honey. We’ll get everything under control.”

Packing for California had Y/n a damn mess. She didn’t know what to wear and went through several options before settling on a fashionable white dress that would do well with the California heat. The sight of her was quite entertaining for Ollie, but was doing his best to offer moral support because she was really starting to lose it.

“What the hell am I supposed to say when I see him?” Y/n waved her free hand. She had sunglasses on her face and curlers in her hair with a glass of wine in one hand as she threw random stuff into a suitcase. “It’s been nearly thirteen years, Ollie. And our last day married was anything but a good parting! I-I mean I know nothing about him except from what Caroline has told me.” A warm feeling flared in her chest. “She says he’s still got that damn 80s stache—gosh what that did to me when I was with him. Only he could make a girl weak in the knees sporting something most men look horrid in.”

“Sounds like he could still make you weak in the knees, babe,” the comment resulted in a glare. “Look, you’re thinking too much alright? Just take a breather and think about the girls. This is for them at the end of the day.”

“I know,” Y/n rubbed her face, downing the last bit of wine in her glass. “Ollie, darling, I can’t go about this on my own. Will you—.”

“Accompany you to sunny California to keep you sane as you embark on this journey of reuniting with your former sexy pilot lover?” At her nod he winks and pulls out his phone showcasing his boarding pass. “Already got it booked, babe. Maybe I’ll find my own Romeo on this trip. Lord knows I have a thing for surfers and skaters—but there's a difference between New York skaters and California ones. I should know…I’ve dated both.”

When asked if she had talked with her father, Caroline subtly lied, “Oh yeah I just got off with him. Says they have our rooms reserved at the Hilton Resort in Palm Springs. He’s excited to see you.”

“He is?” Y/n raises a brow, not finding it believable, and trying to contain the flutter in her stomach. “Well, we should be on the way then. Sweetie, could you check us into our flights while I help Ollie pack the Uber?”

The man trailed after Caroline with a cheeky look, whispering under his breath so only she could hear, “liar, liar, pants on fire.” Caroline spun around to see her mom was turned the other way, bringing a finger to her lips with a wink, “shuuuush!”

When Lila brought the idea up for her and Rooster to go to Palm Springs for the weekend, the plan did not include bringing Marilyn and her parents. Thankfully Phoenix, Hangman, and Charlie tagged along too. The couple was in on the plan and only ones to know besides Lila that Y/n was just a few short hours away from arriving. They timed it so when she and Caroline landed at the airport, they’d already be checked in and waiting at the resort.

“Be warned,” the text from Caroline appeared on the phone. “Mom is DRUNK. She had two cocktails on the plane and had us stop at a liquor store to get some mini airplane bottles.”

“Oh no,” Lila moaned, causing Nat and Jake to look at her in question while Rooster was busy meeting Marilyn’s parents for the first time. She showed them the text, both reacting the same, “This is gonna be interesting.”

Charlie started to whimper, picking up a familiar scent and pulling Lila across the lobby with the couple chasing after them. Meanwhile in the elevator, Y/n remembered she left her purse on the counter. “Crap, I forgot my bag,” she giggled, stopping the closing door and moving as fast as her heels and disoriented state could take her. While she was busy gathering her lost item, Lila came around the corner with Charlie, the dog barking at the sight of Caroline in the elevator.

“Charlie!” She squealed, the animal bolting from Lila’s grasp and into the elevator before it could close. The twins connected eyes just as the door shut, Lila mentally cursing though she couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement in her.

“Oh shit,” Jake mumbled with wide eyes, pulling Natasha to the side right when Y/n approached.

“Mom!”

“Oh, you didn’t have to wait for me, sweet girl, I can find the room by myself,” Lila literally had to step away from her Y/n, who had yet to realize it was Lila giving the twins decided on wearing similar outfits. She reeked of alcohol. Caroline wasn’t kidding when she warned her their mother was drunk off her ass. Besides the smell and her slight slurring words, Y/n was having trouble keeping her eyes open, “You go on up, okay? I’m gonna check out the bar real quick—have a glass of water while I’m at it.” As Y/n went to walk away she turned around with a tilt of her head, “I like that jacket by the way—were you wearing that on the plane?”

“Mom, watch out!” Lila shouted as Nat gasped with her when Y/n nearly collided with the bellboy.

“Oh goodness,” was all the author had to say, giving an embarrassed glance to her daughter before turning the corner away from their sights. Jake couldn't help but laugh, Nat holding back her own as she and Lila stared at each other in disbelief.

“The one time she should be sober and she’s completely wasted!” Lila exclaimed with a laugh at the end. “I’ve only ever seen her have one glass of wine at dinner—now she’s looking to run the bar dry.”

Phoenix shook her head with a smile, “Yeah well let her have her fun before all hell breaks loose.” Guiding Lila to the elevator, they all head to the floor where their rooms were.

Meanwhile Rooster and Marilyn had the same idea.

Attached to his arm, the woman was on a rant about what she thought was best for the lavish wedding she desired. Rooster just smiled and nodded, allowing the blonde to have creative control since he had no idea what to say. His first wedding was at a courthouse, nothing extravagant.

“Alone at last,” She hummed in relief, lips going to his neck as she giggled while his arms went around her waist. Bradley mirrored her expression, only it soon went to one of absolute shock when his gaze landed on the woman he never thought he’d see again.

Y/n was in front of him, looking like an angel in white as she stopped short in front of the elevator when they locked eyes. A hesitant smile appeared on her lips, hand coming up to wave as Bradley started to lean away from Marilyn as the doors shut, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him.

But no, his ex-wife was really there.

“Bradley?” Y/n heard the blonde’s voice just as the doors closed, the last thing she saw could best be described was her ex-husband looking at her like she was an actual ghost. Like he didn’t expect her to be there at all.

That put the pieces together.

“Caroline Bradshaw!” Y/n strutted down the hallway, halting when the doors of both rooms opened and the girls appeared before her. With the two sporting similar looks and the same haircut it was difficult to tell who was who. A headache was forming in Y/n’s head from the alcohol, the woman moaning, “Please don’t do this—I-I’m already seeing double.” The teen on her left smiled.

“It’s me, Mom. Lila.”

“Oh darlin’!” the author exclaimed, moving to hug her daughter and place a kiss on her head. “You look wonderful. My goodness this is the happiest day of my life,” she opened her arm to bring Caroline into the hug. “Both of my girls!” Then Y/n remembered what brought her to the floor, “Not to ruin the happy moment, but I’d really appreciate it if you explained why you blindsided me.”

All of a sudden Nat and Jake appeared from the suite Lila was in. “Hi,” Nat glanced down the hall before smiling at the author. “Sorry to break this up, but might I suggest we move this discussion inside.” Coming over to the doorway of Caroline’s room, the two extended an arm to the trio. The girls entered first, and as Y/n followed behind Nat added, “Hi, you probably don’t remember us--.”

“Natasha! Jake!” Both were given a friendly kiss to the cheek, Y/n pleased to see them again after so many years. They looked at each other with a smirk when she entered the suite, “I knew I always liked her.”

Once inside Y/n threw her bag onto the armchair, “Spill it!” She pointed to her daughters sitting on the ottoman, beginning to pace in front of the couch. “Though I’m not sure which one of you told me your father knew I was arriving today, I can assure you that the man I just saw in the lobby had no clue his ex-wife would be in the same state—let alone the same hotel.”

The twins looked at each other, Lila frowning, “You saw dad?”

“Yes I did,” the woman signed, dropping onto the couch. “And gosh if I didn’t know any better he lost his spray tan because of how pale he went at the sight of me. Like I was Casper the not-so-friendly ghost.” Wincing, the author requested a cold compress for her head, Lila jumping up to get one for her. “I’ve wondered for so many years what it would be like to see your father again, but him wrapped around another woman’s arms while I stood there waving like an idiot was not what I had in mind.”

At that moment Ollie struts in with sunglasses on his face and shirt opened to reveal his chest, whistling before stopping short at the sight of his ashen best friend. “You look horrendous.”

“Thanks, Ollie,” she muttered sarcastically.”

“Why the lone face, babe?” He bids a glance to the couple entering the picture, mentally thinking how hot they looked together after Y/n introduces them all.

“I’m currently investigating why my daughters felt the need to leave out the fact their father had no idea I was coming today.”

“Oh,” his eyes went wide, slowly starting to back away along with Nat and Jake, both wearing the same expression as him. “Well in that case imma just head to the pool.”

“We’ll join you—that sounds like a great idea,” Nat says in a rush, the three turning to run but were stopped short by Y/n’s, “Hold on a second!” They slowly turn back around, biting their lips.

“Are you all keeping something from me?” Y/n looks between the three before her attention is directed to Lila’s soft voice.

“Mom, dad’s engaged…...” The news has Y/n slowly fall back to the couch, her shoulders dropping while her heart clenches. She doesn’t know why she’s so disappointed.

Actually she does know why. It’s the reason she can’t bring herself to love another person no matter how much she opens up to them.

“And she’s horrible, mom. The wicked witch of the west!”

“I met her before camp and she was so rude to me when he wasn’t paying attention,” Caroline voiced. “I thought he’d have ended things already but for some God awful reason he’s still with her.”

“We can’t let him go through with it, mom,” Lila adds with determination, “He’ll regret it for the rest of his life. And well…the only way he won’t is if he sees you again.”

Y/n can’t help but make a sound of disbelief. “Wait a moment,” she nervously laughs, sitting up straighter, “are you trying to set me up with your father?”

“Yes,” they echo together.

“That’s exactly what we’re doing,” Caroline says followed by Lila shouting, “You two are perfect for each other!”

“Girls—stop right there!” Y/n exclaims when the three adults try to sneak out. “Did you all know about this?”

