#frolicking in the fields with my prose

[sophsicle]

here is my advice to writers. never listen to anything any writing advice post on this website tells you.

[eatmangoesnekkid]

I may be a small-ish, petite, curvy person but I have devoted my body (and life) to embodying big tiddie, phat pussy, amplified curvy energy, what I call "the MA frequency." I may be smedium in matter on the 3D material realm, but you can't tell me I don't have well-endowed, quantum legs like tree trunks and a phat pussy the size of the whole earth. I don't just write things like "legs like tree trunks" in prose as fantasy. I actually sense my legs as tree trunks when I press heavy weight at the gym, frolick in the forest, or jog backwards in the water at the beach. The ordinary lay mind conditioned by Greco-Roman principles will be turned off by my words. They should be. But I'm actually not being vulgar though. I'm being deeply loving--speaking a grounded, primordial, metaphysical language and boldly standing on business of what is required, pretty sweet face with a hidden sword sheathed nearby. It doesn't matter what your size is, even if you are a smallish curvy like me, even if you have no ass at all, you need big wide fat energy to FLOW (which is not the same as “heavy” stagnated big wide fat energy). A woman beautifully large, thick, or phat(voluptuous or voluminous) in physical stature can actually have shrunken energy that misaligns her ability to alchemise the shame, insecurity, embarrassment, and all the other hidden stuff in her unconscious-her nervous system, gut, and even low back and hips to actually meet her dreams in the 3D. Sometimes the extra belly fat is unalchemised unconscious energy or an overabundance of cortisol that trigger your shoulders to tighten up when you walk. No matter your size, you need a birthing frequency so that you can expand your capacity, quantum leap in real ways, and stop being held down in parasitic oppressive cycles in similar stories our Grandmothers went through. Embodying a larger frequency allows you to mystically bypass external world systems put into place to keep you dehydrated, controlled, in grievance, or stuck right where you are year after year. You can make these systems irrelevant and obsolete in your energy field, similar to how the moon pull's on the ocean in a specific precise way. When you have a larger wattage, you can create a new miraculous narrative beyond the medical diagnosis. Big rooted energy is necessary to flow liberatory energy up your spine. Now your heart opens and new body and life narratives soar. Feminine mysteries leak and pour. Then you get to dominate this physical reality, not like a colonizer would, but like a loving woman flowing in her divine-given power. --India Ame'ye, Author

[flowerprose]

NAMESAKE EXCERPT 💀🌿

i'm so behind, but so in love with this story, so i think that should count for something. by god, i'm gonna finish it soon, and then it's going into the hellish pit of querying.

“You're unsightly when you eat,” Hades observes. Kore catches the dissolving quirk of his brow before he returns to his fatty pork ribs and strange, purple tentacles. She smirks despite the insult. 

“For someone who bristles at the mention of my father, you certainly indulge in his line of thinking. He makes the same complaints about me and Mother. In the forest, we don't often sit at a table for supper. We dine with our hands, around a small hearth that keeps our fingers and bellies warm. It's beautiful out there. It's unlike anything you would find at a feast.”

“So you envy mortals and their primitive ways?” 

“Primitive or honest?” Kore challenge kindly. “You'll find all sorts of classes, even amongst the humans. The finest will dine with footstools and golden chalices and swift servants to bring their courses. But I like the burnt taste of coal clinging to fire-cooked bread. How fat dribbles down your cheek and stains your dress–a garment you may wear for days before weaving another. Many of the humans obtain so little, yet they've survived with only the resources of Gaia to feed them. They love tremendously and give thanks for ever morsel that touches their lips.” 

Hades seems to consider her words, which satisfies her long enough to try one of the oysters. The briny mollusk only earns a shake of her head as her lips squeeze together in revulsion. “No, I don’t like that at all,” she mutters to herself, tossing the shell back into a waste basket. 

Hades chuckles, earning curious looks from the rest of the table. “You speak of Gaia often,” he says, addressing her alone.

“Mother of Mother’s Mother. We owe all of this to her, don't we? All life trickles down through a mother.” 

“And here I thought your lot frolicked naked under the moonlight, chanting songs.”

“Only under a full moon,” Kore says. She's smiling when she hears the shuffle of Hades glancing at her again. 

Despite her dislike of table manners, the food is exquisitely seasoned, so unlike any of the dinners she shared with her father or within the forest. The small tomatoes burst in her mouth like acid blood, chased by a goblet of dry wine. Kore has always sought her sweet drinks, but the unusual variety impresses her enough to keep sampling more. 

“I didn't think I could eat once I died,” she says between mouthfuls of food. 

Hades' mouth curls in disgust, but he doesn’t rise to her bait. “Visit the Field of Asphodel. The heroes still banquet, still recount their victories in vivid detail. Not all who venture here drink from the River Lethe.”

“Would the River Lethe work on me? Expel my memories of my mother?”

Hades frowns as he considers this, chewing carefully on his garden peas. “I don’t recommend that you try, in case it does."

tag list: @mr-writes, @afoolandathief, @sapphic-story, @megarywrites, @blushroomx, @ozzie-scribe, @theskeletonprior, @muddshadow, @thepixiediaries, @nikkywrites, @bebewrites, @jhellfiregirls, @pinespittinink, @pink-prose-n-wiriters-woe, @phantomnations, @queenslayerbee, @antihell, @monstrousfreedom, @perasperaadastrawriting, @andromedaexists, @thebluesthourcommunity, @fearofahumanplanet, @bloodlessheirbyjacques, @stephwriteswords, @cljordan-imperium, @carminasolis, @kaatiba, @moondust-bard, @macabremoons, @lena-rambles.

@beforethepen

[soft-october-night]

for the writers ask! 7, 19, 20?

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you've written and explain why you're proud of it:

How was this night to end? Was he supposed to walk back to his cottage? Tend to the gardens tomorrow before his wedding? 

That’s the thing about the old stories, isn’t it? They never tell you what happens in between. They never explain how the penniless daughter of a shepherd feels once she’s won the heart of the princess (does she miss the winds, the open fields, the stupid loyalty of the sheep), never delve into how small and awkward that third son (helpless but for a clever cat) felt inside the hallowed halls of a palace, where even the closets could dwarf the one room hovel he grew up in. How does one transition, from outside to in? 

“Crowley?” 

The gardener looked up, and saw Aziraphale framed in the doorway. Oh.

Maybe that’s how. 

-Only Love (Can Bring the Rain)

I love fairy tales so much, but they always resolve so quickly. Everyone is happily married and that's it! So I wanted to do a bit about the culture shock from being an orphaned gardener one day, and a prince's husband the next.

19. Stephen King once said that his muse is a man who lives in his basement. Do you have a muse?

I do. My muse knows who they are. ;)

20. Describe your perfect writing conditions

I'm typing at a rolltop desk. At my elbow is a cup of tea my spouse made for me. My boyfriend is in the next room working on an album. Our gerbil children frolick in their enclosure. Life is perfect