“Whaaaaat?” Ollie scoffs, trying to play it off but Y/n knows him better than that. Jake and Nat were also denying it but the author’s knowing look made all three come clean.

“Okay I had some knowledge.”

“We sorta had an idea—call it a hunch.”

“It was just so sweet and sounded like a good idea—.”

Y/n falls backward onto the cushions with a dramatic sigh, “Lord have mercy.” She found herself in the hotel bar twenty minutes later with an ice water and some concoction she requested for her hangover. To her side she noticed a pretty blonde lady take a seat and order a gin martini. “Here’s to….” She inspected the drink with a frown before saluting the blonde, “here’s to you. Hopefully your life is not as complicated as mine.”

The lady gave a tight smile, “Thank you.”

God the drink smelled horrible, tasting exactly like something no one would drink unless it was the only source of hydration. Groaning, Y/n downed the contents in three gulps just wanting to get it over with, covering her mouth with a hand when it felt like it would come back up. “Excuse me,” she mumbled when an unpleasant sound escaped, resulting in the blonde giving a look of distaste. “I would not wish this upon my worst enemy.”

“Here’s you bill, Ms. L/n,” the bartender placed the receipt on the table for her signature.

“Thank you,” she quickly scribbled her name and passed it back along with a few bills for a tip, the blonde getting a good glance at it causing her eyes to go wide.

“You’re Y/n L/n?”

Taken aback, the author nodded shyly. “Yes.” She received a squeal from the woman.

“Oh my gosh! I was just reading your latest novel on the drive here!” She moved to the seat right next to Y/n. “And my agent told me about auditions coming up for the adaptation of your ‘Bridesmaids Chronicles’ series. Ah it’s fate!” Extending a hand, the blonde introduces herself, “I’m Marilyn Brooks.”

Over by the poolside Rooster approaches another woman resembling his ex-wife, muttering an apology when he sees it’s not her and bumps into almost every person he passes, “Sorry.”

“There you are, Bradley!” Marilyn’s father comes up to him while her mother takes his arm.

“Bradley, this resort is just beautiful. Don’t you think it’s perfect for the wedding?”

“I do,” he adjusts his collar, voice turning soft when his eyes cut across the pool to the woman descending the stairs. A smile appeared on his face, “Absolutely.”

It was her.

Anything Marilyn’s mother said went in one ear and out the other, the navy pilot excusing himself with an apology as he began to make his way around the pool. “Excuse me—sorry,” he dodged a man carrying towels before doing the same to another guest. “S-sorry,” his eyes stayed on Y/n, who was walking and taking in the scenery.

Not paying attention, Rooster stumbled over a cooler, which happened to be Jake’s. The two were seated on the beach chairs with Lila and Charlie, Ollie just off to the side looking flabbergasted as he took in his best friend’s ex. Nat looked at him in concern behind her sunglasses, “Bradshaw, you okay?”

“Yeah,” he turns to her briefly, causing him to collide with a pool boy,

“Sir!”

“Dad, watch out!” Lila’s shout had Y/n turn, gasping when she witnessed her ex-husband fall straight into the pool. Nat, Lila, and Ollie all gasped with her while Jake just took his phone out to video the whole thing. Y/n had to turn away when Rooster began swimming to the side she was on, ignoring all the looks he was receiving by his little spectacle.

The poor pilot was completely drenched head to toe. Y/n fidgeted as he approached, both smiling at each other nervously.

“Hey, Y/n/n.”

“Hello, Roo.”

Wiping at the water dripping from his eyebrow, Rooster moved closer causing a warm feeling to erupt in Y/n’s chest. Gosh he had changed—of course it had been 13 years, but Lord did he have to get even more attractive? And that damn mustache had her weak in the knees but thankfully she remained composed. “It’s good to see you.”

Getting straight to it, Bradley gave her a look once over, “It’s good to see you too….but is there something I’m missing here? You don’t seem too shocked to see me as I am to see you.” Squeezing the water from his shirt, “I mean it’s been thirteen years and—.”

“Dad,” a soft voice interrupts him, Rooster stunned when he sees who believes is Caroline standing beside Y/n. “I can explain why she’s here.”

“Caroline,” he says with caution, briefly glancing at the woman to see her reaction, “you know who this is?”

“I do.” She allows her natural accent to flow, “And actually, dad, I’m not Caroline….”

Coming on Y/n’s other side, Caroline grins at her father. “Hey, pops.”

The best word to describe Bradley’s face was astonishment and pure happiness. “Both of them?” He looks at the girl he came to the resort with, eyes shining a bit with the emotion filling him, “Lila?” Then he looks at her twin, “Caroline?”

“I’m not sure if it’s fate or you both just picked the most random summer camp to send your daughters too….but we met there and it wasn’t too hard to piece it together. You know besides looking identical there was the same birthday detail and the fact we were raised by one parent.”

“They switched places on us, Bradley,” Y/n put her arm around Caroline, beaming down at her.

Rooster looked at her stunned, but smiling nonetheless. “W-what? You mean I had Lila this whole time?”

“Well I wanted to know what you were like, and Caroline wanted to know mom—are you angry?”

He answered her with a big hug, “Oh darlin’ of course not,” he kissed the side of her head, not wanting to let her go. “I’m so happy—I can’t believe it’s you!” Pulling away he ran a hand over her cheek, in complete awe of her. “It’s been so long—you were so small the last time I saw you.”

“Well I’m all grown up now….and quite without a father,” she pulls away from him to stand next to Caroline.

“And I’m about to head into high school, where I’ll be one of the few to not relate to other girls arguing with their mother on the daily,” Y/n shakes her head with a chuckle at Caroline’s words.

“Care, you’ve been in New York this whole time?” At her nod he opens his arms, “C’mere kiddo.” After their hug Y/n politely requests a moment with Bradley, the teenagers giving sly looks as they walk away.

“No problem…take your time.”

The two take a seat on one of the beach chairs, Y/n asking for a first aid kit when she notices a cut to his forehead. As she tends to him, Rooster goes, “Jesus, both of them together? Wow, I can’t believe it—this is unreal,” he then raises a brow, “How long have you known?”

“Since yesterday morning,” she explained softly, gently wiping away the blood before dabbing it with rubbing alcohol. She apologizes when he winces. “My father figured it out the other night. Honestly I’m ashamed I didn’t suspect anything—I just thought Lila had come out of her shell after camp when she was thrilled to come to my meetings where there’d be new people. And before you ask, Caroline told me you knew I was coming. Obviously, we were both deceived.”

“Talk about karma,” Rooster chuckles, not shy of calling them out on what they did wrong. “We kinda deserve it.”

“I do,” she corrects with a tight smile. “It was my idea after all.”

“Yeah,” he leaned closer, connecting their eyes, “but I didn’t stop it from happening, Y/n/n.” Seeing her hand falter at the name, Rooster tilts his head, “What is it?”

“N-nothing,” she nervously laughs, turning away to grab a bandaid. “Uh—I-I haven’t heard that name in awhile.”

“Do you not like it anymore?”

“No, no! I do like it. My dad still calls me it from time to time,” she says, putting the bandaid on his forehead. “I guess it just feels different.”

“I get it,” he nods, offering a small smile. When she wasn’t looking he unconsciously let his eyes take her in for the first time. “You look good, Y/n/n.” That was a lie, she looked incredible. Like an actual angel before him with her white dress and soft curls.

Before she could respond Marilyn appeared, causing the two to jump back when they realized how close they were. Rooster went a little red while Y/n scratched the back of her neck.

“Finally there you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” The blonde said in relief, smile dropping slightly when she sees her fiancé with the renowned author, “Oh good you two met. Brad, this is the author of the series I was telling you about—the one I’m auditioning for….umm am I missing something?”

Glancing between the two, Y/n felt her heart sink at the realization the lady she met in the bar was the same woman she saw Bradley with in the elevator. His fiancé….who was in for the shock of her life when it was revealed not only were they married, but his daughter was a twin.

“Hey, Mare, great to see you again. I’m the Caroline you met at the beginning of summer. This is my twin, Lila. I was pretending to be her while she was pretending to be me,” she points to her sister before extending a hand to Y/n, voice full of pride. “And this is our mother, Y/n L/n.”

Everyone should have expected disaster to happen at some point in the weekend. The ex-wife, who Bradley may have had feelings for still, and the fiancé—who was keeping a secret of her own.

One that the girls discovered when they snatched her phone.

That night after the stunning reunion, the girls schemed their way into recreating the night their parents met. With the help of Jake, Nat, and Ollie, the group got Sonic milkshakes, Route 44s, and some food for the pair who they ordered to follow them to where they parked Rooster’s Bronco overlooking the beach.

“Clever girls,” Y/n chuckled, popping a tater tot in her mouth. “You see what they’re doing, right?”

“I do,” he laughed with her, “not a bad job if I must say. Though, we’re missing all the discarded baseball gear and beer cans.”

For about an hour the two talked in between bites of food. When the topic of their breakup came up, both tried to hide their regret as to not let the other see how it still affected them.

“It was your hairdryer,” Bradley said when Y/n asked if she had hurt him when she threw the object at him, unsure of what it was since the moment was a blur to her now. “Clipped me in the arm.”

Y/n looked away in embarrassment, though she did remind him of why she threw it, which then had the pilot frown in shame.

“But look at you now. New York Times Bestselling author, just like you wanted. It’s amazing, Y/n. I’m really happy for you.”

“Thank you,” she gave a small smile. “It’s still surreal. And as much as I hate to admit it, it feels like it wouldn’t have happened had I stayed—even though I regret it.”

“You do?” he turned in his seat, tone unreadable though his eyes showed a different story. She didn’t look at him when she replied.

“I always had some regret. But because my dream came true I thought it was meant to happen. Leaving was the only way I could get it done. Then after discovering it was Caroline with me it all hit me full blast….I hurt her more than anything—and Lila. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself. Now it feels like everything that happened after that day wasn’t worth it because I lost a piece of myself.” Y/n sighs, looking up at the stars, “I was just so angry with you and by what that officer said. It felt like no one believed in me and in turn why should I believe in myself. So I did the only thing I could think of….and I packed.”

Turning to face Rooster, a solemn gaze took over, “And you…didn’t come after me.”

Rooster didn’t know what to say other than, “I thought you didn’t want me too.” He was astonished by her confession, thinking how everything could’ve been different had he listened to his brain screaming at him.

“Oh well,” she sipped her drink, “It doesn’t matter now. The past is the past. Let’s just put on a happy face for the girls and I’ll be out of your hair again.”

The rest of the night Rooster couldn’t think straight. While Y/n made the arrangements for what they should do about the twins, he just nodded and agreed. All he could think about was how he let her go and regretted it everyday since. Even when they arrived back at the hotel to their separate rooms he went to bed with the image of Y/n as the last thing he saw before sleep overtook him.

Y/n was checking out of the hotel when Rooster approached the counter. “So I’ll book Caroline’s flights for December and April.”

“And I’ll do the same for Lila in the summer,” she nodded, placing her bill from the concierge in her bag. When the girls arrived moments later, both parents were speechless by their matching outfits. “Girls, what is this?”

“Well, mom, we sorta came to an agreement. And we don’t feel like parting ways just yet.”

“Excuse me?” Y/n tilted her head at the teen who spoke. She thought it was Lila, but then again the woman wasn’t sure. They were hiding their necklaces to not give away who was who. “Lila, we don’t have time for this. Our plane leaves in four hours and I have a meeting with my publishers tomorrow.”

“Cancel them,” the other told her, making Y/n’s mouth part while Rooster’s eyes went wide.

“Caroline.”

“Yes,” they both answered.

Now the adults were becoming frustrated. “Girls, this is not funny. You’re gonna make your mother miss her flight—now stop this charade and tell us who is who.”

“Mannnn that’s pretty sad, huh,” the twin on the left voiced, “Can’t even tell your own daughters apart.” She received stern looks from her parents.

Going up to them Rooster leans down, putting his hands on his hips as he tries to tell them apart. Pointing a finger at the twin on the right, he smirks, “this is Caroline. I know that smirk anywhere.”

“Are you sure, dad?” the other twin says, plastering an identical smug expression. “You wouldn’t want to send the wrong twin to New York now?”

“Here’s what we want,” the one directly in front of Rooster states, “We want to go to Penny’s end of summer bash at the Hard Deck tomorrow night—you know, the one that happens every year. We go as a family, and once we do then we will say who’s Lila and who’s Caroline.”

Both parents look at each other flabbergasted. Then Y/n threatens, “Or I take one of you with me back to New York, regardless of who you are and that’s the end of it. Sounds good?” Nothing came of it, however, when Y/n pouted as she sat in the passenger seat of the rental car Ollie was driving until they made it to San Diego. Phoning Yolanda, her meeting was rescheduled and her flight was booked for Monday morning. They got lodging at an airbnb and settled for the night with both girls staying with Y/n on the promise they will stay with Bradley after the party.

Marilyn was not happy with the news of them staying an extra day. Having to deal with one daughter was one thing, but both twins had her head spinning. There was already high tensions with the teenagers, now throwing the ex-wife into the mix made things difficult for Marilyn when she was battling for Bradley’s attention. Not to mention all of Rooster’s friends didn’t like her.

Nerves raked the author when they arrived at the Hard Deck. It was her first time at the establishment and the only people she knew coming in were Nat and Jake. Ollie tagged along thankfully but then he was distracted by the adorableness that was Lt. Robert Floyd. Both girls dragged Y/n to all of Rooster’s friends, introducing the author with pride that made her chest warm.

“Oh hey guys,” Caroline giggled when the squad’s eyes bulged out at the sight of the three. “It’s me Caroline—the actual Caroline. That over there,” she points to her twin wearing a similar outfit only it was a Rolling Stones t-shirt and not The Beatles, “is my twin Lila, who y’all have been hanging out with the last two weeks. And this is our mom, Y/n L/n. Can’t believe dad fumbled such a bag.”

“Caroline,” Y/n scolded with a shake of the head, smiling when each of the guys introduced themself. “It’s nice to meet you all, the girls have told me all about you.”

“Wish we could say the same, ma’am,” Fanboy laughs, “We only know you from when Rooster gets drunk off his ass. Loose lips you know.” Y/n felt flustered by the comment, realizing Rooster still thought of her even after everything that happened.

Penny treated the author with a warm welcome, as did Maverick who both were surprised to see each other. “Oh my gosh, you’re Pete! You guys…you two rekindled?”

“We did,” he blushes, “took some time but it worked out. I’ve heard all about you, Y/n,” he gives an awkward shake of the shoulders, “He…told me everything about a year ago when it was the girls’ birthday.”

Everything seemed to be going well until the twins overheard Marilyn speaking ill of their mother. “She’s being a snake and you know it, Bradley! Ever since she got here there’s been an ulterior motive—and I bet you those kids are in on it,” she pointed a finger with a hiss.

“You’re being ridiculous, Marilyn,” Rooster’s tone takes another edge. “She hasn’t even spoken to me the entire night except to greet us when we arrived.”

“She doesn’t have to talk! It’s all in the looks and smiles! She’s a fucking romance author—of course she knows what to do to get someone’s attention. That’s how sad and desperate she is.”

By now Caroline had enough, bringing everyone’s attention to the scene when she yells, “You don’t know what you’re talking about!” In her peripheral vision she sees Y/n, Nat, and Penny stand from their seats, moving closer to where they were.

Rooster gives a warning look, “honey, this doesn’t concern you.”

“The hell it does!” She ignores his disapproving eyes. “How dare she talk about mom like that?! You’re gonna let her speak about her that way—about the woman who gave birth to us?”

Lila steps up, glaring at the blonde, “Instead of worrying about mom, she should be worrying about who’s blowing up her phone wanting to know when to meet at the motel tonight.” They watch as all the color drains from Marilyn’s face. Rooster turns to his fiancé, confused and demanding an answer.

“What is she talking about?”

“I-I—she’s. Bradley, there’s nothing—.”

Caroline cuts her off, “Who’s Colonel Mustard?” Again Marilyn goes pale, though there’s anger in her eyes. “What a code name, Mare. I guess I better refer to his actual name, you know. Does the name Admiral Patrick Cross ring a bell?” She mocks, “oh yeah, he’s dad’s married boss at Top Gun and she’s been sending naked pictures to him all weekend.”

Gasps sounded all around, Ollie, Nat and Penny slapping a hand to their mouth where the squad and Mav all went, “oh shit!” Y/n looked at her daughters stunned before glancing at Bradley to see his reaction. The man was in disbelief, staring at Marilyn with unreadable eyes.

The blonde saw red. “You little bitch!” Before she could stop herself her hand came up and slapped the teen across the face, leaving a nice print in its wake along with a scratch from when her fake nail dragged against the skin.

Now Y/n saw red. Literally Kill Bill alarms blaring.

Marilyn screamed when her jaw snapped to the side full force from the impact of Y/n’s fist. The author had pulled her by the hair to turn her around, nearly ripping out her extensions. Blood coated Marilyn’s mouth, and a tooth even fell out by how hard Y/n had punched her. Before another blow could be landed the woman was pulled back, fighting against the hold from Ollie and Nat, “Touch my daughter again and see what fucking happens bitch—I’ll cut your fucking eye out!” While she was being dragged to the back patio to prevent from committing a crime, Marilyn ran out the front door with Rooster chasing after her.

Tears in their eyes the twins raced to their mom. When they got outside they saw her shaking the first that was no doubt throbbing. Ollie was trying to talk her down, all while complimenting how badass she was. “Oh honey,” she saw Caroline, moving to hold her. Telling Penny to bring out two ice packs, the woman brushed her uninjured hand against the teen’s cheek. It flared her anger more, wishing she could go beat the shit out of that cunt. “My sweet girl, are you okay?

“I’m fine, mom,” Caroline whimpered, sniffing when Y/n wiped the tear that fell. Her face stung and there would likely be a mark but she didn’t care. All she could feel was warmth and happiness by how her mom stood up for her. Looking at her first, the teen frowned at the discoloration. “Are you okay?”

Penny came out with the ice packs, handing one to Y/n and Caroline. “I’m fine—at least right now because my adrenaline is pumping. Give me a few more minutes and I could be in debilitating pain but we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” Glancing over the deck, Y/n’s face fell slightly. “Where’s your father?”

“He went after the witch,” Lila said with distaste. Caroline mirrored her expression, both twins disappointed with Rooster. The reaction had Y/n take a deep breath, controlling the anger rising which nearly snapped when the man slid open the doors of the patio and walked toward them.

“Not now, Bradley.”

“Y/n, listen to me—.”

“You went after her, dad,” Caroline sniffed, glaring up at him. “What the hell?”

“Not in the way you think, honey,” he leaned down to cup her face, careful of the mark. It was taking everything in him to remain composed. Just moments before when he was ending things with his now ex-fiancé, Rooster had to remember she was a woman and not to lose it even though she had just laid her hands on his daughter. Had she been a man….well there would be an ambulance called. “I only went after her to tell her to get her crap out of the house and expect charges for assault to be on her doorstep.”

Now that had them speechless. “Really?”

“Yeah, kiddo. And I’m so sorry,” he kissed her forehead, moving to hug her and opening his arm for Lila to join. “Thank you both for what you did. I owe you two for saving me.” He feels them laugh against his chest, the pilot lifting his gaze to settle on Y/n. She has a smile on her face, blushing when they look eyes. At her wince he notices her hand was now black and blue. “You should get that looked at.”

“Oh It’s fine—,” she tried to deflect but he wouldn’t have it.

“That looks broken, Y/n,” he gently moves the girls to the side so he can inspect it. The woman makes a pained sound when his fingers try to turn it. “Yeah, we’re going to urgent care right now.”

“Bradley—.”

“No excuses. Girls, let’s go.” He almost wanted to laugh at the pout on Y/n’s face, hauling her to the Bronco before speeding off to the nearest urgent care. The entire way she tried saying she was fine, but the pained expression every time she moved her hand in the slightest gave away that she was in fact not fine. The girls couldn't help but giggle at the way the adults were bickering. Like they were still married.

With a diagnosed fracture and cast on her wrist, Y/n felt butterflies in her stomach when they returned to the beach house for the girls to get their things. They would spend the final night at Rooster’s before Y/n and Ollie would pick Lila up in the morning in time for their flight. While the girls were upstairs, Y/n and Bradley sat on the deck, neither not knowing what to say.

“What time do you take off?”

“A quarter till nine,” she replied, keeping her eyes on the waves in front of her. She felt him come to her side, so close she smelled his cologne that if she closed her eyes, it would put her back in 2006. “It’s a straight shot thankfully—no layovers.”

“That’s good,” he muttered, head spinning with a million things he wanted to say but couldn’t form the words. Part of him just wanted to confess he still loved her. That he never stopped. That they should try to kick things back off. But then he thought about how their lives went. Here he was a Top Gun instructor in San Diego, and she was a bestselling author in New York.

Rooster thought of her stories. He read every single one on the market the day they dropped, feeling the heartbreak in him every time he flipped through the pages of her second novel that he knew was loosely based on their story. He remembered crying at the end when he finished it the first time. It was the only one without a happy ending.

All the books were hidden in his closet, but at least once a year Rooster would pick up one and read the beautiful words Y/n wrote. He was so proud of her, but didn’t know how to say it.

“Roo—.”

“Y/n/n—.” Both chuckled nervously when they tried speaking at the same time.

“You go,” she insisted. Wiping a sweating hand on his pants, Rooster took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” he exhaled. “For what I said to you that night. And for not standing up for you like I should have,” his face was full of regret. “I was more worried about my job than you—a-and it was wrong of me to do so. I made you feel like your talent wasn’t worthy, that you’d never make it as an author and I’m so fucking sorry for saying that. You are an amazing writer and you deserve everything that has come from it. Your books are incredible, Y/n. Every one of them.”

Y/n feels her throat tighten, voice going small, “Y-you—you’ve read them?”

“Every single one,” he confesses, making her whimper slightly by the emotion erupting in her chest. “On their release day. And I read them in one sitting.”

Y/n’s heart was soaring. Never did she think he’d read her books, let alone buy them the day they came out. His confession was making it harder for her to let him go again. “Roo…” she whispers, eyes glistening as he moves closer to her.

They stared at each other for a moment. No words came out but in their looks was everything they needed to know. The love they thought had left years ago resurfaced in just a few days.

Right as it looked like Rooster was about to lean down, the sound of a car filled their ears, causing Y/n to drop her head. “That would be Ollie.” Rooster nods, disappointment filling him as he slowly backs away to enter the house, but not before giving her one last look to see her wiping her eyes. Y/n gives the twins a kiss on the head before waving goodbye when they leave. Now that he was home, Ollie wanted to know everything he missed—jaw dropping when Y/n admitted they nearly kissed.

“Why didn’t you!?’

“Because, Ollie!” She says dramatically, “four hours ago the man was engaged and may I remind you, we’ve been broken up for over a decade. Why the hell would I let him kiss me when there is no chance something would come out of it.”

“You don’t know that, Y/n,” Ollie comes around the kitchen island, wine glass in hand. “Look, you may not have seen it but my eyes know what I saw this whole weekend. And it was a man who wants to sweep you off your feet and take you to the nearest chapel.”

“Ollie—.”

“Did you not see his reaction when you clocked that bitch? My God it looked like he was about to pop a semi.” Y/n put her free hand to her face, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. The whole moment at the bar was a blur to her from the moment she saw that wrench put her hand on Caroline. It was all a haze until she was outside dealing with a throbbing hand. Barely did Y/n look at Rooster, she was focused on her daughter.

“Noooo, I did not see his reaction, Ollie. I was too busy dealing with the fact I was about to commit bloody murder.”

“Well I can assure, babe, that your sexy pilot of an ex was wanting to throw you over his shoulder and take you to bed. After of course making sure sweet Caroline was okay.” Setting down his wine glass, he gives her a stern look, “Tell me the truth, do you still love him?”

“It’s complicated—.”

“It’s a yes or no, Y/n.”

“What exactly do you want me to say,” she threw her hand out, “that yes I’m still hopelessly hung over him and wish I could go back and time to stop myself from leaving? That seeing him this weekend made me feel like a twenty-two year old girl again? That I have envisioned everyday since Caroline told me about the switch, that maybe we could pick things off where we left?” They were all rhetoric questions, Ollie allowing her to rant as tears threatened her eyes. “Of course I do—to all of the above. But this isn't one of my books, Ollie, this is real life—a-and his life is here while mine is in New York. I don’t want to leave that and how should I expect him to leave all of what he has built here for me?” Sniffing, Y/n looks away with a hand to her chin, whispering, “It’s why I left in the first place.”

The rest of the night the two packed the rental car so it was ready for the morning and watched cheesy rom-coms since neither could really sleep. They got maybe four hours on the couch, but soon their alarm woke them up to start the day. Y/n called Lila to make sure she was awake and ready before showering herself, putting on a simple outfit for the flight.

It was a heartfelt goodbye when they arrived at Roosters home. Caroline held onto Y/n for almost five minutes, the woman promising to call her everyday so she could hear how the teens' day. They spoke of excitement for the holidays with Y/n promising to take her and Lila skating around the big tree and to celebrate New Year’s in Time Square. Not too far from them Lila was held by Rooster, the teen lightly crying when they pulled away.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” He tells her, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “Maybe sooner than you think, Lila darlin’.” She doesn’t think much of the comment, only nodding up at him before embracing Caroline when approaches. Together the girls walk to the car with the adults watching as Ollie gives a hug to Caroline.

“You take care of yourself, Y/n/n,” Rooster places a hand on her shoulder, “and hope you two have a safe flight.”

“Thank you,” she tells him, offering a tight smile. “And I will.” He surprises the author when his lips gently press against her forehead, squeezing her hand after it had fallen from her shoulder to hold it. They share one last look, Y/n nodding to him before walking up to the car. She and Caroline share one more embrace, Y/n kissing the teen’s head with Caroline shutting the door of the car behind her. Waving through the window, Y/n blows her a kiss as Ollie presses on the gas. Soon Rooster and Caroline grow smaller in the rear view mirror, the distance growing by the second until finally they disappear when they turn the corner onto the freeway.

On the plane Lila barely talks. She’s either nose deep in the book she bought at one of the airport shops, headphones in, or looking out the window with absolute silence. Y/n tries to have a conversation, but eventually gives up knowing her daughter needed some time. The only response she received when assuring Lila the holidays were around the corner was a sad nod. Within hours the sunny skies of California turn into gloomy clouds of New York. Rainfall greeted them as they stepped out of the airport, finding their Uber quickly to beat the afternoon rush. It took maybe an hour for them to get home from JFK, Y/n frowning when she saw Lila wipe a tear away.

Ollie was dropped off at his home first, waving to them with the promise of seeing them later for dinner. Dropping their stuff in the foyer, they call out to Y/n’s parents. “Mom? Dad?” “Gran? Grandpa?”

“I’ll check the study,” Y/n moves to the room her dad spent most of his day in. A smile appeared when she entered to see the morning’s newspaper in his hands.

Or so she thought was her dad’s hands.

Leaning against the door, Y/n spoke with a soft voice, “Hey, stranger, we’re back?”

The paper dropped to the desk, revealing a beaming Caroline in a flight suit sitting in the chair. Y/n’s jaw dropped, hand going to her chest. Caroline gave a cheeky look, “Hey, mom, did you know an F-18 can get you here in a quarter of the time compared to a commercial jet?”

All she could do was nod back slowly, feeling her heart pound against her chest. “Y-yes, I-I’ve heard. What—.” Upon her gasp when she saw Caroline, Lila raced into the study, matching the expression of her mother.

“Care! What are you doing here?”

The twin rose from the chair, “Hope you don’t mind us crashing in. But, it took us less than a minute after you guys left for us to realize we didn’t want to lose you both again.”

Y/n almost stumbled as she took a step into the study, “W-we?”

Caroline’s gaze drifted to the other entrance of the room, where Rooster appeared in his own flight suit, eyes locked on Y/n, “We.” He heard her make a sound, the hand on her chest going to her mouth. “My biggest regret was letting you walk away that day, Y/n. I’m not gonna make that mistake again. And I promise to never make you feel like you aren’t worthy of something—because you are worthy of everything you set your mind to. And I’m gonna make sure you know that everyday.”

Y/n started to feel the emotion bile in her throat, shaking her head slightly to stay strong. “A-and I suppose you just expect me to fall into your arms like I did all those years ago,” she saw a smile form on the corner of his lips, the man slowly moving closer to her with a knowing look. “And cry hysterically saying we can figure this whole thing out and have a long-distance relationship with our girls being raised here and there,” he continues to move closer, making Y/n’s heart pump faster. “—and we just pick up where we left off…with the promise of growing old together and…”

By now Rooster was directly in front of her, gaze full of love and adoration. She forgot what she was about to say, getting lost in his eyes, “oh come on, Roo. Is this supposed to be a happily ever after?”

“Yes,” he cupped her face in his hands, thumbs caressing her cheeks that were warm and damp. “To all of it, Y/n/n. You write happily ever afters for a living, now it’s time for you to have your own.” He smirks adding, “Except you don’t have to cry hysterically, baby.”

That nickname combined with the offer had the tears rolling down her cheeks, Y/n nodding weakly against his palms, “Oh yes I do.” The last word was met with his mouth pressed against hers, fireworks erupting all over her body. Letting her eyes flutter shut, Y/n’s hands moved to the back of his neck to deepen the kiss, feeling Rooster smile causing her to do the same.

Behind them their daughters were holding back their squeals, Lila falling dramatically onto the sofa while Caroline leaned against the bookshelf, “I can’t believe we actually did it!” They eventually moved out of the study to allow the pair some privacy, all the while they never broke the kiss until needing air but kept their mouths close.

“Wait a moment,” she ran her hands along his flight suit, “Did you steal an F-18 so you could get here before me to come confess your love—and had our daughter in the backseat?”

He gives a shrug, grinning wide, “Maybe.”

“Isn’t that illegal?” She looks at him like he grew two heads. “And how does Caroline—.”

“Well actually Mav helped me out,” his arms went around her waist, pulling her against him. “We got special permission—so don’t worry I won’t be arrested anytime soon. As for Care, Fanboy and Bob have been teaching her a thing or two about being a backseater. I think she’s getting the hang of it.”

“Oh my lord,” Y/n closes her eyes before laughing at the whole situation. Rooster laughs with her, nuzzling his head into her neck. “You are an impossible man, Bradley Bradshaw.”

“Only for you, Y/n L/n.

Six months later……

Y/n wiped the sweat from her forehead, pressing the enter button with a huff of victory. The glasses were removed from her face, leaning against the back of her chair to give her body the much needed stretch. When her arms extended out to relax the tense muscle, the diamond ring on her finger sparkled against the light. The sight made her smile, eyes going back to the words on the screen.

A knock on the door sounded seconds later, “Come in.” Gently opening, Rooster appeared with a mug of steaming coffee, his own wedding band reflecting as he shut the door. “Hey you.”

“Hey yourself,” he winks, coming to put the mug on her coaster before leaning down to kiss her lips. “Lila called, the two are staying after school for a club meeting.” Y/n thanks him for the coffee, nodding at his words with a knowing look.

“I take it pizza is the move then tonight?”

Rooster chuckles, “Unless you want me to whip up some pasta, but I gotta warn you it’s not gonna be anywhere near what you get in town. Although not to toot my own horn, my spaghetti is pretty damn good. At least that’s what Caroline tells me.”

“Oh goodness, well I can eat anything at this point,” she sighs dramatically, “Or maybe we can tell them to meet us at Milo’s. I think a celebration is in order.” Rooster tilts his head confused, but then smiles at the word doc on the screen.

“You finished?”

“Yes,” she beams. “Well I finished the draft. I plan to edit it myself first before sending it off….but it’s done.”

“That’s amazing, baby,” he kisses her cheek, gesturing for her to get up so he could sit and have her in his lap. “I’m so proud of you. You got that done in a record time. Didn’t you just start that—not even a month ago?” Y/n nods shyly.

“I had a lot of inspiration. The words just flew out honestly—Yolanda is gonna have a field day.”

Rooster gets a glimpse of the last paragraph causing a smile to appear on his lips. Respecting her writer's privacy he didn’t ask much about the novel when she started writing it, only when she discussed it on her own terms. He could see the excitement in her eyes, warmth in his veins by how happy she was and couldn’t wait to read it when she finished. “May I ask what inspired this book, Y/n/n? Although, I do have a funny feeling.” Y/n didn’t have to answer, her bashful smile was enough to tell him everything. “Have you thought of a title yet?”

Glancing to her screen, Y/n read over the final paragraph stopping at the words in bold THE END. Her readers were gonna freak out when it would be announced she’s coming out with a sequel to her second released book, the one responsible for her receiving fan mail with them begging for her to continue the story. To give the characters their happy ending.

She just needed her happy ending first.

The story was being written in real time.

“I was bouncing between a couple, but I think I have it,” she faces her husband, grinning as the name slips off her tongue. It was what Lila and Caroline had coined when Y/n came to them about the book.

“I think I’m gonna call it….The Parent Trap.”

……………….

TGM Tag List: @avaleineandafryingpan, @caitsymichelle13, @poppyalice2001, @cutelittlepotatofry, @luckyladycreator2, @americaarse, @elenavampire21, @back-tooo-black

[dduane]

Hello! I was wondering if you’ve shared your ao3 account? Like, have you acknowledged “this account is mine,” or do you keep it personal? Totally respect if you keep it under wraps I just wanted to know if I’m missing something. Hope my wording of this makes sense!

No, it's OK, I get it. You're asking "Have you publicly ID'd a given AO3 account as yours?"

No, and I'm not going to. Because it contains fanfic I've written for pleasure—exactly as I started writing it in my teens—and I have no desire to have that publicly connected with me.

Leaving the usual legal concerns aside (and not being even slightly concerned that a judge would fail to find the fiction "transformational", if the truth came out in a court of law) a significant part of this effort is about answering the question: "What would happen if people read fiction of mine and they didn't know Diane Duane was responsible for it? What would their reaction be?" That urge to discover whether the fiction stands on its own, without the inevitable shadow cast by one’s reputational backstop, still comes up for me in some moods. So when the itch to write fanfic comes up, I scratch it. And all I can say is that, by and large, the results have been satisfying.

Frankly, it's a ton of fun. There's no one to satisfy (at the most immediate level) except me and the local embodiment of the Creative Urge. No one will ever accuse me of "just churning [this] out for more $$$$", because there is no $$$$. And there's room to stretch further and harder than I might normally do in my public work (because there's more forgiveness for failure: and in the arts, I think, failure is absolutely one of the most effective ways to grow). Whatever comes back to me in return for this work—and it is work, some of the hardest I've ever done—is in the form of raw appreciation. So, people, on behalf of my colleagues, let me just say: comment on AO3 fics, yeah? You don't have to be fulsome about it. A word or two will do. And bestow kudos where you may. It's all an AO3 fanfic writer asks.

...And of course some people will say: "Are you off your rocker? You're traditionally published for decades, you have awards, you've been on bestseller lists, how can you not be sure that what you're doing's any good?" ...But you know, no writer is sure all the time. All of us wake up in the middle of the night some time(s), thinking "I'm not sure I've still got it..." and squeezing our eyes shut in terror of future reviews containing the horrible conjecture that Maybe We Never Really Had It To Start With. When you've spent a significant portion of your lifetime making stuff (up) out of nothing, the horrible suspicion that maybe it really has been nothing all the time—I mean, nothing nothing—is unavoidable.

So sometimes some of us want to go out in disguise (and I don't mean paid pseudonymic work: that proves nothing in this particular arena) and see how we fare. I know other traditionally-published writers who've done this—names that would surprise you—and who, by and large, have done it for the same reasons. We are the dark figures, hooded and cloaked, sitting in the shadows of some of the more prominent fandoms that express themselves on AO3; eyes glinting in the firelight, enjoying the reactions to the stories we've got to tell.

It's not bad here, in the shadows. For one thing, you're in a better position to appreciate the figures moving in the light. There's a lot of extraordinary talent on AO3 (and elsewhere in the online fanfic world), sharing stuff with us out of their own hard work and from their own urge toward grace. It's a privilege to read them. (Some of them are better writers than I am. I appreciate them: and comment, and leave kudos, because that's how appreciation is concretely shown. And I take notes.)

Beyond that, there's nothing much to add except that I have no plans to stop. And also: that I think kindly every single day of the very small and exclusive group of people who know "who" I am on AO3, and have kindly kept that data to themselves. Your confidence honors me, friends. May the Work do you honor in return. :)

And now: I owe you all an update, so you'll have to excuse me while I get on with it. :)

[alasarys]

Recommended books for the drivers from BookPeople, Austin, Texas (insta)

Daniel Ricciardo: Friday Night Lights – "... every Friday night from September to December, when the Permian High School Panthers play football, this West Texas town becomes a place where dreams can come true."

Lando Norris: Assassin's Apprentice – "Fitz ... must give up his old ways and embrace a new life of weaponry, scribing, courtly manners; and how to kill a man secretly, as he trains to become a royal assassin."

Alex Albon: My Brilliant Friend – "... a rich, intense and generous-hearted story about two friends ... a touching meditation on the nature of friendship."

Logan Sargeant: Once Upon a Time in Hollywood – "hilarious, delicious, and brutal"

Yuki Tsunoda: A Cook's Tour – "the unpredictable adventures of America's boldest and bravest chef."

Carlos Sainz: Great American Golf Stories – "some of the best classic writings, both fact and realistic fiction, that reflect the rich history, tradition, agony, and ecstasy of one of our most enduring and endearing pastimes."

Oscar Piastri: Iona Iverson's Rules for Commuting – "It turns out that talking to strangers can teach you about the world around you--and even more about yourself."

Lance Stroll: Infinite Jest – "Set in an addicts' halfway house and a tennis academy, and featuring the most endearingly screwed-up family to come along in recent fiction, Infinite Jest explores essential questions about what entertainment is and why it has come to so dominate our lives; about how our desire for entertainment affects our need to connect with other people; and about what the pleasures we choose say about who we are."

Charles Leclerc: Every Good Boy Does Fine – "[Denk] reminds us that we must never stop asking questions about music and its purposes: consolation, an armor against disillusionment, pure pleasure, a diversion, a refuge, and a vehicle for empathy."

Lewis Hamilton: The Boy with a Bird in his Chest – "A heartbreaking yet hopeful novel about the things that make us unique and lovable, The Boy with a Bird in His Chest grapples with the fear, depression, and feelings of isolation that come with believing that we will never be loved, let alone accepted, for who we truly are, and learning to live fully and openly regardless."

Max Verstappen: Atomic Habits – "Atomic Habits will reshape the way you think about progress and success, and give you the tools and strategies you need to transform your habits--whether you are a team looking to win a championship ..."

Zhou Guanyu: A Visible Man – "When Edward Enninful became the first Black editor-in-chief of British Vogue, few in the world of fashion wanted to confront how it failed to represent the world we live in. But Edward, a champion of inclusion throughout his life, rapidly changed that."

Pierre Gasly: Misery – "He's a bestselling novelist who has finally met his biggest fan. Her name is Annie Wilkes and she is more than a rabid reader – she is Paul's nurse, tending his shattered body after an automobile accident. But she is also his captor, keeping him prisoner in her isolated house."

Valtteri Bottas: Foundryside – "To have a chance at surviving ... Sancia will have to marshal unlikely allies ... and undergo her own transformation ..."

Fernando Alonso: The House of the Spirits – "an enthralling saga that spans decades and lives, twining the personal and the political into an epic novel of love, magic, and fate."

Kevin Magnussen: The Daily Dad – "366 Meditations on Parenting, Love, and Raising Great Kids"

Sergio Perez: Bad Feminist – "an inspiring call-to-arms of all the ways we still need to do better"

Building on the excellent work by @vegasgrandprix and @kritischetheologie

[deadpanwalking]

you may have addressed this in the past, but i am pretty sure i'm too dumb to read james joyce. how do you improve your reading comprehension? i'd like to move beyond the nyt bestseller list, but going from stephen king to faulkner seems like a steep jump.

Nobody is too dumb to read a book, but plenty of people have been conditioned into perpetual incuriosity.  The only way to improve reading comprehension is by reading outside of your comfort zone, which necessarily means letting go of the notion that the relationship between an artist and their audience is adversarial, and that a challenging work of art is booby-trapped with mean tricks designed to make you feel bad.

What do you do when you run into a word or concept that you don't immediately understand in the wild? You don't (I fervently hope) drop what you're reading like a hot potato—you keep reading to see if there’s clarification, and if there's none, you find a reliable source that gives you the definition, context, and examples, then circle back. What do you do when you're watching a movie you haven't seen before and the camera lingers on a random detail, or a character makes an inexplicable choice? Unless you are my dad, you give the story a chance to play out before asking what the deuce is going on. 

Faulkner and Joyce aren't cyphers, which is why their short fiction is a standard in the public high school English curriculum, and As I Lay Dying and A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man are frequently assigned to juniors and seniors in AP classes—but even their denser writing is more accessible now than it's ever been. Over the past century, so many people have loved them enough to devote their lives to studying their work—and they’ve passed the savings down to you. They’ve written annotations that explain literary, historical, and biographical context and that's aligned with the pagination of the books, they’ve integrated hyperlinks into the hypertext.

There's exactly one (1) acceptable excuse not to read Faulkner or Joyce: not wanting to read Faulkner or Joyce.  You don't even need to give them a chance—millions of people (among them, many prolific and intelligent readers) have and will continue to live rich, meaningful lives after deciding that a particular book or author is simply not a priority, even if the author is famous and the book highly recommended by several friends who wear glasses.

If you can parse this passage from Pet Sematary, you can parse just about anything Joyce throws at you:

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Screaming at an Empty Room -

Reintroduction/Update

Hello everyone! Probably too late to do an intro, given that I've been writing on this blog since 2017, but since I've returned after a few years away from writing, I wanted the opportunity to talk about my blog and projects completed and my upcoming plans!

I go by Avaleon everywhere else on the internet, but respond to pretty much anything, including Screaming, hey you, etc! Started this blog in my mid 20s, and aged normally into the early 30s from there. I love writing, have always loved it, but between work and life, it's definitely something that I mostly do late at night and on weekends. I love hearing from people, but I usually answer asks in bunches, and typically right before I post writing. Love hearing about other people's projects as well!

I write short stories, novellas, and occasional full length novels. I am not published, but actively working on self-publishing some of my full length works. Everything I write is posted online, I enjoy sharing my work. The main reason to self publish for me is to have physical copies for myself or anyone who might want one!

My short stories can be found under the #writing tag on my blog. As for the long completed stories, I'll post them below the cut!

Love you Tumblr, happy to be back!

A. Full Length Novels (100,000+ words)

Please Fix the Story!

Description:

I don’t know who I am. I don’t know why I’m trapped in this never ending cycle of rebirth. All I know is that I wake up inside the worlds of unfinished stories, with a mission to accomplish the author’s wishes and stabilize the worlds now headed for destruction. I do my best, hoping, praying that maybe if I complete enough missions, I’ll be able to remember my past and return to my home.

It’s just fixing stories, it should be simple enough.

So can someone explain who this random villain is who keeps following me to each world?

Masterpost linked here

2. I Can’t Eat Love

Description:

Lenora did not have a wonderful life. After her engagement to Prince Ronan is broken, she loses everything… her reputation, her home and her family. Starving on the streets, she dies angry and bitter at how her life unfolded… only to wake up in her old bed, fifteen again, five years before her death. 

Now she must struggle to change her fate, and the fate of the around her. This time she won’t trust in something as flimsy or changeable as love. No, this time she’ll have the power and the money she needs to protect herself. 

Lenora has already lost everything once. She’s not going to lose again. 

No matter the cost. 

Masterpost Linked Here

B. Novellas

I Refuse to be a Named Character

Description:

I woke up inside the world of one of the best selling fantasy book series “Deadly Crown.” Intrigue, handsome heroes, adventure… sounds great, right? Just one problem: all the named characters except the main hero and villain die, are replaced and their replacements die. Being important in this story is a death sentence, so I plan to move to the middle of nowhere, and avoid the plot! 

It should be a fool proof plan, so why do the main characters keep dragging me into the story?

Masterpost Linked Here

2. Living in a Rewrite of my Own Book World

Description:

This is the story about an author who gets hit by a car right before she can finish her bestselling book series. Trapped in the role of a terrible side character antagonist, she must find a way to change the story’s ending. Not just for her own survival, but for the characters that seem just a little too real to be fiction. (30K words)

Masterpost Linked Here

3.Baby’s First Revenge!

Description:

When Charlotte is betrayed and killed by the friend she sacrificed everything for, she thought it was the end. Instead, she found herself reborn as a baby, with her killer still enjoying the fame of stealing her work. Now, she's coming after him, and plans to make him pay... But first, nap time.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7

4. The Supervillain’s Daughter

The story of Erica, a girl who finds out that her brother is the kidnapped child of superheroes, and that her parents are villains. Years later she is the best agent in the Villain Suppression Unit, and hates everything to do with superheroes. So of course she isn’t pleased when she is paired with the strongest man alive, especially because she knows him. But with even darker parts of her past surfacing again, she will have no choice but to join forces and save the world. 

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Other smaller works and the incomplete ones can be found on this page

Thanks everyone!

[sexcromancy]

young adult, new adult, and fantasy fiction: the audience of a book is who reads it

title clumsily based on the purpose of a system is what it does.

before we begin, I want to focus a bit on defining our terms. young adult, new adult, adult, science fiction/fantasy, speculative fiction, contemporary romance - all of the terms I will use in this post are created by marketing companies and readers, and all of them have fuzzy and subjective applicability to any given book. there is no objectivity in cataloging, which is the lens through which I approach knowledge organization projects like this. there is no definitive answer to what any given book or genre "is", because these categories are not fixed values. instead, their values are expanded and developed by what gets placed in which category, by whom, and what criteria they base that decision on. that's what I want to discuss.

to provide some context: debates over age categories and who is reading what books for which age ranges currently dominate discussions among publishers, authors, librarians, and readers. ages of characters in YA are skewing up, sales are slowing down. young adult as a category has existed for 50+ years, but it is currently undergoing some growing pains. here's one more article for good measure. new adult is a term created by the publishing industry in 2009, which developed in fits and starts despite multiple bestselling authors publishing under the category. oh well. in 2015, sarah j mass published her new book, a court of thorns and roses, which is widely regarded as a turning point for the popularity of new adult (more on the classification of ACOTAR itself in a moment). NA stalled out for many years, but has recently very quickly grown in popularity, especially for romance readers on booktok. some of the most popular books listed under new adult on goodreads are colleen hoover's it ends with us and it starts with us, ali hazelwood's check & mate, and rebecca yarros' fourth wing.

I want to look at two of these currently very popular authors as case studies to really dig into what new adult has come to mean.

in this 2014 interview, SJM discusses her currently running throne of glass series and the upcoming release of ACOTAR in 2015. she notes that the book is intended for "a slightly older YA crowd (aka steamy times ahead!)". earlier in the interview, she dodges a question about whether throne of glass will be YA or NA by saying she appreciates her teen and adult readers - if I had to guess, the label was still too new and publishers didn't want to alienate anyone. in 2023, I can't find anything on her website or bookseller sites that specifically identify the series (or any of her series) as YA, NA, or adult. however, Goodreads (which relies on user generated tags and is, to put it lightly, a mess wrt information organization) firmly classes ACOTAR as YA - almost 9k tags in young-adult and ya (lack of authority control is just one aspect of the mess), as opposed to about 3.5k new-adult. the thing is, though, ACOTAR comes up in essentially every blog post and article I read on the definition of new adult. it is a flashpoint in the discussion: it either did or didn't restart the term, it is or isn't too sexually explicit to be classed for teens, the writing is filled with young adult tropes and this does or does not matter. the answers to these questions aren't particularly important to me, but it's very interesting to see how people are attempting to draw those boundaries. I took a quick census of how SJM's series are classed in my library system. her throne of glass series is uniformly shelved in YA; ACOTAR is mostly YA with a few copies in adult, and her newer crescent city series is mostly adult with a few copies in YA. I do think that any discussion of ACOTAR is partially colored by this divisive relationship to the new adult category itself, so I'd also like to bring in a much newer book facing similar conversation.

if you follow this blog you might already know that I have an entirely non-neutral relationship to ali hazelwood; I love her books both as books and as cultural objects deserving of study. previously, she published three adult romance novels and a set of adult romance novellas, which all fall firmly and inarguably into those defined categories, based on age range and content (I have an argument for the love hypothesis being a horror story, but that's a different conversation). last year, she published her newest book, check & mate, as a young adult romance. it was widely marketed as such by the young readers imprint at putnam. however, on reading it, I (and many goodreads commenters) were surprised to find that it aligned more with some hallmarks of new adult. the characters are out of high school, and the challenges and growth moments are more focused on evolution, rather than coming of age. one blog post I read made the argument that YA is about high school firsts and NA is about adulthood firsts. this is amorphous, partially because there is no real one life path into adulthood by which to judge this, so let's switch focus to something more concrete: sex. in each of Ali's adult novels, there are a few explicit sex scenes. they're not as explicit as other romance novels, but they're definitely not fade-to-black. in check & mate, characters have sex, but it happens entirely off-screen and any discussion is fairly chaste or, at most, relying heavily on implied content. this is a real disconnect to me. much of NA lit (ACOTAR included) is quite sexually explicit. among those most popular NA books on goodreads, there are many books that get marketed specifically for their sexual content (spicy🌶️ to the tiktokers, smut to everyone else). to me, this cements check & mate as a YA novel - if she was going to write a book with explicit sex, like her others, she could've. she's mentioned in interviews that her chess novel concept originally featured older characters, and she aged them down once she realized what kind of story she wanted to tell. to me, it is telling that moving from adult to YA creates more clumsy caution around the handling of sex, as opposed to SJM, whose books "aged" upwards over time.

another interesting example I've noticed in the emerging NA space is how the age category intersects with genre. YA as a category has a pretty expansive genre playing field - we've all read YA fantasy, contemporary romance, historical fiction, action/adventure, issue novels, etc. NA so far seems pretty exclusively limited to romance as a main focus, especially in the most popular offerings as discussed above.

I've seen many a tiktok alleging that despite the drawn out fight scenes, extensive lore, and huge interconnected web of characters, the ACOTAR books are not "real fantasy." even more so for the fourth wing books. I've seen these books compared to Tolkien, as if to say, well, if you didn't invent a language, you're not really on the same level. that's entirely unfair, imo - plenty of fantasy doesn't engage at that level. but there is a wide array of contemporary fantasy I do think we can contrast with ACOTAR and other popular NA series.

we've discussed some of the hallmarks of YA and NA as categories: the age range of characters, coming of age, explicit sex for NA. i'd add fast-paced, immersive writing, especially in first person or close third, because so much of the appeal described on booktok is a book sucking you in completely. now, i want to bring up a few books that, on the surface, might check several of these boxes: dune by frank herbert has an 18yo protagonist, and the first book is very much a coming of age story. eragon (christopher paolini) and the name of the wind (patrick rothfuss) focus on a young person coming into their magical abilities through school/mentorship, a similar setting to many YA series. mistborn (brandon sanderson) and game of thrones (george r.r. martin) both have prominent protagonists that are 18 or younger when the story starts. of all these series, only eragon has young-adult as its most popular age-related tag on goodreads, and eragon was, at the time of release, very specifically marketed to and shelved in young adult in bookstores and libraries. some of these books have explicit or non-explicit sexual content, but only GOT has even close to as much as your average NA novel (to my knowledge).

i am not alleging that any of these books should be classed as YA, necessarily. but the glaring difference in their marketing and readership does point to one thing: these books are largely about men, and they are all written by men. i am not the first person to point out this gender gap in fantasy writing, and i don't have anything particularly new to say about it, except to bring it back around to my original point. none of these novels "are" adult fiction, and plenty (plenty!) of teenagers read them, in an interesting reversal of the trends in YA. who is making the decisions about where these books go, and why? what can we draw out about the books and their marketing? how is the future of "adult fantasy" shaped when these are the benchmarks by which we measure new entries?

i did also look into a few of my own favorite sci-fi series by women to see how they ranked by similar parameters. parable of the sower by octavia butler, featuring an 18yo protagonist and sexual content, has no age category at all in the top 20 most popular goodreads tags. it's in adult fiction in every library in my system that owns a copy. ive seen gideon the ninth (18yo protag, and yeah lets go ahead and say explicit sexual content) on YA shelves in bookstores, but its adult tag on goodreads is more popular, and almost every library in my system has it in adult. in my opinion, these books are important in rejecting the "women write YA, men write adult" narrative around speculative fiction, but they're not necessarily an exception to a different trend. it is not difficult for me to think of more adult scifi/fantasy books by women, because i actively seek them out. however, almost every single one of them has a protagonist under 25, as is the case with so much of the adult fantasy written by men listed above. last year, i read the adventures of amina al-sirafi, by s.a. chakrabotry, which was (i believe) the first non-contemporary/realistic fiction book ive ever read with a middle aged mother as the main protagonist. the book club at my library branch, mainly composed of middle aged and older women, read it, and expressed such genuine joy and excitement over a fantastic, adventurous book featuring a woman they saw themselves in. representation really does matter, and it matters to everyone, not just young people. but that's a different soapbox.

young readers are extremely picky. i've watched many a teenager (or younger) browse the YA section and turn up their noses at books with a cringey cover, an overly dramatic blurb, or just because. marketing books to teens is hard. booktok is an incredibly powerful marketing tool and divisive social force. it skyrockets an author one day and by the next week, other accounts are tearing that same author to shreds. in this environment, its no surprise that the sensationalized books - extremely good or extremely bad, blatantly sexual, shocking, consumable - become flashpoints of discussion. who should be reading ya? who is it for? what is inappropriate for young teenagers to read? what is inappropriate for adults to read? i think about these topics a lot, especially as what the publishing industry terms a "gatekeeper" - i'm a children's librarian; i control the access teenagers in my community have to these books. i take that role seriously, and i want to be thinking deeply about the books i put in my YA section and who will read them. our decisions, about where we class books, how we label and present them, how we discuss them: that is part of what dictates what genre and age classification a book "is", in addition to marketing.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Linkrot

For the rest of May, my bestselling solarpunk utopian novel THE LOST CAUSE (2023) is available as a $2.99, DRM-free ebook!

Here's an underrated cognitive virtue: "object permanence" – that is, remembering how you perceived something previously. As Riley Quinn often reminds us, the left is the ideology of object permanence – to be a leftist is to hate and mistrust the CIA even when they're tormenting Trump for a brief instant, or to remember that it was once possible for a working person to support their family with their wages:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/27/six-sells/#youre-holding-it-wrong

The thing is, object permanence is hard. Life comes at you quickly. It's very hard to remember facts, and the order in which those facts arrived – it's even harder to remember how you felt about those facts in the moment.

This is where blogging comes in – for me, at least. Back in 1997, Scott Edelman – editor of Science Fiction Age – asked me to take over the back page of the magazine by writing up ten links of interest for the nascent web. I wrote that column until the spring of 2000, then, in early 2001, Mark Frauenfelder asked me to guest-edit Boing Boing, whereupon the tempo of my web-logging went daily. I kept that up on Boing Boing for more than 19 years, writing about 54,000 posts. In February, 2020, I started Pluralistic.net, my solo project, a kind of blog/newsletter, and in the four-plus years since, I've written about 1,200 editions containing between one and twelve posts each.

This gigantic corpus of everything I ever considered to be noteworthy is immensely valuable to me. The act of taking notes in public is a powerful discipline: rather than jotting cryptic notes to myself in a commonplace book, I publish those notes for strangers. This imposes a rigor on the note-taking that makes those notes far more useful to me in years to come.

Better still: public note-taking is powerfully mnemonic. The things I've taken notes on form a kind of supersaturated solution of story ideas, essay ideas, speech ideas, and more, and periodically two or more of these fragments will glom together, nucleate, and a fully-formed work will crystallize out of the solution.

Then, the fact that all these fragments are also database entries – contained in the back-end of a WordPress installation that I can run complex queries on – comes into play, letting me swiftly and reliably confirm my memories of these long-gone phenomena. Inevitably, these queries turn up material that I've totally forgotten, and these make the result even richer, like adding homemade stock to a stew to bring out a rich and complicated flavor. Better still, many of these posts have been annotated by readers with supplemental materials or vigorous objections.

I call this all "The Memex Method" and it lets me write a lot (I wrote nine books during lockdown, as I used work to distract me from anxiety – something I stumbled into through a lifetime of chronic pain management):

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

Back in 2013, I started a new daily Boing Boing feature: "This Day In Blogging History," wherein I would look at the archive of posts for that day one, five and ten years previously:

https://boingboing.net/2013/06/24/this-day-in-blogging-history.html

With Pluralistic, I turned this into a daily newsletter feature, now stretching back to twenty, fifteen, ten, five and one year ago. Here's today's:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/21/noway-back-machine/#retro

This is a tremendous adjunct to the Memex Method. It's a structured way to review everything I've ever thought about, in five-year increments, every single day. I liken this to working dough, where there's stuff at the edges getting dried out and crumbly, and so your fold it all back into the middle. All these old fragments naturally slip out of your thoughts and understanding, but you can revive their centrality by briefly paying attention to them for a few minutes every day.

This structured daily review is a wonderful way to maintain object permanence, reviewing your attitudes and beliefs over time. It's also a way to understand the long-forgotten origins of issues that are central to you today. Yesterday, I was reminded that I started thinking about automotive Right to Repair 15 years ago:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2009/05/right-repair-law-pro

Given that we're still fighting over this, that's some important perspective, a reminder of the likely timescales involved in more recent issues where I feel like little progress is being made.

Remember when we all got pissed off because the mustache-twirling evil CEO of Warners, David Zaslav, was shredding highly anticipated TV shows and movies prior to their release to get a tax-credit? Turns out that we started getting angry about this stuff twenty years ago, when Michael Eisner did it to Michael Moore's "Fahrenheit 911":

https://www.nytimes.com/2004/05/05/us/disney-is-blocking-distribution-of-film-that-criticizes-bush.html

It's not just object permanence: this daily spelunk through my old records is also a way to continuously and methodically sound the web for linkrot: when old links go bad. Over the past five years, I've noticed a very sharp increase in linkrot, and even worse, in the odious practice of spammers taking over my dead friends' former blogs and turning them into AI spam-farms:

https://www.wired.com/story/confessions-of-an-ai-clickbait-kingpin/

The good people at the Pew Research Center have just released a careful, quantitative study of linkrot that confirms – and exceeds – my worst suspicions about the decay of the web:

https://www.pewresearch.org/data-labs/2024/05/17/when-online-content-disappears/

The headline finding from "When Online Content Disappears" is that 38% of the web of 2013 is gone today. Wikipedia references are especially hard-hit, with 23% of news links missing and 21% of government websites gone. The majority of Wikipedia entries have at least one broken link in their reference sections. Twitter is another industrial-scale oubliette: a fifth of English tweets disappear within a matter of months; for Turkish and Arabic tweets, it's 40%.

Thankfully, someone has plugged the web's memory-hole. Since 2001, the Internet Archive's Wayback Machine has allowed web users to see captures of web-pages, tracking their changes over time. I was at the Wayback Machine's launch party, and right away, I could see its value. Today, I make extensive use of Wayback Machine captures for my "This Day In History" posts, and when I find dead links on the web.

The Wayback Machine went public in 2001, but Archive founder Brewster Kahle started scraping the web in 1996. Today's post graphic – a modified Yahoo homepage from October 17, 1996 – is the oldest Yahoo capture on the Wayback Machine:

https://web.archive.org/web/19960501000000*/yahoo.com

Remember that the next time someone tells you that we must stamp out web-scraping for one reason or another. There are plenty of ugly ways to use scraping (looking at you, Clearview AI) that we should ban, but scraping itself is very good:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/17/how-to-think-about-scraping/

And so is the Internet Archive, which makes the legal threats it faces today all the more frightening. Lawsuits brought by the Big Five publishers and Big Three labels will, if successful, snuff out the Internet Archive altogether, and with it, the Wayback Machine – the only record we have of our ephemeral internet:

https://blog.archive.org/2024/04/19/internet-archive-stands-firm-on-library-digital-rights-in-final-brief-of-hachette-v-internet-archive-lawsuit/

Libraries burn. The Internet Archive may seem like a sturdy and eternal repository for our collective object permanence about the internet, but it is very fragile, and could disappear like that.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/21/noway-back-machine/#pew-pew-pew

[olderthannetfic]

Ok now y'all got me mad curious. Do publishing houses actually care that much if they got a bestseller author? Not talking like Tolkien level recognition, but like the tiktok famous level recognition, a ten thousand books sold. Like, even if they can confirm that the bestseller author is gonna drop another bestseller, is that going to matter to them? Especially when there has been years between the books? Are they gonna let the author get away with more, or is it more of a "yeah we can give you extra time, maybe a few extra options, but you're not special beyond that." or smth?

I've seen people with bestseller titles be pushed between different publishers. Wouldn't it be more attractive for them to keep the author if they're genres they sell? Can a book from a series be published by different houses? Where's the line? Does being a bestseller matter, or is it more popular to have a decent author under your label, who writes on a fairly consistent schedule?

--

The rule of thumb I was told years ago was that for genre fiction and the like, you need to pump out one full length book per year to not get dropped. I don't know how true that is now, but "bestseller" by itself means absolutely nothing. It's mostly a measure of preorders, and the book could easily have disappointed people. A second book can also be less prone to hype than a first book, especially if the selling point was more buzz and less long term rereadability.

[nanowrimo]

Pro Tips from a NaNo Coach: How to Write a Clean(ish) Fast Draft

NaNoWriMo can seem like a daunting task sometimes, for NaNo newbies and veterans alike. Fortunately, our NaNo Coaches are here to help guide you through November! Today, author Jesse Q. Sutanto is here to share her advice on how to set yourself up for noveling success:

Dear Nano-ers,

My first book took me three years to cobble together. During that time, I joined Absolute Write—a free writers forum which I completely love and recommend to all aspiring writers—and I made a friend who convinced me to try doing NaNoWriMo. I was completely unconvinced, but I am a people-pleaser and I can never say no, so I agreed to try it for my second novel.

My second novel took me less than a month to write. It was a complete mess, but it was also a revelation. Often, I felt myself falling into that writing Holy Grail—the hole which consumes you, makes you forget the rest of the world, and absorbs you completely in the world you are creating on paper. I loved the process deeply, and never looked back since. All of my subsequent books have since been written in a matter of months. 

And you know what? They were all a horrific mess. I did not learn how to do a clean and fast draft until my NINTH book, and I don’t think I would’ve ever learnt without the help of NaNoWriMo. So here are my tips on how to best tackle a sprint-a-thon like NaNo. 

1. Try to come up with a loose outline.

When I first started writing, I was a pure pantser. I had no idea what was going to happen before I sat down to write. This is a completely legit way of writing, but I have since learned that it is massively helpful to have an idea, even a vague one, of what you are trying to say with your book. What was really helpful for me was to sit down for just five minutes before writing each scene and try to envision what I wanted the scene to achieve. Once I had that in mind, the scene became much easier to write. 

2. Break down your writing time.

Ever heard of the Pomodoro technique? In order to hit 50,000 words a month, you need to write around 1,600 words a day. That is a heck of a lot of words to write! Break it down. Set 10 or 15-minute timers and use that to your advantage. Trust me, if you told me to sit down and write 1,600 words, I would be like, “Omg that’s too much!” But if you told me to just write for 15 minutes, that feels a lot more doable. 

3. Give yourself permission to write trash.

Before each writing session, I actually say out loud: “I am going to write trash.” And this gives me permission to write whatever comes to my mind without judgment. You can always edit later, but for now, focus on letting the words out on paper. 

4. Lean on others for support.

I made the mistake of thinking that writing is a lonely vocation. In fact, it is one of the most social things I could do. Social media, while a double-edged sword, has done so much for the writing community. I have found all of my close writer friends through social media, and I chat with them every day and consider them my close, lifelong friends. Don’t be afraid to reach out and make connections within the community. You are not alone. 

Jesse Q. Sutanto is the award-winning, bestselling author of Dial A for Aunties, Vera Wong’s Unsolicited Advice for Murderers, Well, That Was Unexpected, The Obsession, and Theo Tan and the Fox Spirit. The film rights to her women’s fiction, Dial A for Aunties, was bought by Netflix in a competitive bidding war, and the TV rights to Vera Wong was bought by Warner Bros, with Oprah and Mindy Kaling attached to produce. She has a master’s degree in creative writing from Oxford University, though she hasn’t found a way of saying that without sounding obnoxious.

[writers-potion]

helloo! hope you’re having a good day ❤️ This might be a weird question but how should I choose my main character in a story? I usually get a general plot which doesn’t have the characters’ roles defined yet, and then I make the characters but I have trouble choosing who should be the main character, side character etc xd

Choosing the Right Character

Define the Plot Goal

Once you have a general plot, think about the lasting image you'd like your readers to take away. In other words, what's the moral/theme of the story?

If the story theme is "Love Wins All", your MC will be a cynic who realizes the importance of love.

If the story theme is "Hero Defeats Monsters", your MC will be someone who's willing to take risks, is loyal to friends, and is adventurous.

The plot is basically "what a character does in a story". Thus, you need to define clearly what you'd like to happen at the end - and choose a character who can plausibly deliver that ending.

Main Character - Character Development

Start off with your main character. What kind of character do we want? The specifics will differ story by story, but the general rules are:

They need to be capable of character development. At least in commercial fiction, the most attractive thing about an MC is their growth. This is because personal growth is so hard to achieve in real life, and readers want to feel satisfied as they watch their beloved MC achieve feats.

Are they relatable? In another words, your MC should have a mix of flaws and strengths. Not necessarily balanced, but (1) the combination must be plausible (not contradictory) and (2) it should make her relatable.

Make use of tropes. If you already have a plot, this should mean that there are going to be genre expectations. For a steamy romance, for example, readers are looking for a beautiful/handsome, good-at-heart heros who they can love vicariously through the other characters. You CAN write a romance with a genuinely ugly character, but it sure isn't going to be the next bestseller. Do some research into stories of your genre, and establish reader expectations to: (1) fulfill them or (2) subvert them appropriately for some fresh perspective.

Are they believable? Based on the time, location and culture of your story world, your MC must be believable in that they are someone who the readers can believe to have existed in such a background. This applies to fantasy characters, too.

Side Characters - Relationship to the MC

The most important thing to ask about side characters is: How do they serve the main character?

For sidekick/best friend characters: Make them immediately differentiable from the MC. Let them be supportive, having traits that can complement the MC.

For antagonists: Make them strong enough. They should be daunting to the MC, sometimes even stronger than them.

For 'guru' characters: Who is someone the MC can genuinely look up to? What kind of a teacher does your MC need - a caring guide or a tough coach?

Other side characters: What do they represent? Don't just make them stand-in puppets. How do their interactions/relationship with the MC stimulate him? Even if they don't do things directly with the MC, what the MC thinks about them/unconsciously 'learn' from them is important.